When time glides by and days past into night
When time glides by and days past into night
and violet, white even blue flowers are withering
with every morning’s light
as if everything is dying
trees are barren stripped of their leaves,
still perfect you are in every way
while wheat are bound in golden sheaves
while winter brings its own decay
it is as if you are still blossoming
with love serene, true and amazing
as if caught in an eternal spring
as if the heat from your heart is blazing:
on the other side of death, of heaven or doom
your flower will still bloom.
[Reference: Sonnet 16 “But wherefor do not you a mightier way” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Love alters not
(after William Shakespeare)
Let me state with all of humankind
as my witness, that love is more than bliss,
is much more than the drawing of a kiss,
it does no error or any change find,
it is true to the body, soul and mind,
in the simple things of each day it is
and all other allures it does dismiss,
much stronger than life, pass death it does bind,
burns with a kind of eternal hot flame
which wanders not within time, months or weeks,
its acts, its words continually does bloom,
in hardship it does not find any blame,
eternally sincerity it seeks,
it stays true, even at the gates of doom.
[Reference: “Sonnet 116 Let me to the marriage of true minds” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
poem by William Shakespeare
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It is quite clear that winter is near
It is quite clear that winter is near
with yellow, auburn leaves on the stripped trees
and somehow my mind is quite clear
with the absence of butterflies and bees
that death is lurking ready to arrive
as naturally things do expire
as destiny at its time contrive
plans, to act as a consuming fire.
While my life is slowly turning to ember,
the twilight is drawing close
may it be that when you remember
our love that it do not lose:
the things that we hold obvious,
the clarity of that which is between us.
[Reference: Sonnet 73 “That time of year thou mayst me behold” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Love stays true
Love stays true
like the compass to its core
and do not issue
any wavering, to the one that it adores
and without any alteration from its state
it is fixed, pointing to the limitless beyond
without having to wait
on what destiny demands and it ties with its own bond
in the spirit and soul of the human race,
it is much more than mentioned above
and its power supersedes time and space
or it does not function as love:
whatever challenges it face or anything that looms,
it is perfectly sincere and true past death, past doom.
[Reference: Sonnet 116 “Let me to the marriage of true minds” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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You are always flowering in an endless spring (in answer to William Shakespeare)
Some similarities do I find
between you and a day in spring
when lovely birds sing
and rain new life brings
and yet far too soon that season is left behind
and still you stay pleasant and kind
a being without any irregularities, noble and pure
and while the sun brightly shines,
the cobalt sky is blue, your eyes have a darker hue
and when the sun declines before the night
your eyes sparkle with more lustre
than any light of the vast darkness:
and you are always flowering in an endless spring,
with a deep beauty that is true, that I find in you.
[Reference: Sonnet 18 “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? ” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seasons......
Spring brings joy and revival
The world is filled with freshness,
Sprinkle and sparkle glimpse
Sky gets painted with Rainbow;
Summer is bright and colourful
Bright yellow flowers bloom afresh,
Summer has arrived with fullness,
White, yellow, red, orange and blue;
Autumn is dusty and dry
Withering and falling old leaves,
Autumn is setting in fast
Old decay for new to arise;
Winter is cool and blissful,
Snow is pleasant surprise,
Everything is painted white,
Soon it shall melt to make way;
The cycle of Seasons goes on,
World changes with its mood.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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A December Day
Blue, blue is the sea to-day,
Warmly the light
Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay --
Blue, fringed with white.
That's no December sky!
Surely 'tis June
Holds now her state on high,
Queen of the noon.
Only the tree-tops bare
Crowning the hill,
Clear-cut in perfect air,
Warn us that still
Winter, the aged chief,
Mighty in power,
Exiles the tender leaf,
Exiles the flower.
Is there a heart to-day,
A heart that grieves
For flowers that fade away,
For fallen leaves?
Oh, not in leaves or flowers
Endures the charm
That clothes those naked towers
With love-light warm.
O dear St. Andrews Bay,
Winter or Spring
Gives not nor takes away
Memories that cling
All round thy girdling reefs,
That walk thy shore,
Memories of joys and griefs
Ours evermore.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Flower of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing!
She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings
The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom,
She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
The Flower of Leaves, shrouds mis'ry and pain,
Yet exudes in song warm swelling disdain
The Flower of Leaves, shades but one pale green,
Yet blossoms 'neath moonlight in silv'ry gleam
She relieves, and like Great Nature, serene,
In stormless gardens passes through unseen
Sublime as rainfall, sincere as the sea,
O Heaven, such life that blooms before me!
Who only knows that which my heart believes,
In such mystique of The Flower of Leaves!
poem by Iam notThou
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When The First Heat Comes
When the first heat comes, the winter starts to disappear
weeds and flowers appear everywhere,
fruit trees are flowering,
when the first signs of spring appears,
with the sun flowering in crimson
you are astounded by the many colours
of flowers dazzling glorious in sunshine,
birds sing before the sun rises,
when the first heat comes,
the last stripped branches has disappeared,
the sky becomes a cobalt blue curtain,
you are astounded
by the insects and birds that are gathering in joy,
are caught in the scent of jasmine,
when the first heat comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Life & Death
The flower grew tall to the sky--
Touching its soft baby blue-
A graceful spiral of delightful fragrance-
A floral design blossoming anew--
So tall-so tall-it has grown--
Brillant blazing bloom--
Frangrance so awe inspiring---
Alas, 'tis gone too soon-!
Its petals began withering--
Its stem 'tis clearly dying---
Calls from the heavens blue---
Sorrows as the gardens crying-----
Too soon gone-flower--
Too soon a part of the sodded earth---
Too soon your life has ended--
Too soon from your day of birth--
The Essence
July,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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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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In The Winter Garden
Winter has visited our garden my love
Trees have been stripped bare and flowers wilt
A frost has been laid upon the ground
Even the birds have taken to flight, away
Amid the silence of the morning I walk
Through our garden which we nurtured
How solemn it now looks without colour
The summer seems but a distant memory
How beautiful it looked back then
How beautiful it will look once more
But now in the mornings drab light
With barren trees and wilted flowers
I walk upon the hardened earth
Which feels like stone beneath my feet
We talked of planting a fruit tree
For flavour and shade in years to come
Now that is an idea in waiting
Till winter has passed, and spring returns
Winter is here in our garden my love
As I watch the vapour of my breath rise
I say your name, a love for all time
poem by Matthew Holloway
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After Her Death I Dreamed Of My Love (Cavatina Sequence)
(After William Shakespeare)
After her death I dreamed of my love,
with eyes sparkling
somewhat divine like the stars that glitter,
somehow existing
in the dark outer space, with her two hands
reaching, touching,
the circumference of this great earth,
with a sash of vast planets in her girth.
White blazing braking thunder was her breath,
her eyes were blue
as the purest kind of cobalt hued sky
her love was true,
even much greater than it was before,
her retinue
were the elements, some power divine
and still she wanted to be only mine.
[Reference: 'Cleopatra's Lament' from 'Antony and Cleopatra, Act V, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hope
O thrush, is it true?
Your song tells
Of a world born anew,
Of fields gold with buttercups, woodlands all blue
With hyacinth bells;
Of primroses deep
In the moss of the lane,
Of a Princess asleep
And dear magic to do.
Will the sun wake the princess? O thrush, is it true?
Will Spring come again?
Will Spring come again?
Now at last
With soft shine and rain
Will the violet be sweet where the dead leaves have lain?
Will Winter be past?
In the brown of the copse
Will white wind-flowers star through
Where the last oak-leaf drops?
Will the daisies come too,
And the may and the lilac? Will Spring come again?
O thrush, is it true?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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All our morning glory days are done
All our morning glory days are done
just like the flowers
that you made me rip out
from where they grew
towering under the sun.
The garden is empty
and stripped of the violet flowers
that grew everywhere
and I am no longer there
and wonder if the geraniums,
irises, marigolds, white lilies,
red roses and lavender
are still being watered
or is every thing in your life
just fading away
into death
with the falling leaves
of this autumn?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Perfect World
In my perfect world
The sky is a perfect blue
The grass is a soft green
And together are me and you
In my perfect world
The sun is a perfect heat
No global warming
It would be a treat
In my perfect world
There would be no disease
The flowers would bloom everyday
And no one would cut down trees
In my perfect world
No one would be poor
The streets paved with gold
Silver for the floor
In my perfect world
Death would never come
Pain would go away
And no one would be dumb
In my perfect world
The government would not rule
We’d chose for ourselves
What we thought was cool
In my perfect world
Racism would not exist
Discrimination would be over
And nothing would end with fists
But then I remember
I can’t believe it’s true
But my world really is perfect
Because I spend it with you