At the zoo
There are street hawkers
selling their wares
next to a wall build
of rocks and stone
on all sides of the entrance.
Carved wooden walking sticks
african faces in black wood,
grass brooms, pottery,
hats and t-shirts
and African drums
and paintings line the sidewalk.
Light pink flamingos
parade next to their dark brown pool
and walk among long palm trees
while they call to each other.
Some white swans
drift on a lake in the park
and catch something to eat
with dipping heads
from the dark water.
a Couple of elephant throw
red-brown sand
over themselves
and their pleated skin
looks like rough sandpaper
and at the back
there’s an old white farmstead
with a green roof
and some hay
for them to eat.
Some spotted Hyenas
swim in a stream
and their dark brown
dots stand out
against their light coats.
There’s some long walkways
going through gardens
that stretch into the distance..
Just the head and back
of a lonely Hippopotamus
rises from a dark brown pool
and it drifts with its nose
under the water
in the direction
of some other Hippopotamuses.
Some bridges run
over the small stream
of the Apies river
which splash over rocks.
a Blue crane
combs its blue-grey coat
next to a striped Kudu cow
that grazes on the green grass
with the Kudu bull watching
the visitors.
a Big brown bear
walks up a rock slope
and splashes in cold pool.
Some Impalas are gathering
on a rocky slope
and a narrow path
stretches up the wooded hill.
A Tiger lies sleeping
under a tree
and two black-backed jackals
stand grinning next to each other.
There are yellow-gold lions
that hides in the long green grass
and a slim female
with two cubs
steps out and watches
and the big male
comes out with a twisting tail
and roars menacing at the crowd
while one of the keepers
are giving them meat.
There’s a great view of the buildings
of Pretoria from the top
of the hill
and some high rises
and towers jump up
into the sky.
I take a cable car
for the long way down
and see the Union buildings
far in the distance
and miniature animals
flash by on the bottom.
A Leopard growls
when I leave the cable car
and I hear the calls
of some black Chacma Baboons.
Some African Buffalo
stand grazing like cattle
and a Rhino
lies stretched out
on the grass.
Some of the gamekeepers
are feeding a giraffe
and it stretches its neck
over a high wall
and time catches me
and something of the animals
stays with me
when I walk back to the car.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Nonsense Alphabet
A was an ant
Who seldom stood still,
And who made a nice house
In the side of a hill.
Nice little ant!
B was a bat,
Who slept all the day,
And fluttered about
When the sun went away.
Brown little bat!
C was a camel:
You rode on his hump;
And if you fell off,
You came down such a bump!
What a high camel!
D was a duck
With spots on his back,
Who lived in the water,
And always said 'Quack!'
Dear little duck!
E was an elephant,
Stately and wise:
He had tusks and a trunk,
And two queer little eyes.
Oh, what funny small eyes!
F was a fish
Who was caught in a net;
But he got out again,
And is quite alive yet.
Lively young fish!
G was a goat
Who was spotted with brown:
When he did not lie still
He walked up and down.
Good little goat!
H was a hat
Which was all on one side;
Its crown was too high,
And its brim was too wide.
Oh, what a hat!
I was some ice
So white and so nice,
But which nobody tasted;
And so it was wasted.
All that good ice!
J was a jug,
So pretty and white,
With fresh water in it
At morning and night.
Nice little jug!
K was a kite
Which flew out of sight,
Above houses so high,
Quite into the sky.
Fly away, kite!
L was a lily,
So white and so sweet!
To see it and smell it
Was quite a nice treat.
Beautiful lily!
M was a man,
Who walked round and round;
And he wore a long coat
That came down to the ground.
Funny old man!
N was a net
Which was thrown In the sea
To catch fish for dinner
For you and for me.
Nice little net!
O was an orange
So yellow and round:
When it fell off the tree,
It fell down to the ground.
Down to the ground!
P was a polly.
All red, blue, and green,--
The most beautiful polly
That ever was seen.
Poor little polly!
Q was a quail
With a very short tail;
And he fed upon corn
In the evening and morn.
Quaint little quail!
R was a rabbit,
Who had a bad habit
Of eating the flowers
In gardens and bowers.
Naughty fat rabbit!
S was the sugar-tongs,
Nippity-nee,
To take up the sugar
To put in our tea.
Nippity-nee!
T was a tortoise,
All yellow and black:
He walked slowly away,
And he never came back.
Torty never came back!
U was an urn
All polished and bright,
And full of hot water
At noon and at night.
Useful old urn!
V was a veil
With a border upon it,
And a ribbon to tie it
All round a pink bonnet.
Pretty green veil!
W was a watch,
Where, in letters of gold,
The hour of the day
You might always behold.
Beautiful watch!
Y was a yew,
Which flourished and grew
By a quiet abode
Near the side of a road.
Dark little yew!
Z was a zebra,
All striped white and black;
And if he were tame,
You might ride on his back.
Pretty striped zebra!
poem by Edward Lear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paco De Lucia In Guitar Strings
the guitar strings of paco de lucia
are not new to me
the sound of his spanish guitar
strumming on my mind
they were with me
in my childhood
with my friends
we get a smooth
long and strong
coconut palm
take it on top
of a hill
covered with green
carabao grass
and we ride
on the palm
slide it
on the hill
and
yehey
yehehey
yehey yehey
we laugh
so hard
my little
brown friends
that
the foreign
white visitors
call monkeys
we take
the coconut palm
on top of the hill
we ride on it
and we slide
on the
hill
green
with
carabao grass
grass
yehey
yehehey
yehey
we tumble
and roll
when we
reach the
foot of the hill
covered with
green
carabao
grass
we
crash
there may
be some bruises
on our arms
and
legs
but we
laugh
we enjoy
the sliding
the falling
the crashing
on the green
green
carabao
grass
we
crash
yehey
yehehey
yehehey
we are
the happy
little brown
monkeys
yehey
yehehey
yehey
we are
happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Local Park
When you want a good walk
Through day or the dark,
The place to go is our local park,
The park is a pride
The finest ever seen,
Tree's and grass always ever green..
There's swings for the kids
For all girls and boys,
Sea saw and paddling pool
To fill in their joys.
There's a path walk way all the way round
If you want a good walk
And summer seats to sit if you want a good talk,
The park has a lake and plenty good sport,
Bowling on the green and tennis on the court.
There's plenty of fun
Plenty to do,
Even at the park
Good swimming pool there to,
The pool has a cafe
If you want to call in
A wee cup of tea or have a good swim.
There's cricket and football
A horse riding track,
And even a good golf course
It's way round the back.
So here is our park
That's full of good pride,
Were ducks swim the water
And kids play the slide
poem by Gerald Follis Lurgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh! Lisa With These Lovely Eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
So please tell my soul to sympathize,
We shall cry forever in overcast skies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes,
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Heartbroken heart spoken, not taken back
To change a mind so is lifes dream
Lisa with the dark brown eyed
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
That blends your butter scotch face insight
Smiles which brings sparkles to my mind
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Many pre thoughts of your strays hypnotize
French, African, English culture dies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
She dabbles her life in fiction trash
her soul with curious follies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Loneliness, has come far a sad. sad day
Emptiness in your mind and heart pay
Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
You walk the world in beauty forgotten
They speak about you something forbidden
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
Your body your mind so whole same so
Your gave birth and I wish I could understand, understand
Lisa with the dark dark raven eyes
Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes
Curiosity is so special time flies, my sighs
Persuaded a fool to be wise, so wise how wise
Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes.
poem by Klayne Mario Burton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Path into the bushes
There’s a road like out of a dream
or a fairy tale
that twists into the bushes,
but it’s white and pure
with innocence where it snakes
into the undergrowth
and the sky is open
and blue white to the horizon.
I walk pass a great white tree
with orange brown leaves
that rises above me
and a long dried out tree
of which the branches
reach like fingers into the air.
I follow the path
to the long blue gum trees
that are covered
with dark green leaves
and the odour of the trees
and the wood
hangs heavy in the air
and there’s something concrete
that’s stronger than a dream
[Reference: Wooded landscape by Mandi. Look at the painting on my web page: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1413_Path_into_th e_bushes.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
Why can't America be
more like the
dark brown-black ducks
and the
light gray-white duck
floating on the waves
of acceptance and equality?
poem by Charlotte Riddle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winds bend the brown green grass of fall
Winds bend the brown green grass of fall
Whether in current age or decades past
Landscape gazers catch creatures storing seeds
Scattering yellow and white capped weeds
Preparing for winter their pattern unhindered
Winds bend the brown green grass of fall
Constant marker as mankind races
Ploughs terrain staking claim
Highways vanquish sod and plain
Yet tuffs of the brown green grass remain
Winds bend the brown green grass of fall
Off roadways geese settle and call
Despite cluttered asphalt the landscape recalls
Natures evolving, preparing and readying
For ice glistening cold when life sleeps through all
poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Have hues a role?
Grass lends beauty to ‘green’;
Tooth lends beauty to ‘white’;
Sky lends beauty to ‘blue’.
So do lips to ‘red’.
Red lips excel red blood;
Brown horse excel brown ass;
Yellow gold excels yellow brass.
So does black hair, black skin.
Black hair yields to white hair;
Green meadow yields to gray one.
Brown curls yield to fallen leaves
So does tender skin to one wrinkled.
The stuff rules; the merit rules;
The young rules. Have hues a role?
13.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Man Gave Names To All The Animals
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to growl,
Big furry paws and he liked to howl,
Great big furry back and furry hair.
Ah, think Ill call it a bear.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled.
He saw milk comin out but he didnt know how.
Ah, think Ill call it a cow.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to snort,
Horns on his head and they werent too short.
It looked like there wasnt nothin that he couldnt pull.
Ah, think Ill call it a bull.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal leavin a muddy trail,
Real dirty face and a curly tail.
He wasnt too small and he wasnt too big.
Ah, think Ill call it a pig.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
Next animal that he did meet
Had wool on his back and hooves on his feet,
Eating grass on a mountainside so steep.
Ah, think Ill call it a sheep.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal as smooth as glass
Slithering his way through the grass.
Saw him disappear by a tree near a lake . . .
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
New Life, New Love
The breezes blow on the river below,
And the fleecy clouds float high,
And I mark how the dark green gum trees match
The bright blue dome of the sky.
The rain has been, and the grass is green
Where the slopes were bare and brown,
And I see the things that I used to see
In the days ere my head went down.
I have found a light in my long dark night,
Brighter than stars or moon;
I have lost the fear of the sunset drear,
And the sadness of afternoon.
Here let us stand while I hold your hand,
Where the light’s on your golden head—
Oh! I feel the thrill that I used to feel
In the days ere my heart was dead.
The storm’s gone by, but my lips are dry
And the old wrong rankles yet—
Sweetheart or wife, I must take new life
From your red lips warm and wet!
So let it be, you may cling to me,
There is nothing on earth to dread,
For I’ll be the man that I used to be
In the days ere my heart was dead!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You’re in another country called Cape Town
I peer at a city
while the rain is pouring down
and see blue-white thunder
falling from the sky
while dark clouds are milling up high
blown by storm winds
and the smell of rain
rises fresh from the earth
and my thoughts loiter
and I know where I am
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
Below me I see the zoo
and a city stretched out
in clear squares,
great buildings among statues
and gardens,
and on a hill
the sacred place of a nation
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
The houses in the suburb
are build for the summer heat
with verandas and big rooms,
with yellowwood floors,
with fans in the ceilings
and yards as big as parks
and trees with purple blue blossoms
lining every street
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
I hear a crowd roaring
in the stadium near to the university
for their rugby team to win
and everywhere blue flags are waving
and some faces are painted blue
and some heads have caps
with horns thrusting into the air
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
On the other side of the mountain
avocado and some tropical trees grow
and here I stand in the hero’s acre
among the fallen great
and to Andries Pretorius
I offer my salute
and in church square
my eyes stare
at the statue of uncle Paul
who still faces north
now turning green
and you’re in another country called Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
[Reference: To -. Composed at Rotterdam by Thomas Hood.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Somewhere in the hillocks
Somewhere in the hillocks
there’s a place
where you go through a rocky gateway
where blunted brown rocks lie
in the red brown sand
and here and there are trees
sticking out like half bare fingers
against the sky
as if leaves are struggling to grow
and terrible winds
at times rip it off.
The grass of the veldt is yellow
as if it’s already winter,
but maybe not a lot of rain
falls here
and in the distance
I see clouds white and grey
hanging over the blue mountain top
while the sun at places
comes through it
and would have liked
to be with the painter Jacobs
at that place.
[Reference: Painting by D Jacobs that belongs to me.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Final Door.......
Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs
Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought
White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought
Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye
Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor
'Bye bye darling'
Open door
poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Muse From The Forest
The white gold,
The black gold,
The red gold,
The yellow gold,
'Obroni-Nephew' is about to teach you all;
Like the very call of a muse from the forest.
The Chinese eat all animals, fish and insects;
The very call from the forest with a view but,
Do you like to be fed with crocodile meat?
The lizard meat,
The lion meat,
The tiger meat,
The snake meat,
The elephant meat,
Life is like that for many who eat everything;
The Chinese eat all animals, fish and insects.
Life is like a visit to the biggest cemetery on earth,
Do you like to be fed with cockroaches?
Whatever we eat today,
We will be burried one day.
Of the brown gold,
Of the orange gold,
Of the green gold,
Of the blue gold,
The Chinese eat all meat, fish and insects.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song of songs
It’s early morning
and the sun hangs like a large orange
Just above the hillocks
Three teenage girls
undress at the clear water
of a Brooklet.
The are shy for others,
but like to bathe together and walk
with bare feet into the rocky little stream.
Everyone of them is still young and pure
and splash and frolic while the sun
shines hotter and brighter.
The water is still cold
and their nipples are hard and black
on their round breasts.
While they wash each other
it sparkles shiny and rows of drops
are on their brown skins
The water runs of in little streams
down arms, stomachs, hips and thighs
and they stand and talk and laugh.
Something quivers in the reeds where is grows in a thicket
deep into the stream and they see
a dark green water monitor going into the water.
They run screaming and stark naked
and try without any clothes, to get direction
to the shacks of the village where they stay.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Highly-Colored Romance
Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
At Houtbay beach
A young girl and an old man
walk down steps
to the stretch
that the beach at Houtbay
throws against the sea.
There are some small fishing boats
in colours of blue,
orange and white
that sails into the sea,
but big white cabin cruisers
bobs up and down
next to the quay
some distance away
as if they are ownerless
while their bosses
play somewhere else.
The smell of sea-pike
roasting on coals
lies on the light wind
and their stomachs growl
of sudden hunger
and here and there
the girl stoops
to pick up shells.
His sturdy boots leaves flat tracts
on the firm sand
and there’s a brown wood walking stick
with a lion head in his hand
and the girl’s
bare foot tracts
run in advance.
The sea swishes in and out
and the wet sand
reflects a bright open day
and the blue water
stretches out
as far as you can see
and it’s as if he gets new power
next to the foaming water.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sketches For A Fine Day
actually i like the sound of
brooms sweeping the street today
a young girl
short for her age
and brown and
bow legged
does her assigned task in the street
gathering dead leaves
as i watch
it is a bright day
the street light is turned off
a young boy's hand is held by her mother
crossing the street
waiting for the school bus
a white dog pisses
on the side of the trunk of the
mahogany tree
a black car from the right side of the village
wheels its way towards the boulevard
a young woman with short blue jeans
jogs along the green valley
the sea is sky
blue and the sun slowly rises from the horizon
like a man's face peeping upon a table's edge
the long line of trees along the faded street
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Early one afternoon
Early one afternoon
I walked through the streets
of a small village
and it had to be in Italy
and was probably in Corona
or Tuscany.
a Baker with a white overcoat
and white hat on his head
rang on his bike’s bell for me
and pedalled pass,
with an old green bike
at the Pizza Palour.
There were long white breads
and green wine bottles,
in the baskets of his bicycle
and he had a big bush
of red blue lanvender flowers in one hand.
Across from me there were three small tables
with white table-covers,
at the Villa Toscana
and I could read some dishes
from the menu on the wall.
At the wall a young woman
with dark hair and an indigo dress
laughed sharp and bright,
while she waited
that a well built waitress
pour some more wine.
The image of the beautiful waitress
with black hair and deep dark eyes,
that bends forward
still stays with me.
In front of me at Le Art
there were a row of paintings,
depicting nudes to the finest detail
on painter’s easels.
I walked nearer
and I could see rows of violet lavender bushes
against the ridge in the distance
and Villa’s, that stand yellow gold
up on the hill
and looked impressive
against the deep blue sky.
When I got back to myself
I was at the fountain
in front of the mural
in our garden
and the golden Persian cat,
watched me from the top of the wall
with a woolly tail that curled down
and it looked with golden eyes at me.
[Reference: Tuscan mural by Mandi. See the painting at my webpage: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1417_Early_one_af ternoon.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reverse Negative Society
In a reverse negative society light brown is dark blue, dark brown is light blue hue,
see on Razel’s planet, ice rocks are stronger then granite and what is up is down,
and what is left is right, and what is blue is brown. Now Razel face is more brown these days, she was stung with one of Melodie’s heat rays, which then sent her into a Jimmy Hendrix purple hair haze. Even Melodie’s hair is yellow, which makes her so mellow.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!