The winter is coming
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I had to forsake the world of my childhood
The cat tells me
that its time for its food
and outside bees
still fly past in a swarm
and I realise that it’s late afternoon,
that the shadows are drawing long lines,
the wind rustles through the tree branches
and it’s already almost cold
as the winter is coming.
Still there’s something in the late autumn
that catches me
where here and there leaves
hang like dots on tree branches,
that the sun sometimes still gives hot rays
as if it does not really want
the cold to come
and the grass is still green
like in the summer.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Afterglow
She's been drifting for too long now
But now her ship's come in
He'd been running from the shadows
Now sunlight floods within
There's something new inside
First time to realise
Afterglow
Afterglow
He built his fortress so high
With walls of past mistakes
But now he leaves it burning
Purged from regret's heartbreak
There's something new inside
First time to realise
New light behind those eyes
First time to realise
Afterglow
Afterglow
Afterglow
Afterglow
I've been drifting for too long now
But now my ship's come in
I've been running from the shadows
Now sunlight floods within
song performed by by Quench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The bee nest
In Primary school
we played in the field
above the school
in break time.
There we discovered
a hive of bees
under a overhanging
shelve of rock
and I told the other kids
to leave it alone
and went away
to play on my own.
One of the kids
(Peter Conn)
threw three broken bricks
into that bee nest
and that swarm of bees
came like lightning bolts
thundering in.
He ran like a flash
and passed me
with great speed
where I was playing
with some dinky toy cars
and when I looked up
I saw the sky
turning black with bees
and that fool escaped
the consequence of his deeds.
I hardly had time to get up,
never mind to run
when there were bees stinging
and targeting in
from everywhere.
Like a scapegoat the bees
took me for the enemy
and buzzed in
and they came
in great numbers
and that whole swarm stung me
all over my body.
I was swollen up
like a inflated doll,
couldn’t see through my eyes,
could hardly breathe
and got a terrible rash
and were almost unconscious
when we arrived at the nearest hospital
where my mother was in a great panic
and the doctor injected me
a couple of times
and put a drip in my arm
and after that for a while
bees were deadly to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Long Afternoon Became Longer
THE LONG AFTERNOON BECAME LONGER
The long afternoon became longer-
Time had no end and boredom also-
We all know it will eventually pass
But in the middle we are marooned waiting
Without any idea whatsoever of what to do-
I write these lines because I know
Boredom too has its beauty-
And waiting for nothing also its dream-
And out of nowhere there may come
Long into the long afternoon
Far after all the work is done and nothing remains
While waiting is still going on
A small poem to break the monotony
And give meaning back to life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lesson From the Bees
Our close friend I remember
Moonlighting tale of the past
Bees is always busy
Bees produce honey
Hard-work produces the sweetest food
Diligence is a god quality
Cohort in the crude village life
Moonlighting tales of the past
Bees produce honey
Bees can guide their hives
Security produces the sweetest food
Security is a good quality
Our close friend I remember
Moonlighting tale of the past
Bees can guide their hives
Bees can stingy intruders
Defense produces the sweetest meal
Defense is a good quality
Our close friend I remember
Moonlighting tale of the past
Mind your business
Guard your vision like bees
Diligence, security, and defense
Learn good lesson from the bees
poem by Michael Popoola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mosquitoes Complained
One day a swarm of mosquitoes complained to God
“Lord God we must protest! ”
“What is it My Children? ”
“We want You to still the Wind”
“Why? ”
“Because the Wind scatters our swarm”
“Ah I See”…God summoned the Wind
Within moments Wind arrived
God Spoke, “Wind, the mosquitoes have brought suit”
Wind replied “Where are my accusers? ”
'Gone…lost within thee Wind'
So it is when Seekers dispute God’s Creation
ROTMS
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Some Say
Some say we're never meant to grow up
I'm sure they never knew enough
I know the pressures won't go away
It's too late
Find out the difference somehow
It's too late to even have faith
Don't think things will ever change
You must be dreaming
Think before you make up your mind
You don't seem to realise
I can do this on my own
And if I fall I'll take it all
It's so easy after all
Believe me 'cause now's the time to try
Don't wait, the chance will pass you by
Time's up to figure it out
You can't say it's too late
Seems like everything we knew
Turned out were never even true
Don't trust, things will never change
You must be dreaming
Think before you make up your mind
You don't seem to realise
I can do this on my own
And if I fall I'll take it all
It's so easy after all
Some say we're better off without
Knowing what life is all about
I'm sure they'll never realise the way
It's too late
Somehow it's different everyday
In some ways it never fades away
Seems like it's never gonna change
I must be dreaming
Think before you make up your mind
You don't seem to realise
I can do this on my own
Think before you make up your mind
You don't seem to realise
I can do this on my own
And if I fall I'll take it all
It's so easy after all
Believe me, it's alright
It's so easy after all
Believe me, it's alright
It's so easy after all
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Long Shadows Grow
Here I sit alone
with only ghosts from the past
to keep me company.
Memories of those
who I will never see again.
I sit and tell them
all my ills and woes;
it’s comforting in the silence
as the long shadows grow.
I tell them how my life has changed
since they went away
and that I hope to see them again
when it is my time to go.
They don’t answer me
like they used to do,
still it is comforting
as the hours pass on their way.
Just sitting here chatting
like I used to do
late into the evening tide
as the long shadows grow.
17 October 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
African Bee
The African Bee.
Yellow flowers in a ring protected by olive trees
no one knows their name I have to ask a botanist
for their Latin name. The dale side here has many
stone walls, tiny if seen from the moon overgrown
now those small plots of land yielding nothing but
poverty and deep seated resentment. The flowers
are not lilies, I can see that, it will soon be Easter
and the little church will be full of women, while
most men will hang about outside, near the bar,
white and yellow butterfly flies unsteadily around
in the wind and, and bumblebees drink from deep
red poppies. A swarm of killer bees fly by, I do not
speak or move till they are gone. My brother in law
Nené who live in Kinshasa, Congo, tells me that
the bees there live, exclusively, on orchid dew and
they are big as sparrows and can sting an elephant
till it dreams of yesterday, maybe it isn’t true but
I would not like to b stung by them. Now that the ice
on the poles melts will we see a fauna of rare flowers?
if so there must be bees there too and the friendly
bumblebee,
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hole In The Road
They're digging a hole in our road, yet again,
And I really must say that it's becoming a pain.
The drone of their drill is driving me totally mad;
I have got the worst headache that I've ever had.
The electricity has now been cut off for hours;
I can't cook a meal, or take a nice, hot shower.
Electricity is something which we all rely on;
We don't realise how much, until it has gone.
I can't surf the net, or snuggle up in front of the TV;
And I can't even listen to my favourite band on CD.
Packed full of food, I daren't open the freezer door,
As, if I do, all of my frozen food will thaw, for sure.
I can't boil the kettle, and enjoy a nice mug of tea;
I can't listen to the classical music on Radio Three.
Oh, how I wish, the sound of drilling would end;
The noise is driving me slowly round the bend.
Come late afternoon, when the day isn't as bright,
My hand instinctively reaches to switch on the light;
But, my mind, very suddenly, realises that, of course,
At the present time, we don't have that power source.
When the power was restored yesterday, it was late;
This endless disruption is something I really do hate.
Workmen were here yesterday, and the day before;
I wish they'd finish the job: I can't take much more!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Late Afternoon Is Heat
THE LATE AFTERNOON IS HEAT
The late afternoon is heat
The poem is far away
The day has yet to begin
I am old
Time mocks me with another small smile at its passing.
I do not know where I am going
And what I will be
And how I will die.
But I will die
And in much less time
Than I have already lived.
Late afternoon
The heat
My tiredness
The silence
This poem
Tonight will be Shabbat
Another day will begin
Time mocks me with its passing
And blesses me with each moment I still live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You must knock a long while against an alder-bush before you get a swarm of bees out of it.
Amo
Eu amo
Mother Nature
Eu amo
The seagulls that looks so funny with their long bicks
Yes sometimes they even scream for food
Yes they eat anything you give them to eat
And they live in the parks
Eu amo
That blue sky above my head that I can see with my naked eyes
Eu amo
My hands that have lines in it
And every line tells something when I have palm reading
Eu amo
The food that I cook with my own hands evert single day in my life
Eu amo
The music I play on my little radio
Eu amo
The flowers that God grows every spring in our gardens
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Things Clear Only to Me
The Wind swirls around me,
It swirls and shoots up a tree.
It rustles the leaves,
And over the Dryad weaves.
The wind I can see,
And things clear only to me!
Up a branch the Dryad prances,
And with the wind she dances!
Floating, the wind goes,
Up to the roof, and slows.
To the horse weathervane,
And there it ruffles his mane.
Then down I see him turn,
Not a horse, but flying unicorn!
The wind I run after,
To hear hearty laughter.
Behind the large rock I peek,
The laughing one to seek.
There a joke is read to a troll,
from a very old scroll.
I laugh too as I go,
Now the wind swoops low.
Down to the flowers small,
Where I hear tiny fairies call.
I cannot understand the sound,
Like me with grown-ups around.
Then I watch, and sigh,
As the wind lifts a dragon high.
Up there I cannot go,
Only feel the fire blow!
This is when I turn back,
The wind has gone slack.
I no longer see it swirl,
Or the other things in its' curl.
A blazing sun in the sky,
Is left from the dragon's fly.
On the flowers buzz bees,
No fairies below my knees.
I walk past the stone,
It and I are alone.
The horse up on the roof,
Makes no move, he's aloof.
The tree is empty and still,
The Dryad gone, gone until…
Until the wind comes again,
Swooping through this lane.
Then the wind I will see,
And things clear only to me!
poem by Elisabeth Hines
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Late In The Afternoon
LATE IN THE AFTERNOON
Late in the afternoon
Late in life
Lyric poetry is still possible.
It is quieter of course
And calmer of course
And its passion is subdued of course
But it is still possible.
Love does not die in old age
It simply sings softer.
Even now towards the end of this happy day
The light has its own sad song.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Late- Afternoon Sadness
LATE- AFTERNOON SADNESS
Late- afternoon sadness
Has a feeling all its own.
Life is all the things one has failed to do
It is all the disappointments brought us
By loved ones.
It is the sense that nothing good will happen again
Late- afternoon sadness
Is a world of its own,
And within it one sinks and sinks and sinks
Until one does not know
If the ground ever existed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just as bees will swarm about to protect their nest, so will I 'swarm about' to protect my nest of chocolate eggs.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!