Mortal Wrinkles
The window arrests me by its side
Through its square making me ride
Every day a serene green does it show
Feel but today gonna be a different show
The studded trees afar
The nearer trees so far
'Ve been welcomming me to join
The peaks up and the valleys down
The stroking clouds and the murmuring stream..
My soul steps out
Soon reports to have a lookout
Lay there apart two sunset bodies bushed over
As if felled trees with running dews cry over
And my mind back in the past to myself stare...
'A man and a woman happily together
Walking and chatting over years earlier
Deeper, longer and wander
Grow older and older; Their fled children afar..'
Moribund pair one here malignantly in solitary fear
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
My Walk II: Spring
Ducklings floating serene
Over water shimmering glean
Throw in some bread
Ducks now fed
Walk on up to the Grand house
Nothing quiet, save the field mouse
Trickling stream
Down hill on a lean
Flowing water
Calming as we wander
Cool breeze
Through leafless trees
Fallen trees laying about
Birds singing, never a shout
Clouds float by
Masking blue sky
Great Grand Son sits in path well trodden
Clothes dirty, but not sodden
Collecting cones
Not walking alone!
Over wooden bridge
On upto to the ridge
His footsteps so light
Eyes shinning bright
Back down the hill
We're running! Almost a spill
Trees flash past
He won, I'm last
Puffing and panting
Just climbed a mountain
Back past the lake
Homeward trek we make.
poem by Robert Green
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Deeper Side
Ive found a reason to dig deep down.
Theres a part of you that I aint found thats in your deeper side.
Instead of wondering what I should do,
I tried to learn a couple things about you from your deeper side.
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
That I would give most anything to see.
Theres a lot of things that I would know
If you would let me climb into your soul and see your deeper side.
Everybody always seems so pure,
Then they show you what their heart stands for in their deeper side.
Show me your, yeah. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
I would give most anything to see.
You think the world has got your number now.
You cry about it but you know somehow its your deeper side.
I heard you wishing you were someone else
But all thats stopping you from being yourself is your deeper side.
So, show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Please, show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Oh, show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
I would give most anything, and, I would give most anything.
You would give most anything to see.
Show me your deeper side.
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
Last Day
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He looks and wanders
Face all covered with scars.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He whispers chills into the air
He freezes my soul with a single stare.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
Blood red shot eyes look at me
The fear in my brown one's he can see.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
Step by step he limps his way
Thump by thump my heart fears today was its last day
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
I turn around and start to run from that stare
But when I turn he stands right there.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
He smiles exposing rotting yellow teeth and horrible breath
I know that this is a sign of Deah.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
I fear that stranger from afar
I close my eyes and pray
'Oh God, I wish I'd lived today as if it were my Last Day.'
poem by Diana Euyoque
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Who Can See And Feel / The Trees As They Are
WHO CAN SEE AND FEEL/ THE TREES AS THEY ARE
Who can see and feel
The trees as they are
The wind as it rains
The light as it trails
The clouds of dust
Goodbye?
Who can know the way
Of a stream
That feels deeper
Into the heart
Of all water sounds?
And beyond all being
Who can find the name of G-d
When no one knows
Who or why or where of how
All is Great and Good?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Dance Of Life (4)
square pegs
trying to take the steps of the
circle
holes everywhere
lapses
dark spots
explosions
and weeping on one side
at the other side of this world
is the big party
people laughing and dancing
and children
chasing each other
that storm and time
and still ponds and sitting lotuses
a baby on the crib
and a young couple making love in bed
a window opens
to a beautiful sunset
sadness and truth and lies sprouting like
grasses in an open field
seeds turning into trees
and rain stopping one evening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Primary
The innocence of sleeping children
Dressed in white
And slowly dreaming
Stops all time
Slow my steps and start to blur
So many years have filled my heart
I never thought i'd say those words
The further we go
And older we grow
The more we know ...
The less we show ...
The very first time i saw your face
I thought of a song
And quickly changed the tune
The very first time i touched your skin
I thought of a story
And rushed to reach the end
Too soon
Oh remember
Please
Don't change
So the fall came
Thirteen years
A shiny ring
And how i could forget your name
The air no longer in my throat
Another perfect lie is choked
But it always feels the same
So they close together
Dressed in red and yellow
Innocent forever
Sleeping children in their blue soft rooms
Still dream
The further we go
And older we grow
The more we know ...
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Tells Time
My mirror tries to convince me that I’m old.
Yet I have a fresh face I’m told.
So these furrows in this body I behold, as
I recognize skin-deep beauty does not rebirth.
Still, I remember things way back yonder:
Sculptured summer grass,
Children ringing around roses
With Pockets filled with poses,
Barren tree leaves
Floating in the breeze...woman!
Waste no time on younger years
For the past archives them.
I’ll never be older than the goddess of art.
My lover, you'll never be older than thou art.
Let the earlier years delight in the older ones
For to understand the old-
The new must been known.
February 2,2008
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Small Trees
I am little like the small trees,
These are at least bigger than flowering plants,
The richness of theirs is far superior to us.
Since they are richer and we are taller,
The magnificent colours shine as they do.
Greenness is our nature as trees,
Whilst they are always colourful
More than us.
The tree of bigness is a lethal organ,
One we sit by and watch growing older.
Then the small trees subjugate the other trees
Far smaller, but we are supposed to respect
The bigger trees, they are certainly not the biggest.
The best of us are longer in health,
Whilst I am little for I am a small tree.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Wayfarer
I. THE TREES
THERE is no glory of the sunset here!
Heavy the clouds upon the darkening road,
And heavy, too, the wind upon the trees!
The trees sway, making moan
Continuous, like breaking seas.
impotent, bare things,
You give at last the very cry of earth!
I walk this darkening road in solemn mood:
Within deep hell came Dante to a wood
Like him I marvel at the crying trees!
II. THE STAR
A mighty star anear has drawn and now
Is vibrant on the air
The half-divested, trembling trees of his
Bright presence are aware
Below within the stream I him behold
Between the marge and main -
My bone and flesh, what dust they'll be when he,
That star, dips here again!
III. THE CAPTIVE ARCHER
To-morrow I will bend the bow:
My soul shall have her mark again,
My bosom feel the archer's strain.
No longer pacing to and fro
With idle hands and listless brain:
As goes the arrow, forth I go.
My soul shall have her mark again,
My bosom feel the archer's strain.
To-morrow I will bend the bow.
IV. TRIUMPHATORS
The drivers in the sunset race
Their coal-carts over cobble-stones
Not draymen but tnumphators:
Their bags are left with Smith and Jones,
They let the horses take their stride,
Which toss their forelocks in their pride.
Not blue nor green these factions wear
Which make career o'er Dublin stones;
But Pluto his own livery
Is what each whip-carrier owns.
The Caesar of the cab-rank, I
Salute the triumph speeding by.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Editing Same Path
I HAVE walked upon this path
alone
and that was years ago
when i still cry
water the pebbles with tears
they do not grow
flowers
there are no trees there
One day
I come down from the clouds
since i am heavy with
rain in my
heart and decide to
walk back the path
of stones
I have seeds of clouds in my pocket
rainbow shoots in my hands
The path have since then
bloomed with dew
and vapors rise to the skies
in prayers
Trees grow and
bees pollinate
a new world is born
since then
and children come and play
their games
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All
When I was five I wanted to be ten,
How I longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander every now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance too far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time goes past so very slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a Dad,
My life is a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow frail,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
To prevent it should be our holy grail.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really quite strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Take your time for life is too short,
Enjoy every minute, age you cannot subdue,
When young the facts you distort.
I'm now in my eighties how I wish I were five,
My time here has just flown by,
All those I loved would still be alive,
Now their memories still make me cry.
The moral is don't wish your life away,
Treat each living second as your last,
Enjoy your years every glorious day,
For in the blink of an eye it has passed.
Scientists spend billions asking why we exist,
Look outside, what you see will enthrall,
It is solely for living is the point they've all missed,
‘‘ The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All ‘'
A Secret To Prosperity!
Wandering clouds not so focused,
For where to rain, it not yet decided,
Running from country to country,
Gathering the seeds that can spray,
People look up for rain, but no clouds,
Bright yellow sun and the blue sky,
The tears of rain in their deepened eyes,
The shopping clouds look down at them,
Clumsy they are and hunger rules them,
The proud clouds with the bounty of water,
Hate these poor people and move quicker,
And there are green mountains with flowers,
The running clouds stop all of a sudden,
For it amazed by the swelling of that woman,
Just start to clear what it stores for many hours,
Heavy rain on the mountain and the river sisters,
Flow down to the civilization, the rich people,
All around, as they know how to save water,
People who are ignorant of importance of forest,
Fell the trees for quick money and luxury,
Those who already felled, know the misery,
The clouds in the sky, know this exactly,
The poor will remain poor, if not sorry,
And to replant the trees quickly.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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I Am An Almost- Old Man
I AM AN ALMOST OLD MAN
I am an almost- old man
Walking through the park
In the morning.
I see in the distance
A much older man
Shuffling slowly along.
I imagine him here everyday-
He has nowhere to go.
And is disconsolate among all the beauty.
I still feel
the Grass and Trees
As Hope.
Will I one day too be
Beyond all this Green?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Who Will It Be
Who will take care of you when you get older
When you are walking down life’s road
Who will be there, with love and also care
When you, yourself are old.
Who will hold your hand and walk with you
When you are walking down life’s road
Who will be at your side, to be your guide
Who, but only you will know.
Who will carry you if you become to tired to walk
When you are walking down life’s road
Who will carry your weight, and wont hesitate
Who could be that proud and bold.
Who will stay at your side and will not leave you
When you are walking down life’s road
Who will wipe away your tear, and soothe your fear
Who will comfort your mind and soul.
Who will be there with you till the very end
When you are walking down life’s road
When you see the mistakes, that you did make
When your life unto you will unfold.
Who will be there to tell you goodbye
When your journey ends on life’s road
When you take those steps, with sadness and regret
Who will be the one with love to show.
poem by Randy McClave
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Sunday Morning Despite the Hectic Shedule
today the mountains are well dressed
with green grass and trees
the flocks of sheep and goats and cows
crowd with its abundance
the sun shines brightly and the sea afar
is a horizon so tranquil
the birds are coming to feed on the grains
clouds meet on the top of the hill
today all of them are joyful
praising the wonders of creation
today God is felt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Green Gits Back In The Trees
In spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
And the sun comes out and stays,
And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze,
And you think of yer barefoot days;
When you ort to work and you want to not,
And you and yer wife agrees
It's time to spade up the garden lot,
When the green gits back in the trees--
Well! work is the least o' _my_ idees
When the green, you know, gits back in the trees!
When the green gits back in the trees, and bees
Is a-buzzin' aroun' agin,
In that kind of a lazy go-as-you-please
Old gait they bum roun' in;
When the groun's all bald where the hay-rick stood,
And the crick 's riz, and the breeze
Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood,
And the green gits back in the trees,--
I like, as I say, in sich scenes as these,
The time when the green gits back in the trees!
When the whole tail-feathers o' wintertime
Is all pulled out and gone!
And the sap it thaws and begins to climb,
And the sweat it starts out on
A feller's forred, a-gittin' down
At the old spring on his knees--
I kind o' like jes' a-loaferin' roun'
When the green gits back in the trees--
Jes' a-potterin' roun' as I--durn--please--
When the green, you know, gits back in the trees!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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The Den o' Fowlis
Beautiful Den o' Fowlis, most charming to be seen
In the summer season, when your trees are green;
Especially in the bright and clear month of June,
When your flowere and shrubberies are in full bloom.
There visitors can enjoy themselves during the holidays,
And be shaded by the trees from the sun's rays,
And admire the beautiful primroses that grow there;
And inhale their sweet perfume that fills the air.
There the little children sport and play,
Blythe and gay during the live-long summer day,
In its beautiful green and cool shady bowers,
Chasing the bee and butterfly, and pulling the flowers.
There the Minnows loup and play;
In the little rivulet all the day;
Right in the hollow of that fairy-like Den,
Together in little shoals of nine or ten
And the Mavis and Blackbird merrily sing,
Making the Den with their notes to ring;
From high noon till sunset at night,
Filling the visitor's heart with delight.
Tis most lovely to see the trees arched overhead,
And the little rivulet rolling o'er its pebbly bed,
Ane near by is an old Meal Mill;
Likewise an old Church and Churchyard where the dead lie still.
The Den is always cool in the summer time,
Because it is so closely shaded from the sunshine,
By the spreading branches of the trees,
While the murmuring of the rivulet is heard on the night breeze.
It is a very magnificent spot the Den o' Fowlis,
And where oft the wintry wind it howls,
Among its bare end leafless withered trees,
And with fear wonld almost make one's heart to freeze.
To be walking through it on a dark wintry night,
Because the bare trees seem like spectres to your sight,
And everything around seems dark and drear,
And fills the timid mind with an undefinable fear.
But in the summer season it is most lovely to see;
With its fair flowers and romantic scenery,
Where the people can enjoy themselves all the day,
In the months of July, June, or May.
There the people can drink pure water when they are dry;
From the wells of spring water in the Den near by,
Which God has provided for his creatures in that lonely spot,
And such a blessing to the people shouldn't be forgot.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Winter's Fingers
I’m looking out of the window,
watching the rain turn to snow,
the land is running from winter’s grasp,
but naked trees mean autumn’s past.
Trees’ bony fingers reach for the sky,
but the pale grey sky is a little shy,
and will not answer their call,
no matter how big or how tall.
But the clouds do speak and answer,
with snow, the subtle breeze dancer,
and the snows’ frisky little caper,
covers the land and blankets nature.
The land is under a white membrane,
but on my side of the window frame,
all is cosy with the fire ablaze,
my window is now a frosty glaze.
poem by Dale Mullock
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