Across The Fields
Across the sky, the clouds move,
Across the fields, the wind,
Across the fields the lost child
Of my mother wanders.
Across the street, leaves blow,
Across the trees, birds cry --
Across the mountains, far away,
My home must be.
poem by Hermann Hesse
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Field Of Joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i touch the leaves that touch the sky
just you and i through fields of joy
all trouble slowly fades away
slowly slowly fades away
i hold your hand inside my hand
across the land through fields of joy
the sound of music that we hear
the blend of colors throug the air
all cities, mountains disappear from view
all truth and beauty near to me and you
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
the fields of joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i know our love will never die
just you and i
through fields of joy
through fields of joy
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clouds
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue;
Rain, the rain descends aslant from angry ashen skies;
Winds, the winds bemoan their loss of reins and calm control;
Shades, the shades appear suffused, alone in lurid haze;
Trees, the trees enshroud the eyes of misty brooding woods;
Leaves, the leaves desert their branches, falling one by one;
Birds, the birds intone a tune, a mourning monody;
Grass, the grass surrenders blades, impaled in truant winds;
Fields, the fields imbibe and quaff to quench an arid thirst;
Stones, the stones repulse the pearls, exploding tears of gloom;
Streams, the streams meander, hushed, to distant vapid shores;
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fields Of Gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
Well forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
Well walk in the fields of gold
Well walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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April on the Battlefields
April now walks the fields again,
Trailing her tearful leaves
And holding all her frightened buds against her heart:
Wrapt in her clouds and mists,
She walks,
Groping her way among the graves of men.
The green of earth is differently green,
A dreadful knowledge trembles in the grass,
And little wide-eyed flowers die too soon:
There is a stillness here --
After a terror of all raving sounds --
And birds sit close for comfort upon the boughs
Of broken trees.
April, thou grief!
What of thy sun and glad, high wind,
Thy valiant hills and woods and eager brooks,
Thy thousand-petalled hopes?
The sky forbids thee sorrow, April!
And yet --
I see thee walking listlessly
Across those scars that once were joyous sod,
Those graves,
Those stepping-stones from life to life.
Death is an interruption between two heart-beats,
That I know --
Yet know not how I know --
But April mourns,
Trailing her tender green,
The passion of her green,
Across the passion of those fearful fields.
Yes, all the fields!
No barrier here,
No challenge in the night,
No stranger-land;
She passes with her perfect countersign,
Her green;
She wanders in her mournful garden,
Dropping her buds like tears,
Spreading her lovely grief upon the graves of man.
poem by Leonora Speyer
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The Autumn Months Splendor
The Autumn Months Melody
The hot summer days are gone and rolled by
The cool autumn months have once again arrived
The autumn majestic spirit permeates the land
It is another new day of autumn
The far sun above the horizon sends its rays and gentle warmth
on the valleys, mountains and hamlets
Nature has dressed in beautiful colors
The jolly trees are painted with red, yellow and brown
The autumn trees adorn the valleys and mountains that hug the skies
It is a portrait of panoramic dazzle
The brisk wind blows over the meadows
The cool wind sweeps the plains and fields
The tall trees dance and bow gently in grace
The tree branches hiss, swing and sway
The shivering leaves quiver with the wind
The green pastures are dotted with a mosaic
of dried brownish scattered leaves
Joining autumn happy symphony
The singing joyous birds, the playful beavers
The swimming silver fish in the water streams
All bring a solemn joy
The sun slowly climbs the immense skies
The autumn patchy clouds cast their shadows on the peaceful land
All painting an awesome picture of beauty, love and harmony
How beautiful are the melodies and splendor of the autumn months!
poem by Sherif Monem
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My Home Town
The last time I saw my home town, her trees were dressed for spring,
And her people walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing.
The last time I saw my home town, her heart was warm and gay,
No matter how cruelly they change her, I'll remember her that way.
I dodged and hided in the fields of golden corn that I had dodged for years.
The chorus of the wind blowing the heavy loaded stems was music to my ears
I thought of happy hours and pure childhood lost, and laborious people who toiled their day
Old women, selling flowers, in markets at dawn, kids rushing to their play
Lonely I was, scanning with lonely eyes, seeking her in vain
Her streets are where they were, but there's no sign of her; the pain is insane
Where are the children who ran in the park and in sun sandy paths
And those who danced under summer night looked at the stars and laugh
I used to watch as a child the fair morning fog clearly chiming in its flowing before my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds were winding and blowing over the sky.
One after another the white clouds over the fields of wild tulips were fleeting;
Every heart that gorgeous May morning in joyance was brimming and beating
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You
I see the flowers bloom in the fields
I see the trees standing tall in the mountains
I see the rivers going to the oceans
I see the clouds travelling the sky
I see the moon and the stars in the evening
I see the sunrises and sunsets
I see the children born, and men dead
but I have not seen YOU.
I hear the wind whistles
I hear the birds and insects sing
I hear the babies cry
I hear the whispers in silence
but I have not heard YOU.
YOU...
Do YOU really exist,
or just created to answer all questions
unanswered in this universe?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
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A Pleasant Autumn Day
A pleasant Autumn day of wind and sunshine
And yellow leaves depart their trees and fall
To Mother Earth who silently receives them
And wattlebirds on flowering gum trees call.
On this quiet side street of inner suburbia
The leaves are dying on the deciduous tree
But were i a poet I'd put my pen to paper
And write of the great beauty that i see.
For Nature's beauty can be found in strangest places
Far from the countryside it can be seen
Deciduous trees are golden brown in Autumn
And gums and wattles rich and evergreen.
And many urban people too love Mother Nature
And of workings of Nature there is much to know
They love to hear the birds sing in their gardens
And take pride in plants and trees they helped to grow
I respect those who respect Mother Nature
The damage done to her they try to mend
For Nature brings her beauty to all Seasons
And to every Nature lover I'm a friend.
In quiet side street in inner suburbia
Deciduous leaves to Mother Earth drift down
And wattlebirds are calling on the gum trees
And Mother Nature too lives in the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bird’s Song
Swim through oceans of air
Birds keep time up there
And spend their days winging
Through forests of clouds, singing
Hymns of nature’s style
Fluttering away all the while
Dancing with angels in the sky
Dancing, dancing as they fly
Through fields of blue
Just to sing their song for you.
Mountains of clouds all about
Saviors in times of drought
Gather up the tears you cry
Into your reservoir in the sky
And listen to the birds sing
Listen for the song in everything
From the forests to the sea
From the bird to the bee
Listen and the song is there
Nature sings everywhere.
The sun rejoices each new day
But it rises in the usual way
To wake up the world with beams of light
And to conquer the darkness of night
But still the birds sing their song
A tribute to the day that’s long
And travel through fields of blue
Just to sing their song for you
And then when all has gone away
They’ll sing for you some other day.
poem by Jamie Collins
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Summer And Winter
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
Towards the end of the sunny month of June,
When the north wind congregates in crowds
The floating mountains of the silver clouds
From the horizon—and the stainless sky
Opens beyond them like eternity.
All things rejoiced beneath the sun; the weeds,
The river, and the corn-fields, and the reeds;
The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze,
And the firm foliage of the larger trees.
It was a winter such as when birds die
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when,
Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold:
Alas, then, for the homeless beggar old!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Rapture of the Year
While skies glint bright with bluest light
Through clouds that race o'er fields and town,
And leaves go dancing left and right,
And orchard apples tumble down;
While school-girls sweet, in lane or street,
Lean 'gainst the wind and feel and hear
Its glad heart like a lover's beat,--
So reigns the rapture of the year.
The ho! and hey! and whop-hooray!
Though winter clouds be looming,
Remember a November day
Is merrier than mildest May
With all her blossoms blooming.
While birds in scattered flight are blown
Aloft and lost in dusky mist,
And truant boys scud home alone
'Neath skies of gold and amethyst;
While twilight falls, and Echo calls
Across the haunted atmosphere,
With low, sweet laughs at intervals,--
So reigns the rapture of the year.
The ho! and hey! and whop-hooray!
Though winter clouds be looming,
Remember a November day
Is merrier than mildest May
With all her blossoms blooming.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Far North In The Green Fields
Far north in the green fields of old Lisnaboy
Just learning of Nature I used to enjoy
The warm winds of Summer from the south did blow
And young birds chirped on bushes and trees and hedgerow
And the meadows scented sweet of the newly mown hay
In July in Duhallow in a place far away
From this Southern Land that I live in today
Where the father of time has left me looking gray
Fond memories of a happy boyhood I retain
And in fancy I visit the old fields again
But the mentors of my young years with the dead do now lay
And all of those I grew up with walking slower today
But in memory the swallows above the fields fly
And the cuckoo he sings in the warmth of July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Take Mother-love To All
the Mother takes
the child
to the creatures
and to the beauty of the world
and she bids the child
see and listen to each
the moon says to the child:
be radiant, shine like me
with love
the flower says:
laugh, laugh joyously
like me
the bee says to the child:
be light, be light and easy
as bees in a garden
the grass says,
the grass sings to the child:
be easy, be supple
as me and my mates on the yards
and in the fields
the ocean waves to the child,
the ocean hums:
include all, embrace all,
contain all
as I do within me
the sky says,
the clouds dance to the child:
be wide, be limitless
as the wide, wide blue sky
on which we clouds sail
and the Mother says
to the child who listens,
whose heart is not closed:
love all creatures
love all beings;
take the mother-love
to every existence,
with no exception
to every form of life
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Hope within a Flicker Hope of Light
Darkness overrides the midnight moon
a wind of gusty
night blowing;
the despair over
the mid-life of
a rolling emotion.
Future cycles behind
those mountains past -
when a freshness of
hope crawls in.
A query of the mind:
where is that hope of
longing that flows
along with the watery starlit
eyes? when
only darkness
covers the pit of despair in
fields and fields
of red poppy seeds.
A holding of the past
posts leaves of words
to despair -
the hope of singling
is far too great...
bring and guide the trail
of hope towards
darkness that exceedingly
keeps leaves of words
locked in a past...
all the meanwhile
hope is such a bright
and elegant word world...
...when future rolls
in behind those mountains -
gathering of courage will allow
tear stained leaves of words
to be guided
to a light of true inner hope.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Cotton Fields
When i was a little bitty baby
My mama done rock me in the cradle
In them old cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home
Let me tell you now well got me in a fix
I caught a nail in my tire doing lickitey splits
I had to walk a long long way to town
Came upon a nice old man well he had a hat on
Wait a minute mister can you give me some directions
I gonna want to be right off for home
Don't care if them cotton balls get rotten
When i got you baby, who needs cotton
In them old cotton fields back home
Brother only one thing more that's gonna warm you
A summer's day out in california
It's gonna be those cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
Give me them cotton fields
(it was back in louisiana)
Let me hear it for the cotton fields
(just about a mile from texarkana)
You know that there's just no place like home
Well boy it sure feels good to breathe the air back home
You shoulda seen their faces when they seen how i grown
In them old cotton fields back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm [Furtuna]
No one lingers in the street.
The black clouds come like a fleet.
Fly the dry leaves in the air
And are scattered everywhere,
Tremble the acacias' feet:
Blows the wind, beware!
At the crossroads, far away,
There's a woman on the way
With her kid... Wind blows with force
Hits the gates without remorse
And the woman starts to pray:
Thunders roar, of course.
When the clouds tear like a veil,
The poor mother, with a wail,
Weary and a little numb,
Her heart beating like a drum,
Calls her child so scared and frail:
– Come to mother, come!
Takes him in her arms with grace
Raindrops cruelly strike her face.
The sky breaks and looks severe
He clings with his hands in fear
To his mother, his safe place:
– It is raining, dear!
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Teint Neutre
WIDE downs all gray, with gray of clouds roofed over,
Chill fields stripped naked of their gown of grain,
Small fields of rain-wet grass and close-grown clover,
Wet, wind-blown trees--and, over all, the rain.
Does memory lie? For Hope her missal closes
So far away the may and roses seem;
Ah! was there ever a garden red with roses?
Ah! were you ever mine save in a dream?
So long it is since Spring, the skylark waking
Heard her own praises in his perfect strain;
Low hang the clouds, the sad year's heart is breaking,
And mine, my heart--and, over all, the rain.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Gardener LV: It Was Mid-Day
It was mid-day when you went
away .
The sun was strong in the sky.
I had done my work and sat alone
on my balcony when you went away.
Fitful gusts came winnowing
through the smells of may distant
fields.
The doves cooed tireless in the shade,
and a bee strayed in my room hum-
ming the news of many distant fields.
The village slept in the noonday
heat. The road lay deserted.
In sudden fits the rustling of the
leaves rose and died.
I gazed at the sky and wove in the
blue the letters of a name I had known,
while the village slept in the noonday
heat.
I had forgotten to braid my hair.
The languid breeze played with it upon
my cheek.
The river ran unruffled under the
shady bank.
The lazy white clouds did not move.
I had forgotten to braid my hair.
It was mid-day when you went
away.
The dust of the road was hot and
the fields panting.
The doves cooed among the dense
leaves.
I was alone in my balcony when you
went away.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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