Poppies (cavatina)
Red they bloom as if coals from flaming hell,
they do glitter,
are shivering in the slight wind, I do
sometimes titter
at their emblazing beauty, while bees buzz,
birds do twitter;
God must have made them to be so lovely,
they awake feelings of longing in me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Independent Bee
A hive of bees, as I've heard say,
Said to their Queen one sultry day,
"Please your Majesty's high position,
The hive is full and the weather is warm,
We rather think, with a due submission,
The time has come when we ought to swarm."
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Up spake their Queen and thus spake she -
"This is a matter that rests with me,
Who dares opinions thus to form?
I'LL tell you when it is time to swarm!"
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Her Majesty wore an angry frown,
In fact, her Majesty's foot was down -
Her Majesty sulked - declined to sup -
In short, her Majesty's back was up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Her foot was down and her back was up!
That hive contained one obstinate bee
(His name was Peter), and thus spake he -
"Though every bee has shown white feather,
To bow to tyranny I'm not prone -
Why should a hive swarm all together?
Surely a bee can swarm alone?"
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Upside down and inside out,
Backwards, forwards, round about,
Twirling here and twisting there,
Topsy turvily everywhere -
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Pitiful sight it was to see
Respectable elderly high-class bee,
Who kicked the beam at sixteen stone,
Trying his best to swarm alone!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Trying his best to swarm alone!
The hive were shocked to see their chum
(A strict teetotaller) teetotum -
The Queen exclaimed, "How terrible, very!
It's perfectly clear to all the throng
Peter's been at the old brown sherry.
Old brown sherry is much too strong -
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Of all who thus themselves degrade,
A stern example must be made,
To Coventry go, you tipsy bee!"
So off to Coventry town went he.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
There, classed with all who misbehave,
Both plausible rogue and noisome knave,
In dismal dumps he lived to own
The folly of trying to swarm alone!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
All came of trying to swarm alone.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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When The Bluebells Bloom
There is so much beauty in Nature but as lovely a thing as I've seen
Is in May when the bluebells are blooming on the ditch along the old bohreen
The wild hyacinths of Mother Nature so lovely and bell like and blue
When the bohreen is lit by bright sunlight they sparkle in the morning dew.
Of the beautiful bluebells of Nature the memory with me remain
On the damp and shady ditch of the bohreem they bloom in the wind and the rain
Surrounded by Nature's leafy greenery where nesting birds whistle and sing
In fancy I can visualize the beauty of the Northern Spring.
In May when the bluebells are blooming birds whistle on the hedgerows and trees
And the wildflowers blooming amongst the long grass are dancing in the freshening breeze
And the hawthorns are heavily laden in their fragile blossoms of white
Than the natural beauty of Nature there's not a more beautiful sight.
When the bluebells bloom by the bohreen the little brown lark upwards fly
And pleasant the sound of his carolling this tiny speck in the Spring sky
And though I now live far from the bohreen in distance almost a World away
I fancy I hear the birds singing in the leafy woodlands of May.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dare Not fear
Leaves sway and play
In the wind,
Clouds seem to bow and pray
All across the sky ever again.
Birds fly so high
With nary a care,
Butterflys wraped in buoyant beauty
Never to worry, for what they might wear.
- So why am I
(such a simple man, at the fringes of Gods plan)
Afraid to live, and to die?
Dare I, in fear, to presume
God would love the beauty of each flower
And not notice my own heart in bloom?
Nay.
For God does know and does see all,
Perhaps allowing now and again
A slight trip, but never into eternal deaths final hand
Will He let me fall.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Twitcher and the Bird Sanctuary
I see many species of birds
from morning till night.
They speak different languages
the migratory birds from all over the world.
What a colourful pagentry and harmony?
Nobody carries weapons
and no any harshness.
So it's very harmless to be with them forever.
Their twitter makes me happy
and I want to be single
whole of the journey.
If she comes I fear the birds won't be here.
She scolded me in her last letter.
'You are good for nothing; a Gooseberry
one day you sink with your birds
in your own bottomless harbour.
Your holey gondola won't be long-standing.
My wicked Gondolier,
you propel with your rickety pole to the hell!
Wind up,
your unfortunate wino Goddess.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Spring
Flowers are on their way to bloom
Birds do twitter in the sky
You see
The sea &
The sky
Are blue
Love is the essence of life
And I am on my way to you!
poem by Eman Elbadawi
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Buzz Buzz Buzz
(wha-ooh, wha-ooh, wha-ooh, wha-ooh)
Well buzz buzz buzz goes the bumble bee
A twiddledeedledee goes a bird
But the sound of your little voice, darling,
Its the sweetest sound Ive ever heard.
Well, Ive seen the beauty of the red, red rose,
Seen the beauty when the skies are blue,
Seen the beauty of the evening sunset- but the beauty of you!
Sweet is the honey from the honeycomb,
Sweet are the grapes of a vine,
But theres nothing as sweet as you, darling,
And I hope some day youll be mine!
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scent Of Summer
The woodpecker picking skins from the trees,
Summer air hardly blowing, heavy and humid,
Make female flutter in the wind as naked goddess,
Greet the fluttering fan blowing in their hand.
A windy ripple of joy amides fragrant the smiles,
Like the scent of mist loitering in a new morning ray?
Falling from heaven upon rugged hills with limpid tress,
Make a noise blushing in leafy shade of the day.
Up in the sky, morning glory shows a brilliant fire,
And the young hairy grass whisper with a different voice,
Call unto drowsy fields for nature to awake from slumber,
Take into the air beauty of presiding choice.
Between dimpled leaves come the buzzing bees,
Clouds go higher, gathered sweat in boughs as rain,
The season bring the scent of summer bloom with ease,
Mingled fragrance in the lovely leaves contain.
A special display of all the aspirations that people have,
Stored up in many small changes of fresh fantasies,
Orchards paths in distant dreams many do crave,
But we can all swallow reality much nearer the pansies.
In sunset shadows the glitter of gold pass sublimed,
Where painted mausoleum pervades dark places,
Which mark that imprint in the sands of our time?
Wind and rain gently step aside from the gorgeous isles.
poem by Gerry Legister
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I Wish I Could Sing Of The Beauty I See
I wish I could sing of the beauty I see
The beauty of Nature that's all around me
In the warmth of November of the Southern Spring
The blackbird and magpie and shrike thrush do sing.
Of singing Nature's praises the poets never tire
And her beauty the Nature artist does inspire
To paint and frame a beautiful picture to hang on a gallery wall
When it comes to beauty Nature the most beautiful of all.
The buzzing of flying insects the flies and the bees
The soughing of the wind in the bushes and trees
The babble of the river and birdsong I hear
The voices of Nature are everywhere near.
The roar of the ocean when the tide is in
As the huge waves crash on the beach they do make a loud din
The howling of the storm, thunder cracks in the sky
When Nature feels angry to scream she's not shy.
Yet the beauty of Nature is lovely to behold
What is more beautiful than the parrots in their blue, red, green and gold
And the flowers of the parkland that bloom naturally
I wish I could write of the beauty I see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Are My Inspiration
YOU ARE MY INSPIRATION
Stirring are the waves of ocean
At the sight of full moon
So are my feelings and emotions
Seeing your smile in full bloom
Jumps with joy with life’s aspiration
Knowing that you are my inspiration
Dancing are the bees feeling romantic
Seeing the buds blossoming into flowers
So is my heart feeling exotic
Seeing your lips of sweet nectar
Skips a heart beat in expectation
Knowing that you are my inspiration
Singing are birds feeling the joy
Seeing the spring ushering new season
So is my soul soaring high
Seeing your cheeks made of orison
Gives me the feelings of adoration
Knowing that you are my inspiration
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Gulmohur in May
Oh! Behold
The bliss and beauty of May.
The warm sunbeams,
The sudden showers,
The husky wind,
Neither swift nor soft.
The verdure of shrubs
That put forth their buds
And their sweet fragrance
When opening their delicate folds.
Lo! That tree over the hedge,
The lone Gulmohur in full bloom
With flowers cluttered on every bough
And the honey bees, diving in and out.
A red canopy hung
Across the cyan sky!
A marvel of marvels
In the valley of green!
At the slight touch of the wind
It sheds its flowers,
That, like confetti over the blushing bride
Drop to the ground and lie in heaps.
Scarlet and deep orange, yellow and pink
Such shocking shades, blended so fine,
Turning the enveloping green
Into a splendid canvas of art!
poem by Valsa George
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Heaven vs Hell
A breath away from heaven, yet a spark away from hell.
I titter on a tightrope of thoughts and deeds that foretell
My future in this life, but may well sacrifice the other…
Unless I’m strong enough to believe there is another.
One day it seems that reams of problems aren’t worth my time;
Then another sunrise bestows fortunes far beyond sublime.
Can it be that there is a spirit that represents all that is good,
And a countervailing force deterring the course of what I should?
Now rules of the game seem to reward only those able to win.
No thought is given to whether their ways are moral, right... or a sin.
For them hell is only a possibility from an economic point of view;
Until they possess all the wealth, that’s the heaven they’ll pursue.
For such individuals heaven and hell can be closer than ever before;
Sadly, addiction to false heavenly riches turn them into hell’s whores.
As I titter on life’s tightrope, both heaven and hell seem oh so near.
Deeds of love and not needs for wealth mean I have nothing to fear.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Waggledance
Bees the, the, the bees
Buzz around buzz-buzz me buzz on me
Tales telling Tintagel to of me
Quiet lie I here, under waiting
Betwixt watching and tasting
Waggledance, dance, waggledance, dance, waggledance
Dilly-dally dally-dilly-0
Tomorrow yet and yet tomorrow goes
Dilly-dally dally-dilly-0
Waggledance, dance, waggledance, dance, waggledance
poem by Stefan nnn
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Ocean of Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
In spring Earth is a Beauty;
Flowers smile with gaiety.
Cuckoo sings with delight;
Mother Vinapanee attracts the devotee.
Cosy blossoms smile on the tree;
On the trees birds are free.
Golden sun beam kisses the blossoms;
Welcoming mother beauteous blossoms bloom.
Vernal Breeze blows from South;
Peasants, poets enchant with mirth.
Fraternity reigns in all creatures;
Lovers enchant with profound pleasure.
Adorned with green robe the bride smiles gaily;
Tiny birds twitter delightfully.
With profound pleasure women perform duty;
Children go through books with gaiety.
Intellectuals swear to serve the society;
Scientists enchant with gaiety.
Poet’s pray sweet lovely Mother;
She contents their desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Way
At first a mere thread of a footpath half blotted out by the grasses
Sweeping triumphant across it, it wound between hedges of roses
Whose blossoms were poised above leaves as pond lilies float on the water,
While hidden by bloom in a hawthorn a bird filled the morning with singing.
It widened a highway, majestic, stretching ever to distant horizons,
Where shadows of tree-branches wavered, vague outlines invaded by sunshine;
No sound but the wind as it whispered the secrets of earth to the flowers,
And the hum of the yellow bees, honey-laden and dusty with pollen.
And Summer said, "Come, follow onward, with no thought save the longing to wander,
The wind, and the bees, and the flowers, all singing the great song of Nature,
Are minstrels of change and of promise, they herald the joy of the Future."
Later the solitude vanished, confused and distracted the road
Where many were seeking and jostling. Left behind were the trees and the flowers,
The half-realized beauty of quiet, the sacred unconscious communing.
And now he is come to a river, a line of gray, sullen water,
Not blue and splashing, but dark, rolling somberly on to the ocean.
But on the far side is a city whose windows flame gold in the sunset.
It lies fair and shining before him, a gem set betwixt sky and water,
And spanning the river a bridge, frail promise to longing desire,
Flung by man in his infinite courage, across the stern force of the water;
And he looks at the river and fears, the bridge is so slight, yet he ventures
His life to its fragile keeping, if it fails the waves will engulf him.
O Arches! be strong to uphold him, and bear him across to the city,
The beautiful city whose spires still glow with the fires of sunset!
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago
The orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
The snowy blossoms back to me,
And all the buds that used to be!
Blow back along the grassy ways
Of truant feet, and lift the haze
Of happy summer from the trees
That trail their tresses in the seas
Of grain that float and overflow
The orchard lands of Long Ago!
Blow back the melody that slips
In lazy laughter from the lips
That marvel much if any kiss
Is sweeter than the apple's is.
Blow back the twitter of the birds--
The lisp, the titter, and the words
Of merriment that found the shine
Of summer-time a glorious wine
That drenched the leaves that loved it so,
In orchard lands of Long Ago!
O memory! alight and sing
Where rosy-bellied pippins cling,
And golden russets glint and gleam,
As, in the old Arabian dream,
The fruits of that enchanted tree
The glad Aladdin robbed for me!
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan
My blood as when it overran
A heart ripe as the apples grow
In orchard lands of Long Ago!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Through With Buzz
He takes all my money
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh
Hes not very funny
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh
I remember when he stole my girl
Drug her all around the world
You know Im cool, yes I feel alright
cept when Im in my room and its late at night
Maybe hes a fairy
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz
All right, oh yeah, uh huh, all right
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At A Time When You Wanted To Leave On A Bright Morning (Villanelle)
From me do not take flight,
we should be happy at the brake of day
when the darkness is conquered by light.
In the morning suddenly everything is clear and bright,
even birds on the branches do twitter and play.
From me do not take flight,
know that my feelings for you are true and right,
are there in times of sorrow and when everything is gay,
when the darkness is conquered by light.
Even if at times we argue, at times in conversations fight
you still do love me even when you threaten to go away.
From me do not take flight,
sometimes you look lovely even through my tearful sight
and here now I beg you to stay,
when the darkness is conquered by light
and love me as intense as you did last night,
know my true feelings I pray.
From me do not take flight,
when the darkness is conquered by light.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Just For Once
wind blowing
in continuous sweeps
rain falling
in endless sheets
birds and bees
stilled in their nests
shake the heart
of its long drawn stillness
to assume
all ears and eyes
to catch the melody
of your approaching foot-steps
to absorb your prescence
just for once
before birds and bees
awaken to life...
30oct2010
12.04hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Daffodils
Un vert soldat returns from war,
in green vast spreads and daffodils,
with bees to buzz above the gore,
he bleeds in haze from deathly bore,
dropping red drops on weeds and flor',
euphoric feed this ground of kills,
Un vert soldat returns from war,
in green vast spreads and daffodils,
O maker of the bees and flow'rs,
this is the field he run when small,
with birds on trees singing to stars,
the buzzing bees don't know of wars,
amid the souls that take this course,
utopian was his standing tall,
O maker of the bees and flow'rs,
this is the field he run when small.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Magic Of The Rose
the bees go buzz, buzz, buzz
and do what they must do
to polinate the roses
the faerie waits until they're through
to add a bit of magic
she will give the rose a kiss or two
not even the rain can ruin
the magic of the rose
for when a faerie kisses it
the magic seals itself inside
so when you smell the roses
you can feel the faeries pride
poem by Faith Elizabeth Brigham
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