A Flower To Auroville Mother 25
Kozhakkattai Mandarai(Yellow Orchid Tree, St. Thomas Tree, Yellow Bell,
Bauhinia tomentosa)
Very much unassuming an appearance..
Sometimes plain, sometimes black throated
Plausibly to threaten a disturbance
Insects, birds when circling hunger bloated
Mandarai, but your golden smile bright
As that of sun around, why do you then droop
Indicative, medicative for sore throat
Like Shiva your blackened throat, why then stoop
Ah, your bilobed leafy claps acknowledge
While humming granny grinding chutney of them
You are how much purposeful without wastage
How much useful you're adorable optimum
So, you're my pooja flower Mandarai
Right soul linking me spacewise
Soaring me to celestials to go by
So you're handy sure in every my utterance
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
The Yellow Ribbon On The Old Oak Tree
who can forget the yellow ribbon
on that old oak tree? tell me.
tomorrow, i shall wear my yellow cap
my yellow shirt, my yellow brief,
my yellow pants.
my jaundiced eye, my golden yellow ring.
tomorrow, in my country, the sky is yellow.
all steps lead to the yellow brick road.
all fruits are ripe and mellow and yellow.
Tomorrow, the country is yellow.
Yellow for integrity, Yellow for change.
Yellow for justice. Yellow for truth.
One day more, and the sun shall rise
Yellow as ever.Yellow forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Death In The Morning...!
A single solitary sun ray
Dashing through the morning dew
Touched the side of the little yellow flower
Trying to wake up spredding yellow petals
A top the green grassy hill...
The birds washing their faces
Whistling little tunes
Glanced at the flower
With a delight in their eyes...
Like the blade of a fencing sword
Racing through the wind
The sharp edge of the grass cutters cutter
Caught the little flower
Chopping it into thousand yellow specks...
Among the green slivers
That showered back on to the grass
Little golden yellow specks
Smiled sadly a last smile
Shattered dew drops
Lazily settled down
Kissing the yellow dust
Trying to feel the flower
Trying to kiss its face...!
poem by Rowving Smith
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Magpie
The magpie's mood is never surly
every morning, wakening early,
he gargles music in his throat,
the liquid squabble of his throat.
Its silver stridencies of sound,
the bright confusions and the round
bell-cadences are pealed
over the frosty, half-ploughed field.
Then swooping down self confidently
from the fence-post or the tree,
he swaggers in pied feather coat,
and slips the fat worms down his throat.
poem by James Phillip McAuley
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Tie A Yellow Ribbon
I'm comin' home, I've done my time
Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine
If you received my letter telling you I'd soon be free
Then you'll know just what to do
If you still want me
If you still want me
Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree
It's been three long years
Do ya still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus
Forget about us
Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Bus driver, please look for me
'cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see
I'm really still in prison
And my love, she holds the key
A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free
I wrote and told her please
Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
It's been three long years
Do ya still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus
Forget about us
Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Now the whole damned bus is cheerin'
And I can't believe I see
A hundred yellow ribbons round the old oak tree
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-19
Kondrai-(Sarakondrai, Mayil Kondrai white, red, dwarf red
red and yaloow, yellow, Manjal Kondrai, Perunkondrai-
Golden shower tree, Indian Laburnum.Cassia fistula
Flame Tree, Royal Poinciana, Delonix regia,
Peacock Flower red, yellow, Caesalpinia pulcherrima
Siamese Senna, Siamese cassia, Senna siamea
Cassia glauca LAM, Delonix elata (L.) GAMBLE-
All Gulmohar family)
I need to remain amazed in awe
Ye, dear cousin-flowers of Shiva
Ye need to remain bloomed ultra
For I do need your feast fiesta
Wait till I fetch my folks all here
Wilt not but shade shaded in cheer
Wide and varied and canopied sincere
Red and yellow all lighted superior
And for my folks when asked in special
Poinciana, ye fan in flaming red and swell
Tall and striking in four-petaled settle
Buffing ferny leaves supporting in full
And for my folks when asked specific
Mayil Kondrais, ye, younger sisters terrific
Stalked intense for belittled flowers pacific
Breeze an ever green show of yellow-red magic
And in mindful heart for my folks when asked
Sarakondrai, ye sway your chandelier basked
Glittering golden on supoort of a woody red
With all purposeful service of a treat readied
And for my folks in distinct speciality
Ye, Manjal Kondrai, caress in bowing tenacity
Crowned in racemed yellow on an axised beauty
Pinnate leaves pining oblong and mighty
And ye, Perunkondrai, in greater heart
Swing and sway and hush in touching beat
Beating against arthritic beat in full feat
White to yellow on a greeny spread support
I need to remain amazed in awe
Ye, dear cousin-flowers of Shiva
Ye need to remain bloomed ultra
For I do need your feast fiesta
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-32
Thanga Arali, Manjal Arali
(Mexican oleander, Yellow Oleander, Lucky Nut
Thevetia peruviana)
Swarna Pushpam(Yellow bells, Yellow trumpet,
Yellow-Elder, Tecoma stans)
How can it be else possible
While you both are divine
For yellow oleander plausible
Yet having lucky-nutty poison..
Swarna, tell me how come slender
Yet pull your support all down
Bewitching with a belled splendour
For us yellow bells as well known
Of similar colour and persona
Puzzled of ManjalArali which we
No puzzle but we know now in awe
Thevetia, Tecoma friends we agree
Coloured of same tinge by Lord's wish
Differed a bit of shape in leaves
Grown to a shrubby tree to enravish
For pooja with you our prayer heeds
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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Tis Me!
The tree on the left is made of bicycles.
The one next to it is red!
The one in the center is yellow
And the blue tree sits on the right end.
Unless you are standing behind them.
Then the blue tree is on the left.
Next comes the yellow then red tree,
And the bicycle tree comes next!
But if you watch from a merry go round
While it’s spinning in circles you’ll see,
Just a dizzying blur of colors,
Which one now is first, mercy me?
Who has such time that it does take
To sit and write the nonsense we read?
I bet whoever it is he’s retired,
And he looks an awful lot just like me!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Lone Yellow Flower Waves In The Open Fields
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green;
lone yellow flower has no one to blame
and it seeks none to praise
for it knows all life comes in
when the conditions are right;
lone yellow flower knows
death comes in like the wind;
lone yellow flower
is never alone
for it is a part of the expression
of the earth and time and the universe;
lone yellow flower sees what is before and around
lone yellow flower observes what is within and about
and so lone yellow flower lives with no delusions
no beliefs of heaven and hell
fears none and does not live or die
to please or amuse or appease;
and lone yellow flower
blossoms and shines
and shrivels and ceases
in harmony
with what actually is;
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Trees Don`t Die
A seed sprouts and a life is born.
You are a tree, my friend
Stretching your hands to the sky.
A tree has a mind
It has thoughts and pains
Like you and me, friends.
A green friend holding me in the shade
You are my granny..
Sometimes you are my great granny...
Many birds live in you and fly around
Coluds float above you.
You are a tall wonder.
A tree has an enemy
A man coming with an axe.
Who will take away your trunk.
Don`t weep dear friend
Many like me will plant seeds deep
And you will be reborn.
A tree cannot die and just die alone
As our minds are green for it
A tree is our hope....
poem by Keerthana Dinesh 1998
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Wild Wild Party In The Loquat Tree
Out in the back by the grape stake fence
Is a place where nature makes so much sense
All the creatures livin in harmony
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Fuzzies and furries run walk or fly
Havin a feast beneath a clear blue sky
Animals comin from miles around
To bounce the branch and shake the loquat down
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Peckin at em pickin at em hidin em away
Savin em up for a rainy day
No matter how big no matter how small
Theres more than enough theres plenty for all
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Every little loquat holds the seed
For a brand-new baby loquat tree
One o these seeds may find its way
To a place in the sun and then someday
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
All havin a party in the loquat tree
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
The squirrel and the sparrow and the mouse and the bee
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
All havin a party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Eatin all the yellow fruit they can see
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[havin a party]
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
(eatin all the yellow fruit)
[in the loquat tree]
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
Chatter chirp squeak buzz
Its a wild wild party in the loquat tree
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frances 7
Fluttering
Moving lightly swiftly flying darting skimming
Like a yellow butterfly flitting passing flitting
From flower to flower from tree to tree
From cloud to cloud passing quickly
To depart then die this yellow butterfly
I have never heard it sing I have never heard it cry
Flitting fluttering lightly fluttering this lonely happy yellow butterfly!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song of the Little White Girl
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter?
Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter?
Because it is just a white baby you see,
And it's the black ones you like, cabbage tree?
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you're a strange fellow
With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow.
Wouldn't you like to have curls, dear, like me?
What! No one to make them? O poor cabbage tree!
Never mind, cabbage tree, when I am taller,
And if you grow, please, a little bit smaller,
I shall be able by that time, bay be,
To make you the loveliest curls, cabbage tree.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Childhood bee
yellow spotted black velvety bee
that came buzzing at the garden
which rages with bougainvellea
of pink, red, and vermillion red
a tree of sour sop
squirrels scoured here
up there, a lumpy dangling fruit
sported a loose crevice
that exhibited the farmer's sore
some red eyed birds
had carved for midday fare
at the mishmash of cabbage leaves
robins had hopped, looked at me
wondering i were friend or foe
neighbour, bent with her frond hat
and weather beaten clothes
worked without a sound
the yellow spotted bee's
buzz still as lively as it was then
and it still looks older - than me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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September's Brought The Spring
The golden whistler whistles on the gray gum tree
And lyrebird in good mood for mimicry
And magpie piping in the morning gray
And currawong tell rain not far away.
I love the hills of Sherbrooke in the Spring
When wattles bloom and all the free birds sing
The voice of yellow tailed black cockatoo
And spotted dove utter his mating coo.
The rhododendrons flushed with bright pink flowers
And the trees look greener after cool spring showers
September brings with it rich greenery
And nest building birds prepare for family.
Were I a bard born with the gift of rhyme
I'd write a song for Sherbrooke in Springtime
And I'd sing my song that some might wish to hear
Of Sherbrooke in September of the year.
The yellow robin singing in the wind and rain
And the sky turn bright and the sun shine out again
And in Sherbrooke woods the wild and free birds sing
And September's come and brought with it the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Golden Shower! ! ! ! !
Scattered by the broken string, bent to pick the beads.
You stood with some in cupped hands, did you my thoughts read?
Led me gently to balcony, to show Laburnum bloom.
Clusters of bright yellow flowers watch them with awe, droop.
Yellow petals formed a carpet, underneath the tree
You said its called golden shower, from far one can see.
The breeze carries the flowers, away from the loose bunch,
Just like my beads got separated, and I sat hunched.
I forgot about my rosary, as we stepped in the avenue.
Your nearness and fragrant air, tears blurred the view.
Careful not to crush the blossoms, lying on the grass
We strolled hand in hand, exchanging a glance…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Tree Frog
The tree frog
sits
on a green leafy branch
and stares at me with bright orange persimmon eyes
and a goofy expression that says,
“I’m a tree frog, what did you expect? ”
His yellow gumby-like legs
and bulbous sticky fingers
are poised and
ready to jump
straight out of the calendar
and onto my keyboard.
Ah, the things that go through your head
when divining for inspiration.
(Previously published in Creative Voice, Feb.2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Yellow Badge of Courage
(A tribute to the late Pres. Cory Aquino
1933-2009)
In ev’ry light post on an avenue
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
In ev’ry tree along the hi-way
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
In ev’ry edifice high or low
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
In ev’ry single family home
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
In ev’ry private or public vehicle
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
And in ev’ry soul rich or poor on the street
instead of an ol’ oak tree
as it used to be,
One could see a yellow ribbon
big and small tied around it.
symbol of someone returning
in one piece, in triumph but tragic
Comes latitudinarian woman
moxie to fight against tyranny and oppression
Unite Now! Victory is ours!
The obstreperous people power cry
Twenty six years after ubiquitous yellow ribbons
sprouted once more
only to bid farewell to her chanting people
a lasting adieu never to return
Quietus ol’ woman left a legacy
No one could ever forget in every one’s occiput
Keep the corvine neighbors away
Let peace and democracy flourish forever
poem by Noel Horlanda
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In Back of the Real
railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.
A flower lay on the hay on
the asphalt highway
--the dread hay flower
I thought--It had a
brittle black stem and
corolla of yellowish dirty
spikes like Jesus' inchlong
crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
the garage for a year.
Yellow, yellow flower, and
flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
flower nonetheless,
with the form of the great yellow
Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Sonnet In Bee Flat
There must be a place (but I've yet to find one)
beneath the Sol-drawn dawn of autumn skies
where cut-throat trout still find the heart to run
and the fullness of Summer's life never dies.
There, as if Earth had changed rotation,
Instead of honey, nature gathers dew
and composes a world without notation.
Unlike the life of old, this work is new.
Despite the nearing gray cold wintry blast,
the twisted fir tree keeps her dreams of green,
of a chamomile welwitschian past,
and buzzing yellow flights of friends less seen.
But bees still dance their flower pollen-aise,
a song of haze gold mid-October days.
(mindbringer,19 October 2009)
poem by Thomas Holderfield
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