En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Daisies for M lady Tara

A lawn without a weed it seems
would satisfy most gardeners dreams
But not for me I much prefer
to see a daisy here and there.
Like stars which decorate the night
these tiny flowers glowing white.
A sight which I find pleases me
much more than boring greenery.
My neighbours say it’s a disgrace
but dare not say it to my face.
They know what my reply would be
and so they whisper secretly.
About the way I keep my lawn
with daisies strewn and left unshorn.

3-Mar-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nightingale Near The House

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:
It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond
Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond
Stares. And you sing, you sing.

That star-enchanted song falls through the air
From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound,
Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground;
And all the night you sing.

My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee
As all night long I listen, and my brain
Receives your song, then loses it again
In moonlight on the lawn.

Now is your voice a marble high and white,
Then like a mist on fields of paradise,
Now is a raging fire, then is like ice,
Then breaks, and it is dawn.

poem by Harold Monro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dumb Soldier

When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found
And hid a soldier underground.

Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hid my hiding-place;
Grasses run like a green sea
O'er the lawn up to my knee.

Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.

When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my hole shall reappear.

I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But, for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.

He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I should like to do.

He has seen the starry hours
And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests of the grass.

In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
O'er him as he lay alone.

Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale myself.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be with your people

Grass is a weed among corns.
They themselves, it is a lawn.
Grass! Be in the lawn.
In the field, you’re a weed
29.05.2001, Berhampur

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Daisies

In the great green park with the wooden palings -
The wooden palings so hard to climb,
There are fern and foxglove, primrose and violet,
And green things growing all the time;
And out in the open the daisies grow,
Pretty and proud in their proper places,
Millions of white-frilled daisy faces,
Millions and millions--not one or two.
And they call to the bluebells down in the wood:
'Are you out--are you in? We have been so good
All the school-time winter through,
But now it's playtime,
The gay time, the May time;
We are out and at play. Where are you?'

In the gritty garden inside the railings,
The spiky railings all painted green,
There are neat little beds of geraniums and fuchsia
With never a happy weed between.
There's a neat little grass plot, bald in places,
And very dusty to touch;
A respectable man comes once a week
To keep the garden weeded and swept,
To keep it as we don't want it kept.
He cuts the grass with his mowing-machine,
And we think he cuts it too much.
But even on the lawn, all dry and gritty,
The daisies play about.
They are so brave as well as so pretty,
You cannot keep them out.
I love them, I want to let them grow,
But that respectable man says no.
He cuts off their heads with his mowing-machine
Like the French Revolution guillotine.
He sweeps up the poor little pretty faces,
The dear little white-frilled daisy faces;
Says things must be kept in their proper places
He has no frill round his ugly face -
I wish I could find his proper place!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Relativity

I looked down on a daisied lawn
To where a host of tiny eyes
Of snow and gold from velvet shone
And made me think of starry skies.

I looked up to the vasty night
Where stars were very small indeed,
And in their galaxy of light
They made me think of daised mead.

I took a daisy in my hold;
Its snowy rays were tipped with rose,
And with its tiny boss of gold
I thought--how like a star it glows!

I dreamt I plucked from Heaven's field
A star and held it in my hand.
Said I: "The might of God I wield,
The Great and Small I understand."

For when the All is said and done,
In Time and Space I seem to see
A daisy equal to a sun,
Between heart-beats--Eternity

poem by Robert William Service
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Gator On The Lawn

Well I run through the kitchen looked in the paper
Said, oh God almighty, mama, there it says a gator, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Well you dropped your groceries in the kitchen sink
Went to work and made the bathroom stink, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Get with it mike!
Well I jumped out of bed run across the street
Asked my neighbor said, wheres my meat?
I had a red raw steak cant find it anywhere
He looked at me and said, what the hell do I care? come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Yeah I run in the kitchen looked in the paper
Said, oh God almighty, mama, there it says a gator, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Well every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Weed

There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.

The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send

the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.

Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.

The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.

But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.

She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.

The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Communion

Alone, I look through my eyes
and see the world
as it is, as I think
it is, as I want it
to be:

bright mornings,
shimmering lawns, trees glowing
golden as night dissolves
to glaring day.

I hear mourning doves,
raucous crows, roar of lawn-mowers,
distant whisper
of traffic

and believe these proof
that I alone can end the night
of anxious dreams,
with quick breath and
eyes wide open.

But one day, stepping
through terminal veils of pain,
startled, pulling back the black curtain,
in the unexpected rush of ecstasy
I'll discover the truth:

my never-ending
communion with
You.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome, Dear Heart, and a Most Kind Good-Morrow

Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow;
The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine:—
Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow
Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine.
Here are red roses, gather'd at thy cheeks,—
The white were all too happy to look white:
For love the rose, for faith the lily speaks;
It withers in false hands, but here 'tis bright!
Dost love sweet Hyacinth? Its scented leaf
Curls manifold,—all love's delights blow double:
'Tis said this flow'ret is inscribed with grief,—
But let that hint of a forgotten trouble.
I pluck'd the Primrose at night's dewy noon;
Like Hope, it show'd its blossoms in the night;—
'Twas, like Endymion, watching for the Moon!
And here are Sun-flowers, amorous of light!
These golden Buttercups are April's seal,—
The Daisy-stars her constellations be:
These grew so lowly, I was forced to kneel,
Therefore I pluck no Daisies but for thee!
Here's Daisies for the morn, Primrose for gloom
Pansies and Roses for the noontide hours:—
A wight once made a dial of their bloom,—
So may thy life be measured out by flowers!

poem by Thomas Hood
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To Change Me?

when you arrive here
you change the paint of the house
you like it pastel blue on the door
white on the walls
and green on the windows

you change the landscape
except of the wanton garden
you opt for a manicured lawn
and some of my trees
and shrubs have to be
cut down,
some flowers have to go
you bring in
the violets, and lavenders
and white champacas
you like a scent from around
you
specially during the night
when we simply sit
on the lawn

now you begin to demand
some changes from me
the time when i wake
up or sleep
you like soap i like sports
you want me to enjoy
love stories

the color of my socks
my tie my polo shirts

i give in for a while
but there is an end to all these
attempts to change me

you cannot,
i am me before the landscape
before the paints of the house
i am me before the lawns and flowers and socks
and shirts and soap
i am already me before you arrive
to my house
to my life

you cannot change me
because
i love who i am what i am and i know perfectly just what i want to make
myself
even without you,

make some more attempts to change me
and i will ask you to leave at once

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Double Red Daisies

Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.

Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.

Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.

Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.

poem by Robert Graves
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Im In Disgrace

The first time that I saw you
You were the lady of my dreams.
The very next time I had to make you mine,
And I treated you like a queen.
The third time that I saw you
You treated me with such distaste,
Now I wish Id never seen your face.
Im in disgrace,
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face,
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Theres no use blaming me
And saying I was your ruination
Because it was you equally
That got us into this situation.
It wasnt lust, it wasnt rape,
It was just a mistake
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Im in disgrace. shes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Was your love real or faked?
Or was it only infatuation?
Picture you in my place.
I wish Id acted with a little less haste.
Im in disgrace.
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Oh what a waste. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Now my names dirt and Im disgraced.
Im in disgrace.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A clear Midnight

the stars are diamonds
strewn by the gods
over the sky
in celebration
of their undying love
for the world
they cool my mind
the stars are diamonds
strewn by the gods
to the golden lady
of the night
the gentle subtle lady
that keeps
the night lighted
as lovers whisper
their secrets to each other
the stars that catch
each of the lovely
glittery promises
spread them across the sky
the stars are diamonds
strewn across the sky
for lovers
to swear their undying love
to each other
words pristine as the stars
that keep each night illuminated,
guided....

inspired by

A Clear Midnight

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.

Walt Whitman

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vanity

A wan sky greener than the lawn,
A wan lawn paler than the sky.
She gave a flower into my hand,
And all the hours of eve went by.

Who knows what round the corner waits
To smite? If shipwreck, snare, or slur
Shall leave me with a head to lift,
Worthy of him that spoke with her.

A wan sky greener than the lawn,
A wan lawn paler than the sky.
She gave a flower into my hand,
And all the days of life went by.

Live ill or well, this thing is mine,
From all I guard it, ill or well.
One tawdry, tattered, faded flower
To show the jealous kings in hell.

poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Forest Lawn

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the take me to tomorrow? album, and on the changes album. it has also been released on the an evening with john denver album as a liv
Sion.
Oh lay me down in forest lawn in a silver casket
Put golden flowers over my head in a silver basket
Let the drum and bugle corp play taps while the cannons roar
And sixteen libertied employees sell souvenirs from the funeral store
I want to go simply when I go
Theyll give me a simple funeral there I know
With a casket lined in fleece
And fireworks spelling out rest in peace
Oh take me when Im gone to forest lawn
Oh lay me down in forest lawn they understand there
They have a heavenly choir and a military band there
Just put me in their care Ill find my comfort there
With sixteen planes and a last salute theyll drop across in a parachute
I want to go simply when I go
Theyll give me a simple funeral there I know
With a hundred strolling strings
And topless dancers with golden wings
Oh take me when Im gone to forest lawn
Oh, come, come, come, come
Come to the church in the wild wood
Kindly leave a contribution in the pale
Be as simple and as trusting as a child would
And well sell you the church in the dale
To find a simple resting place is my desire
To lay me down with a smiling face comes a little bit higher
My likeness cast in brass will stand in plastic grass
While hidden weights and springs tip its hat to the mourners filing passed
I want to go simply when I go
Theyll give me a simple funeral there I know
Ill lie beneath the sand
With piped in tapes of billy graham
Oh take me when Im gone to forest lawn
Rock of ages cleft for me
Forests lightly higher fee
Oh take me when Im gone to forest lawn
Amen
Words and music by tom paxton

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Sky

The white sky is in my dream
And it is so ugly to look at because he doesn't have any life to it
But white is also a boring color for the sky
Also I must admit that te snow is white and white is fine for the snow but Not for the sky
God please paint the sky blue tomorrow because I can't stand to look at that Boring white sky
God I want you to give some life to that sky by tomorrow
Please don't forget that
Because I am bragging tou to do something about that sky
God if you finish painting the sky with paint and a brush than you will be Able to add some stars at night
And make that stars shine at night I beat that people like me and Others will start to pay attention in the sky

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child's Fancy

"Hush, hush! Speak softly, Mother dear,
So that the daisies may not hear;
For when the stars begin to peep,
The pretty daisies go to sleep.

"See, Mother, round us on the lawn,
With soft white lashes closely drawn,
They've shut their eyes so golden-gay,
That looked up through the long, long day.

"But now they're tired of all the fun--
Of bees and birds, of wind and sun
Playing their game at hide-and-seek;--
Then very softly let us speak."

A myriad stars above the child
Looked down from heaven and sweetly smiled;
But not a star in all the skies
Beamed on him with his Mother's eyes.

She stroked his curly chestnut head,
And whispering very softly, said,
"I'd quite forgotten they might hear;
Thank you for that reminder, dear.

poem by Mathilde Blind
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Lawn Boy

Throughout the night
When theres no direct light
And a thin veil of clouds
Keeps the stars out of sight
I can smell the colors
Outside on my lawn
The moist green organic
That my feet tread upon
And the black oleander
Surrounded by blues
Im soon overwhelmed
By olfactory hues

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Premonition

I see your face in dreams at night
and watch it fade from view.
Why can't I keep it in my dreams
until my dreams are through?

Is this a premonition of
what I dare not say,
that just like in my dreams at night
your face will drift away?

I hear your voice in dreams at night
and find it leaves my ear.
Why can't I keep it in my dreams
forever and a year?

Is this a premonition
of what I fear you'll say,
that just like in my dreams at night
your voice must go away?

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On a Sunday Morning Sidewalk

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
in a brief, refreshing, rain
I awaken, quite hung over,
My eyes closed against the pain.

The fresh mowed grass of someone's lawn
Damp with the morning dew
Reminds the brain cells I have left
that last night I downed a few.

A dark figure now looms over me-
Is it there to damn or save?
No it's just the barkeeps Labrador
as he gives my face a lave.

I was nearly frightened sober -
And I was still drunk with Grog-
I'd prefer a friendly Saint Bernard
bringing a 'hair of the dog.'

The Labrador looked down on me,
a sodden drunken mess.
In my wife's eyes I would never find
That canines kind forgiveness..

poem by John F. McCullagh
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