Surroundings-15
Winter Here
Cool breeze
Nostrils trickled
Sneezings swat mosquitoes
Dawning melodies yet warm up
Salved morn
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Wintertime
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please
poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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Ah, Winter!
chill breeze
blowing into
nose eyes n ears
clogged nostrils
watery eyes
choked breathing
ah, but the denuded
trees bearing
bunches of flowers
at each stem
purple orange
white yellows
feasting eyes
through a veil
of watering eyes
colors spraying
perfume forced into
blocked nostrils
chilled winds
pouring dulcet
winter notes
into dumb ears
lungs fail to draw
full cycle of breath!
ah, winter
pleasantly chilling
ah, winter...!
aaachoooooooooooo!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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To A Fly Of The Land
a personal prayer, an excuse and a warning
On this the land
On which I swat
you steward of the land
On which I squat
Forgive me my trespasses.
I acknowledge my failings:
I swat flies on railings.
Keep out of my way
Don't lose your glasses
Don't give me cause
To go to swat classes.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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The Bewildered
I hear the forthcomming buzz
Mosquitoes in demonic fuzz
Done something should be
Rebel, repel, hit it be
Ah, ready now to coil them all
An electrifying swat to burn them all
'Beware o' insecta-devils
Beware of a shocking batallion
Matted to balm and net and bang you all
Buzzing and fizzing muted thereon
Beware o'venom-vectored devils
Hubby dear ready with an electric bat
And me and the kids and the servant
And whoever comes home will swat
All by a magic of an electric racket
No more of your proboscis fright
And your saliva-welt
Flee away, flee away bloody heart
Frightened of ashed your breeds a lot
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Mosquitoes
If mosquitoes were not there
To draw blood from your capillaries
You would have to visit your doctor
Every week to get rejuvenated
For Gods sake donot destroy the vale of tears
Where mosquitoes breed
Mosquitoes do not take fees
But the doctors do
If doctors replace mosquitoes
The global market will no doubt expand
For the benefit of man and the USA
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Winter Breeze
The winter breeze
Seems frigid to me.
As I sit in the park
All alone.
The limbs of the trees,
Don't sway or move
Along with the winter breeze...
The tire swing moves,
Occupant free...
While the leaf barren trees
Shiver in the winter breeze.
Even the most playful and darring children,
Wont be caught in the cold.
This winter breeze
Seems frigid to me....
I cant wait for spring....
poem by Ashley Wade
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song Of Winter
Cool cool winter,
The air is dewy fresh,
In the morning
sweet the sun rays.
Almost darkness,
Foggy wind does blow,
In this winter,
Life does run slow.
Mist appeares all day,
Hide the sun rays,
In this winter,
Very well you can tress.
Wear we warm cloths,
In this season,
Shivering coldness,
Is the reason.
In this coldness,
Under sun we bake,
Many veggies do grow,
And take fruits and cake.
poem by Uttam Biswas
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Blanche
Breeze! brisk breeze! that movest with the morn!
Breeze! lithe breeze! that creepest through the corn!
Breeze! O breeze! that fannest the forlorn!
Oh linger by the lattice of sweet Blanche of mine!
Breeze! coy breeze! that loiterest for noon!
Breeze! true breeze! that hast a tryst with June!
Breeze! kind breeze! I beg of thee a boon!
Oh peep in through the lattice of poor Blanche of mine!
Breeze! fleet breeze! that goest with the day!
Breeze! dear breeze! that hastenest away!
Breeze! breeze! breeze! I beg of thee to stay,
And breathe upon the pillow of pale Blanche of mine!
Breeze! night-breeze! that wailest on the wold!
Breeze! lost breeze! that wanderest in the cold!
Breeze! dread breeze! oh flit not by the mould
Which shelters what is left me of lost Blanche of mine!
poem by Alfred Austin
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The Akond of Swat
Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or a chair,
or SQUAT,
The Akond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
or HOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk
or TROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,
or COT,
The Akond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's
with a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
or PLOT,
At the Akond of Swat?
If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
or SHOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people prig in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
GAROTTE,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
a JOT,
The Akond of Swat?
To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
or WHAT,
For the Akond of Swat?
At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
or a LOT,
For the Akond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
or a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
SHALLOTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or Russ,
or a SCOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,
or a GROTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?
or a POT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,
When she let the gooseberries grow too ripe,
or ROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends,
or a KNOT.
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,
or NOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake
in a YACHT,
The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
Is the Akond of Swat?
poem by Edward Lear
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Late Winter
This Winter came so late,
It hasn't even come,
The warmth still remains,
From late Autumn,
At thirteen it stays,
No frost, wind or coldness,
No shrill in the voices of men,
As they stare into the oncoming snow,
The breeze and quality ice,
Nothing... nothing at all...
It doesn't feel like Winter,
It feels like Late Winter,
That the control panel,
For Winter has been overridden,
Taken over, not knowing when,
How, or even why to start,
Journal burnt in Autumn,
Crisp, warm weather,
Nothing remains,
No snow walks, evenings by the fire,
Staying away from the cold,
So warm...
Please, Late Winter,
Arrive, we're waiting,
So real Winter can begin,
At full speed, steaming ahead,
Faster than the world can take it,
Late Winter... arrive...
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
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The Cool Summer Breeze
The Cool Summer Breeze
Have you experienced the cool summer breeze?
Have you witnessed the constant swaying trees?
How about the buzzing of the bees?
Have you seen the falling of the leaves?
I have, and I love the cool summer breeze.
poem by Abdul Malik Habibalah Wajid Hunter
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To a Fly of the Land (revised)
An apology, an excuse and a hope and a warning.
On this the land
On which I swat
You steward of the land
On which I squat
Forgive me my trespasses.
I acknowledge my failings:
I swat flies on railings.
You think I kill for thrill.
It hurts me more than you.
I pray that I can change my habit,
That you can change yours too:
Vomit on my food, don't do it,
Right after you have dined on poo.
A prayer is a hope that comes with a warning:
Keep out of my way
Don't lose your glasses
Don't give me cause
To go to swat classes.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Old Black Dawning
I hung around
On the planet mabel
She tried to stand
But she was not able
She tried to find the truth
She tried to colonize space
She only had a few
But it was a good race
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning
Old black dawning
Im always happy to
Go down to old tucson
After you had your fun
Its time to move on
Ive got a favorite story
About the tower of babel
Some say its true
And some say its a fable
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning
Old black dawning
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ebb Tide
it is late now
very late dusk's
darkness has
already fallen
dark rimmed sunset
disappear last glow
dissipate be gone
fade away
this night is silk warm
flesh is sun kiss warm
breeze soft caress warm
waves wash out
footprints softly splash
suck in sink sand
feet grow cool
sunken treasure sands
slowly shape mould
harmonic planes
miniature waves wisps
whisper gliding in
shallows on seabreeze
washing out ripples
migrating miniature waves
single summer’s seascape
sifting sands
blown skip briskly
sting the windward
inward spirit eye
the night is warm
flesh is warm
breeze is warm
soul is warm
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Fade to Grey
Shane and Shay raking leaves in the autumn breeze
oh to be free under the trees in that autumn breeze
Tumbling and falling, scarlet red and amber warm
Shane and Shay in sync with fall
my loves, my life
The warm colors of autumn dusk, all too fast to fade
Winter beckons at the door; harkening no more falls
Scarlet tears mixed with gentle blue
sorrow and joy of maternal dues
Separate now, no longer one
No more days of raking leaves in an autumn breeze
Amber warm love gone gray
Why do my young ones stray
poem by Ophelia Deborah Payne Jarrett
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A Bleak Black Picture
Swat teams that come in and swat like flies
Are being used to terrorize.
They look like the Nazis that everyone feared
And are under the impression they should be revered.
Dressed in black with shielded faces,
They use their clubs and disperse their maces.
Set up by law enforcement to enforce the law
Against our own citizens with "shock and awe".
What are we teaching our kids of today?
That this kind of action is justifiably okay?
It's not and it's wrong.
It demonstrates that we're weak,
And not at all strong.
In a free society this does not belong.
What have we become? I can't believe my eyes.
The swat teams are fearsome and we are the flies.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ramdas Choi Chang Poems 3
Poem1
The silent song of Cool breeze,
Silently enjoyed by plants and
trees,
Men and women are like air,
They enjoy breeze of one another,
Till some day the breeze become
fast and can create Tsunami in
minds!
Poem2
Oil is that gift of Allah,
That turned desert into Heaven,
Oil is that curse on some
civilization,
and that they were squeezed and distilled to give light to us,
Who knows, we may be oil for
lamps of next generation!
Poem3
Something infinite is there in
man,
neither matter, nor energy,
Dreams, feeling and love are
great, All these Infinite can peacefully
live with infinite stupidity!
Poem4
Body of birds are light and they
can fly,
Thanks to hollow pneumatic
bones,
My brain too, that can fly high, May it be light, pneumatic
hollow brain that can fly without
wings and strain!
Poem5
why we should call mosquitoes and bed bugs
As mosquitoes and
bed bugs?
Blood relatives are those who shared our blood,
mosquitoes and bugs,
share our blood
Why aren't they our real blood relatives?
Poem6
Forest is better than cities,
Where one can identify different animals with different shapes face,
Cities are wonderful,
Wonderful with gardens
Where all animals have the similar shape and Face!
Poem 7
God Created all plants and animals,
Slept well and took rest,
Then he thought of creating the man and woman,
Since then man has kept God so busy and God never rested or slept again!
Poem8
What makes man think,
How great are his thought,
He made the world shrink
With every trifle he fought
with communication systems Global village is his achievement,
But he is a threat and terror too
For earth and environment
Causing damages permanent!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Summer Days
Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.
The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.
The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.
The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.
Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.
Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Morning Peace
THE sudden sunbeams slant between the trees
Like solid bars of silver. moonlight kissed,
And strike the supine shadows where they rest
Stretched sleeping; while a timid, new-born Breeze
Stirs through the grasses, petulant—her eyes
Half-blinded by the clinging scarves of mist:
Her robes, that tangled through the grasses twist,
Weave as she moves sweet whispered melodies.
O may it be a morn like this, when slow
From a dark world beneath my soul shall go
Through the wet grasses of a purple plain,
Still stretching broader in the cool, grey glow
Of morning twllight: then my soul shall know
That life and love are lost—and found again!
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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