The Rivers Edge
While drifting on these ebony waves of silk,
the air is cooler here,
where my feet aren't touching the ground
A dreary archway of trees surround,
the entrance to the woods upon me.
My sight has seemed to wake the leaves,
slightly shaking the trees.
Waking the birds,
but not a sound I can hear.
And with every passing cloud.
I feel as if time has been sealed on this scene.
For a moment,
this light feels serene.
And this picture,
is oh so crystal clear.
And the sky,
so divine in color,
a dark blue,
so distinct,
this perfect hue.
Has captured the breeze,
the open air,
the contrast of the trees.
The oh so green,
and violet flowers
line the ridge.
This distinct feeling
of my soul releasing
into this sight
off the rivers
edge.
poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Autumn Leaves
Autumn leaves, in the trees
Falling to the ground
Colors of many, in the breeze
Of red and orange and brown.
Rainbow parks in the dark
Moonlight shimmers down
On the leaves, from the trees
Falling to the ground.
Lovers walk, hear them talk
To where Children played
See the beauty, and feel the warmth
From where nature stayed.
Barren trees, forgotten leaves
Another year gone by
All alone from a breeze
As the lovers softly cry.
Autumn leaves from the trees
Lying, on the ground
See the beauty, feel the warmth
And hear, autumns sound.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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The Green Bowl
This little bowl is like a mossy pool
In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow
Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees;
A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,
Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song
And murmur of the never resting sea.
'T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup,
But coming Spring guided your eager hand
And round the edge you fashioned young green leaves,
A proper chalice made to hold the shy
And little flowers of the woods. And here
They will forget their sad uprooting, lost
In pleasure that this circle of bright leaves
Should be their setting; once more they will dream
They hear winds wandering through lofty trees
And see the sun smiling between the leaves.
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Life I Live
It has been said that blue is the color of the sky although others may say
Blue is an emotion when someone is close to tears-
Sad, melancholy and disheartened-
I look upwards toward the sky on a sunny day when
I don’t feel sad and blue.
Green is the color of the leaves upon the trees, although
I have heard others say they are jealous- green or envious-
I enjoy the trees, especially in the summertime,
Blown about in a gentle and cooling breeze-
The same leaves turn yellow, gold and orange in the autumn and
Fire blazes a bright red in color-
It is the fire of my spirit that burns
When anger plagues my troubled mind-
Rain falls and puts out the fires but
The rage inside of me is a shade of red that will not be tamed.
I look upward towards the sky on a sunny day,
As the leaves upon the trees rustle in the wind-
I pray for the rain to fall to quench the fury that burns my soul-
I don’t feel melancholy blue or jealous-green-
I have days when I enjoy the colors of the autumn foliage-
But the color red of rage defines the life I live.
Today I glance upward toward the blue sky and the leaves upon the trees-
Today I feel sad and blue and close to tears because
Of the pain that the fire inside of me that is always burning-
If the sun and the trees could laugh and send me good vibrations perhaps
They would cheer me and I could capture the colors blue, green, orange and yellow-
And perhaps even red as being bold and beautiful-
And with these colors I could paint a rainbow upon my horizon and
There would be no reason for anger to smolder my heart again-
I could laugh with the sun at the splendor of the rainbow against the sky of cobalt blue- And glad to say that raging fire of resentment
Is behind me now and I never feel sad and blue because
I have repainted my world with colors of joy, happiness and eagerness
To live my new life beneath that rainbow of contentment.-
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Spring Gathering
I'm wondering with my soul prepared feeling off and on
breeze within the springtime glare.I have met in my
mind a woman more fair-fairer than the bending green
of brooks, rare is her beauty never misunderstood.
Fairer than the mist over hills and mountains.
Fairer than sunshine on water when it sparkles.
Fairer than the sound of birds calling, mating.
Fairer than rapture of rivers running full force.
Fairer than trees with leaves of gold.
Fairer inside those dark brown eyes.
Fairer than raindrops falling from rooftops.
Fairer than a breathing bed of flowers.
Fairer than the most enchanting pools of the jungle.
Fairer than the sky in a radiant blue.
Fairer in heart than I could have ever imagined.
poem by William Blackman
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Snowthunder
White on the ground and cicles
from the roof
Trees of ice and vehicles are
one inch solid
All is white
From building top to ground
No breeze or no sky or no birds
or no sound
All is still
With a sudden crack the lightening
splits the sky
In many directions roaring
From one side of the sky to the other
Shaking of the ground
Ice shatters from trees and roofs and
from everywhere
Hitting the ground
Sounds echo of popping and snapping
and cracking
Sheets falling off of sides and tops
Sounding like a war is on us
The ground and sky shakes and roars
No safe place to step
A bird flies through the sky screeching
Flying in waves and screaming
Beware the snowthunder comes
poem by Sarah Stites
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Miracles
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the
water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love--or sleep in the bed at night with
any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon, 10
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds--or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down--or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best--
mechanics, boatmen, farmers,
Or among the savans--or to the soiree--or to the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old
woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, 20
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring--yet each distinct, and in its place.
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the
same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass--the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women,
and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
To me the sea is a continual miracle; 30
The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the waves--the ships,
with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
poem by Walt Whitman
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The Dawn Chorus
Dawn is the time when darkness becomes light;
A time when darkness disappears from sight.
The ashen veil slowly fades away,
To reveal another brand new day.
Up in the trees, the little birds awake,
And a pretty chorus, they now do make.
There is no other music on earth, quite as sweet,
As their cheerful chorus of twitters and tweets.
To the birds' pretty chorus, I lend an ear,
And am filled inside with joy and cheer.
The little birds are so jolly when they sing;
I wonder if they know of the joy they bring?
It is a treat to hear the birds trilling in the trees;
The sound is carried to my ears, upon the breeze.
Their symphony is carried aloft to where I lay;
Such sweet music, no instrument can ever play.
I do not often wake that early in the morn;
To witness another new day being born.
It is a magical time of the day, I think,
But, I am often still having forty winks.
So, for me, to hear their music is very rare,
But, I consider it beautiful, beyond compare.
Maybe, I should make a date, and set my alarm,
So as, more often, by their songs, I am charmed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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On The Fourth Day Of March
The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.
A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.
The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.
The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.
There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring
Wake up again, sad heart, wake up again !
(I heard the birds this morning singing sweet.)
Wake up again ! The sky was crystal clear,
And washed quite clean with rain ;
And tar below my heart stirred with the year,
Stirred with the year and sighed. O pallid feet
Move now at last, O heart that sleeps with pain
Rise up and hear
The voices in the valleys, run to meet
The songs and shadows. O wake up again !
Put out green leaves, dead tree, put out green leaves t
(Last night the moon was soft and kissed the air.)
Put out green leaves ! The moon was in the skies,
All night she wakes and weaves.
The dew was on the grass like fairies' eyes,
Like fairies' eyes. O trees so black and bare,
Remember all the fruits, the full gold sheaves;
For nothing dies,
The songs that are, are silences that were,
Summer was Winter. O put but green leaves!
Break through the earth, pale flower, break through the earth !
(All day the lark has sung a madrigal.)
Break through the earth that lies not lightly yet
And waits thy patient birth,
Waits for the jonquil and the violet,
The violet. Full soon the heavy pall
Will be a bed, and in the noon of mirth
Some rivulet
Will bubble in my wilderness, some call
Will touch my silence. O break through the earth.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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My Walk
Leaves sparkling with colours of red, yellow, brown and gold.
The peacefulness of the walk
a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind,
yet somehow gives a little calm to the raging waves.
Birds chirp their songs to each other
playing musical chairs across high branches.
Stop for awhile
try to catch a glimpse of a field mouse
busy on it's journey through the undergrowth,
but it stays elusive to my eyes if not my ears.
Fallen trees lay about in perfect posture
offering the rambler a seat to rest and look around.
Bluebells in abundance
covering the floor like a carpet,
swaying gentle on the sometimes breeze.
Young sapling trees point skyward
chasing old gnarled ones to reach a passing cloud,
straight as an arrow the young ones against the twisted shape of old.
Walk past a familiar spot once shared
with a lover so far away,
extends my smile.
Clouds on high drift silently along
as if looking for wishes to transport to another land.
I love the sun high in the sky
knowing the warmth I feel is the same it gives you.
One sun warming us both.
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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Nothin' Shakin'
I tried to find out
What love is all about,
And every day
It sure lets out.
I see my baby
I get week in my knees.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
My pappie told me
There'd be times like these.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
We meet the gang
And go to rocking joes.
The cats are something
On the heels and toes.
I grab my baby,
Tried to give her a squeeze.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
Why must she be
Such a doggone tease?
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I beg her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees, yeah.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I'm begging her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some of your loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter With a Question
The aging trees will creak and groan
To find themselves ringed by frost in sleep
And snow by the wind already blown
Cast upon snow already deep.
The cold is echoed only by silence all,
And the leaves of Autumn entombed in white
At the place where leaves fall
And passing time, vanish from sight.
Who is it that judges these—
Sends leaves beneath the snow
And trees to shiver alongside trees? —
And where do they go?
poem by Ronny Self
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Sonnet: Grow Trees
The branches cut the wind fierce to a breeze;
The leaves break sunlight into chequered beams;
The shade of trees affords all travelers peace;
The wearied ones sleep ’neath the trees in dreams!
And birds too build their nests on branches high;
The squirrels eat their berries with great joy;
The trees make verdant all landscape near-by;
And attract rain in which children enjoy!
Trees make the earth greener and beautiful,
Adding oxygen to the air we breathe;
Preserve its trees, man! Nature is grateful;
The leaves and flowers can make us a wreath.
Trees are so useful to mankind always;
’midst good trees, men have spent their earthly days!
7-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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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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Summer Nights
Oh, how I hate these hot summer nights,
When a good night's sleep is far from sight.
Lying on my bed, I constantly toss and turn,
While the air around me continuously burns.
My window is slightly ajar to let in some air;
I wonder if I'd be slightly cooler downstairs.
I have rolled down my blanket and my sheet,
But despite doing all this, I still feel the heat.
I watch the clock and the time ticks on by,
But, I just can't sleep, however hard I try.
Feeling restless in the middle of the night,
I climb out of bed and switch on the light.
Feeling so far away from the Land Of Nod,
I sit reading a book and then I play my iPod.
I'm having a bad night, and am not impressed:
I didn't sleep much last night, and need my rest.
As the night draws on, slightly cooler air arrives,
But, by this time, the clock has just struck five.
I hear the little birds singing out at dawn,
And it is only then that I give a big yawn.
My eyelids feel heavy and begin to close,
And, after sleepless hours, I begin to doze.
Finally, I fall asleep: inside my soul feels calm,
But a short time later, I'm woken by the alarm.
By now, my room is flooded by brilliant sunlight;
But I want to stay in bed, with my eyes shut tight.
I feel like I'm almost dead, rather than refreshed;
I certainly don't feel anywhere near my very best.
I don't have much energy: I've no get up and go,
And when I do get up, my movements are slow.
I wish that the temperature at night would dip,
Then I could finally get some much needed kip.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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So The Story Goes
I close my eyes
To the sound of the sky and I see
Birds in the trees in pastures green
Nothing to do
With the time or the place I perceive
The rush of the sea beneath my feet
Such a lovely world
Oh so magical
Precious like a pearl
Wrapped up in a shell
Build your house of stone
On a bed of sand
Time and tide will rise
Washing through your hands
Hear your heart
See the love
Feel the soul lift up
Hear your heart
See the love
Feel the soul lift up
I lift my eyes
To the sound in the sky and I hear it
A voice on the breeze is so serene
Nothing to do
With the time or the place but I feel it
Like dust on the moon beneath my feet
Such a lovely world
Oh so magical
So the story goes
Sing the madrigal
What a lovely world
Waxing lyrical
See the lies unfold
Hear the miracle
So the story goes...
The lies and the miracle unfold
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghostly Night Shadows
Moonlight shadows playing on the wall
from a short distance on there they fall.
Having a distinct outline of human shape
from their background they can’t escape.
These figures are together in the still of night
and appear to be holding something very tight.
One after another they seem to move along
from one end to the other there they throng.
Like moving pictures being shown on a very large screen
the distinct forms from either direction animate this scene.
These ghostly dark figures are also a fearful sight to behold
appearing to be coming and going in succession as one fold.
Who really knows from where they’ve come and where they’re going
all that is evident is just what’s before one’s sight now and showing.
Perhaps when the dark night is over and the morning light has come
whoever’s still around may understand that it wasn’t all as fearsome.
------------------------
poem by George Krokos
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By the Sea
In a hammock by the sea
As I lay there under a tree
The waves flow with tender ease
As the wind blows through the trees
Ocean waves a calming sound
So serene and tranquil it is found
An endless ocean it may seem
Where eyes meet the horizon, is like a dream
And along the horizon, clouds do part
As the artist sketches a perfect art
Deep blue water and the tides go by
The ships that sail and sea-gulls fly
The dolphins dance to the morning light
The flying fish just caught my sight
The divers dive to the coral reef
In search of pearls, they must keep
The mermaids dip and dance along
Under the moonlight, as they sing a song
The sight so pleasant to the eye
As they rock me to a lullaby.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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First Ray of Sun
First ray of sun
Travels to the earth
From high skies
Light of day begins to shine
Sun rises slowly, far in the sky
Goes higher and higher
As time trickles
Mountains are the first
To see the rising beauty
Sky is full with rainbow colors
Dark shades of night
Not to be seen
Every heart sighs in relief
Fills with joy when sees the light
Light and colors inspires every life,
Give a meaning to love and desire
Birds keep chirping
Wind keeps flowing
Mist is lost with the advent of heat
Evaporates to the sky above
Leaves on trees
Make a gentle sound
Their rumbling and mumbling
Make their presence felt all around
Thoughts of life
Keep coming to my mind
Touching the heart endless times
Beauty of nature
Brings words in my mind
I wish every soul to feel and hear
What I think?
Mountains and rivers never complain
Gentle breeze keeps on blowing
Mist is lost with the advent of heat
Evaporates to the sky above
Leaves on trees make a gentle sound
Their rumbling and mumbling
Make their presence felt all around
A full bright day has just begun
Cheering every face on the earth alike
Nature is the gift of god to mankind
I wish every life enjoys it fully
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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