September Flowers
September wild flowers grow free
Purple, yellow, lavender, all beam joy
Fall is starting to turn the sumac
A walk can be such a wondrous trip
The air is crisp and vibrant
Touches of red show in the maples
Geese land in slews and ponds
Oaks seem so noble and strong
Hills filled with lush life
Songs of an autumn moon
Radiant sun brings azure blue
Birch and elm reach for love
Greens of summer still rule
This path has many wild flowers
The lake will soon freeze
Meadows will cover with snow
Rain has made everything vibrant
Moss and pine trees grow mellow
Mushrooms glow with sunlight
Soft breezes make the leaves dance
Blue birds gather on a fallen tree
Squirrels gather their acorns
Great Cottonwoods loom like giants
Old logs, field grass, daisies
I sigh amidst the September flowers
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Related quotes
Pictures In A Book
High on a tree a red cardinal sings
Snow melts under a free blue sky
It is Sunday and church bells ring
I love to watch the spring geese fly
The kitchen with flowers in the vase
She loved lavender lilacs on the table
Some memories never do get erased
Give your love while your still able
Now the rains and the winds blow
Mountains fill with great waterfalls
Streams swell with melting snow
Pine trees grow stalwart and tall
I remember roses on her summer dress
We loved to walk a moonlit mile
Her long hair flowing down her breast
Haunted by her laugh and sweet smile
Soon the fine tulips will start to bloom
The brown grass will turn deep green
Frogs will breed under the full moon
Wild flowers will grow by oak trees
I wonder if she often thinks of me?
We met when apple blossoms grow
Love seemed like an eternal sea
Parted when fall winds turned to snow
Now we are memories from another day
Pictures in a book neatly tucked away
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Laurels Of Green
Trees filled with starlight
Wise rivers in the root of life
Cedar leaves banners of Solomon
White pine laugh with the elves
Poems of the ancient sequoias
Whispering forests by the sea
We are the fallen race of men
They have not been banished
They are free with no guilt or shame
They know no war like strife of man
They speak of the fire from above
We walk softly on velvet moss
Wild flowers, apple orchards, ferns
My darling have you heard?
Lets go out tonight in the moonlight
Blueberries grow free and wild
Eagles filled with grace and joy
Oak and basswood, grapevines
The grass awaits the savory rain
Solitude walks in the morning dew
Have you seen the magic islands?
Decorated with lavish palm trees
Coconuts, pineapples, breadfruit grow
Sandy beaches lit with tropic sun
Volcanoes rise like spires of mystery
Paradise by a sea of green blue dreams
Beads of seeds with spells of shamans
A crown of green that rules the night
Hear tides crash into the mountains side
Rain forests with tendrils of Eden
Tread on bareback mountains gloom
Where winds sing pure and free
Steep as love near precipitous gorges
Beauty walks amidst clouds and rainbows
Waterfalls fill with pristine melting snow
Streams feed the rivers of unyielding myth
Forests of shining green fill the valley
Stars glisten through the pines of night
Like ancient eyes that guard the earth
This land is filled with a mystic glow
Lovers of the great father sun
Old like legends of gnomes and moonbeams
No guile or pretense no masks to wear
Violets, peonies, orchids and the rose
Lilies on ponds and fields
Graced with the voice of song birds
Breezes in your hair of gold
Tales of the winds of old
When the trees ruled in gentle peace
Lovers need the laurels of green
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Stage
See the mountains with glorious peaks
Rivers below sigh with eternities flow
Ancient clouds hue with lavender dusk
Mornings mysterious fog floats on lakes
Meadows filled with timeless wild flowers
Cliffs and waterfalls feeding sweet springs
Hear the sea with its rhythmic waves
Blue green water of abundant life
By the shoreline of endless sky
I have prayed on a forests enchanting path
Listen to the swirl of the tops of tall trees
Fall colors of soft red fire and golden joy
We come as strangers from the stars
We get just a short awakening glimpse
Then go back to the sleeping dust
Who has set this wondrous stage?
No one should wreck a child's awe
I have felt the mystical chills
Tillers of the garden, lovers of life
Lets leave it clean for our grandchildren
Lets gather together and protect this gift
Tonight the moon shines like a Saint
Stars surround her like a halo
She peaks her ivory face through trees
Dawn comes with a sun of grand hope
Flowers reach for creations light
Beauty in nature should be preserved
We all pass but the stage remains
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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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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This Lovely Day
Lattice gates of noble paradigms
Glance old stone fences of spring
Vivacious air amidst the able breeze
We stroll into eternal flowers
Ring the bells of summer love
Everything profound seems simple
Profound azure emanates beauty
Your dress of flowers temps me
Hills and glades alive with wind
Pedals of awesome love
Your laughter is ebullient praise
Praise for free solemn beauty
I have withered away in self
This fresh air brings frontiers
My darling you bring me joy
By the river we watch the geese
Clouds seem like breathing angels
Meadows like blankets of elves
You my love are a wondrous gift
This lovely day shall never wane
Let us take each step slowly
Count the butterflies as we go
Feel every hug and savor every kiss
Watch the flowers sigh in the wind
This lovely day is ours forever
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Downhill Path
Life is never a flowering tree and a hurricane snatched some brutality away-
In one sense of the word freedom would rule and
In another, I can only see the rain. I foresee no future-
Only dandelions grow all summer long and
Leaves fall from the maple trees as autumn sets in.
I grew up in a home in which
I often believed I was living in purgatory-
Far away from stars in the sky, although overshadowed by clouds-
The sun always rose at dawn.
Today rain falls upon the essence of time and
I can feel the heat of the brushfires in hell below me
Searing the road I am trying to walk- all uphill with no direction-
I have yet to find my place in this world, in other words, reality-
It hardly matters because behind me exists a downhill path upon
Which I can turn back and walk back upon to the world of my thoughts;
Life has never been a flowering tree and although rain has been said to
Nourish trees and make them grow- fog is dense and I am locked inside
A chamber of madness where the only sounds I can hear and see are
Monstrous beings and voices that cannot be seen or heard by anyone else-
I would pick a bouquet of dandelions in the summer if I believed that
As a gift they could bring joy to somebody- but flowers die soon after they are
Plucked from their mother stems and when all of the flowers have been picked,
All I can see is rolling hills of grass, that is when cloud cover and fog
Become too impenetrable for me to foresee any destiny?
I often wonder if the stars so many speak of truly exist-
If they do so exist, they are many light years away-
Rain is pouring and I can hear the wind, as I walk down that hill where
The world of my fantasies awaits me- there I can find some freedom ruling.
Inside the world of my reverie I cannot fathom what the future holds-
This gives me hope that there is a chance I may someday sit peacefully
Beneath a flowering tree- at dusk looking up towards the sky seeing the stars, and
As past memories dissolve into nothingness and my future remains a mystery to me-
I shall just keep on watching the rain falling- but I am not without hope, as for
Some reason- I know that there is always an end to rain, I have created a world for myself,
And I am certain that the sun shall rise again- even after all of the flowers are gone…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Save Forests and Rare Species
The Franklin forests are extinct;
These trees of beauty are now rare;
No more are they found in the wild;
Their fragrant flowers tempt a child!
Last seen in 18 zero3,
By Altamaha river-side –
A deciduous tree or shrub,
It grows upto a twenty feet.
With leaves that change color by fall,
Its snow-white flowers are showy;
With golden yellow stamens free,
It is now grown in pots from seeds!
But nothing like the forests wild
Of Franklin trees that grew on own;
You could not find a path through them –
Home to wild animals many.
How Nature rears a forest dense!
–The secrets, no man deciphers;
The way they flourish in the wild,
No gardener can do like-wise!
As man destroys more forest trees,
For want of newer farming land,
Wild wondrous trees then cease to be,
And other species vanish too.
Deforestation is a crime
That has gone uncontrolled with time;
Rare species of trees, shrubs and beasts
Have been effaced from earth with ease.
The earth has lesser green cover!
’Tis growing bald, much more each day,
As forest trees are felled for wood,
At rates more than we ever should.
World’s rain-forests are turning scarce –
A cause of global-warming fast;
Landslides and floods are dangers new;
More species turn something of past!
Trees extract carbon-dioxide,
And make the air less polluted;
Wild beasts are on the rampage when
Their forest habitats are gone.
Save forests and afforest, man;
The clouds bring rain when trees ask for;
Wild beasts need forests for their homes;
Preserve forests in ways you can.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-23-2008
poem by John Celes
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Mystic Earth
Mystic earth restores the sacred traveller
Mountains where wolves play with sojourners
Seeds deep with wisdom grow their life
Humble villages where trees laugh
Festive mushrooms, leaves of healing
Shamans of the ancient forest
Evil men know nothing of timeless medicine
Fruit from Eden replenishes pilgrims
The meek know the garden is a door way
Tonight crickets sing, pines listen with joy
Cedars are like great owls of time
Rivers flow with sweet peace
Your never alone, they are wondrous friends
Elves are not fairy tales, wake up!
Clover grows to magnify the green spirit
Fire flies play like shooting stars
Drink from a waterfall of wood gnomes
The cry of the loon haunts a magic night
Summer flowers sing such fine melodies
Hear the wind bring the voice of comfort
Rain on the daffodils blesses the oaks
Moonlight on yellow geraniums gather love
Rainbow fall will soon dance for the great King
All are invited to the harvest of beauty
She wears jewelry made of dappled sun light
Golden waves like the sea flowing in the universe
Opal, Topaz, diamonds forged from tribal ghosts
Beryl and onyx sigh with queens of ancient bliss
Eagle feathers lift the spirit into turquoise blue
Open the gates of the gifted Sequoias, giants
Dawn is a meeting of many noble angels
Look at Jupiter serenade the lovers moon
Stars smile for the hearts of searchers
The earth is a grand mystic friend
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Ancient Hills Of Toora
The ancient hills of Toora are looking brown today
Yet they were lush and rather green when last I passed this way
But that was last September when the nesting birds did sing
And every where looked greener in the early days of Spring.
To those ancient hills of Toora the Seasons come and go
And where once were thousands of gum trees only a few gums grow
And the Aboriginals who lived and hunted on those hills are not around today
Time brings with it great changes and it's always been that way.
The ancient hills of Toora as old as father time
And they were millions of years old when Christ was in his prime
The oldest human on Planet Earth perhaps fifteen years with five score
But the ancient hills of Toora will exist forever more.
The ancient hills of Toora overlooking Toora Town
From the long and warm dry Summer have never looked so brown
But I recall last September decked in their wildering flowers
Those ancient hills of Toora lush and green after Spring showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Vibrant Love Seed
a few kind words love vibrant seed
we choose with care
like wild flowers soft dream sown
we blow love this seed
from palm of our hand everywhere
to fall by flow river banks
among majestic tall inspiring trees
beautiful flowers grow
pollinated in love dance flying bees
bright scent wonder sown
among ruin city wastes
we also sow many diverse choice seeds
among dry dust new hope
wonder grows among hearts honey needs
joy in life new dreams tastes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Waiting For September
September I wait for you
you are the only month i need
you are the only one true
the only one that holds my peace
I wanna fall on your crisp leaves
and remember when I loved him
and smile and cry with joy
it was all so simple when i loved him
The smiles and laughter are here
haunting me with pain
Everything is lost I fear
until your autumn rain
I wanna smile for him and
hope he feels the same way
so if i run into him again
it'll be a pleasant day
since we ended our affair
with you our dear september
you are when it all began
and left the end to remember
A bittersweet 16 i turned
within your month of hellos and goodbyes
Some new things about love i learned
and new things about crisp blue skies
A seductful 17 I turn in the fall
as only you are by my side
waiting for the end of pain with september
I'm just along for the ride
Summer Lovers
Clasp the blue sky and sea so free
These sweet angels smile for all
She is immortal myth and soft dreams
Romance is the garden before the fall
Forests blossom with deep green pride
The rain has made the rivers swell
Moonlight shines on her face and eyes
Love is water from the deepest well
Isn't passion made for the heart?
Spring becomes summers bloom
Love cannot begin without a start
Hear the robin and cardinals tune
Deep streams of mystic water flow
Sacred ground, promises are made
Dappled sunlight, lily pads grow
Timeless poems never wilt or fade
Touched by immortal roses of red
Kisses like honey from a tree of love
Silky stars serenade a heavenly bed
Song birds bring a song from above
Lovers are wild flowers on a magic night
Waves glisten with moonlight glow
Morning dances with joy and delight
Summer lovers reach each others soul
What would life be without summer lovers?
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Whose Garden Was This?
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the whose garden was this? album, and has also been released on the changes album.
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Whose river was this
You say it ran freely
Blue was its colour
And Ive seen blue in some pictures
And Id love to have been there
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose grey sky was this
Or was it a blue one
You say they were breezes
Ive heard records of breezes
And Id love to have felt one
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Words and music by tom paxton
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flowers for me.
Here, in the green field, yonder the sky is blue
Behind ‘Ramogi" sacred hills, I see it blue
I wade past the tall, spear like flowering grass
To, pink, red, and yellow, I pick the flowers
Up a tree I see two weaver birds building their nest
Flowers I sample, all alone, for me, I'll bring these to my nest.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Timeless Flowers
Land blessed with singing rain
Can you hear what the winds say?
Summer roses grow with pride
Filled with timeless mystic sky
Orchids grow in fine spring sunlight
Sired from the past eons of starlight
Circles broken will someday heal
Children laugh a wheel within a wheel
These little ones play in green fields
Before their forefathers they kneel
Silent sacred ghost in the breeze
Blood of the ages amidst tall trees
Changing tide swells; it ebbs and flows
The noble sunsets and the moon glows
Gentle mother-father lay side by side
Sorrow like rivers in tremulous time
Fallen autumn leaves that die to live
A new offspring they chose to give
Songs of the forest sometimes cry
Chills of how they lived and died
Tears like sweet mountain streams
We are their fountains and dreams
Memories like angels touch our souls
We are their seeds and living hope
Let seeds of the ageless flowers grow
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Fury of Flowers and Worms
Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God's abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God's promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you'd just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh's room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don't they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Let The Wind Blow
Let the wind blow
Let the grass grow
But dont let her go
Dont take her out of my life
Dont take her out of my life
Let the moon glow
(let the moon glow)
(on the fallen snow)
On the fallen snow
(let the moon glow)
(on the fallen snow)
But I just got to know
(let me please know oh oh oh)
Know shell be a part of my life
Know shell be a part of my life
Forever
Let the bees make honey
Let the poor find money
Take away their sorrows
Give them sunshine tomorrow
But dont take her out of my life
Dont take her out of my life
What would I do without her tell me now
Let the bird sing
With the coming spring
Let the church bells ring
Let the rain fall
Let the grass grow
Let the moon glow
On the fallen snow
But dont take her out of my life
Please keep her a part of my life
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Changes
September is like no other
It's days change color and weather
No other month can say quite the same
For every day, I can feel the change
It's cool breezes start out warm,
Changing to cold throughout every storm
The leaves change and fall
As the Summer leaves and Autumn kisses us all
September maidens feel the change
Like the blue of the sky
Yet the color so deep
Unbelievable beauty
Maidens fall throughout and watch
Each raindropp changing through colors so fast
Yet one streak remains the same
Of that wonderful sapphire rain.
September, unlike any other
Holds you tight, in any weather.
Changes come, no matter where you go
North and you'll get stormy snow
South and feel the heat of summer coming
September does this, no matter what.
Change lives within, Nothing to stop
September is beautiful
And awesome all the same
It's hope for the future and the change
Comes swiftly as we sweep away
The Summer ends and the Autumn begins
Change is all around
With one maiden leaving
And yet, another comes
Born into the world
Of wonderful September
The sapphire skies live on
Through out this wonderful September
poem by Jessica Millsaps
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Autumn
So still—so still! Only the endless sighing
Of sad Æolian harp-notes overhead;
Only the soft mass-music for the dying;
Only the requiem for the newly dead!
So strangely dim!—the grey mist on the heather,
The chill cloud-twilight in the wind-stripped bowers,
Where gold and scarlet sunlights lay together
On harvest fruit and summer wealth of flowers.
So empty now!—only the dead leaves sifting
The dead brown berries underneath the trees;
Only my fair dead treasures idly drifting
About my footsteps in the autumn breeze.
All over now! No flowers that must be tended
Are left to grow upon the open plain;
No fruits to ripen; for the harvest's ended—
There's no more need for either sun or rain.
The infinite hope, the boundless, strong endeavour,
The love and joy I never thought to sum,
The precious things that were to last for ever—
All gather'd now, and nothing more to come!
Only the shroud of snow, the white star-tapers,
The passionate storm-winds, wailing in the air;
Only the icy rain and tearful vapours,
Only the winter darkness of despair!
* * * * *
So still, so sweet! with tender breezes blowing
Amongst the hills and o'er the Lowland sod,
And golden drifts of dead leaves softly strowing
The seed-graves hollow'd by the hands of God.
So grey and calm! the crimson glory faded
From this low sky, pale blue and purple-barred—
This placid sea, with steel and silver shaded—
This fair earth, now with autumn furrows scarred.
In the decay such chasten'd beauty blending—
Beauty late-born of peace, and hope, and rest,
As in a saintly life when near the ending,
When all its strife and labour has been blest.
The harvest-time is past. But there remaineth
The well-stored treasure-house—the hidden seed
That dead leaves help to nourish, which containeth
The germ of a new life that's life indeed.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Early Works - The Seasons
Sky clouded and morbid blue
with cracks for the sun to shine through.
Fields barren and dead
with leaves turning from green to red.
Birds on high winging south
as rivers flow from its mouth.
Sun shines a light of cold on the
ground as autumn approaching us surrounds.
The leaves of orange and red mould where they are blown
as upon us winder begins to grow.
After a while comes a white blanket of snow
covering everything that will grow.
The nights get long
and the winter winds blow strong.
Everything is frozen fast
and in this wintry waste, none must trespass.
Overnight comes the warmth of a rearing sun
bringing with it the spring,
life to every living thing.
Trees and flowers bud, bloom,
and around the corner summer begins to loom.
As everything, turns’ smiling around
there is heard in the wind loves sweet sound.
Then with sunsets beautiful, but not rare
we can tell summer is in the air.
Flowers in full bloom spread multicolour around
as small creatures scamper on the ground
under the sun profound.
All the mysteries that summer does involve
will soon be gone as the seasons again revolve.
Date Unknown. (Early 1970’s I think)
poem by David Harris
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