Senses Reminisced
Summertime...
Nights with fireflies,
And hives with nestled bees.
Amber flickers...
Crackling sparks!
Sizzles wood chips
Crisping logs tossed,
In fireplaces.
Frosted windows...
Snow on pine trees.
Covers leaves left,
And chestnuts collected with cones
To be found lying around on the ground
Finding themselves in someone's home!
Patched seasons and holidays glimmer.
Simmering
New beginnings to manifest...
As those that pass linger.
And memories hatched detach,
When the marketing of sentiments
Are put away to settle on shelves
With other condiments stored...
Until needed to enliven
A taste to enhance the palate,
And senses reminisced!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Autumn Falls
Autumn falls,
Before Indian Summer begins.
And in New England...
Temperatures cool,
To warm again.
Autumn falls!
And so do Chestnuts and Pine cones,
As well as leaves blown swiftly...
From an assortment of Oak and Maple trees.
And those that remain to cling...
Bring astonishing colors,
Of Orange, Red and mixtures of hues...
Yellow and Brown to them bring.
Autumn falls...
Dramatically!
To leave barren the trees,
Except for the Pine...
Mysteriously,
Just before the first snow of Winter...
Covers with a bright white majesticness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Hello's
Sometimes for others at autumn time period,
Is time for goodbyes when summertime flys,
For autumn is next in season time keeping,
And summer is over and moonlight shines sooner,
To see the autumn early sunset,
Is the time to travel back,
Leaving behind the bright nights,
And early dawnings,
Summertime goodbyes,
And hello to,
Autumn hello's,
Makes some lovers cry,
For time to fly,
When moonlight shines sooner,
And summer nights no more linger,
Tis, when summertime lovers kiss and say goodbye,
Flying back to where they are from,
Leaving each other to fly back home,
Back to the regular days and events,
Back to the mudane schedule,
That made you book and fly away,
Yet, then you settle back in and think,
Of the times you had in summertime joys,
While others of all season,
Settle in and snuggle,
Planning their future together,
Knowing to each in all seasons,
While the whims and joys,
Of summertime loves,
Comes to a halt,
When both part and fly home,
Till,
Mabey they might meet up again,
When autumn, winter and spring has been,
Unless,
In that time and along the way,
They meet an autumn hello,
That keeps them,
Home,
Like all the rest,
That meet and fall in love,
That lasts for more than autumn hello's.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hollywood (Some Other Kind Of Town)
The bright lights of the city
Are starting to wear me down
And when I need you
You just can't be found
Loud days, endless nights
Are starting to make me crazy
And now you're gone
There's nothing left for me
(hollywood)
I don't care for sunny weather
(ain't that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I don't care if the snow comes down
(ain't that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some other kind of town
(for hollywood)
Wonderful to know you
Great to know you cared
As I look back
At the crazy things we've shared
I was dazzled by the moonlight
Blinded by neon nights
And as I look back
It never could be right
(hollywood)
I don't care for sunny weather
(ain't that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I don't care if the snow comes down
(ain't that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some other kind of town
(for hollywood)
Well I was dazzled by the moonlight
Blinded by neon nights
And now I see
It never could be right
(hollywood)
I don't care for sunny weather
(ain't that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I don't care if the snow comes down
(ain't that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some oth
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September, 1918
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.
poem by Amy Lowell
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(There's No Place Like) Home For The Holidays
Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays
'Cause no matter how far away you roam
When you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze
For the holidays you can't beat home, sweet home
I met a man who lives in Tennessee
And he was headin' for
Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie
From Pennsylvania folks are trav'lin' down
To Dixie's sunny shore
From Atlantic to Pacific, gee,
The traffic is teriffic!
Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays
'Cause no matter how far away you roam
When you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze
For the holidays you can't beat home, sweet home
When you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze
For the holidays you can't beat home
Holidays you can't beat home
Holidays you can't beat home,sweet home
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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C Is For Conifers
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
If you see a Christmas tree or a stack of newspapers or a 2x4 frame of a house
It's probably made from pine trees and pine trees are conifers, that's what this song is about
Or if you see a plant in the shape of an elephant, or in the shape of a dog
It's probably a shrub, a conifer shrub pruned into that shape by someone
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
Spoken: There are so many different kinds of conifer trees.
This is just a few of them: Spruce,
Hemlocks, larch, cyprus, juniper,
Fir, Douglas fir, cedar, yew,
Pine, the dwarf conifer,
And the great California sequoia redwood.
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollywood
Written by christine mcvie and eddy quintela.
The bright lights of the city
Are starting to wear me down
And when I need you
You just cant be found
Loud days, endless nights
Are starting to make me crazy
And now youre gone
Theres nothing left for me
(hollywood)
I dont care for sunny weather
(aint that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I dont care if the snow comes down
(aint that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some other kind of town
(for hollywood)
Wonderful to know you
Great to know you cared
As I look back
At the crazy things weve shared
I was dazzled by the moonlight
Blinded by neon nights
And as I look back
It never could be right
(hollywood)
I dont care for sunny weather
(aint that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I dont care if the snow comes down
(aint that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some other kind of town
(for hollywood)
Well I was dazzled by the moonlight
Blinded by neon nights
And now I see
It never could be right
(hollywood)
I dont care for sunny weather
(aint that good)
I like the change of seasons better
(knock on wood)
I love the feel of rain upon my face
(for hollywood)
(hollywood)
No and I dont care if the snow comes down
(aint that good)
Kick the falling leaves around
(knock on wood)
Got to move to some other kind of town
(for hollywood)
Some other kind of town...
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Clear It 'Mints' My Senses
The pine scented trees,
Impresses an image...
So clear it 'mints' my senses.
Perhaps it is the Fall that does this?
With the promise that comes,
Along with those holidays gone
And missed.
As the temperature cools...
And the turning of the leaves,
Seem to be in a rhythm swaying,
Ever so gently.
The wrapping of gifts,
Or just the pleasantness that appeals...
To a healing unsolicited,
And received with anticipated acceptedness.
As the blowing of a brisk wind...
Wished to never end,
With such a majestic breeze...
Blending this scene seamlessly.
To receive and enhale to freely breathe.
And deeply.
The pine scented trees,
Impresses an image...
So clear it 'mints' my senses.
So involved with it...
Quickly I cement my committment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memories
The summers were longer, they went on forever
Oh and the sky so blue
We never worried about anything
We didnt question the nature of things
We didnt want to know
Talking in whispers and wondering
Oh and I loved you so
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget that we started in innocence
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget when youre grown
We dream in the night, of mythical days
And nights in white satin
But when the child wakes, the fantasy breaks
We didnt know what the future would bring
We didnt want to know
Something was growing inside me
Oh and I loved you so
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget that we started in innocence
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget when youre grown
Photographs, faded photographs
Holidays, summer holidays
First love, broken promises
All a play, Im going back to yesterday
The feeling was stronger, if went on forever
Oh and your eyes were true
We were so wrapped up in all of our dreams
We didnt care what the future would bring
We didnt want to know
Talking in whispers and wondering
Oh and I loved you so......
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget that we started in innocence
Memories, they linger with you but you
Soon forget when youre grown
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A measured beauty: the Japanese mind
Between the high grey residential block
and the busy, noisy Japanese street
there’s a small park: three tall trees
in a broad bed of grey slate chips;
this autumn afternoon, the trees
have shed their golden-yellow leaves
over the grey ground; the gardener
has carefully brushed them with his wooden broom
off the chips, and into tidy golden rings
around the bases of the trees;
as if the leaves were gathered in some joyful ceremony
of gratitude, respect, and friendship; not farewell,
but time dissolved into a circled beauty;
the passers-by note this timeless act of worship;
share this with the others as they pass,
politely glancing towards strangers;
meeting, respectfully, not their eyes,
but, as leaves to trees, their heart.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Winter's Spell
WINTER'S SPELL
Ended, hence, the glorious time of the sun’s lifespan,
The trees were fully clothed, in leaves
Resilient, they had sung merrily
But now, all had gone…
With deserts of sadness …..
What can a ball of cheese do?
Up from the sky…
If it cannot fill the tummy of a poor man...
The Moon covers the Earth down
Looking down at the rows of naked trees
With only a memory of leaves
Nipped by the frost, they want to be freed…
Ended up in the desolate stretches of snow
Eyes begged to see a scrap of light
But what it touched was a bare white Earth
His pale hands overworked
With no snow dogs they grieved...
And his legs were totally numb
With not even a sledge to slide through…
He was the only piece of life…
In the land of the white
With just a star to guide him north
Who put a spell on his fortune?
Who gave him this curse?
He shoved himself through the ice
Bewildered of his unpleasant fate
And at last his eyes found it for him
And far across, from the spells boundary
Stood a welcoming light for him
He ran with all his might
The home emerged larger
Running for food and shelter
He ran and looked through the windows
Marvellously lit decorated
Sat there in an armchair, a woman, old
With shelves of homemade thoughts to dust through
He knocked to get in
Opened it was by the women,
Bewitchingly beautiful, she was
The smile made melt down the things around
And he got in, leaving behind the spell
To live with her forever and ever and ever
That was the end of his fate
And from the windows he looked,
To see the moon smile…
26/09/08
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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The Bee-Boy's Song
Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
"Hide from your neigbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!"
A maiden in her glory,
Upon her wedding - day,
Must tell her Bees the story,
Or else they'll fly away.
Fly away -- die away --
Dwindle down and leave you!
But if you don't deceive your Bees,
Your Bees will not deceive you.
Marriage, birth or buryin',
News across the seas,
All you're sad or merry in,
You must tell the Bees.
Tell 'em coming in an' out,
Where the Fanners fan,
'Cause the Bees are just about
As curious as a man!
Don't you wait where the trees are,
When the lightnings play,
Nor don't you hate where Bees are,
Or else they'll pine away.
Pine away -- dwine away --
Anything to leave you!
But if you never grieve your Bees,
Your Bees'll never grieve you.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Snow
as it pores down from the heavens
it glimmers on the ground
a smile a rises on
my face
a smile that wont leave until it does
as we drive by it my eyes start to
glimmer
like it does when it hits the ground
memories start flowing back
of us spending time together
when we were still
a family
not just people who live together
as it covers the ground
the memories keep flooding back
like a river that has flooded a town
knowing I wont be back
for a long time
a tear rolls down my face
for I know now that I’ll be leaving
my home away from home
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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When Winter Comes
The leaves have finished their journey
The trees are naked now
As the first flake falls it flickers and sparkles
The clouds build piles of snow on the ground
Children jump up and down excitedly waiting to be freed
Dead frozen grass underneath the piles of snow waiting patiently for spring
Snowmen, snow angels were left alone to vanish with the winds and foot steps
Snowball fights had forced everyone to hide
When winter comes i want to stay under my blanket all day long
poem by Innocent Rose
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It Could Get Much Hotter~
It could get hotter with discovery...
With the finding of all of your wires
And your sockets extra goodies
Your timers and electronic ears;
Yes, Buster, it could get hotter
Perhaps with the exposing of your innate greed...
A hedonist drowning in his own arrogance;
If all of your blueprints are found
And gone over with a fine tooth comb...
Where your motive was simply the coveting
Of other people's gold at the end of their rainbow;
It could get much, much hotter, Buster!
If your San Diego connection is blown
Or that little spark in Surprise, AZ
Jus' B Coz comes into view...;
When your group of circuits are exposed
To the natural light of day
And your ratty DNA is all over the batteries
And plugs of your once stealth activities...
When your journals and logs of our activity
Are found-with dates & details of our being
Home or gone...
And some very old condiments still taste
Of your bitter pill are found and tested;
Yes, Buster, it could get much, much hotter!
So throw that prop bible out the window...
Along with: all of your: 'God Bless you always'
For you talk out of both sides of your mouth
And Hypocrisy has found its' newest king-in you...!
Hot enough yet, Buster?
By: Theodora Onken
August 4,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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Longİ Ng Through The Seasons
ARE WE CHANGİ NG...or the seasons...the last leaves of the trees...tend no to fall from the trees...the last flowers of fall tend not to bloom again.....are we changing or the seasons...are we changing or the seasons...happy tiny fingers caress the whiteness of the falling snow near the window pane...at the other side...bare feet are shivering in the snow...as though match seller girl of andersen has revived again..some people are begging in the wilderness for piece of bread..are we cahanging or the seasons..an old woman her hair bleached by snow opening her hand..for a stand...are we chaNGİ NG OR THE SEASONS....the last flowers of the seasons of the seasons tend not to bloom again...I envy the struggle between the seasons for being and overwhelming....and when every season changes...I long for a new fresh life and world towards goodnes...beauty...peace and brother hood.............
poem by Metin Sahin
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A Pine Tree in My House
A tree that grows in my garden
A robust pine tree
Stands big and Proud
Sinks its roots deeply into the Earth
A pine tree in my house
Spreads its seeds every where
Sheds needles all over
Drops big cones onto my lawn
Survives within the sun
Ambles forth in all direction s with each gust of wind
Bends over the roaring storm
Tosses its branches in magnificent enthusiasm
Attracts the colors of a million sunsets into its needles leaves
Sways gracefully with the wind
Whispers with the blowing breeze
Cuddles joyfully with the changing seasons
Tries to reach the sky!
Looks beautiful in a peaceful state,
Is wise in its silence
Grows lush in all seasons
Allows the birds to perch and soar
Never holds them back
Never pines for their return when they fly away
If our hearts were like pine trees
We would have no apprehension in our minds
No one would wish to bring us down
No one would wake us up at night
A pine tree in my house
I Call it the tree of paradise
What I’ve got, I know it matters
For paradise, I wish to pave the way!
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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The Urge For Going
I woke up today and found snow perched on the ground
It hovered in a frozen sky and gobbled summer down
So when the leaves were trembling
Frozen trees were standing in a lonely row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
And I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
I had a love in summertime with summer-colored skin
And not another one in town my darling's heart could win
But when the sky turned traitor cold
And bully winds did rub their noses in the snow
She got the urge for going and I had to let her go
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
Summertime was falling down and winter's moving in
The warriors of winter gave a cold triumphant shout
Now all that dies is staying and all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight
Flurrying and flapping through the naked sky
They got the urge for going
They've got the wings to fly
They get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
I'll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime
And ask her just to stay another month or so
But she got the urge for going
I guess she'll have to go
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter's moving in
And she got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
All my empires are fallen down and winter's moving in
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow On The Eyelids Of The Pinecones
Snow on the eyelids of the pine-cones.
Zen pagodas, meditating. Snow
on the withered stars of the wild rose hips
attaining the unattainable like Buddha
enlightened by what's become of Venus in the dawn.
Beauty in the truth of abject desolation.
There's a war going on somewhere
to judge from the number of amputations
the fingers, legs, arms, toes, hands,
the limbs of the dead trees
lying all over the ground as if the woods
were the collapsed tent
of an army field hospital in the Civil War.
The Fort Delaware Death Pen
if I were to take a wild guess,
or maybe Andersonville, who knows,
but I feel I'm walking more like a warden
doing his rounds through the woods at night
than a visitor among these who lie here
in this graveyard of wounded swans
glazed and broken like the handles
of old china shop teacups
butting their empty skulls
against the horns of a bull.
Not like mine. Pure crystal
from glassblowers in medieval Germany.
At least these get to thaw.
And you can see in the withered eyelids
of the leaves whose chlorophyll vision
was once poetically green,
now laced with strychnine and arsenic
when they burned like solar flares in the fall,
and the curtains caught fire
like the veils of an open window
with no one's face in it
to reveal the mystery of who she is
behind the northern lights,
the works of an entire lifetime
clacking like abandoned fortune-cookies,
the hollow carapaces of crabs across
the silver pates of the blunted snowdrifts
ground down like the Appalachian Mountains,
older than the Rockies, worn down
like molars and glaciers
grinding their teeth in their sleep
but infinitely more habitable
than the nose-bleeding heights of renown.
And yet the leaves are not wasted.
The word was spoken.
The fortune foretold
of better things to come
like pears and apples and plums.
The slow autumn dawns of poems
ripened by rising stars and falling flowers.
Snow on the eyelids of the pine-cones.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~~~The Chef~~~
Saucy as the tang of Chili...
...Warmed as gingers heated groans-
Taste delight of Curry to the palate...
...Sweet as Honey Bees, to their drones...
Sirens scented journey-
Into aroma's of London Town...
Satisfied a billowing hunger...
Placed a smile and erased a frown...
Courted with Heavenly Manna-
Ushered in, by taste buds sweet...
Raised and baked in sheer splendour-
Temperature of ovens complete!
In the kitchen of attractions wonder-
Sizzles a Chef So Supreme...
Seasoned and hand crafted taste delight
He's todays: 'Cream De La Cream'
Ordinary cook, no never? !
Naturally adept at La Cuisine...
Evermore shall he create...
Succulent, saucy, dreams...
Watch: Take Home Chef
TLC, Weekdays
4: 00 P.M. Eastern
Dedicated to:
Chef: Curtis Stone
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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