My heart
My heart is like a forest in spring
and everywhere fragrant trees fill me,
birds from morning to noon sing
while I know your loving.
My heart is like a brook
bubbling with endless water
cool and pure
and blessed by nature
with deer visiting me unexpected
and little insects reflected
on the mirror of my ways
while you are near to me.
My heart is like a aged book
where sweet memories hide
on every page where you look
while you abide with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In My Heart...
In my heart...sweet devotion
In my heart...deep emotion
In my heart...lies true bliss
In my heart...your warm, last kiss
In my heart...a burning fire
In my heart...endless desire
In my heart...our love was built
In my heart...I hide no guilt
In my heart...memories of our love
In my heart...I keep your last hug
In my heart...Memories of this war
In my heart...I don't want them anymore.
poem by Philip Lore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)
I
Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting
with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering
while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.
II
Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.
There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.
His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers
in their winged flight,
from early twilight.
III
From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment
and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song
as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine
and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.
IV
Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing
even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free
when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue
specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.
V
Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night
while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright
with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.
VI
In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind
that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed
but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained
while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.
VII
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,
where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,
as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Love In Winter
Winter cannot chill my ardent soul
Nor forest entrapped by icy glaze
Her smile is what makes me whole
Eyes that set my racing heart ablaze
Alas, soon come the days of spring
When crocus seek the light of day
When forest birds begin to nest ‘n sing
When nature’s colors offer full display
We’ll stroll together she and me
Through hill ‘n dale, arm in arm
Seek wonders with gentle affinity
We’ll drink our fill of Nature’s charm
How blessed are those that fall in love,
A gift from God's heaven high above
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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What a wonderful world of nature...
When the early morning is born with heavenly blessed
When the bright sun rays shower through the misty clouds
When the birds choir being to chirp their songs on the trees
then the day being with a wonderful of nature.
I can feel the Mother Nature touches me with her love
I can feel the nature illuminates my heart and brighten my soul
I can see the green grass in summer-spread lovely
I can see the flowers in the spring bloomed lavishly
I can see the leaves falls in the autumn covered earth greatly
I can see the trees full of snow in the winter sprinkled
I can see the stream water gurgles from the mountain
I can see the fauna in the jungles freely set to live happily
I can see the barren lands wet and fertile
Not only they are beautiful in nature
but they serve a purpose for us
Not only they are beauty as forest
but they serve food and water for us
Always, praise the God and thank HIM for HIS beautiful creation
What a wonderful world of nature that you and me live.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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With All My Heart, God, Let Me… (A Song)
With all my heart, God, let me praise you;
With all my heart, God, let me thank you;
With all my heart, God, let me serve you;
With all my heart, God, let me love you.
With all my heart, God, let me seek you;
With all my heart, God, let me trust you;
With all my heart, God, let me call you;
With all my heart, God, let me reach you.
With all my heart, God, let me rejoice;
With all my heart, God, let me obey;
With all my heart, God, let me repent;
With all my heart, God, let me be glad.
With all my heart, God, let me be pure;
With all my heart, God, let me await;
With all my heart, God, let me sing songs;
With all my heart, God, let me not sin.
With all my heart, let me abide in Him;
With all my heart, let me be righteous;
With all my heart, let me not go astray;
With all my heart, let me keep your Words.
God knows all secrets of the human heart;
He forms all hearts and considers all that they do;
The Lord moves hearts of Kings to make decrees;
Only fools say in hearts, ‘There is no God! '
poem by John Celes
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The Home of My Heart
Not here in the populous town,
In the playhouse or mart,
Not here in the ways gray and brown,
Bnt afar on the green-swelling down,
Is the home of my heart.
There the hillside slopes down to a dell
Whence a streamlet has start;
There are woods and sweet grass on the swell,
And the south winds and west know it well:
‘Tis the home of my heart.
There’s a cottage o’ershadowed by leaves
Growing fairer than art,
Where under the low sloping eaves -
No false hand the swallow bereaves:
‘Tis the home of my heart.
And there as you gaze down the lea,
Where the trees stand apart,
Over grassland and woodland may be
You will catch the faint gleam of the sea
From the home of my heart.
And there In the rapturous spring,
When the morning rays dart
O’er the plain, and the morning birds sing,
You may see the most beautiful thing
In the home of my heart;
For there at the casement above,
Where the rosebushes part,
Will blush the fair face of my love:
Ah, yes I It is this that will prove
‘Tis the home of my heart.
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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Revision
Often I flip back the pages,
Of the bulky book of time,
Revision rakes afresh,
The dormant memories,
Pleases or makes me sad,
Pangs begin bubbling,
Pleasures spring up again,
As subterranean channels,
Find out from fountains,
Their way when dug deep,
Or blocking ooze is removed.
Who knew a cheerful lass,
Walking with frolic gait,
All alone in the deep forest,
Offering ripe sweet berries,
Plucked with the soft hands,
Streaked, stippled, scratched,
Spotted with the dew of blood,
And who clang on listening,
To the fluttering birds in the trees,
The stirring rabbits in the bushes,
Would be my love my mistress,
And break the heart in twain,
The waves of time would drive
Us apart never to see again.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?
Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.
But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.
One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.
How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.
I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?
I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.
poem by David Mitchell
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Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring
Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring,
with branches filled with blossoms
in clusters of pink, yellow and white
and every day has a bright sunny look
and everything is pure and lustrous
with fragrant cups that are opening, everywhere it lives
with new energy, as if everything is filled with joy
in the branches birds sing a tribute
bees and butterflies caper,
the sky is open and sapphire blue,
birds fly up and down
and my heart is overflowing
from every loving glance from you,
is knocking stormy almost out of control.
poem by Gert Strydom
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For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Sweet Little Heart
Heart Heart Heart
My sweetlittle heart,
Why you beat so fast.
My heart is lonely,
But it is full of glory.
My heart will smile,
But for a while.
My heart will cry,
just like raining from the sky.
My heart will sing,
like the air in spring.
My heart will pain,
When anyone cheats me again.
My heart is sweet,
But always want to compete.
My heart will glare,
When someone will blare.
Copyright © 2011
poem by Vinay Nagrani
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Like A Fresh Brook Flows
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn leaves its chill to a warming.
As birds are heard chirping.
And all of nature seems to sing.
Smiling faces seen to grace,
In places where we go.
Letting known their feelings shown.
As blooming flowers are exposed.
And laughter shared among the children,
Bring instant memories.
And romance filled remembered dances,
Slowly...
Like a fresh brook in a forest flows.
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn arrives with Sunrise warmings,
As nature scents with a lingered tingling.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The First Of September
The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
The first day of September the day of the year
When to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere
The Spring she arrives for her three months stay
With much warmer weather just a few weeks away
The Spring has arrived with her wildflowers and green
And her beauty in gardens and parks to be seen
Spring she arrives and she brings with her new life
And in parks and gardens Nature's beauty is rife
For the first day of September a cool chill in the breeze
But the birds chirp and whistle on the bushes and trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If Nature Survives
Once upon a time dense forest
Now stands open field with no trees to rest
No green branches and no noise of birds
It has become rare chance for melody to be heard
Where has our cuckoo gone?
Why has she deserted morning tune?
What have we done to her go in exile?
I thought she has lost her refuge for a while
The sparrows have disappeared too
Quite in numbers could be seen through
In window hole or in little hide out
They were happily seen to be heard about
They have gone too and become extinct
Probably to far off places and in interior districts
Now villages too have adopted same way
Little trees and forest is done away
You find no crows, owls or eagles
Sky is seen barren and no formation of love triangles
Nature has turned off its kind eye
Not enough of birds could be seen to fly
Deforestation is on rise and on high side
Gap is apparent and looks very wide
We are doing enough of damage to wild culture
As if we have taken out right control for future
Who to be blamed for this outrageous act?
Earth has tolerated it but so far refused to react
Of late natural calamities are on rise
It may spring anytime big surprise
Large population insects and birds stay in forest
It is their birth place and permanent refuge for rest
We need not disturb ecological balance
Let each tree cut be replaced by more to make it dense
If nature survives we survive too
In defiance we fell apart and disintegrate too
No one can survive long its absence
Nature is our mother and real essence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cool Tubrid Water
The day is warm and dust fly in the breeze
And a forecast high of 35 degrees
And to quench my thirst I would need a cold beer
For no water like cool Tubrid water here.
Near Daylesford there's a spring well I recall
And I drank some water from it in the Fall
Of that clear spring I now could drink my fill
And Tubrid water even better still.
The skylark comes to Tubrid's bubbling spring
To bathe and drink and then fly off to sing
And o'er the bogland in the morning sky
You hear him pipe his heartfelt notes of joy.
I often called to Tubrid seldom though in May
And not to kneel at the grotto to pray
But to drink the water cool and crystal clear
A drink far better for your health than beer.
The water from the tap don't taste so nice
Though it feels cooler with a cube of ice
I have drank far better near Daylesford last Fall
Though Tubrid water still the best of all.
The day is warm and dust fly in the breeze
And a forecast high of 35 degrees
And to quench my thirst I would need a cold beer
For no water like cool Tubrid water here.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sing This Heart Back To Me
This heart that slept the beauty sleep
And dreamt of daylight drums of joy
This heart that dived abyss too deep
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to beat in me
This heart that leaped this heart that burned
In ashes smashed and crushed and rocked
This heart your heart it never learned
Sing this heart sink not this heart
Think not this heart belongs just to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to sing in me
This heart that shared your heart that dared
To see too much of the heart in me
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
For there will be no more no heart
No no more heart
No no more heart to dream in me
This heart your heart my heart toy heart
Sink not this heart choke not this heart
Sing this heart bring this heart
Bring this heart back to me
That I can cling to this heart
Sing to this heart
Bring my heart back to me
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I Can't Hide My Heart
(Randy Owen/Teddy Gentry/Ronnie Rogers/Greg Fowler)
When we're in a crowd, I'm sure you've noticed how
I love to look at you (you, you, you)
No, I can't deny, I get hypnotized
When I look at you (look at you, look at you)
Oh, it's the kind of thing, that I can't explain
No matter how I try
It's no mystery, the whole world can see
How I feel inside (feel inside)
(Oh, oh baby)
I can't hide my heart
It's been that way right from the start
These feelings I know
Can't help but show
And I can't hide my heart
When we're all alone, oh it's just as strong
When I look at you
Maybe even more, behind these doors
As I'm loving you (loving you)
(Oh, oh baby)
I can't hide my heart
It's been that way right from the start
These feelings I know
Can't help but show
And I can't hide my heart
Baby you never will be lonely, as long as I'm alive
You'll always be my one and only, for the rest of my life
Ooooh, ooooh
(Oh, oh baby)
I can't hide my heart
It's been that way right from the start
These feelings I know
Can't help but show
And I can't hide my heart
I can't hide my heart
It's been that way right from the start
I can't hide my heart (and I can't hide my heart)
It's been that way right from the start
I can't hide my heart
I can't hide my heart
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn To Life
The hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.
Far off
where we can't see,
the moon must be rising.
It hasn't reached us yet,
slipping through the leaves
to light up your shoulder.
But I know
a wind comes up with the moon.
The trees are whispering.
Your bare arms will be cold.
From above,
from the branches lost in the dark,
something dropped at your feet.
You moved closer to me.
Under my hand your bare flesh is like the fuzzy skin of a fruit.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense"--
before the trees, birds, and insects,
my hand on my wife's flesh
is thinking.
Tonight my hand
can't read or write.
Neither loving nor unloving...
It's the tongue of a leopard at a spring,
a grape leaf,
a wolf's paw.
To move, breathe, eat, drink.
My hand is like a seed
splitting open underground.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense,"
neither loving nor unloving.
My hand thinking on my wife's flesh
is the hand of the first man.
Like a root that finds water underground,
it says to me:
"To eat, drink, cold, hot, struggle, smell, color--
not to live in order to die
but to die to live..."
And now
as red female hair blows across my face,
as something stirs on the ground,
as the trees whisper in the dark,
and as the moon rises far off
where we can't see,
my hand on my wife's flesh
before the trees, birds, and insects,
I want the right of life,
of the leopard at the spring, of the seed splitting open--
I want the right of the first man.
Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Oh, Heart
Oh heart, oh heart, why must you beat?
Oh heart, oh heart, why must you weap?
Oh heart, oh heart, why must you hide?
Oh heart, oh heart, what lies inside?
Oh heart, oh heart, why must you cry?
Oh heart, oh heart, why do you despise?
Oh heart, oh heart, why are you weak?
Oh heart, oh heart, why can't you speak?
Oh heart, oh heart, why must you burn?
Oh heart, oh heart, why can't you learn?
Oh heart, oh heart, what went wrong?
Oh, heart, oh heart, can't you be strong?
Oh heart, oh heart, why are you blue?
Oh heart, oh heart, where are you?
poem by Whitney Albright
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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