Ten And Eleven
Here she comes, a flower of the field,
describing glory of the Spring to bloom,
while at noon, when all shadows yield,
light is bright as in ether, love looms.
Here she comes, beloved lines in light;
so as to caress my vision, and to smile,
In an elysian field her grace will ignite,
my confessions as to extend forthright.
She is my call when rose flowers blend,
so I respond in lyrics of heavens music;
perchance an ode will extend and mend,
old wounds and scars, with this acoustic.
An ode lifts our encounter to heavens,
amid field flowers, with love to attune,
a bouquet of roses red, ten and eleven,
gallivants noon-this twenty first of June.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Go To The Field And To The Sky
I GO TO THE FIELD AND THE SKY
1)
I go to the field and the sky
I see the flowers
I no longer want to die.
2)
I go to the field and the sky
I see the flowers
I do not want to die.
3)
I go to the field and the sky
I see the yellow flowers
I love to be alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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07. Love, what is Love?
love, oh what is love?
flowers in so many shapes and hues
giving sweetness to butterflies and bees
in so many shapes and hues
in the field, a buzz, a joy, these insects
help create another world
another paradise, warm colourful flower garden
for lovers of the world
help spread cheers everywhere
with the sweetness the flowers
where the flowers are, the butterflies, the bees are
where there is love, joy spreads
wide as the field
just look at the butterflies and the bees
how they cheer up the field with their songs and dance
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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But Reach For His Hand
Across the heavens where the only sound, is that of a hymn in glory bound.
For He cares and hears our every prayer, beyond despair He is always there.
No matter how feeble our reach, He will extend a hand for each to grasp even in spite of His wrath.
Across the heavens beyond despair, beyond all fear He is there,
aware of our suffering and our strife and will extend a hand for us to grasp as He pulls us into light.
But reach for His hand is what He will teach, and hearken to His uplifting speech,
in prayer we can reach His soothing touch as with His love enduring, He will lift us up.
poem by Ruth Goldfarb
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Daffodils
they swirl in the most auspicious manner
lifting cups of yellow over a field of joy
they sway in the most friendly manner
so that they are a unison of grace
in the whole field, an emptiness except
these flowers and the spring breeze song
each waiting for someone to fall in love with
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Evening In June
(Van Morrison)
By the light of the moon
When the night holds the secrets
Of the sleepy lagoon
I'm contemplating moonlight
On the water
When I'm walking with you
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
It can get so sentimental
When I'm thinking of you
And I can't think of anything
Except being with you
When the summer is through
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things
Taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
[Instrumental break]
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night Before The Mowing
ALL shimmering in the morning shine
And diamonded with dew,
And quivering in the scented wind
That thrills its green heart through,--
The little field, the smiling field,
With all its flowers a-blowing,
How happy looks the golden field
The day before the mowing!
All still 'neath the departing light,
Twilight, though void of stars,
Save where, low westering, Venus hides
From the red eye of Mars;
How quiet lies the silent field
With all its beauties glowing;
Just stirring,--like a child asleep,--
The night before the mowing.
Sharp steel, inevitable hand,
Cut keen, cut kind! Our field
We know full well must be laid low
Before its wealth it yield:
Labor and mirth and plenty blest
Its blameless death bestowing:
And yet we weep, and yet we weep,
The night before the mowing.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Lyrics of MoonLight
The Sun is Majestic, holding sway
over land, seas, and skies
defining each Day
in Horizons of Bright Colours
a Peacock's Feathery Display
As the Heavens gather in the colors
and darken the sky
a choir of stars slowly appears
serenading the Sun's departure
with the Music of the Spheres
The Moon glides in
owning the night
Singing a Concert
to Lovers gleaming
under the reflected light
the Moon sings to these Hearts
dancing to the Rhythms
of the Moon's Tidal Force
The soft percussive tidal effects
ignite the emotions
upon which a soul reflects
empower the spirit
to discover its own course
The Lyrics of Moon Light
seen in the blush of a face
felt in the warmth of an embrace
The Lyrics of Moon Light
the voice to a soft caress
the joy of God's Loving Grace
The Lyrics of Moon Light
persist in the heart
as the Moon commands the night stage
a grand opening on Broadway, no
the gentle turn of a lover's diary page
poem by Donald Grisham
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My Sweet Violets
They are coming up in my gardens
Why, just like wild flowers they grow
A delicious early spring splash of color
That’s why I really love them so
They are pale as a spring violet can be
A lavender color they are
Tiny with a fragrance so special
The best early flower by far
They always infuse with my landscape
I love the perfect way that they blend
With other flowers like blue Forget-me-not’s
And when finished tiny seeds they send
I do so enjoy my flowers in spring
I even pick them for a wonderful bouquet
I wish you could visit my gardens as well
I’d serve you sweet tea without any delay!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Song of The Rose
F Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.
Time For Joining War
We have to join in war,
This is the time to join in war
Yes, I have to go to battle field
Not to waste time in this way.
Have to go to war; have to go to war
Have to go to war.
Bondage! No, no, no and never,
I do not accept, can’t accept, this can’t be
Flowers will not bloom on my way-this can’t be
Can any one hold the sun in pledge?
I must join the war,
Join the war, join the war.
Enemy of flower is the foe of sun
Foe of sun is the enemy of flower
And also enemy of our love-
Flood, thunder, storm- are temporary distress
Could you hold your beauty in pledge at mirror?
No! No, no, no, no- it will must come out.
Perfume of flower is sent as letter
Perfume of flower, perfume of flower, perfume of flower-
Who are the enemies their eremite is for ever
Enemy of river, tree, magpie robin and cuckoo
War, war against them
Yes, I have to go to battle field.
War against them who create obstruction
On the way of river
War against them who hang the green grass
War against them who obstruct the rain fall from sky
War, war and war
Against them who obstruct to love flower, poet to write
Who obstruct to talk in mother tongue!
War, war, war and war against them
I have to go to battle field-
This is the time to join in war
This is the time to join in war
And this is the time to join in war.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Travel Flowers
When you travel ‘cross the country
You see along the roadways
Bright and cheerful flowers especially
In the warm spring and summer days
I love the beautiful sunflowers
Bold yellow blooms you see
Nodding in the gentle winds
Seem to say “hello” to me
White flowers ‘long side a trail
Roots go deep in red dirt
Stand out just beautifully
As they crop up in little spurts
Old barns off in the distance
In the midst of a field of dry grass
Are dotted with many flowers
Oh, I enjoy them when I pass
When spring time sets in and we have
Warm and gentle spring showers
I love to start my trips to see
Delightful travel flowers!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Two beautiful stars
As shiny and glittery as ever,
The clouds try to cover,
But the luminous penetrates always,
The moon passes in amusement,
Such light i have never seen,
Like two roses in the grass field,
You and me in the merciless world,
How wonderful and bright we are,
The two little stars
Where is the sun my love,
Do we really need it darling,
Our love an example of light,
In the night we shine so bright,
You, me, two little beautiful stars
The world sees in amusement,
The light sparkling from above,
The beams of grace and chastity,
Who else can it be,
The two beautiful stars,
You and me my love
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Flowers of mercy
In the field they are scattered
pink, white and brown-red
and emerge by them self
as if by mercy
and shoot up between blades of grass
and weeds
and the brittle heads
looks almost plastic fine
and still there’s nothing artificial
where the flowers stand in the veldt
with only the rain and sun
going over them.
Your love I also found
so unplanted,
which by its own accord
grows into my depths
and through hard times
still stays with me.
Other flowers
want to bloom around me
and I try and cut old feelings
down short,
as you are the flower
of flowers to me
and I just want to grow
deeper into your soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Rose Intoxication!
Queen of flowers rose is always a fascination!
Rose is symbol of passionate love cheers mood!
Rose lady gives great pride to be with anywhere!
Special respect to rose never changes anywhere;
Red rose, pink rose and even blue rose are there
Occupying a pride of place none can have ever!
Bouquet of rose flowers elates anyone to dizziness!
A special gift indeed rose flowers makes to all!
A single rose is enough to make one grand to look
Instead of a big cluster of flowers of jasmine or lily!
Scent of rose remains fresh in mind wherever one is;
Such a unique flower rose how can anyone ignore
Whether it is in the garden or lies on a wayward side!
Now after seeing rose and read on rose I am intoxicated..!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Flowers Of My Heart
Enter my flowers
love becomes an open
door
into my hearts way
color my love red
the passion of this
blossom
brings fire to my
life
pink and delicate
this rose belongs to
my heart
she overwhelms me
in the purity of
this lovely rose bud
white
I always find delight
I melt in the nectar
of this beautiful
flower
dainty and yellow.
I love.!
the essence of my
coral rose
a blend of many
colors
so endearing
a late bloomer
yet so lovely
adding to my bouquet
once again I come
to the flowers of my
heart
lost in their beauty.
poem by Heather Burns
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Welcome, Dear Heart, and a Most Kind Good-Morrow
Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow;
The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine:—
Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow
Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine.
Here are red roses, gather'd at thy cheeks,—
The white were all too happy to look white:
For love the rose, for faith the lily speaks;
It withers in false hands, but here 'tis bright!
Dost love sweet Hyacinth? Its scented leaf
Curls manifold,—all love's delights blow double:
'Tis said this flow'ret is inscribed with grief,—
But let that hint of a forgotten trouble.
I pluck'd the Primrose at night's dewy noon;
Like Hope, it show'd its blossoms in the night;—
'Twas, like Endymion, watching for the Moon!
And here are Sun-flowers, amorous of light!
These golden Buttercups are April's seal,—
The Daisy-stars her constellations be:
These grew so lowly, I was forced to kneel,
Therefore I pluck no Daisies but for thee!
Here's Daisies for the morn, Primrose for gloom
Pansies and Roses for the noontide hours:—
A wight once made a dial of their bloom,—
So may thy life be measured out by flowers!
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Keepsake
The tedded hay, the first-fruits of the soil,
The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one field,
Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove tall
Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the gust,
Or when it bends beneath the up-springing lark,
Or mountain-finch alighting. And the rose
(In vain the darling of successful love)
Stands, like some boasted beauty of past years,
The thorns remaining, and the flowers all gone.
Nor can I find, amid my lonely walk
By rivulet, or spring, or wet road-side,
That blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook,
Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not!
So will not fade the flowers which Emmeline
With delicate fingers on the snow-white silk
Has worked, (the flowers which most she knew I loved,)
And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair.
In the cool morning twilight, early waked
By her full bosom's joyous restlessness,
Softly she rose, and lightly stole along,
Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower,
Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze
Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung,
Making a quiet image of disquiet
In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool.
There, in that bower where first she owned her love,
And let me kiss my own warn tear of joy
From off her glowing cheek, she sate and stretched
The silk upon the frame, and worked her name
Between the Moss-Rose and Forget-me-not--
Her own dear name, with her own auburn hair!
That forced to wander till sweet spring return,
I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her look,
Her voice, (that even in her mirthful mood
Has made me wish to steal away and weep,)
Nor yet the entrancement of that maiden kiss
With which she promised, that when spring returned
She would resign one half of that dear name,
And own thenceforth no other name but mine!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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