The Dependencies
This morning, between two branches of a tree
Beside the door, epeira once again
Has spun and signed his tapestry and trap.
I test his early-warning system and
It works, he scrambles forth in sable with
The yellow hieroglyph that no one knows
The meaning of. And I remember now
How yesterday at dusk the nighthawks came
Back as they do about this time each year,
Grey squadrons with the slashes white on wings
Cruising for bugs beneath the bellied cloud.
Now soon the monarchs will be drifting south,
And then the geese will go, and then one day
The little garden birds will not be here.
See how many leaves already have
Withered and turned; a few have fallen, too.
Change is continuous on the seamless web,
Yet moments come like this one, when you feel
Upon your heart a signal to attend
The definite announcement of an end
Where one thing ceases and another starts;
When like the spider waiting on the web
You know the intricate dependencies
Spreading in secret through the fabric vast
Of heaven and earth, sending their messages
Ciphered in chemistry to all the kinds,
The whisper down the bloodstream: it is time.
poem by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Butterfly and Bee
Once bee buzzed by the lilting butterfly
tiny wings afire with his speed
aiming for his garden target
rifling along in his usual haste
Butterfly was darting up down and sideways
as if suspended on a string
and pulled about by a drunken puppeteer
Bee had thought of speaking a warning
to local pedestrians those operating
in a different time frame than he
He had tried to say watch out move over I’m coming
but he got no farther than waa
waa and by that time he had come and gone
and all that someone like butterfly
would hear was waa nnnnnn, and so
Bee wondered about his early warning system
perhaps he’d buzz louder – one of these times
there’d be some collision – traveling ninety
leaves per moon dropp is a very very fast pace
And butterfly always slow to take notice
would hear the waa nnnn’s from time to time
tilt a wing and turn to see who’s zipping by
to see Mr. Tiny-Yellow-And-Black-Dot vanishing
into the faraway but he really didn’t care
Something else was on his mind. There
was something else he’d been thinking about and
he’d merely forgotten what it was. And so
he turned and floated, turned and hovered
capturing the glance of the sunshine
upon his wings reflecting it
into my eye
poem by Tom Courtney
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Spring's Whisper
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly ~
through forests tall and stately bound,
across the brown and barren ground.
Hushed within dark wintry night.
Chilled by nature's frosty sight.
Whispers whisper to the sea ~
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Above the mountains whispers soar,
a whisper now at heaven's door.
Change follows in expectant glee.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Through meadows far ~ they whisper long,
breathing breaths of springtime song.
Alas, sweet wisps of warming see.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Awakened by the silkened sigh
of whispers softly flying by ~
earth absorbs the sighs like rain
as springtime whispers once again.
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly,
to spread their whispers ~ o'er land and sea
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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The Lime Tree
That lime tree on the distant rising ground
(If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves
Above the renewed green of wet August grass--
First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves
Too soon was found.
Comfortless lime tree! Scarce an aspen leaf
Like a green butterfly flitted to the ground;
There was no sign of Autumn in the grass.
Even the long garden beds their beauty brief--
Their mignonette,
Nasturtium and sweet-william and red stocks,
And clover crouching in the border grass,
And blood-like fuschia, eve's primrose and white phlox
And honeysuckle--waved all their smell and hue
Morn and eve anew.
But that far lime tree yellowing by the oak,
Warning oak, elm and poplar and each fresh tree
Shaking in the south wind delightedly,
And clover in the closeness of the grass,
Warns also me.
And now when all the trees are standing still
Beneath the purple and white of the west sky,
And time is standing still--as stand it will--
That early yellowing lime with palsied fingers
Cannot be still.
poem by John Freeman
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
From Dusk to Dawn
As the end of the day takes on a stillness,
and the daylight blue changes to grey.
The twilight suddenly becomes quite noisy
as the birds have their last say.
They flutter for position on the branches
and disturb the stillness of the leaves.
Squabbling for their night-time roosts,
with the magpies dominating with ease.
It takes quite a while for the birds to settle,
but there's a disagreeable one,
and that one brings mayhem to the treetops,
until persuaded it's time to move on.
As dawn approaches there's a movement,
a bird changes its place of stay.
An early bird welcomes in the new morning
as it gets its first sight of day.
Early hours and the treetops are waking,
the magpie tidies its wings and tail.
Yesterday’s bread is much too hard to swallow,
so it swoops down, and wets it in the pail.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Red Sky Warning
I saw the cloud in the morning sky
So I turned to go back inside,
And I said to my wife, ‘It’s a shepherd’s dawn,
Or the red sky early warning, torn
By the man with the evil eye.’
The silence hung in a leaden pall
As she turned her face away,
And I said: ‘I’m only the man behind,
I’m not to account for all mankind
Or a cloud at the break of day.’
She looked again and she pulled the blind
And the house was dark and still.
‘I’ve looked my last on the works of man
Through whispered tears on a trembling hand,
Or the cloud beyond the hill.’
So she sat herself where she sits today
By the glow of the ash-wood fire,
But she sees and hears and tells me nought
While the devil inside her can’t be bought,
Or ever be made to tire.
So whenever a cloud in the early dawn
Glows red in the morning sky,
I say to my wife: ‘It’s a shepherd’s dawn,
Or the red sky early warning, torn
By the man with the evil eye.’
9 June 1972
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Summers Gone
Crack and break, lifes big mistake,
Im feeling it too, theres no way home.
The summers gone,
The summers gone away.
Back down to earth, a conscience burst,
Im feeling it too, just slipped away.
The summers gone,
The love has gone,
The sun has gone away,
Away
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey...
Just like yesterday,
Its turned to black and white.
Cold as stone, no contact known
Youre feeling it too, as thoughts decay.
The summers gone, the colours gone,
The sun has gone away
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday,
Its turned to black and white.
Oh, youre thinking back, youre going back to places that youve been,
Where days could last forever, but you can only dream,
Oh, were going back Im looking back to places that weve seen,
Moments that have been, places we can dream.
Crash and break, lifes big mistake,
Youre feeling it too, just slipped away.
The love has gone,
The summers gone away.
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday, yesterday
Its turned to grey, just burned away,
A moment too soon, weve turned to grey,
Just like yesterday, yesterday...
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spider As My Analogy For You
the black spider
with a yellow mouth
and invisible tongue
early in the morning
on the jack-fruit tree
webs its house, so
beautifully transparent
against the sun
it is art and functional
at the same time
a house of beauty
and a trap for prey
a fly is trapped and
breakfast is ready
at the center table of
its creation
full, the spider basks
in the rain as i watch it
still thinking about you
and your house of lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Night Worker
A spider spun his web all night
and waited patiently.
A fly had circled all the morn
and buzzed there cautiously.
The spider watched and stayed so still.
No movement did he make.
And by and by the fly descended
and landed wide-awake.
He spotted the spider and tried his best
to escape the sticky trap.
The spider watched and slowly moved
and the fly with his handicap
became the bait inside the web
that the spider made at night.
The spider had his breakfast early
in the morning light.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Fifteen Acres
I
I cling and swing
On a branch, or sing
Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O!
Or fling my wing
On the air, and bring
To sleepier birds a warning, O!
That the night's in flight,
And the sun's in sight,
And the dew is the grass adorning, O!
And the green leaves swing
As I sing, sing, sing,
Up by the river,
Down the dell,
To the little wee nest,
Where the big tree fell,
So early in the morning, O!
II
I flit and twit
In the sun for a bit
When his light so bright is shining, O!
Or sit and fit
My plumes, or knit
Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O!
And she with glee
Shows unto me
Underneath her wings reclining, O!
And I sing that Peg
Has an egg, egg, egg,
Up by the oat-field,
Round by the mill,
Past the meadow,
Down the hill,
So early in the morning, O!
III
I stoop and swoop
On the air, or loop
Through the trees, and then go soaring, O!
To group with a troop
On the gusty poop
While the wind behind is roaring, O!
I skim and swim
By a cloud's red rim
And up to the azure flooring, O!
And my wide wings drip
As I slip, slip, slip,
Down through the rain-drops,
Back where Peg
Broods in the nest
On the little white egg,
So early in the morning, O!
poem by James Stephens
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Autumn Swing
Back to the back
Undo and tracking our footprints
Printed on the sand of time
Reached and stopped at one point
The beginning of earliest thing
Our first meet and Hello greet
Hello world
We keen seed a plant
Sprout the moment, the lesson start
Water my soul you bring me light
With you the life we ride
Deep in core, inside
Grows to root in heart
Hello world
It's been many years we had
But seems like yesterday we been here
The wind still calm, loyal visit our garden
Hope all season life still evergreen not frozen
Time goes fast like a smoke
Thick, thin, disappear
We smile we cry, branching emotion in vessels
Patiently we waiting to smell the scent of happy
Life not easy but we learn new lesson daily
Branches becomes stronger day by day
Stronger construct history today
Dig deep by root, taller, up by shoot
Life so mystery but can be understood
Green leaf symbols of living
Each one, each day we been talking
One day we gained or leaving
Day by day, Oh World
Who thought we passed years
We changed by now and we still
To be now a shady tree
Against the storm or a safe home
The best shelter of nightingale
And we learn how to sing beautiful tale
At least apples ripen accompany
Time running just like a smoke
Dense, smear, disappear
Now, here, today will be another memory
Seasons of life, chapter of our story
Green leaf will change to yellow or brown glory
Feel blue, past leave yellow history
Time so fast, if wrong, say my sorry
Green leaves won't leave a grieve
Together this color we folded in our lifestory
Enveloped in leaves of remembrance
And sand of time bringing changes again
Seal with red to yellow, fade out the blue
The old green one day be the past hue
Gentle breeze drift them away
Fall down, the leaves
fall me with the miss
As the autumn comes again
The memories fly away
We missing and missed
but the wind we love still
The moments we now shared
Rooted in heart, ever-last to exhale
The joy, the smile, the cry and pain
In each branches, vessel and vein
We passed the past, memory make it last
The colors only changed but still so intense
All...Enveloped in leaves of remembrance
Just not green only red or yellow remain
Once we live it fresh as green but now
To the red, brown to yellow it changed
I sat and think life is about to change
The significant why memory remain
Autumn wind take all away
Falling all the red leaves
Falling me, for something i missed
The wind touch again, on this skin
Kiss me cold remind, warm past rewind
But this life-tales we love still
Autumn come again to swing this feel
Hello world,
The seed we plant
Swing me back to memories
When the first time i touch life flowers
I enjoyed and sweetly cry
When the branches broken in vein
I cried my salty cry
Now i learn shoot will replace anew
As new day we keep growing too
The lost green will fade away
The past cant forever stay
We might lost beautiful red, yellow part
But forever memory warming in my heart
I will remember as blue disperse remarks.
Falling down those leaves
falling me, this miss
All behind was around and round
Leaves falling down on the ground
Like our memories, matured, beautiful brown
I'll wait for the time, when everything is back
Beginning of a new story
For new branches to grow
And bring green back home
I smiled and creating new footprints to remember
...........for one day i will return
: : : : : : : : Theme: Memory, Time and Dedication: : : : : : : : : Meaning: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
The poem is about these three things, i make it to tell in diverse meaning..hope fully it works
1. The memory and story of life that symbolized as a leaf..losing it may cause a miss
2. The time, is like the story of our life and history...Hello is intro when we was born and life
bring some another greet as we grow and changed by time
3. Dedication to a friend, which evergreen in heart
I imagine that we start something like a hello, we plant it and grow
deep in heart...
Autumn Swing is about...
'what all of us having now, current is green..so fresh color of living..this moment we are constructing memories for old days sooner...Then the memories in the making are green as it in present tense and all folded in a leaf...The green will fade as time we will leave...it turn to yellow, red and brown (color of memory) we miss the blue (color of peace) ..The green colors have two complexions (element of green=blue+yellow) mean (live in current=peace and memory. As the leaf lost the green and turn yellow, it means the blue and memory depart each other...When the autumn comes, the wind blows and the leave fall...the fall of the leave=miss because the memory just far away from tree which planted in heart..deep rooted in heart :)
The colors, from green to red-yellow fade to blue meaning as well as this
(blue+yellow=green) ...blue=serene, yellow=memory, green=life and fresh. Hope you can feel connected to one of these or any reason
Thanks for reading and Autumn just coming, enjoy it..! ! Keep smiling
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
poem by Unwritten Soul
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When Tree Branches Rub Against The Roof
When tree branches rub against the roof
the small bulbul runs past
during the afternoon hour
to the pool where it dives and rolls,
stretches out wings and shoot them out straight,
walking boldly up and down
stretches out wings,
stretches out wings
as he walks to and thro.
When tree branches rub against the roof
a light breeze blows,
while the sun burns hot as fire
and the neighbouring child calls
when the afternoon comes with its peace,
with thoughts from the past
when the afternoon comes,
when the afternoon comes
and sometimes I forget the present.
When tree branches rub against the roof
birds peck around everywhere
while moments are lingering
as leaves blow to the ground,
and I think of God as if He is here,
while the shades bring a kind of tranquillity
and I think of God
and I think of God
and find some deeper meaning to life.
poem by Gert Strydom
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All Kinds Of Time
The clocks running down
the teams losing ground
to the opposing defense
the young quarterback
waits for the snap
when suddenly it all starts to make sense
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he takes a step back
he's under attack
but he knows that no one can touch him now
he seems so at ease
a strange inner peace
its all that he's feeling somehow
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he thinks of his mother
he thinks of his bride to be
he thinks of his father
his two younger brothers
gathered around the wide screen t.v.
he looks to the left
he looks to the right
and there in a golden ray of light
and there his open man
just like he planned
the world is his tonight
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Evening
Magic evening
Thru night and waves
Mirror gleam living
In a heart that craves
Yesterday was ambiance
Now is something more
In aquatic acquaintance
To the vast shore
Magic glowing
Dream of red yellow
On heaven showing
Moments saying hello
Sea of exotic song
Dream to set sail
Romantic heart to long
In its sodden trail
Magic of sky
Thru the ember ocean
As its time goes by
With its full emotion
Love of possibilities
Morning that shall bring
Blue drifting seas
As dawn again will sing
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Almond (In Answer To A.E. Housman)
Prettier, more pure white
than the cherry tree,
is the almond to me, when she
flowers in spring
spreading her wedding cloak,
while a thousand birds sing
in a vast welcoming
and no little tree sprite
in her branches roam
like they do in the giant oak,
but birds do their chattering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb
A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.
Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently
The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.
The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.
For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.
Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.
The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.
The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.
The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.
Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.
Tuesday,08 March 2011
http.blog.myspace.com poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wild garden
I saw rows of white,
yellow and red lilies bloom,
next to the railway tracts.
Loaded trains rattled past
and that garden,
sprang up by itself between the weeds.
With the early summer rain
rows of blue, white and pink wild flowers
bloomed next to the road that passed nearby.
Some finches nested in the trees
and red, yellow and green birds
flew past the vast garden
of earth that came alive
as far as the eye could see.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cruising
Melodies without a sound kissing you
Million miles up off the ground it's what you do..
Don't need no one to rescue me you feel so good
Nothing sends me there the way that you could
Cruising on a journey to your heart
Cruising every secret little part
When you're making love with me
I want to be lost in your love night and day
And let the sight of every star light the way
Cruising on a journey to your heart
Cruising every secret little part
Cruising to eternal mysteries
Cruising when you're making love to me
Making love with me
Rockets are blasting off
Time is set free
The way
You're making love to me
Cruising on a journey to your heart
Cruising every secret little part
Cruising to eternal mysteries
Cruising when you're making love to me
song performed by by Earth Wind & Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The last thing I have, to offer you
Not long back
I was standing tall with
My branches spread
Upwards, downwards and
In all directions sideward
It was green all around my trunk
My leaves glittering in the bright sun
They fell just after winter
Only to strike again with full vigour
I used to blossom in yellow
With pendant like red dots in the middle
And my flowers shared in secret
The whispers of young lovers in my town
Some offered my flowers to their gods
And felt blessed by the divine
These flowers attracted insects
And colourful butterflies
Who returned intoxicated
Totally nectar drunk
I bore cherry red fruits
They were feast to sparrows
Squirrels and crows
Children of the town
Squeezed my fruits
And enjoyed the sweet flesh
Coated over the big seed inside
My branches housed nests
With young birds waiting for
Their mother's return to feed them
And my thin branches helped
These young birds launch their
First flights under their mother’s guard
At times over my dark rough bark
Snakes ran up to the nests
To prey on the eggs and young ones
I was happy never once these snakes succeeded
My roots were ever busy
Tapping soil nutrients and
Sending them up to each of my tip
My leaves waved and ensured
Regular flow of oxygen rich cool air
Adding comfort to those who chose
To rest a while beneath my mammoth shadow
It was all pleasure for me
To see many around me in comfort
With whatever I can offer to them
All these came to a sudden end
When an unkind lightning struck me
I received the shock of my life
A hot wave ran through the entire me
From the top to the root bottom
And what happened
All functions in me
Came to an abrupt end
My leaves turned yellow and brown
To leave me and they fell in silence
My branches dried and turned black
The fruits did not ripe
I started drying up with no more
Supply of water from the ground
I am stark naked standing like a
Threatening skeleton
Birds, insects and people
Do not visit me
Am I turning useless
But let people know I have some thing
Also to offer
Delay further not and cut me
Burn me and enjoy the warmth
Of my heat and of my burning heart
The last thing I have, to offer you
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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She Takes
She takes one step back
And falls to the ground
Can not seem to stop laughing
Joking they say to all she has done
Not nearly what she sees tonight
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
Drinking with despair they take her down
Throwing it all around
She has no money to spare
As she ask for help from her friends
All kinds of time he says
All kinds of time
He has all kinds of time
Writing it all for him to see
The way he use to be
No father around as she passes out
From not sleeping she's been wishing
All kinds of time they say
All kinds of time
All kinds of time to break her down
Nothing around as she picks herself up
In a place that has no name
Came on a bus with a bottle
She's been drinking
She settles down with no help
Can't remember the last night she felt sound
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
poem by Sara Pounds
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