Autumn Song
Now's the time when children's noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Where the juicy apples grow,
And tomatoes in a row.
And to-day the hardened sinner
Never could be late for dinner,
But will jump up to the table
Just as soon as he is able,
Ask for three times hot roast mutton--
Oh! the shocking little glutton.
Come then, find your ball and racket,
Pop into your winter jacket,
With the lovely bear-skin lining.
While the sun is brightly shining,
Let us run and play together
And just love the autumn weather.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I Have Seen Autumn
I have never felt the chill of winter
Nor the birth of spring
Only the two faces of Nature
The golden sun shining
Or the heavens openly weeping.
But I have seen autumn
As I looked at her
No cold winter in her smile
A promise of summer in her eyes
Her hair of autumn leaves.
I have never felt autumn
But I have seen it
It’s the canvass of Rembrandt
Dark, red, crimson, gold
But I have never felt it.
Is the autumn breeze damp and soft like her lips?
Is the autumn sky naked and warm like her skin?
But I have never kissed her lips nor touched her skin
I have only seen autumn
But I have never felt it.
poem by Shogunoka Ledesma III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Juicy Lucy
Every time I call her name shes right there by my side
Every time that I think its a change
Theres no place left to hide
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Every time I blow my love
Shes knockin on my back door
Every time that I tear her clothes
She pulls me down some more
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Scary woman put me under, under her spell
Never tell, if I risk it I ____ her
There still standin, try to get my hand in
But she gets away________one stride
Every day she comes around
Lookin good and tryin to catch my eye
Aint no way to tell her no
I guess I never even thought to try
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Every time I tie her down she wants to let me go
Every time I start to slide
Shes tellin me Im way to slow
This must be for real
This must be for real
This must be for real
It cant be a dream
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy lucy
Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Rover's Apology
Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;
Though I own that my heart has been ranging,
Of nature the laws I obey,
For nature is constantly changing.
The moon in her phases is found,
The time and the wind and the weather,
The months in succession come round,
And you don't find two Mondays together.
Consider the moral, I pray,
Nor bring a young fellow to sorrow,
Who loves this young lady to-day,
And loves that young lady to-morrow!
You cannot eat breakfast all day.
Nor is it the act of a sinner,
When breakfast is taken away,
To turn your attention to dinner;
And it's not in the range of belief
That you could hold him as a glutton,
Who, when he is tired of beef,
Determines to tackle the mutton.
But this I am ready to say,
If it will diminish their sorrow,
I'll marry this lady to-day,
And I'll marry that lady to-morrow!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Thread scrawled in Timely Autumn
I watch thousands of leaves drift underneath trees,
while in a tree I sat observing
timely autumn air fetching birds –
to gather above the vegetation high up in the blue
birds rise and utter messages
as timely autumn descends on our…?
On our befallen part globe.
To hear the beauty of innocence across
the damp fall ground;
vibrating, that autumn is
going to flee away and…?
And in comes the disturbing winter breeze –
bring out a smile gloating out
on the stricken faces.
Nations fall dead from autumn exhaustion.
Oh timely autumn has come to soon –
to bear a reason of befallen:
sleeping illnesses
on our old earth.
Red, brown, orange, yell a glow
Buried in leaves is our part globe.
And stricken faces
of shadows
flee away into the nest of warmth
as worrying winter breeze crawls
in, regretfully not,
but gleefully.
Swirling around, sneaking in?
In ajar windows.
Oh season is it time
for timely autumn colour to leave
our autumn colour world into
winter darkness?
Not welcomingly the
winter nips at my thin nose
as I watch above
high in this forlorn tree
with no leaves! But what?
Empty branches of crystal snow.
poem by Celine Berghmans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Be Or Don't Be (A Song)
I be or don’t be
Would be spreading whiff
As a blossom, As a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don‘t be
Whatever the weather
I always will be there
To keep the orchard fresh
And in colour of desire
Will be watering it ever
As a blossom as a bud
The orchard of love
I be or don’t be
I will unfurl my shirt
And sway in the breeze
Will glow like flower
On the blossom trees
Would spread fragrance
As a blossom as a bud
In the garden of love
I be or don’t be
When I won’t be there
Her eyes with tears
Would be finding me
She would stop in reverie
Where I will meet her
As a blossom, as a bud
In the orchard of love
I be or don’t be
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Rainy Morning In May
There is a distinct coolness in the late Autumn breeze
And it's chilly in the highlands though not cold enough to freeze
And a high today the forecast read of 17 degrees
And the currawongs are piping on the eucalyptus trees.
And the rain come down in drizzles and the rainy sky is gray
And the ravens they are cawing on the pines across the way
And even for the end of Autumn this is not a pleasant day
And the Winter is approaching as we near the end of May.
On the golf links looking green now people play golf in the rain
And for the eastern suburbs golfers it's umbrella time again
Doesn't matter about the weather they will play rain, hail or shine
And they have been playing all morning since the gates opened at nine.
When you hear the spur winged plover calling o'er his breediong ground
In the darkness of the morning o'er the paddock flying around
You know what time of year it is as they breed in the late Fall
And they raise their chicks in winter in the dampest days of all.
It's been drizzling all the morning and the sky is looking gray
And the weather is not pleasant even though it is late May
And the golfers on the golf links practice their swings in the rain
And for the outdoor lover it's umbrella time again.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Becomes Winter
Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.
Autumn is a slow decay in warm colours,
And Winter is grey and absent.
Some of the redy-brown leaves sit on the trees,
Yet the cold chill sings a song
That could only be the Winter.
It is scarf weather now.
I turn my collar up against the cold and damp.
The Sun has stopped shining all day,
Now we see it for a few hours a day
And then we are entombed in darkness.
You could run to catch up with the Sun,
But you’d never make it.
Be left like ship smoke on the horizon,
Just a spot in the distance.
You cannot escape the Winter.
Autumn is becoming Winter,
And as it does everything dies.
poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faded Love And Winter Roses
Key: e
(if you dont know e very well throw a capo on the 2nd fret and play it in d)
(e) faded love and winter roses (b7) always bloom in memo(e)ry
Faded love and winter roses (b7) yearning hearts that used to (e)be
(a)will they meet again tomorrow (e)where we parted yester(b7)day
(e)give me back the winter roses (b7)and the love you took a(e)way
(e)faded love and winter roses (b7)sprinkled with a lonely (e)tear
Faded love and winter roses (b7)still recall each yester(e)year
(a)will I always be a dreamer (e)dreaming of the used to (b7)be
(e)faded love and winter roses (b7)live and die in memo(e)ry
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Shadow
From Child's Garden of Verses
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn
The calendar
Truly revealed it is was Autumn day
However, the dropp in the temperature
Informed us all
That Winter has gave way
Iam was not ready for Winter
So, I prayed the icy winds
would go away and
Return again
Some other day
For perhaps, the children
Still needed time outside to play?
However, on that Autumn windy day
The force of Winter
Simply had it's icy way
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Sour Apple Bites
Orchard of apple and variety
Here you come, the apples lover
Come sing and praise like always
'Shining around the skin
Your colour is my favorite apple
The fresh one
So is your taste'
Apples smile and sing
'If i am green
A sweet sour love
Bite one, bite two
Bite still
Taste me my apples lover
Taste my sweet sour love
I'm green and sour
Pluck me bite me my lover'
The hunter replies
Bite one and some
Tasted your sour love
Bite still because i am the apple lover'
Apples smile continue the song
'If i am red apple
Sweet and moist
Bite one, then two
Bite more
Taste my sweet life
I'm red and taste nice
Bite one bite some
Taste me sweet you will like it'
'Green or Red
Bite sweet or bite sour
I must love you my apples
simply because...
I am the true apple lover'
Explained hunter
Sweet red or sour green
Sugar rich energy will reach your heart sooner
Running in your blood and pump the beat so dear
'O apples my dear i grow you in orchard to be with me so near'
Confessed by gardener, before apple answered
'You work hard and love so sincere, will fruit you love every year'
Bite one, sweet or sour everyday
Promise keeps you away from doctor
Bite one Bite some Bite all say the lover
Energy, Protect you always said apple
If you love something, make it further
This is what apple and hunter tell you, No Fears
Credit to Ahmed Khaled to point some issues of apples
so what i can say here it was inspired by Ahmed Khaled and fair to say this is our collaboration. Took of the chance to dedicate this poem for Steve, Co founder of Apple...All his courage to chase his dream is what i really called as an apple lover...
Meaning of this poem,
I want to talk about 'Do what you want' choose what you like
It's not all about apples, it is about...if you have a dream (your future)
make it real either you taste it difficult or easy you will always enjoyed it
just like i tell you in the story, green or red, sweet or sour
the apple hunter/gardener still like it, why simple cause the hunter like it
..As you know what you like and nod for the challenge, you will
get satisfied with what are you having, doing...it's your favorite choice
..Include the words 'An apple a day keeps doctor away' hoping you
understand, you will safe and satisfy if you choose the path you like
and you will safe from regret..Chase your dream :) _Unwritten Soul
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Red Apples
Out of Mother Nature
Came little red Apples'
That were grown
In the Garden of time
But God don't like
Little red Apples'
From which the Devil does dine
Women love to eat little red Apples'
In the Summer time
Men desire little red Apples'
Any old time
Winter, Summer, especially
When the Sun is high
In a clear blue Sky
The Devil does love
Little red Apples'
Man does love
Little red Apples'
Women love
Little red Apples'
poem by Allan James Saywell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Seasons
She leant against an archway where roses fell like a waterfall.
Her delicate hands, her rosebud lips to make a young man blush.
Such is the Spring with its exhilarating essences of budding flowers,
trickling streams, birdsong to make the air zing.
Summer came and she toiled in the garden, digging out weeds,
trimming hedgerows as her skin glowed with colour.
The young man visited her everyday and was even more love struck.
Summer, a time of warmth, fulfilment and happy pleasures.
Autumn crept upon them and before they had a chance to see
love, so hot and lustful mellowed and as it died so did the leaves.
The leaves turned red and golden brown
and then came winter's frosty crown.
Winter frosts and winter snow, winter chills makes fingers glow.
The shortest days, the longest nights suddenly lit with Christmas lights.
Does a lover remember a lustful night
or the touch of her hand in the morning light?
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Red Rose and Chardonnay
A dinner with chardonnay
Plates of love whilst piano play
A love song of long ago.
She sat by the table
A hands folded like napkin in array
And red roses on the table
Of two love birds
Today are their anniversary.
She excused herself
As the waiter arranged the table.
Today is their day
But her lover has another.
She waited for an hour
For he promised to surrender
The love he has for her.
She begged him not to part
But…he’s not here.
Nor his shadow emerged
Red rose and chardonnay
are now abandoned- by the table.
She exits in the moonless sky.
poem by Tess Rockenstire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
South Gippsland In April
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
Yet in the Parks and gardens of Wonthaggi Town
The mynas are singing their songs tell of rain
And the frogs they are calling in the roadside drain.
Though into mid April and the Winter quite near
The weather quite warm for the time of year
On the beach at Cape Paterson the sun lovers lay
It may rain tomorrow but the sun shines today.
Only six weeks left of Autumn the time ticking on
And quite Summery weather though Summer is long gone
The old coastal hills overlooking the sea shore
Have seldom looked this dry or this brown before.
South Gippsland in April a fresh coastal breeze
In the woodland is soughing in the sunlit trees
Utopia on Earth the South Gippslanders say
That from where they live Heaven is not far away.
The birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
It is more like weather in Summer or late Spring
The sun shining brightly but those brown hills nearby
A few hours of rain now would surely enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Master Artist
I watched a sunset one lovely
summer day. I watched as
the sun went slowly away.
Leaving behind colors of gorgeous
hue, shining there on the
sky so blue.
Watching the sunset that summer day
made me realize that along my way,
God makes His greatness plain in his own way,
Like sunsets, flowers and trees, winding rivers, deep blue seas,
silvery moon and twinkling stars.
All of these more lovely by far than any human could make them.
Scenes so beautiful no artist could paint,
to create such beauty, human being just can't.
For God is the artist, the master,
you see, creating such a beauty for you and me.
Autumn's Invitation Autumn is in her glory
All dressed in her beautiful ball gown,
Designed in the lovely fall colors
Of hues of red, green, and brown. Autumn is having a party,
All are invited to come
And join in the gay festivities,
Held in the autumn sun. All are invited to walk in gardens
on all the hills and vales,
And enjoy the blaze of vivid
tints and fragrances
On all the hills and dales. She has her sky a clear bright blue,
Her breezes are balmy too,
Making the weather just right
For each guest to enjoy the things they do. So won't you attend her party?
Autumn is inviting you,
Come and enjoy the hospitality
That autumn offers you.
poem by Velma G. Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There’s something in the rain
There’s something in the rain
that makes my plants jump
and there are beans
growing in a row in stools
and tomatoes that stand around in small bushes
and beetroot everywhere
and there are carrots
growing between the other vegetables
and onions pushing out fingers
like grasses,
but the spinach
fills the whole place
and at the end of the garden
there’s parsley coming out in places.
At times I wonder if the Creator
is also as happy and excited
about His earth
and if everything
makes a impact in his heart
and I see the wonders
of His magnificent works
in the world around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!