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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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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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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It Is So Good To Be Outdoors
On a sunny day like this day tis just great to be alive
Just to walk out in the sunshine or to go off on a drive
To the mountain or the coastal town or to the park nearby
It is nice for to be outdoors when the sun is in the sky
A sunny day in September of around 20 degrees
And the scents of flowers and blossoms wafting in the freshening breeze
And the young lambs in the paddocks around their mothers play
It is good for to be outdoors on a warm day like today,
The familiar song of the blackbird a feathered minstrel of the Spring
And the honeyeaters chirping and the shrike thrush pipe and sing
And October days are looming and September all but gone
And the Spring is passing quickly and father time keeps ticking on
And the welcome swallows chirping they are so graceful in flight
It is so good to be outdoors in the September sunlight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Marigolds (Novelinee)
Like the morning glory you worship the sun
opening golden fold upon golden fold
following it from the time the day begun
as if that starry thing you do behold
longing for its shining white hot rays
as if watching while it is moving on
opening sunny day upon sunny day
and closing just as soon as it is gone
as if its love to you is the only one.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barefoot Days
In the morning, very early,
That's the time I love to go
Barefoot where the fern grows curly
And grass is cool between each toe,
On a summer morning-O!
On a summer morning!
That is when the birds go by
Up the sunny slopes of air,
And each rose has a butterfly
Or a golden bee to wear;
And I am glad in every toe
Such a summer morning-O!
Such a summer morning!
poem by Rachel Field
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Flowering (Ae freslighe)
Flowering trees stand shaking
as in their branches birds play,
in the morn I am waking
to a sunny kind of day.
It is during times of spring
in nature, I want to stay
to see the flowers rising
before the sun sneaks away.
The blooming does love display;
in this time there is something
that takes all your cares away
when all blossoms are flowering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Dirge For Minette
I
Silently, silently the new morning awakes
and your hands are crossed over your breast
while you go to the eternal rest,
and deeply, deeply my heart aches.
II
Colourful new flowers are flowering,
with insects buzzing, birds with songs to sing
while I miss you
during this early spring.
III
Blue as your eyes the sky
is stretching, open and clear
while in it multitudes of birds fly
and I wish that you were here.
IV
Far too fleetingly you were with me
and this remains the earthly thing,
where no one is free
from death and the way that it stings.
V
In the early morning breeze at you grave
my words are fluttering here and there, fluttering
while in sorrow they rave
and even the willows are crying.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I
Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
On the rippling waves, that brightly flow
Beneath the flowering vines.
Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet chant
Of the wild-birds' morning hymn
Comes floating by on the fragrant air,
Through the forest cool and dim;
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.
Awake! Awake! for the summer wind
Hath bidden the blossoms unclose,
Hath opened the violet's soft blue eye,
And awakened the sleeping rose.
And lightly they wave on their slender stems
Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,
Waiting for us, as we singing come
To gather our honey-dew there.
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Port Fairy In Spring
In Port Fairy by the ocean nesting birds chirp and sing
On a sunny day in early September in the early Spring
In a lovely old place on a beautiful day
The Spring is in town for her annual three months stay
In the home gardens and parklands shrubs and trees and flower beds in their flowers
And the coastal lands green after recent Spring showers
In Victoria Spring is such a lovely time of the year
And with each passing day warmer weather is near
The mud nesting magpie larks call out pee wee all day
From Utopia Port Fairy does not seem far away
Near Griffith Island one can hear the ocean's loud din
As the big waves at high tide to the beach rumbles in
In the old coastal town for it's beauty well known
Port Fairy it does have a charm of it's own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Early in the Spring
Early in the spring
Not a leaf has struck the ground
The swallow has yet to sing
And the plowmen are no where to be found
Early in the spring
The forest stands still
And no creature dare come out
Before the sun rises o’er the hill
Early in the spring
The valley holds the morning dew
And its serenity may be captured
By only a certain few
Early in the spring
The trees turn, brown to green
Many changes occur
But few can be seen
Early in the spring
Or in the latter of fall
No matter the change of season
The evergreen stands tall
poem by James Kent
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Christmas Morning
Listen to the children sing
Watch them dancing all around the Christmas tree
Waiting for the opening
Early Christmas morning
All around the world is sleeping
Little children there's no peeping
Wait and see what Santa's bringing
Early Christmas morning
Early Christmas morning
Icicles and breakfast cakes
Friends and family we will celebrate
Sounds that joy and laughter make
Early Christmas morning
All around and far off places
Angels waken smiling faces
Wrapping us with love and graces
Early Christmas morning
Early Christmas morning
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Merry Christmas... Have A Nice Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunny Days
Sunny Days, Grandma would say
makes the birds sing, songs it brings
melodies of happier times, just for a dime
dancing and dressing fancy
a Symphony from the trees
a picnic under the tree
we sing, we dance
love the sunny days
from walks to talks
children play
to listen to the song of birds
bring love to the sun
enjoyable time
oh sunny days
poem by Michael Peterson
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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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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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A Rainy Day In Early June
The gray sky clouded over the rain is drizzling down
And the golf course is deserted by the river near the town
An early June day in early Winter in the Southern Hemisphere
The sun in the rain clouds hidden it is that time of year
From once you hear him singing his voice with you remain
The magpie he is piping in defiance of the rain
The gray and brown red wattlebird with a hoarseness in his cry
Is calling on a flowering gum that drips of rain nearby
To the vast expanse of dark water that crawls slowly to the sea
And in the calm dampness of the drizzling rain come the song of the pee wee
On this rainy day in early Winter it seems a long way from the Spring
When most of Nature's wildborn birds will build their nests and chirp and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Of the Cuckoo
Thou booby, say'st thou nothing but cuckoo?
The robin and the wren can thee outdo.
They to us play thoróugh their little throats,
Not one, but sundry pretty tuneful notes.
But thou hast fellows, some like thee can do
Little but suck our eggs, and sing cuckoo.
Thy notes do not first welcome in our spring,
Not dost thou its first tokens to us bring.
Birds less than thee by far, like prophets, do
Tell us 'tis coming, though not by cuckoo.
Nor dost thou summer have away with thee,
Though thou a yawling, bawling cuckoo be.
When thou dost cease among us to appear,
Then doth our harvest bravely crown our year.
But thou hast fellows, some like thee can do
Little but suck our eggs, and sing cuckoo.
Since cuckoos forward not our early spring,
Nor help with notes to bring our harvest in:
And since while here she only makes a noise,
So pleasing unto none as girls and boys,
The formalist we may compare her to,
For he doth suck our eggs, and sing cuckoo.
poem by John Bunyan
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The Oven Bird
There is a singer eveyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past,
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.
poem by Robert Frost
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You Are The One That Brings Joy To Me
With the rays of the sun starting to shine this morning,
when the garden was full of flowers with opening cups,
my heart was confused and without speech,
when you took a shortcut through my thoughts,
I was waiting for you to come home
and I had expectation and hope
but when the time drew nearer I was somewhat stripped.
With the rays of the sun starting to shine this morning,
the beauty of the flowers were disguised in the early twilight
but already the birds wanted to chat
and like a teenager in love I was somewhat stupid,
when the garden was full of flowers with opening cups.
Time suddenly elapsed far too quickly
when suddenly you were coming along the road
and I was wondering how things between us would be,
my heart was confused and without speech,
then a leave was circling twisting round and round
while a weaver dipped its head in the drinking bowl
and you were far prettier that the most beautiful flower,
when you took a shortcut through my thoughts,
when the gate suddenly squealed while opening on my property
with a cloud hanging white like a giant pillowslip,
I realised that you are the one in all of mankind
who brings joy to me, when the day started to end
with the rays of the sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
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