Anemone (Balassi stanza)
Like big white and red eyes
opening under the skies
growing from a russet stalk
fragilely flowering
early in the new spring
when some people laugh and talk
they hardly ever see
your bright blooms hanging free
while chatting past they do walk.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The Yellow Violet
When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from last-year's leaves below.
Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the virgin air.
Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.
Thy parent sun, who bade thee view
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip
Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May
I passed thee on thy humple stalk.
So they, who climb to wealth, forget
The friends in darker fortunes tried;
I copied them--but I regret
That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour
Awakes the painted tribes of light,
I'll not o'er look the modest flower
That made the woods of April bright.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Three prayers during spring
I. I did not expect this early spring
I did not expect that after this severe winter
that destroyed flowers, grass and plants
that this early
without even rain falling, showering down
spring would come in all this glory
with trees blossoming in bright white and pink colours
plants flowering
unfurling and to be again really living.
I did not expect these blessings,
in life’s early winter
that even though I am constrained,
my career is falling to pieces
and not by my own making
my words, my verses
are coming to their own
and this has brought me
to see that God is truly great
that even the seasons of life
is in His hand.
II. My buds are form Your hand
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
causing my slender flowers to grow,
that you let my words pour down like rain
hanging flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses
in a pure white colouring which catches the eye
that by love you delegate me as the one
who is worth to blossom in your shade.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
not like others of my kind, but hanging
with odourless buds opening
in internodes, joints of roses
in strings upon strings
and although some people want to prune me of blunt,
that you let my words pour down like rain
although people hit in nails
ridicule, hold my words, my verses in parody
with odourless buds opening
my abilities are formed on your grindstone,
although my stems are struggling against a stormy wind.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
folding your strong hand over me,
although they are thinking of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
ridicule, hold my words, my verses in parody
you are sending my verses out to all places
and I thank you that they are flowing from your hand,
that you let my words pour down like rain
that your light shines like diamonds in every drop,
that you are causing my cups to burst open
although they are thinking of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which brings forth fragrant odours, but I am
tempered by you to glow with an own beauty.
I thank you Lord that you by grace are blessing me
that you let my words pour down like rain
ingenuous, pure and fresh
flooding over in bell like strings
that you are causing my cups to burst open
in a pure white colouring which catches the eye.
l’Envoi
III. In your shade and care I am blossoming
I thank you Lord
that you by grace are blessing me
causing my slender flowers to grow
flooding over in bell like strings
in internodes, joints of roses
not peach, purple or pink
like others of my kind
but in a pure white colouring
with odourless buds opening
and some ridicule, hold my words,
my verses of rhyme and free form in parody
but my flowering is from your hand
and I can understand that they are thinking
of flowers like roses, irises, geraniums
which are tempered against the elements
bringing forth fragrant odours
that perfumes the air
but in your shade and care I am blossoming.
[Reference: The blossoming by Tatamkhulu Afrika, Vier gebede gedurende die jaargety in die Boland (Four prayers during the yearly seasons in the Boland.) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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On That Sunny Golden Morning (Flying Bird Sonnet)
On that sunny golden early morning
while the beautiful flowers of the spring
were opening and were suddenly flowering
closer to each other they were moving
in the field, under the sky in the hay
intimately did with each other play
to each other they were really hooked
while the day had a somewhat bright outlook
and from each other they looked away
early on a sunny glorious day.
While little birds were nearby chirping
they heard an enchanting small cuckoo sing
their intimate affections were stirring
content and spent the day was a blessing
poem by Gert Strydom
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People talk the streets hypnotic
Another day has come
And I cannot help it
I’ve got to go out and hear
I’ve got to go out and let it hear me
Walk the streets like walk the clouds
People speak people laugh
People laugh and their laughter
Spreads my laughter too
People look at me I look at them
They want to come into my eyes
They wonder I wonder
I take them like a picture
I want to go in they take me in
We walk together
People talk shallow talks
I hear the depths below
People beg the streets
I beg the streets with them
People seek the streets
Being sought by them
People cry my tears
People kiss I can feel the kisses
People touch I can feel the touches
People talk the streets
I talk people in the streets
Put fragments of their talk
Into a Hypnos mosaic
Of my own words
‘Communication is health. Communication.’
Note: The last line taken from Mrs Dalloway by V. Woolf
People talk - a short novel by Rastko Petrovich
Miroslava Odalovic,2010.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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S[t]alking Mirror Sestina - CV in hand
CV in hand through contest I would stalk,
ILLEgitimate undertaking I admit,
Lightly through the rhyme scheme let me walk,
I subtle sense within sestina fit,
Stalking pseudo is not hard to talk,
Away for those with golden goblet lit
CV of charming nymph will o’ wisp lit
ILLEgible to most seems simple stalk,
Lightly pen traces, hears the table talk,
I see the comments – praises all admit,
Stalking may be fun - together fit,
Away from prying eyes will life-lines walk.
CV few APe, divine, her verse I’d walk
ILLEgal act for gaol or goal bright lit?
Lightly linking her name to my fit
I root acrostic in sestina stalk,
Stalking talking balking not – admit,
Away with critics and their jealous talk.
CV masks beauty more than my trite talk.
ILLEcebrous attractive and alluring walk,
Lightly stroking peerless miss admit,
I find no other muse as charming lit,
Stalk king if she queen Stork to nest add stalk
A way I’d find to offer homage fit.
CV seems perfect. Could another fit?
ILLEcebrum around swan neck would talk
Lightly of love I bear for stem and stalk,
I cannot stem, so, in pursuit I walk,
Stalking close by inspiration lit,
Away she’ll never slip all must admit.
CV in hand my errors I’ll admit
ILLEist I’m never, should hat fit,
Lightly I’d wear it, with her smile love-lit,
I vaunt her emblem, on none else would talk,
Stalking kitten purring I, cat, walk,
Away from idols past – she bloom, I stalk!
All here admit one Muse should stalk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,
Her praise I talk, with trophy walk.
.............................
Her praise I talk, with trophy walk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,
all here admit one Muse should stalk.
Away from idols past – she bloom, I stalk!
Stalking kitten purring, I, cat, walk,
I vaunt her emblem, on none else would talk,
Lightly I’d wear it, with her smile love-lit,
ILLEist I’m never, should hat fit,
CV in hand my errors I’ll admit.
Away she’ll never slip all must admit.
Stalking close by inspiration lit,
I cannot stem, so, in pursuit I walk,
Lightly of love I bear for stem and stalk,
ILLEcebrum around swan neck would talk.
CV seems perfect. Could another fit?
A way I’d find to offer homage fit.
Stalk king if she queen Stork to nest add stalk,
I find no other muse as charming lit,
Lightly stroking peerless miss admit,
ILLEcebrous attractive and alluring walk,
CV masks beauty more than my trite talk.
Away with critics and their jealous talk.
Stalking, talking, balking not, – admit
I root acrostic in sestina stalk,
Lightly linking her name to my fit.
ILLEgal act for gaol or goal bright lit?
CV few APe, divine, her verse I’d walk.
Away from prying eyes will life-lines walk -
Stalking may be fun - together fit.
I see the comments – praises all admit.
Lightly pen traces, hears the table talk,
ILLEgible to most seems simple stalk.
CV of charming nymph will o’ wisp lit.
Away for those with golden goblet lit.
Stalking pseudo is not hard to talk,
I subtle sense within sestina fit,
Lightly through the rhyme scheme let me walk,
ILLEgitimate undertaking I admit.
CV in hand through contest I would stalk.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Got To Be Free
Hush little baby dont you cry
Soon the sun is going to shine
Were going to be free like the birds and the bees
Running wild in the big country
Got to be free to do what I want
Walk if I want, talk if I want
Got to be free to say what I want
Make what I want and play what I want
As free as the birds up in the sky
As free as the bugs and the spiders and flies
I dont know how but Im gonna try
Ive just got to be free
And it wont be long cos were right
And they are wrong
Weve got to get out of this world somehow
Weve got to be free, weve got to be free now
Got to be free to laugh when I want
Think what I want and cry if I like
Got to be free to do what I want
Say what I want and swear if I like
As free as the sun and the moon in the sky
As free as a flea or a proud butterfly
I dont know how but Im gonna try
Ive just got to be free
Yeah, weve got to get out of this world somehow
Weve got to be free, weve got to be free now
Got to be free to do what I want
Walk if I want and talk if I want
Got to be free to say what I want
Make what I want and play what I want
Ive got to be proud and stand up straight
And let people see I aint nobodys slave
Ive got to be free before its too late
Ive just got to be free
Got to be free to do what I want
Walk if I want, talk if I want
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And White So Alike
In my journey in life, I met many people and many issues
and I used many tissues, cried many tears thru the years.
I found people of color are similar to white and alike
in so many ways, they have feelings like white people
and maybe even more, people say to me why you bother
with people of color, I say people are people, color
and white are so alike, have feelings so alike and they
can bond like anyone else, talk for hours and laughs
about little things and big things.
People of color and white are so alike I am greatful to have
met special people in my life, make me feel good when I am down,
make me laugh when I cry, tell me its okay to feel sad, and thats
not bad to feel down sometimes because thats how it is, People of color and white so alike in many ways, they share sorrow and pain, cry
and laugh together, have long or short lunch or just walk
around corner its still something to talk about.
People of color and white so alike in many ways and thats what I say
and I will miss my friend now that she moved on, but our friendship stayed on....
poem by Hedi Vlacich
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Orange blossoms on a tree
Orange blossoms on a tree
catches my eye,
where it stands alone
in the inner city
and there’s a blinding bright sun
that is already hanging quarter height
in a cloudless sky.
It’s Wednesday and half week
and it’s spring with green leaves,
trees full of blossoms
and almost summer
because the sun’s bright rays
are already early hitting my eyes
There’s a woman with a pink blouse
and purple skirt,
that crosses the street
and are not looking out
for the oncoming cars and taxis.
Doves crowd around a man
that throws pieces of bread
on the ground next to him,
at the art museum
and the sun is now rather
bright white than red.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seasons
Enjoying the walk, with no talk
the air so crisp, the breeze so light
the sun so bright
the leaves are changing, falling in range
the animals storing for a cold winter night
the coats are hanging, will be changing
the seasons are changing so rapidly
where did the summer go
the fall so beautiful, the sunsets so breathless
the rain so cold, the clouds so gray
changing to snow, and growing
waiting for spring to bring
the green and the dream
of beautiful flowers and the gift of life
to the season change
but we love the changes of all
circle of nature, the beauty it brings
for all to sing, giving me spring
poem by Michael Peterson
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The dawn of a new Age
We have been 'moving on' from war.
We have been 'moving on' from segregation.
But we ain't done yet.
The dawn of a new age is here.
A time where the racism is still alive.
The war is still here.
We may not be 'truly' segregated.
But If you look around past the war.
Past the schools, and past the buildings.
You see people. People who do not beleive in Equality.
People Who can talk the talk but can't walk the walk.
So, When You read this poem.
Think to your self.
Am I one of them?
poem by Gaines Hargrove
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His Land
Yes it is his land, all of it his
He stepped it off and marked it there,...stepped it off and marked it there
To be his ugly thoroughfare,...to be his ugly thoroughfare
And he blessed it with his hand,...yes its a great land, all of it is
And as it blooms before our eyes,...as it blooms before our eyes
Just like an eden paradise,...like an eden paradise
The world will understand,...world will understand...this is his land
Slowly from hiding but surely they come
Back to the homeland their fathers will front
Israel their citadel, israel their home
Now they are here at last never to roam
Here they will stay and bring life to the land
Its a new day and with boldness they walk, tall and so straight
See them stand
Yes it is his land, all of it his
He stepped it off and marked it there...stepped it off and marked it there
To be his ugly thoroughfare,...to be his ugly thoroughfare
And then he blessed it with his land,...yes its a great land, all of it is
And as blooms before our eyes,...as it blooms before our eyes
Like an eden paradise,...like an eden paradise
The world will understand,...world will understand...this is his land
Rich fertile valleys of russet and gold, carpets of green over mountains
Unfold
Harvest of plenty so joyous and bright, her fields her treasures
Magnificent sight
This is the israel promised of old, this is the miracle happening now
As ages in prophets fortold
Yes it is his land......
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pacific
i do not belong to anyone
nor to
any place
i am always unattached
not because of
fear
that i may weep and wallow in grief
when i am finally detached
like an umbilical cord
cut and blood flows like
water in the faucet
i am no
bark to a tree
or leaf to
a stalk
i am no flower
that blooms one day
and wilt
upon the setting sun
you must understand
i like it here inside my heart
i am alone
in this secret dwelling
peaceful and calm
like
the pacific ocean
in a saucer
of white porcelain
i say loneliness is not
my cup of tea
i am my self's best friend
and we can both take a walk and talk
all night long
without you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Growing Pain
Im a battleship, frozen by my mothers anger,
Anchored in the north pole sea.
Im a sphinx, stamped on the hilton poster,
Hoping to see the desert.
Im a woman without country or state.
Opening her head to the universe,
Hundred thousand people in me.
Evry day theyre growing,
Evry day theyre feeling.
Hes an infant, blinded from his mothers sorrow,
Crawling in the bleeding sky.
Hes a building, floating in spring air,
Hoping to open his windows.
Hes a man, bound on earth soil,
Reaching his hands to the universe,
Hundred thousand people in him.
Evry day theyre feeling,
Evry day theyre growing.
Growing pain, growing joy,
Growing pain, growing joy.
Growing together, reaching each other.
Growing pain, growing joy,
Growing pain, growing joy.
Growing together, reaching each other.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Growing Pain
Im a battleship, frozen by my mothers anger,
Anchored in the north pole sea.
Im a sphinx, stamped on the hilton poster,
Hoping to see the desert.
Im a woman without country or state.
Opening her head to the universe,
Hundred thousand people in me.
Evry day theyre growing,
Evry day theyre feeling.
Hes an infant, blinded from his mothers sorrow,
Crawling in the bleeding sky.
Hes a building, floating in spring air,
Hoping to open his windows.
Hes a man, bound on earth soil,
Reaching his hands to the universe,
Hundred thousand people in him.
Evry day theyre feeling,
Evry day theyre growing.
Growing pain, growing joy,
Growing pain, growing joy.
Growing together, reaching each other.
Growing pain, growing joy,
Growing pain, growing joy.
Growing together, reaching each other.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Primrose (Novelinee)
Quite early in spring it is flowering,
delicate flowers on an erect stem
while all the birds in excitement sing,
at the beginning of spring I see them,
there is something in its simple beauty,
drawing big butterflies that do flutter,
is given in love, respect and duty,
in the colour of yellow-white butter,
bringing sweet words that other can utter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Daybreak is A Glowing Bright Ball
Daybreak is a glowing bright ball
from which the fiery rays shine,
sometimes drops falling along with thunder,
with freshness embracing me when I go outside.
Early morning is a bright sun hanging in the heaven
when the colour of the bright blue
catches you with something full of mystery,
with the wind sometimes clinging to you with fingers.
Spring is flower upon flower
that is spread over fruit trees,
the beauty that astonishes you
when the garden of God stretch into the fields.
Summer is fruit that waits ripe and luring
when everything becomes adult,
sunny day upon sunny day
where the prettiest flowers are still flowering.
Autumn is coloured leaves that are everywhere,
the summer still lingering for the last time
and everything has a secret knowledge
that winter is coming, even every sunray
and nowhere I can find the words of a child,
while I am blinded by the glorious world from being young.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Spring Observations
Green slipped out from under the white -
Splashed in early other colours,
And gave up lambs, who
Bleated tirelessly on the subject.
Screams from the nearby park
Told of newly playful children, with
Bleary fathers, clattering mothers,
Undersense befuddled by a perfume -
It was the budding blossom.
And younger men perked up at
Early bosoms once again parading;
More blossom - audacious blooms:
Sexual selection back on stage.
It was happening with the birds,
Only there was more decorum,
More order - a greater sense of purpose,
Unwitting duty.
I turned over the soil - warming
Under the cautious sun -
Yellow still nubile,
Though coping with its shyness.
My first beads of sweat were oddly ambivalent:
Surging vigour forcing out the
Stubborn winter indolence.
Inside, a warming smile worked
Up towards my mouth, lips, eyes.
The kitchen window rattled:
Lunch was ready.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Spring spring spring spring
Spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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032610d Some Does, Some Don't
my nightlight blinks
light-bulb could be
a suspect or brown out
if it does it thrice, a sign
to break out candles
for night troubles
i notice a picture, a peacock
charming flowering cherry tree
he isn't looking at the blooms
perching ready flew out the room
why birds males are so beautiful
very romantic and very colorful
tinge of chuckle flutterring my lips
female birds must be very rare
they are free to roam to have affair
must be the rule of the wild, thought
maybe not, my geese doesn't do that
they walk in pairs, laugh and also chat
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Don't Little Girl
Don’t fall little girl
Don’t let them see you cry
Stand tall little girl
Keep your head held high
~
Don’t express little girl
Don’t let them see the pain in your eyes
Walk on little girl
Walk through all those pitiful lies
~
Don’t forget little girl
Don’t let them do it to you once more
Protect yourself little girl
There’s plenty more in store
~
Don’t hate little girl
That’s what they want you to do
Smile bright little girl
Try you’re hardest to be true
~
Don’t wait little girl
The world will move on without you
Move on little girl
Do what you need to do
~
Don’t look back little girl
You cant change your past
Open your eyes little girl
Enjoy the world while it lasts
~
Live life little girl
Cause you only got one
Laugh loudly little girl
And put down you damn gun
~
You’re me little girl
Haven’t we learned a lot?
But your also them little girl
In each of us you have fought
~
Some call you hope, little girl
You glow dim then turn bright
Some call you dreams, little girl
Thinking of you every night
~
But to me, little girl
You will always just be me
Guide us, little girl
Cause we both just want to be free
poem by Amy Stuart
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A Windy Day In Early September
The wind keeps the air that bit cooler today it is sixteen degrees
And beautiful pink fluffy blossoms adorn the flowering gum trees
And wattlebirds sing in the sunshine though not very pleasant their song
Their hoarse call is very distinctive once heard you cannot get it wrong.
A windy day in early September in changeable weather of Spring
The white backed magpie the marvellous songster in his territory he sing
At breeding time he is aggressive his own kind not even his friend
And he's been known to attack humans with his wife and his young to defend.
A windy day in early september dark rain clouds tell rain is quite near
And the sun that had briefly been hiding between a break in the clouds re-appear
In one day you can get four Seasons 'tis like that at this time of year
But in early days of September you know that warm weather will shortly be here.
A windy day in early September and rain is beginning to fall
And on the flowering gums and wattles the wattlebirds chatter and call
But gone is the coldness of Winter and fruit trees wear pinkish white flowers
And everywhere looks fresh and greener in the sunshine after the showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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