When Mere Moments Are Holy
When mere moments are holy,
when in prayer I go to You
I am surrounded by Your presence
then I see in every flower, in each small thing
even in the stars, sun and moon
that there is of You a kind of witness,
thunderbolts falling blue-white,
the wild untamed stormy wind,
trees that flower in spring,
tells me that You care about my destiny
and that You choose me out as a child
of the almighty Lord of the universe.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Your Wild Flower Of Mountain
Once upon a time was a wild flower,
Living in the mountains nearest sky and stars,
Other side of world was a young man living,
Seeking for the happiness of his life.
He was searching a wild flower,
A masterpiece of nature that fearless grew up,
A unique flower that lives lonely,
In a cold fresh breeze of mountain wind.
Seeking and seeking, finally you found her,
After a hard climbing on the rocks,
She was up on the peak of mountain,
In a wild rocky place.
You were astonished by her beauty,
You couldn't stop to stare at her,
She showed to you like an actress,
After curtains get opened on the stage.
She looked so strong to you, so pretty,
But also so charming and so delicate,
She knew you'll come and care for her,
All her life she was waiting for you.
Was enough only her petals to touch,
And she blossomed like a glowing smile,
Your face became so thrill and happy,
She was everything you ever wanted.
But hurry up, time is running,
Unfortunatelly never stops,
You have such precious moments with your wild flower to spend,
You waited for her so long and life never waits.
You took your gracious wild flower,
And nurtured her with love and faith,
Even you knew will last only a moment,
You gave her moments that she'll never forget.
But day to say good bye has come,
Sitting in your arms she closed her eyes and passed away,
Your face was last thing she wanted to see,
Before she got the last breath passing to eternity.
Don't waste your time, be with your loved one,
She is so special and so worthy in this shortless life,
Give to your wild flower of mountain your great love,
Don't wait for destiny from you to steal it.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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She is Like A Flower.......
She is like a flower,
a flower that gives me a smile
a smile that enlightens my inner soul.
she is the one with whom i can share my sorrows and joys
Her company is like sweet fragrance of a flower,
a fragrance that freshens me.
she is the one whose love is undesirable for me.
Her each care about me is like a each petal of a flower
a care that i love the most.
she is the one who motivate me in every sphere of life.
her presence is like a color of flower,
a presence that brightens me.
she is the one who is everything for me
She is like a flower...........
poem by Suniya Garg
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There’s A Kind Of Loveliness (In Answer To Percy Bysshe Shelley)
There’s a kind of loveliness
a kind of unreal beauty,
while in nature it is displayed free
from any unkindness,
and it has the divine instruction to bless,
are present in everything that we see,
are in the best hopes of what we wish to be,
in every tender touch, are caught in every caress.
Its presence is everywhere
and although it is unseen
traces of it can be seen
all about us, right here and there,
in faces that sometimes look and stare,
in places where people had been
and something of it’s is keen
to reach out with a kind of loving care.
Its presence is in every flower,
even the grass,
in stormy clouds that together mass
and in lightning bolts and every rain shower
there is a kind of hidden power
and it’s in every thing that is and was,
even sometimes reflected on the window glass
in every hill with sheer cliffs that tower
and I define what I have written here
as the very presence of the Lord God
and some may not regard it thus, may on other ways trod
while by their choice with their lives He does not interfere
but He is always somewhere near
and to some people this may sound odd
but His will he does not on people prod
and I worship him with love and without any fear
but He is omnipresent is touching everything,
has created all that exists, the way that things are,
and man’s choices left this planet with a scar
while He is still maintaining it and mere men he keeps on visiting.
[Reference: “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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When The Sun Was Throwing Its Last Rays On The Earth
When the sun was throwing its last rays on the earth,
your hand found mine at twilight,
the evening sky was suddenly smudged by blood
while the evening-wind was softly scattering sand,
while people hurried home from their jobs
and something in your glance had drawn me closer to you
and when suddenly lightning bolts were falling
we found shelter
against thunderbolts sounding ominous,
against the wild stormy wind
we stood for long moments in each other’s arms
while the rain were pattering down, while the storm quieted down
with the clouds suddenly drawing open
and the moon’s rays falling magically about us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Very Thought Of You
The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do
Im living in a kind of daydream
Im happy as a king
And foolish though it may seem
To me thats everything
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
Youll never know how slow the moments go till Im near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
Its just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
Youll never know how slow the moments go till Im near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
Its just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Very Thought Of You
The very thought of you
And I forget to do
The little ordinary things
That everyone ought to do
Im living in a kind of daydream
Im happy as a king
And foolish though it may seem to me
Thats everything
The mere idea of you
The longing year for you
Youll never know how slow the moments go
Till Im near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eye in stars above
Its just the thought of you
The very thought of you
My love
The mere idea of you
The longing year for you
Youll never know how slow the moments go
Till Im near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eye in stars above
Its just the thought of you
The very thought of you
My love
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Flower Of Mine
Spring has come once more
with a gentle wind in the rays of the sun.
Here stands a little flower among the country plains.
Little flower of mine,
You’re the rose among lilies that blossoms in all its grace.
Little flower of mine
I love your radiance of red,
and your quiet strength amid the storm.
Little flower of mine,
inspite of wind and rain you grew and grew still.
Little flower of mine
you’re the apple of mine eye,
you’re the flower that never dies.
Little flower of mine,
You’re my inspiration and joy indeed.
poem by Lyndon Murray
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The Very Thought Of You
The very thought of you
And I forget to do
The little ordinary things
That everyone ought to do
I'm living in a kind of daydream
I'm happy as a king and foolish
Though it may seem to me
That's everything
The mere idea of you
The longing here for you
You'll never know
How slow the moments go
Till I'm near to you
I see your face in every flower
You eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you my love
The mere idea of you
The longing here for you
You'll never know
How slow the moments go
Till I'm near to you
I see your face in every flower
You eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you my love
The very thought of you my love
The very thought of you my love
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Know Where I'm Going
Don't know where I'm going.
Don't care who I am.
No place I need to be.
No face I've got to see.
Don't care if I'm loved.
Don't care if I'm not.
What arises arises mindlessly.
What business has it with me?
Imagination's just another word for free.
Free, free, free at last
I've let my people go.
I walk without a shadow.
There's nothing about tomorrow
that hasn't already passed
and yesterday's a prophecy
of what isn't waiting to come.
One thing suggests another
and worlds are arrayed before me
like the stillness
of the lost feather of the moon
on running water.
I endure my own weather like the sea.
The lightning strikes itself like a match
to take a look
but there's no one to witness the clarity.
I don't taunt my ghost like a man
who's going to live forever.
If I flower I flower.
If I shine I shine.
Whatever appears
in the black and white mirrors
of the infernal or divine
may or may not be
the meaning of my roots.
My affirmation refutes
what my denial ordains
and the cause doesn't
account for its effects.
I am the perfection of all my defects
so enlightenment and ignorance
are two waves of the same awareness in me.
The fool and the sage speak with the same voice.
Desire beatifies my heretics
like lies I've told to the stars
but their election was never a choice
and my wounds don't seek the truth
in the afterlife of my scars.
The old man does not say I am old
nor I am young, the youth.
Autumn is not older than spring
and spring isn't apprenticed to fall.
I can hear my own footsteps
coming down the hall like time
to meet me after all these years of looking
through everyone else's eyes
but even when I take my face off
at the end of the day
like a tired sky
and point to the stars the light concealed
my self-portrait is always a disguise.
And nothing is revealed.
poem by Patrick White
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One dark night
I
One dark night
the sheep are restless
and not able to sleep,
but there’s no wolf
or lion or other wild animal
trying to catch them
and there’s a strange light
hanging high with the other starts.
It’s as if the whole field around us
are waiting on something mystic to happen
and all the wild animals are awake
and here and there
lightning bolts are hitting white blue
out of an open sky.
II
While this is happening
we sit with anxiety around
a bright hot campfire
on which we put more logs
time after time
and gaze into the night
and wonder what is coming?
Suddenly a mighty being appears
surrounded by blinding white light
and it’s clear that he comes
from the almighty God
and we are speechless with fear
and scared to be in the presence
of a holy being.
III
l’Envoi
His voice is clear in pitch and sound
and sounds more pure
than bells ringing
and he tells of a child
that is born,
a Son,
being called:
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father
and Prince of Peace
and that He is the Christ and the Messiah.
In Bethlehem, just over the hill
we will find Him
wrapped in cloth in a manger
between farm animals.
[References: Luke 2: 8-1, Isaiah 9: 6.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I look at the world around me
Pink, red and purple geraniums
that flower in the garden,
cannot grow without sunlight
and water.
Still, every different flower
has an own colour, a different odour
and the texture of flower cups
and the time that buds last
are different.
When I look at the world around me,
I know how a part
of You’re great omnipotence looks
and I see flowers dazzling everywhere,
to pay homage to You
from who
every thing comes
and every plant and flower
leaves me dumbstruck with beauty.
In all things, Your love is unlimited
and the greatness of Your works
tells me that I‘m also part
of Your making
and that all things fit somewhere
in Your universe.
poem by Gert Strydom
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About Flowers And Trees
I
Why did the chrysanthemum wait long
to open it's quivering twisted rays?
When other flowers are gone it grows strong
in these much more colder wintry days
with cups making blossoms like anemones
some seen as feathery, plumed, or spidery
growing big or smaller in shaded tones,
in the winter portraying nature's imagery
in bronze, brown, purple, red, pink and white
with a single or semi-double blossom
growing to man's and the Creator's delight
when ripe makes growing very unwholesome.
Why was it not sprouting, rising, growing
at the beginning of the lovely spring?
II
At the beginning of the lovely spring
in the veldt among big acacia trees
when the first drops of rain are visiting,
drawing new life, flowers and buzzing bees
I find the bulbous hyacinth flowering,
and its appearance, its fragrance
is almost totally overpowering
when it makes its sudden appearance
with pale-blue petals of strings all opening
smelling like a tiny perfumery,
with bell shaped small cups that are hanging
bright among the green and brown scenery
displaying the joys of living and life,
many times have I counted groups of five.
III
Many times have I counted groups of five,
in things making the way that nature is
and have seen five eggs coming to live,
five leaves on flowers with five small bees.
Even on some trees that number is right
but strangely sometimes it might be wrong
and while in nature I walk along,
I see different flowers in a throng,
hear various birds singing their beautiful song,
there's something in all flowers, in each tree
that tells something about its makers will
who makes all things how they are to be
I have seen even five bundles to a sheaf;
the trees are butting in flower and leaf.
IV
The trees are butting in flower and leaf
as if some kind of magic word was said,
in rejoicing without any small grief,
the growing long green stems upwards do spread
as if new life has come to them again
like from scratch they are programmed to do,
after receiving power from summer rain
but like humans sometimes they do die too
carrying more bountiful each summer day
to the custom of their kind and their breed
till the summer suddenly dwindles away,
again they are stripped as if in need
and I like the fragrant fresh smell the best,
while walking through a huge pine forest.
V
While walking through a huge pine forest
a gentle wind like a friend greeted me
and for lingering long moments I did rest,
feeling from the whole big world somewhat free
and it was filled with the catching smell
of pine trees and soft in its embrace
for many moments long did I there dwell,
by songs of twittering birds amazed
and I then longed forever to be
among the flying birds, the buzzing bees
and the soft shadows, the tranquillity
of the peaked mountain, the large trees,
but sometimes lightning falls in a blue-white spark,
when the stormy wind blows strong in the dark.
VI
When the stormy wind blows strong in the dark
and the dark black evening suddenly glows
and the wind whispers with a howling bark
among the waving, rocking trees and throws
branches breaking, snapping, twisting, tearing;
you can hear that great savage strange beast
walking about, awoke from slumber stirring
during winter in the forest, in the east
suddenly coming to its greatest strength
somewhere in the thick enveloping fog
as the long night draws out darker at length
while its breaking, mauling log upon log,
from this windy monster I want to be free,
let me find some peace and tranquillity.
VII
Let me find some peace and tranquillity
at some places where man have never trod,
experience the greatest kind of beauty
that still is spared from the iron rod
with which man rules cities, huge countries
let me see miracles, see nature's joys,
away form buildings and big industries,
far away from the scorn, the manmade noise.
Let me smell some sweet wild flowers and lie
on wild grass to find nature's peace and rest
under a clear blue unpolluted sky,
away from even them whom I love best
and I wonder before the winter comes along,
why did the chrysanthemum wait long?
poem by Gert Strydom
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A dream
Like a blue white lightning bolt
hitting one of us
from a clear blue sky,
or a meteorite falling flaming
out of a tranquil black night
right on our house
without a chance in a million
I dreamt of you
even years before us meeting
and that dream came true
right out of the blue.
I believe that our lives are fixed
by more than stars,
by more than mere chance,
by powers far greater
than just destiny
and that God holds His mighty hand
over you and me,
that the Lord straightens the way
and lays it out.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Be Mine My Love
roses are red
violets are blue
flowers so beautiful
they remind me of you
so beautiful to behold
so soft and sensual
a flower of such beauty
that makes me short of breath
a wild flower you are thats for sure
untamed and full of life
lighting up my life
if i propose will you become my wife
for my love for you is like a vice
one i find i gladly need in my life
you my flower you my love
take my hand as you have my heart
make me the happiest man alive
on this world of ours.
poem by Graham Russell
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In The Distant Veldt I Saw Him
In the distant veldt I saw Him
where He holds His hand over the wild flowers
and there was a colossal hillock
on a summer day with the sky another kind of blue
when I tried to find holy moments,
when I walked back in the footprints of a child
and free from the blackberry-bush
under the weather and wind
I devoured some of nature's treasures
and I was blind for my Lord
while I only saw the works of His hands,
when I went back to some of my childhood places.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A song of sadness
When stars appear at night
the garden still have a kind of beauty
when the evening flower opens pure,
when there is love between us.
There I forget any kind of pain
are surrounded by yellow-white jasmine
even when heartache brings tears to my eyes,
when there is love between us
There is the smell of lavender
that softly is carried by the evening breeze,
when I lift my eyes to God,
when there is love between us
In times of pain and longing
the birds are still singing to each other,
under the big old yellow moon,
when there is love between us.
There I see stars sparkling blue,
I never become bitter,
even when death suddenly comes,
when there is love between us.
Still memories are gliding,
as if it can bring you back again,
although my days continue alone,
when there is love between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wilderness Flower
Wilderness flower
Wilderness flower
Beautiful in its innocent blue
In morning young hour
And rain falling shower
Your color is sweetness so true
Like pearls on spring earth
With glowing of light
Each pure and so worth
In arrangement and sight
Wilderness flower
Wearing its headdress so right
My love calls to you
(In the Icelandic wilderness, the first sign of spring are the little flowers you see everywhere – in their blossoming freedom)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Today... 'God Almighty
Hallelujah! The Lord God Almighty reigns
He who creates the wind and forms the mountains.
Holy, holy, holy the living creatures cry
To the Glorious and Almighty God on high.
Great and marvellous are the deeds He performs
He who turns dawn to into the darkest storms.
The great God who was, and is, and is to come
the LORD Almighty is his name, The Holy One.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
My Little Flower White
Out of my little window, In the green meadow
Grows there right, my little flower white
Be it sunlight or the moonlight
My little flower white, always shines bright
Red or blue, rain or dew,
My little flower white, I love you
poem by Titus Menezes
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