Daydreams of a cat
To me a grass warbler is a small thing
that gambols around
and when the summer sun falls hot
shining high above me,
when I stretch out and bake in the sun, languidly,
when my thoughts run deep,
a dove or a mouse or a fish tastes wonderful,
as something that I cannot miss
poem by Gert Strydom
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Continually the red weaver gambols
Continually the red weaver gambols around,
when the dove continually sings in sorrow
and he lands frolicking on the wet ground,
before it takes insects to its chicks
that twitter, jump up and down in the nest,
and at night when the moon rises silver-white,
when small sounds pierce through everything
then I hear a joyous song and then I hear him
tell about life, about every small thing,
when that small bird sings with caring affection.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seasons
Spring, a symbol of rebirth
Starting another season on earth
New buds open to the sun
Now the spring has begun.
Summer once again is here
Sky is wonderful blue and clear
Growths of colour on display
That's a lovely summers day.
Autumn leaves go blowing by
Lifting high up to the sky
Soon they scatter without sound
Gently cascading to the ground.
Winter comes around with branches bare
A spiders web in the suns pale glare
Frost so cold that it burns
Awaiting 'till the spring returns.
Every season a different thing
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring
Cut the grass, shovel the snow
Or bake in the sun 'till you glow.
© Hazel 2010
poem by Hazel Connelly
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The Runes of Weland's Sword
1906
A smith makes me
To betray my Man
In my first fight.
To gather Gold
At the world's end
I am sent.
The Gold I gather
Comes into England
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
The Gold I gather
A King covets
For an ill use
The Gold I gather
Is drawn up
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Shining Starr! !
shining star, shining star,
for how you shine so bright
your my wonderful delight.
shining star, shining star,
why is it you?
is is because i loved you to much?
too much i couldnt see.
shining star, shining star,
my heart is breaking,
i didnt have a clue what to do,
until the day come when i met you.
shining star, shining star,
i feel so used,
but why is this?
i have no clue.
shining star, shining star,
its not only you personality that shines to me,
its you insanity.
ohh shining star, shining star,
what am i going to do without you?
i need you in my life again,
to tell you its alright,
because i love you soo much,
its more than words could write,
now back to reality,
so time to go for now,
but i shall be back.. I MISS YOU! ! !
poem by Kirstiie Chapmann
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As A Pretty Butterfly That Flutters (Cavatina Sequence)
As a pretty butterfly that flutters
along she came,
rapidly always running up and down;
nothing could tame
that childish sweet happy rushing spirit;
her lovely name
is not heard anymore as she is gone,
from life into death she has moved on.
Some soothing summer sunshine must be lost,
she does not pass,
no small shadow falls or lingers at times;
outside the grass
is quite soft where her small feet once did tread,
like clear bright glass
the sky is clear without a single fleck;
from her I cannot my sad thoughts direct.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Valentine’s Night
My imagination is swimming deep
In the abyss of your love;
My thoughts are flying high like a dove.
I am going to die in my sleep,
This Valentine’s night,
Exotic Sunshine,
If you don’t dine,
With me tonight.
Two gorgeous swans pause in the amorous waters,
Two peacocks stroll on the beach boardwalk.
The roosters serenade and the chicks talk;
It would be wonderful to live in the same quarters.
It is exciting to dream,
Yes, it is acceptable to scream:
Happy Valentine’s Day,
Happy Valentine’s Day.
It is enlightening to watch the stars in heaven
Together.
It is appropriate for you to be my haven.
Together,
You and I can live in peace,
Every day can be a feast.
Tonight is Valentine,
Everything looks fine.
Love is sparkling in the air,
And kisses are flying in the atmosphere.
I am swimming deep
In the abyss of your sweet love.
I am flying high like a gentle dove.
I am dreaming in my sleep,
Everything is all right,
Tonight.
poem by Hebert Logerie (December 2009)
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A Nonsense Poem - a Villanelle
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little worm hops in a hole
A little hat has lost its sole
A little petal has no peel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little dog dances a reel
A little frog jumps on a mole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little boat rings out a peal
A little bell loses its keel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little rock slips on a seal
A little perch walks on a pole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little card shakes on a deal
A little sigh fancies a meal
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
poem by Alison Cassidy
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Swimmy Resort
time has stopped with a splash
the big modern living room that I set in with fish shining and moving.
Silvery blue in the summer afternoon
Long and wide becomes the Sun above
I don't think I have to breathe anymore...
I summer with fish summering
The Big One
I watched two people fishing,
one August day at the lake,
the sun was shining brightly,
as I began to bake.
I found an old oak tree,
to sit under and glare,
I watched these two for hours,
with their fishing poles high in the air.
They talked about the old times,
as they tried for their feast,
they were hoping for the big one:
a fish known as 'The Beast'.
I watched them be patient,
casting again and again in the water,
the fish were just not biting,
as the day got hotter and hotter.
Into the evening they cast their poles,
but no cast was better than the one before,
they packed up their gear and headed for home,
as my day continued-under the oak by the shore.
poem by George Aul
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Missing
Has anybody seen my mouse?
I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?
Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?
Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...
Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Sky Skimmer
I made a wish,
Upon a fish,
Who swam through the sky.
It twinkled bright,
What a wonderful sight!
As the fish bathed up high.
It circled the moon,
Made the stars swoon,
And the fish lit up the night.
It’s tail was adorn,
With the colors of morn,
And it’s body shined like moonlight.
What was my wish,
Towards the fish?
It’s something I won’t deny.
All I wanted to see,
That would interest me,
Would be a fish swimming in sky.
poem by Micah Yates
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Tanks For The Memories
tank you, tank you, tank you
we told the fish, those wonderful fish
those little tropical fish, that could reboot our dreary days
we could imagine their little fish politics and why one was chased
the tail nippers, the food stealers, the baby filled fish mothers
what wonderful memories I have of the fish tanks of yesterday
and today, now that my child has befriended the fish
relax, techno man, relax
and just rest with the fishes
poem by Louis Marvin
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Cat Fish
Cat fish play and leap witter-wotter. Over slow yonder. Purple mountains, apple skys, and jam taste like yip. Yap cat fish grew, so fast they licked ripe grass. Lumber slumbers in cat fish numbers. Lovers and muggers fall in deep cat fish reign. Cat fish took a long slumber on there yonder and were eaten by cat fish toddlers. The end!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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You and I
They say the eagle is a bird
That sees some splendid sights
When he soars high into the sky
Upon his dizzy flights:
He sees the ground for miles around
Our house, and Billy Johnson's;
But we can not be Eagles, for
That would, of course, be nonsense.
But you and I, some summer day,
Providing we're allowed,
Will go up in an aeroplane
And sail right through a cloud.
But, if they say we may not go,
We'll stay upon the ground
With other things that have no wings,
And watch them walk around.
They say the bottom of the sea
Is beautiful to view;
They say the fish, whene'er they wish,
Can sail and see 'it, too,.
The shining pearls, the coral curls,
The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
And fish with fins (though not in tins)
And fish with funny flappers.
But you and I, some sunny day,
When weather's in condition,
Will go there in a submarine,
Providing we've permission.
But if they say we may not go
We must respect their wishes;
And you and I will just keep dry
Because we are not fishes.
They say to fly so very high
Is not exactly pleasant.
They say to go deep down below
Is not quite safe at present.
But you and I don't care for that,
And, if there's time for spending,
When work is done, we'll have our fun
By simply just pretending.
The earth is quite a jolly place,
And we don't care for flying;
And things that creep down in the deep
Are sometimes rather trying.
So, if they'll grant a holiday
Or even only half,
We'll lie upon some grassy place,
And think of things, and laugh.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Bells in the Rain
Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,
Upon the steep cliffs of the town.
Sleep falls; men are at peace again
While the small drops fall softly down.
The bright drops ring like bells of glass
Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown;
Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass
So softly as it falls on stone.
Peace falls unheeded on the dead
Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;
Upon a live man's bloody head
It falls most tenderly, I think.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Poverty's Grass
Arrogance said
We eat Poverty's grass
As Mockery fed
Biased high class
Now the famine
The Suicide breed
Pride is the sin
Destroyed your seed
We may eat grass
But you eat the soil
Your words are brass
And now you recoil
Grass tastes better
That you must know
But Death is the bitter
Seed that you grow
Dried and barren
Your land had become
Our grass can be eaten -
Do you want some?
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Summer Melanoma
‘That's nice, ' I said, as Juno bathed me
In her sun.
Soon, a bronze Adonis - ogling girls!
It must be done!
I rolled over; bared a snowy skin
To bake and burn and sear beneath a din
Of ultraviolet rays…
Now I'm on the ward, I count the days to
Lesser pain, torrential rain; accepting
I'm a fool to be so vain!
I bore an awful mole, you see -
A growth, a blighted entity
Presenting as an ugly melanoma!
Oh! how tricky life can be
When unprotected by the sea, to
Sizzle with a barbecue aroma!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Through the window the new moon peeps
(For Daleen)
I
Through the window the new moon peeps,
many stars glitter blue-white
where they sit glowing in the darkness,
like diamonds at which I look,
when the ginger cat stands in the windowsill,
next to me the moon falls on your face
and it looks as if you are dreaming,
as the lights of a car passes
and I am blessed to have you here,
with your intimate heat next to me,
but it's only a dream in which I dare this
as if a thousand nights will be such
and I am free of my worries,
it's as if everything fades in your presence.
II
It's as if everything fades in your presence
as if the past, times and things do not touch me,
when we are together and small things make you happy
as if nobody else does anymore matter
and with the magic that spring brings
there are new green sprouts rising,
in the garden it's as if the grass suddenly jumps,
I see irises already blooming purple in pots,
I see all the beauty that this spring brings
and all of the flowers that I can get
are far too insignificant
as you are very dear to me
but I do continually long for you,
even when the sun hangs magically in the sky.
III
Even when the sun hangs magically in the sky,
my life feels empty without you,
even if the sky is cobalt blue,
even if the rays of the sun catch me caressingly,
I am still like a child scared of darkness,
while I long to hold your hand, to embrace you,
while I want to know you better and want to trust you
in all the days of spring
and I wonder about your thoughts,
where you are now sitting in an office,
or does life also pass you,
while you drink a cup of tea
in a place with many white papers;
do you have any time to think of me?
IV
Do you have any time to think of me,
I wonder, while I am working in the garden
and I do not immediately notice you
while I am mowing the lawn
and I see a dove gliding over the earth
with no clouds in the deep blue sky,
where it stretches out with brightness above me
and irises and roses are flowering where you sit down.
I kiss you and do it another time
where we are alone in the back garden,
I am caught and you sweep me along
right here in the bright daylight,
and the bright sun falls over us
when I give my self to you.
V
When I give my self to you
and share my deepest secrets,
when you walk deep into my heart
and know me thoroughly
then I tell you about my life
and you learn that love comes from God,
and love has a new much deeper meaning
and I am astounded by your beauty time after time.
You are the summer child, the morning sun,
you are mine before the people and God
of light my only real source
and more precious than any human law
but then I suddenly wake up and want to cling to you;
in this late summer I miss you.
VI
In this late summer I miss you,
the separation of moments comes
in every small thing that I notice
and it reflects your image and your name.
I can hear birds whistling in the trees,
even feel the soft wind caressing my skin,
but you are the source of my heat,
the loveliest song that plays right through my heart
and I wonder if a person looses some humanity
when you trust somebody totally,
when you make deeper bonds,
when you cling to someone else in rapture?
Outside lights beacon lonely;
your voice over the phone makes my heart frolic.
VII
Your voice over the phone makes my heart frolic
when it sounds like that of a young girl,
when your image shines like that of an angel
and I am searching for flowers not just a poppy
but something precious that I want to pick for you,
when you bring me joy
and I want to embrace you for moments
while I wonder how that sensation will last
as the miles is some distance
but the yellow sun shines bright through your words
and suddenly my life feels right
as if radiated from a heavenly source,
our conversation stretches long, goes on and on;
through the window the new moon peeps.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Under The Grass
I look out at you
over the open blue sky
growing dark
when the sun
like an orange
what a ball
it glows red
and turning to you
saying i say
to you
i do not know
the sea
today
how the wind blows
will it blow
for me to speak
it says
and saying you say
as you want
me to say and we stay
salty water
and blowing the wind
blows as it must
my thoughts as the waves
are as small as the fish
swimming about
in between our toes
and swimming they swim
under the grass
as the waves
pull one back out
deep too sea.
poem by Is It Poetry
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