Receptive
This late afternoon breeze...
In the midst of June,
Pleases me.
In a Spring quietness,
As I sit in Elizabeth Park...
Digesting its beauty.
With a peace of mind from it I get.
It is comforting,
In this timelessness at rest.
As I overlook the Rose Garden,
Encircling a loveliness...
Centered by a gazebo set.
'Too much is not enough of this',
I think.
With wishes unrestricted.
I sit,
Receptive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
In Fountain Court
The fountain murmuring of sleep,
A drowsy tune;
The flickering green of leaves that keep
The light of June;
Peace, through a slumbering afternoon,
The peace of June.
A waiting ghost, in the blue sky,
The white curved moon;
June, hushed and breathless, waits, and I
Wait too, with June;
Come, through the lingering afternoon,
Soon, love, come soon.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Essence Of A Memory
Music and laughter drifted from a gazebo on the green lawn
As the spring breeze blew fresh flowery scents into the air;
We were at the park and all I could think about was your hair
Caressing your shoulders in the sunlight.
We were young and we believed that none of our actions
Though amorously brimming over with unconquerable desire
Could be anything but child-like angelic innocence
More heroic than the Garden of Eden.
You held my hand and my pulse rate rose
And my mind was ecstatic with wondrous excitement;
I touched your face with my fingers,
I thought maybe that very moment I would expire.
I don’t remember anything you said
But your voice was like nightingales by an evening stream
Where sages and poets sit to find their dreams,
Your every breath was miraculous and enticing to me.
We fumbled and made naïve inexperienced kisses
That would never make a Hollywood movie gross millions
But I was drunk with more intense happiness
Than most mortals will ever know or express…
The essence of this memory still leaves me enraptured.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Early June Girls
While walking
Along the street
On a sunny afternoon
Of late spring
The air was filled
With the heavy smell
Of carcinogenic gases
Emitted by
The rolling cars.
Oh! How I
Loved the aroma
Of gasoline
In my childhood.
While walking
On a sunny afternoon
Of late spring
The petrol
In the street
Was mixed
With the hovering
Exciting scent
Of by-passing
Early-June girls.
poem by Paul Hartal
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0004 Lyric 3: Rosefall
O, what is the song this late, late rose is singing?
where will its petals fall, pale orange-yellow rose?
when shall the breeze and the rose cease laughing, dancing,
when will the raindrops bring time, and loss, and tears?
who wrote the song that the rose is singing, singing,
who painted petals on this fleeting rose?
when did the breeze discover dancing, dancing,
with roses that fade and fall in loss and time and tears?
after the rosefall, a colder breeze is blowing,
rose petals lie in drifts upon the ground;
but the breeze remembers, wintering red rose-hips, sowing
the rose’s spring and singing; remembering rose’s sound..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Transition
Too long and quickly have I lived to vow
The woe that stretches me shall never wane,
Too often seen the end of endless pain
To swear that peace no more shall cool my brow.
I know, I know- again the shriveled bough
Will burgeon sweetly in the gentle rain,
And these hard lands be quivering with grain-
I tell you only: it is Winter now.
What if I know, before the Summer goes
Where dwelt this bitter frenzy shall be rest?
What is it now, that June shall surely bring
New promise, with the swallow and the rose?
My heart is water, that I first must breast
The terrible, slow loveliness of Spring.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Juno Gave the Summer
A sun for hearts – tempered rhythm in her flares;
The naked tan – bikini line a cry for stares;
Gregarious green, beguiled by colours en rapport –
The park’s alive! So what’s to hanker after more?
Children scream while parents dream their fantasies,
Igniting under brilliance –
They think they share resilience to the
Ultraviolet hues;
To lie displayed au naturel
Is what they’d rather choose!
And Helios peers at lovers in their
Heady worlds: vibrant leas to
Roam in hand; calming seas –
Satin sand insensible as
Water runs her ripples cross the
Shore – so like the park, it really
Cries for very little more!
In the garden, roses clamber for attention –
Pouting blooms, wafting scent –
Our floral monarch June’s event!
And fingers green receive the praise
From toiling hard for coloured blaze.
Compelled, I walk the countenance of sunny June
As Mother Nature danced amok in her saloon
Of roaring life, that came of youth in early spring
And nurtured in maternal warmth beneath her wing.
Eyes bedewed, I mellow in a reverie
– Hope renewed –
As Juno saw to suckle me with
Quintessential summer.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
See the link below for notes on this poem:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
Summer summer June summer June in summer summer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Peace in essence
Peace that pleases people’s hearts
found on the faces of loved ones
Their heartfelt smiles trigger content
that transcends the soul and excel
Peace of a determined mind
Won when work and will
mingle and dwindle down
to a calming climax of triumph
Peace is a place
where nature is nurtured
In a unique symphony
that challenges any anarchy
Peace can be heard
in the delicacy of a baby’s sigh
Pulled from within the sweetest of dreams
That can color only the life of an innocent soul
Peace can be seen
In the loveliness of the rising sun
That spread its rays of hope and joy
and paints the most exquisite sceneries
Peace can be touched, peace can be gained
Peace can put you to rest but don’t remain
Peace that brings satisfaction is that restored
The ultimate of them all is peace sustained
poem by Beam Be Me
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Repose
Looking outside at the evening,
And watching the shadows fall,
Late sunshine embraces the old red brick
Of a propped up garden wall.
The slight movement of the branches
Of a ruby red berried tree,
Give a wonderful effect to the sunset,
And a comforting feel to me.
Peace arrives with the twilight,
And my busy mind wins repose.
All is at rest and a stillness descends
As the sky’s dark curtains close.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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An Early Day in May
May soothed
– sensual breeze caressing.
Snug, she cooed in floral chroma;
Gave artistic license – dressing up
Pubescent fields, teenage woods,
Jaded lanes; embellishing
Craggy watersides.
Warmth was kind – sun tempered,
Lifting life; erecting bluebell swathes
For good measure: late-spring treasure.
At hill’s base
A mirrored lake, brooding,
Bathed in halcyon haze –
Yet hectic life scurried,
Spurred on by procreational drive,
To see it all survived another year.
Back home, garden tulips flared,
Thrust aloft on rigid stems, and
Under day-time brilliance,
Open goblets, clustered,
Sought out heavenly guidance –
Lauding hallowed Tulipa gods.
May is Nature’s intermission –
Bridging April’s go-ahead
With hothead June.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
s pring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Lying In The Park
On the green grass
And a blue sky
Peace and sunshine
Peace and sunshine
Soon,
Soon Im going bye ? ? ?
Now I just want ? ? ? city
Lookin for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Yeah yeah yeah
See the momma
Down walking the dogs
Down by the fountains
Down by the fountains
Child, child
Eating sandwich and sweets
And your sitting by my fountain
Cooling my feet
In the park
Just before dark
Birds sing so smooth
But the park shut soon
What we going to do
Fine we gonna have to move
But Ill see you tomorrow
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Yeah yeah yeah
Feel the warm breeze
Cool by ? ? ?
Seen my good friend
Seen my good friend
So, so
In the afternoon
And we take us for your city ? ? ?
Lookin for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park baby
See that young girl
There she goes man
See that rich bum
The old men playing chess
See that young girl
With that flower dress
See that young girl
With the flower dress
Well soon Im going bye
Now I just might move on
Looking for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park baby
Ill be there
Ill meet you there
Oh baby
Yeah
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Not For June
If not for June,
My memories of Winter in December...
With a wish to witness,
The freshness of Spring March would bring...
Would not still remain so vivid.
As if only yesterday visited.
If not for June.
If not for June,
My eyesight would not be teased...
By the freedom felt in Summer,
With hopes that linger of those things I could do,
Under clear skies showing bright Sun.
And seeing the fun shared by nearly everyone,
If not for June.
And if not for June I would not be able to reminisce,
From so many experiences I could pick.
June seems to be the month I can do this.
With a thankfulness I am still in the midst,
Of a year that appears to have just begun.
With so much left to offer before it is done.
And for me this happens only when June comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Everyone Looks Forward To Spring
Although it is a time of bloom and blossom
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
It also is a time of heavy pollen
And not everybody looks forward to the Spring.
The garden in full bloom is looking lovely
And blossoms on the bushes and the trees
But pollen by the warm breeze is carried
And you hear some people sniffle, cough and sneeze.
The beauty of Spring on the artist's canvas
And Spring inspire the lyric poet to rhyme
But all of those who have an allergy to pollen
Will tell you that Spring is not their favourite time.
Not every one yearns for the warm weather
Or for the scents of blossom, rose and flower
You cannot enjoy the beauty of a sunlit garden
If you cough and sneeze one hundred times an hour.
It is a time of greenery and beauty
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
And Mother Nature she is at her loveliest
But not everyone looks forward to the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Comforting To Know
(Carly Simon)
When the heart of the hundred acre wood is beating
And time is passing through
There's a shadow looking like a rainbows halo
And there I'm resembling you
More than fame
A name on a tree
More than power or might
Sweeter than the treats of a honey bee
I'll be here through the night
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
Silent as the moon at dawn
Soothing as a bed filled with hay
Strong as a hero in the land of old
I'll be here through the day
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
Greyer than gloom on a rainy afternoon
Sadder than being sorry for me
Finer than finding my tail again
I'll be here for all of thee
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
You only get a few good friends in this life
Who are devoted and true
And right here in this now and near
It's clear that it's all of you
I'll find you when you're hard to see
I'll look for you everywhere
You'll know just how I'm feeling when
I show you that I care
It's comforting to know
It's so comforting to know
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose An Inspiration
Rose, the sign of love
Beauty is picturesque
Speaks for itself
An inspiration
Rose, scent is everlasting
Always fresh upon the eyes
Keeping a pose of pure divine
Beauty evokes
An inspiration
Rose, pedals are smooth
With a bounty of great beauty
Shows affectionate feelings
Has a unique power
An inspiration
Rose, sways slowly in a breeze
Perfuming a scent all its own
So, sweet and light
An inspiration
Rose, in full bloom, it is radiant
As it whispers of passion
Breathes of love
An inspiration
Rose, each thorn has a reminder
Rose, is fragile and delicate
Love can hurt
An inspiration
Rose, a token of great love
An inspiration
poem by Elizabeth Grant Price
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It Is There
It is there!
In the midst,
And is waiting.
Wanting with intent,
To have it all.
And not just a piece.
It is there!
In the midst,
And is waiting.
Submit,
That's it.
That's all It wishes.
For total and complete honesty.
Not something selected as suggested to pick.
And decide with this to leave as an appeasement.
As if It would not know,
How shallow one's soul.
It wishes to bestow upon you happiness and gifts.
But wanting first your loyalty,
Is what 'It' insists.
It is there!
In the midst,
And is waiting.
Forever there is eternity!
And in the midst of it,
It sits as 'Is'.
And in this midst of this that 'Is'...
Is The Creator.
Waiting with wishes to just have us believe!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Can Not Be Bought To Purchase
The finding of a peace within,
Comes as a blessing one can not explain.
And...
Becomes a feeling known one wishes not to change.
Anyone wanting to give their peace of mind away...
Either has too much of it.
Or afraid others might find them crazy!
And this is a possibility.
Since a peace felt within...
Is often interpreted as being self centered.
And if it is?
Few with a deserved and earned peace of mind,
Are going to care less how others address it.
Very, very few are going to show this as a concern.
Unless the living in bliss becomes too much to handle.
And as of yet...
No one has been arrested for experiencing too much joy!
To have peace within is a happening,
That can not be bought to purchase.
Nor can the value of it be priced to sell.
One's soul that has been sold on keeping it,
Can find nothing else that qualifies...
A reason why the ridding of it would be a thought.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......
By Murtaza Abt
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.
....................................
I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.
09/Nov/09
poem by Murtaza Abt
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In the spirit of Rumi - 36 - The rose told me
In the garden,
I look at a rose and wonder
Is this rose
laughing with God?
Is it God’s smile, and message, to the earth?
Does it tell
Of God’s goodness, truth, and beauty?
Of God’s stillness? Peace? and silence?
Or if you gazed at it long enough
and carefully enough,
perhaps with a laugh or smile,
in stillness, peace, and silence,
would it tell you everything
that God would have you know?
* * *
For even if you are
a cynic, locked into your own mind
by your own key
and say, oh, it’s just
savage, ruthless nature, competing
with all the other flowers, for the bees –
for nothing but its own selfish ends -
you must admit
that Whoever allowed, invented, made, decreed
the laws for the construction of
such complex, simple beauty (which a bee may never know?)
is pretty cool.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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