Forever
The bright blue
folds open through the room’s window
and I see rows of purple morning glories
that shoots in domes up to the wall.
There are purple irises
that keeps butterflies busy
and bees turn around the roses
and I can hear
them passing outside
and the soft sweet smell of jasmine
mixes with lavender
on the fresh morning breeze
and the ginger golden Persian cat
stretches himself out long
on the wall
of the fish pond
where he lies
looking at the world.
Somewhere Sussa
(the big black dog)
talks grumbling with herself
and I hear Flippie
passing carefully
on her small paws
in the corridor
and we are safe
in our fortress
and your hand lies
soft and spoiling over me
and I hear your breathing evenly
and while you sleep next to me
and I could stay forever like this.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
A Lovely Lavender Day
Purple, everything purple, purple
the colour I love, everything packaged
in purple – tile cleaner in a purple
container for lavender sweetness
Also power-cleaning cream for lavender-
fresh effects, the bottle appealing in a
soft purple hue, fabric conditioner in purple
too, accompanied by lavender promises
And my purple hot water bottle – I bought
Nici a purple fleece; a purple coverlet
on my bed, my favourite chocolate in a
purple wrapper
Purple is spiritual in the division of
seven chakra colours – red is earthed in
primitive desire, followed by orange, yellow,
green – the colour of love – and
Blue – the colour of communication, then
purple for third-eye enlightenment - purple
adds lustre and the sweetness of vague
mistiness to everything on which it appears;
Wishing you a lovely lavender day
in all hues of purple and blue!
poem by Margaret Alice
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The Smell of Purple is in the Air
Late Spring, Early Summer
Breeze Blowing Along with the light Misty Rain
Ah.....How wonderful the smell
So Fresh, So Crisp
Reminding Me of Grandma's Homemade Pie
Ah.....That Breeze Blows letting the Smell glisten through the Air
Right into My Window, Soft as a Rabbit's Fur
The Smell of Purple is in the Air
I just lie back on the bed and relax
That smell brings a Calm Peaceful feeling over me
Peace...
Ah....How great that feels...
Wonderful
The Smell of Purple is in the Air
Field of fresh Blueberries...Bushes Full
Sweet, Soft, Spring, Summer
Breeze Blowing, The Mist of Rain
Ah....Bring on the peace...The Wonderful Feeling
Beautiful..... Is that ' The Smell of Purple is in the Air '
poem by Lorene Erwin
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Further he lies silent
When with his long fur coat
he comes and lies on my lap
and look at me with golden eyes
with black pupils,
his front paws tread softly
while he makes a nest for himself.
There’s a purr sound
coming from his throat
and further he lies silent
while my fingers
stroke his head
and woolly ginger stomach
and two paws
gather my hand at times
like only my serval can
[Reference: Ginger persian cat here referred to as a serval.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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After You Left (Fay Slimm Form)
The day you left the rain poured down almost endless;
many things have changed.
The jasmine, geraniums and irises started blooming
as if they were destined
with pretty flowers opening in the morning mist,
the air soft with lavender
breezed into the room through the open window
but still your shadow
keeps on wandering into my mind, much
as if you are hiding somewhere.
The sun came just as bright as
when you were here, shining with intensity
and each and every day birds sing joyously,
happy to be free.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My darling’s arm lies over me
My darling’s arm lies over me
and it’s as if the silence
gets a deeper new meaning.
I lie on my back and she on her side
and our heads touch hot
against each other and forever
I can stay like this against her.
I feel her breath softly
blowing against my ear
and there’s intimacy
with her hand
clinging to my breast
and the sun is already high.
Outside there’s blue air
coming through the window
and she sleeps peaceful
and the light wind
jerks and jerks leaves
of the potato trees
and there’s a cool breeze
intruding through the open window
into the room
and I lightly
stroke her soft back.
It’s nice to lie together
in bed on a Sunday morning
and to have you’re darling
lying against you
and her toes that stick out small
from under the duvet
is perfect in form and size
like those of the first woman
and her womanly beauty
pervades me strongly
while she sleeps on unaware
and I see a big pink-brown nipple
rising up and down while she breaths
and like a photograph
it’s framed into my mind.
My darling’s arm lies over me
and it’s as if the silence
that stretches out long
gets a deeper new meaning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lavender
There's something about lavender that excites me
Like driving through Provence in an old 2CV
Roof rolled back, windows flipped open
Feel the sun on my face and smell fresh fragrance of pollen
Arm out and hand feeling the passing air
Trying to catch the essence of what is there
This is not a time, a moment, a second to be missed
When what you see, in mind and spirit, is bliss
So when I came across rows of bluish purple hue
I stopped, opened a bottle and drank a glass or two
And as I watched the sun slowly set in all its splendour
I toasted the one they call lavender
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Come to my garden
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
morning glories summit over every thing
and be speechless by the glory
of sunspots that trumpet their beauty purple-blue
and violets that rise up everywhere.
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
see roses from crimson to auburn
and find no words and become dumbstruck
by odours and colours that my plants trumpet forth
and come and look at every thing, come my most precious flower,
come to my garden.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Going to Tuscany
Just outside the window
at the fountain
a place in Tuscany
runs into violet hills
of lavender
against the outer wall
and sweet lavender perfume
drifts into the room.
In the corridor
between the bedrooms
and your studio
paintings of scenes
in Tuscany
shows where your heart
wants to go.
On the bed next to me
twin peaks with delicate
red brown nipples
rise inviting
with their own
perfume drawing me closer
to fields of your lavender.
To some they could be
big South African rondavels
shading against the African sun,
but more likely they
are pale white villas
set high above your sea
where beyond auburn bushes
is as secret hidden pond.
Streets meander up and down
soft and firm
arms and legs
while Tuscany rises
in the middle of me
and a hot welcome breezes
like the Tuscan wind
against my hand
and I feel passionate rain
between your legs
and I see daylight and stars
in your eyes
and your lashes
open and close
like table-clothes
jerked by a storm
coming in from the sea
in great old Tuscany
and I drive my Tuscany into you,
into a street of wondrous delicacies
and we go to Tuscany
where fields of lavender grow
and I know that it is like heaven
but somewhere here on earth
and Tuscany reflects in your eyes
and I hear it in your sighs
and Tuscany is right here.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Purple and White
Purple swirls with white and becomes lavender.
Lavender, reminds my senses of my beloved grandmother.
Grandmother, with paper thin skin that is soft as roses.
A rose, it’s sweet smelling aroma is candy for my nose.
My nose, one of my finest features that fills with me delight.
Delight, fine noses, sweet roses, soft grandmothers and purple swirled with white.
poem by Connie Crane
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Purple Forest
I walk into a purple forest
The place is magical and free
The grass is violet, the sky is white
Purple defines every tree
I walk into a purple forest
There are purple buzzing bees
And a swamp of violet waters
creep up to my knees
I walk into a purple forest
A streak of purple runs across the sky
I hear a gentle whisper say
It was a fairy passing by
I walk into a purple forest
On violet sod I lie my head
But later, of course
I awake in my bed
poem by Summer Song
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You are beautiful
You are very pretty
and the sun rising over the horizon
loves you,
while his red rays folds open.
The irises of which the colours are purple blue
and kingly on green stems
likes you and flowers perfectly,
to try and copy you.
Wild birds living in the trees
in the street
eat seed that you leave
and they realize that you are wondrously beautiful.
When the postman passes
he looks at the paintings on the outside wall
and thinks that if this is what comes
from your hand,
you really must be lovely.
The small white lapdog
looks admiring at you
as if you are a goddess
and knows were your splendour lies.
l’Envoi
Your auburn hair cherish
your pretty face, which is more beautiful
than a statue chiselled from white marble
and there’s light
in your golden eyes
which witnesses deep beauty.
You are beautiful,
and only you do not realize it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Purple Roses and Butterflies
She wears her angelic disguise
and surrounded by purple butterflies.
She walks with a bouquet of roses
and a bundle of hugs and kisses.
Now, slowly she strides along the path;
nervous just like solving her math.
She’s ready to meet her destiny,
to spend her future life with me.
Slowly there the butterflies flutter
and the purple roses smells sweeter.
As her purple gown trails down the aisle,
It seems like a hundred mile.
My heart sings and rejoices,
as she offers her trembling hand
whispers to my ear, her sweet voice
as in front of the altar we stand.
Purple roses…
Purple butterflies…
As we make our final solemn vow,
To love each other; then and now…
poem by Th3 Craft3r
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The Window
All night long, by a distant bell,
The passing hours were notched
On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell,
And the spark of life I watched
In her face was glowing or fading, -- who could tell? --
And the open window of the room,
With a flare of yellow light,
Was peering out into the gloom,
Like an eye that searched the night.
Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you fear?
"I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear:
Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, that wave in the night-wind's breath,
And low in the leafy laurels the larking shadow of death."
Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird
Told of the passing away
Of the dark, -- and my darling may have heard;
For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray
Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word,
Till the splendor born in the east outburned
The yellow lamplight, pale and thin,
And the open window slowly turned
To the eye of the morning, looking in.
Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so bright?
"I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white,
With the rose of life on her tips, and the breath of life in her breast,
And the arms of God around her as she quietly takes her rest."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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For The Love Of Big Brother
Like a train passing in the distance
Black bird in flight
I hear you call
And even though theres no one
Dark shadows move across the wall
I still hear the echo
Of your footsteps on the stairs
Still recall the images that
Seem to live out there
First you see my fingerprints
Like skeletons of leaves on the wall
People changing places
I stand for a moment
And its gone
I still hear the echo
Of your footsteps on the stairs
Still recall the images that
Seem to live out there
Like a train passing in the distance
Black bird in flight
I hear you call
And even though theres no one
Dark shadows move across the wall
I still hear the sound of
Conversations from the hall
Look to see whos coming
But its nothing
And theres no one there at all
(no one there at all)
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple Rain and Purple Lavender II
Purple rain and purple lavender,
Find me a place and let me fix my love;
For somebody got to pay for my works! !
And like Shadrachm, Meshach and Abednego.
Life is like the wings of love,
Life is like a strom at sea,
Life is like the works of love,
Life is all about us in this world! !
And at times, it is full of hate;
But, this purple rain and this purple lavender will be well noted by us all.
Purple rain and purple lavender,
With the sweet smell of love to satisfy my muse!
But the rainbow colours are the colours of love,
And like your love in the land of beautiful flowers.
People and the ways of life,
But the wars have destroyed many things around us! !
However, i will still love you for what you are;
And like the muse of love in the land of many widows!
For, this purple rain and this purple lavender are well noted by us all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What lies on the other side of a dark moon
My darling says
look how bright is the moon
and the gold
appears on the other side,
of the window pane
where it hangs in a round ball
in the dark night.
It’s as if the stars
tonight are fading away
and every thing in the heaven,
disappears before the bright moon.
We lie on a three quarters bed
and I wonder how many kisses
are still destined for me
and her soft body,
are touching mine
while my hand
glide over her soft round curves.
Her breath tickles my neck
while the night folds around us
and when she disappears into sleep
I am still busy
watching the magical moon
and I wonder what lies on the other side
of a dark moon
and if the sky,
will then have more stars in it,
but the star
that shines the brightest to me
is still in my arms
when the moon disappears
in the early morning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Think of me
Think of me
while the horizon glows red
at dusk,
that folds like a translucent cloak
around the earth
where on the porch
you watch the wild doves
and people
passing in the street
and the church bell
counts the evening hour in the distance
and the sweet taste of the tea
disappear with satisfaction into you
and the night flowers
open their cups.
Think of me
while nights draws out long
and the smell of jasmine
comes sweet through the window
soaking in from the garden
and you awake
from your dreams at night
and the old black dog
make whimpering sounds in her sleep
because I am the whole time
right here next to you
and want to remember
every moment with you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Fugitive
The air is perfumed with the morning's fresh breeze,
From the bush peer the sunbeams all purple and bright,
While they gleam through the clefts of the dark-waving trees,
And the cloud-crested mountains are golden with light.
With joyful, melodious, ravishing, strain,
The lark, as he wakens, salutes the glad sun,
Who glows in the arms of Aurora again,
And blissfully smiling, his race 'gins to run.
All hail, light of day!
Thy sweet gushing ray
Pours down its soft warmth over pasture and field;
With hues silver-tinged
The meadows are fringed,
And numberless suns in the dewdrop revealed.
Young Nature invades
The whispering shades,
Displaying each ravishing charm;
The soft zephyr blows,
And kisses the rose,
The plain is sweet-scented with balm.
How high from yon city the smoke-clouds ascend!
Their neighing, and snorting, and bellowing blend
The horses and cattle;
The chariot-wheels rattle,
As down to the valley they take their mad way;
And even the forest where life seems to move,
The eagle, and falcon, and hawk soar above,
And flutter their pinions, in heaven's bright ray.
In search of repose
From my heart-rending woes,
Oh, where shall my sad spirit flee?
The earth's smiling face,
With its sweet youthful grace,
A tomb must, alas, be for me!
Arise, then, thou sunlight of morning, and fling
O'er plain and o'er forest thy purple-dyed beams!
Thou twilight of evening, all noiselessly sing
In melody soft to the world as it dreams!
Ah, sunlight of morning, to me thou but flingest
Thy purple-dyed beams o'er the grave of the past!
Ah, twilight of evening, thy strains thou but singest
To one whose deep slumbers forever must last!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Mirror Mirror on the Wall
*couldn't find Two Souls Intertwined so here*
Mirror, mirror on the wall. Sit and watch me take my fall.
Reflect the world right back to me and mock me against it all.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. It’s not as it should seem.
The truths are lies the lies are truth and I can’t even scream.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You lie straight to my face.
Though the picture may be clear my mind you slowly erase.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You’re complexion is smooth and cold.
But beneath that reflecting beauty lies something worse than bold.
Walls that see my every move; that hear my every word.
Can you hear my heart beat quicken like a tiny caged bird.
Windows that show the freedom. Out there beyond my world.
What you paint is like the mirror; deceiving at every turn.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You see what’s in my hand.
Walls that know my secrets. I think you know my plan.
Windows that show my freedom. Shall I toss her out of you?
Face that reflects with a glimmer. Is this what you choose?
Eyes that stare back at me. I do not recognize.
The walls, the mirror, the windows too are all out for my demise.
Mind that’s been corrupted. Stare upon thy face.
If I destroy this ‘home’…shall I to be erased?
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You have seen me take my fall.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You were never there at all.
poem by Vanessa Kingsley
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The Colours of Spring Current Version
The gracious orange tree's greened branchlets grow
to greet blue sky with golden sun a-glow.
The vernal verdant shoots of Spring now sprout
through soft brown earth, here, there, and round about.
Winter's grey coat is shed, no sharp winds blow,
iris and honeysuckle soft hues show.
Bees, butterflies, for pollen pastures scout
sip tulips, scene's serenity throughout.
Dawn daffodils in buttercup meadows,
red roses, amber, in alternate rows,
violets, lilacs, pinks are pushing out -
divinity of Nature none may doubt.
(31 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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