There and Fresh to Pick
Colorful petals bright and scented.
And bend I do as if to bow.
Sniffing to enjoy the flowers blooming,
Shifting as the wisps of crisp air lifts.
With all that buds in Spring too.
Coming as it does to call upon my senses.
Prepared to accept the grandeur,
Of this 'dispensement'.
In view and under a cloudless sky.
I drive beyond my own expectations.
To dive right into a grove of ripened gladness...
Savored to taste from the panoramic serving of it.
There and fresh to pick...
And within my reach with an ease presented,
As dawn awakens to lift the dew...
This morning,
Upon my attentive sight.
And it feels good!
With each moment of this day,
I've already declared mine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
The Budding
The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.
The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.
The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.
And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Petals & Things
It’s my very favorite time of year
Yes it’s spring, oh glorious spring
The world is alive with changes
Like delightful petals and things
Precious tiny leaves peek out
All along the branches
Buds are getting braver now
Flowers about to take chances
Color is fresh and new again
The fragrance wafts in the air
Gives us hope for tomorrow for
There is not so many cares
For nature is filling in the voids
Without a single string
Let’s enjoy what spring gives us
Like wonderful petals and things!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
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Like A Fresh Brook Flows
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn leaves its chill to a warming.
As birds are heard chirping.
And all of nature seems to sing.
Smiling faces seen to grace,
In places where we go.
Letting known their feelings shown.
As blooming flowers are exposed.
And laughter shared among the children,
Bring instant memories.
And romance filled remembered dances,
Slowly...
Like a fresh brook in a forest flows.
Winter is gone.
And again Spring is here...
On the scene.
Dawn arrives with Sunrise warmings,
As nature scents with a lingered tingling.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
As blooming flowers are exposed.
Ah-ee-ah-oh,
And romance again like a fresh brook flows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Our Senses Touch
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
Fresh grass scented.
To glisten with dew,
Lifted,
By a dawning morning...
Clear.
Bright.
And appetizing awakening eyes.
There our senses touch.
With an open window nearby.
Where the 'is' and 'why' of life,
Breezes through fields God gives...
To make the experience of it,
Flagrant with inconsistent fragrance shifting.
From day to day.
As if to outdo each creation made.
There our senses touch.
In the fields of...
All there is to life.
And to know it can not be simply lived,
If not witnessed.
There our senses touch.
Outside of ourselves.
With none of it to be lived,
To sit on fences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Darling Dear.. Taste The Honey Drops!
Darling dear!
Taste the honey drops
and feel me thereafter-
ask your senses,
' which is sweeter more? '
' Oh..sweeter more is my feel of you! '
Roll on silky cushions
and touch my body thereafter-
ask your fingers,
' which is softer more? '
' Hey..softer more is your body sure! '
Taste the three kings of fruits
then taste my fruity lips-
ask your lips,
' which is tastier more? '
'Ah...tastier more are your ripened lips! '
Swim in the cool stream
then immerse yourself in my eyes-
ask your self,
' which gives you pleasure more? '
' Ha...your eyes gives me pleasure more! '
Enjoy the grandeur of sunset hours
and look at my beauty thereafter-
ask your eyes,
' which one is grandeur more? '
' Yea..grandeur more is your beauty! '
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love the seasons
Love the seasons
For many reasons
As an individual and person
As daughters, parents and sons
All witness beautiful change
Sometimes it has come with age
Sometimes with mood
And sometimes with fresh food
You are delighted
Many instances are sighted
You fly in the air
To be looked upon as very fair
It is good lesson
To be understood with reasons
Nature too wants
Even future stock is built by ants
Festivals too bring joy
Each season has reason to enjoy
Rain brings showers
For new and colorful flowers
We are human being
May have to function within circus ring
Some one may be powerful king
Some one might have remained as poor with no links
World is beautiful place
Provided with refuge for all races
Witness change and live at ease
Seasons are meant for us
Spring, autumn and monsoon
One after another to follow soon
With morning and bright sun
To get its zenith power burn the skin in noon
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Early this morning
Early this morning
when you waked me up
I experienced your tender smell
like a garden of fresh flowers blooming
and your hot soft body were clinging to mine
and your breath was fresh like apples
in a orchard
but your eyes my love, flamed
as if being on fire
and something indescribable were
between the two of us
and some people call it love
but I know
that it was much more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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No One Has To Accept New And Fresh Debts
No one has to accept new and fresh debts,
With a sitting on their front steps...
Regetting in a public display of it.
As if the giving of pity to pocket,
Is what passersby would select to pick.
Everything owed, borrowed or stolen,
Has a way of delivering a headache felt...
That is conscious with a degree of sorrow.
And...
Awaiting headaches to expect,
Is not high on the list of recommendations.
We all have at one time,
Signed away our lives on that 'bottom line'.
And that act alone,
Can not be erased by the taking of medication.
Many have overdosed on their delusions.
No one has to accept new and fresh debts,
To regret them.
However,
What is suggested...
'Before' experiencing Buyer's Remorse,
Is to plan in advance a mental evacuation route to take.
Yes!
Enjoy the temporary break away from that self hate.
With a rescheduled date...
To return to self loathing much later.
But in the meantime just celebrate the taste,
Of living beyond what can be afforded.
Everyone does it.
No one has to accept new and fresh debts,
To regret them.
Know that this predicament,
Is as common as being teased by the necessity...
Of wishing for needless greed to feed.
And repaying for the deed in increments,
When the funds presented become available.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spring Shine
The warmth Spring, soft touch my face
With bloom the flowers everywhere
The sunshine meets the blue skies
Watch the beautiful morning
Feel the flowers of spring, so fresh,
The morning of spring fills with joy
I dream of touching the moon light,
Staying in the heaven
Where, I will call his soul
And sweet moment spent with him.
The warmth breeze, whispered to my ears
With the happiness of sharing life together
Listen to the soul of the spring
Where, I ‘all dream of the perfect love
Till I give my life to him.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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Early Spring
The Spring is come, and Spring flowers coming too,
The crocus, patty kay, the rich hearts' ease;
The polyanthus peeps with blebs of dew,
And daisy flowers; the buds swell on the trees;
While oer the odd flowers swim grandfather bees
In the old homestead rests the cottage cow;
The dogs sit on their haunches near the pail,
The least one to the stranger growls 'bow wow,'
Then hurries to the door and cocks his tail,
To knaw the unfinished bone; the placid cow
Looks oer the gate; the thresher's lumping flail
Is all the noise the spring encounters now.
poem by John Clare
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When The Heavy Clouds Of Black Come
when those dark heavy clouds
finally come on my roof
i will not think anymore
of any lamentation
i will not think of the threats
that a heavy flood may
come and take away my house
and everything
i will change my point of view
this angle of sight
i will take sides with the way the
trees and the flowers look
at its coming
i will think about the growth of leaves
the spreading of the roots
the blooming of the buds
the fruiting of the flowers
and the ripening
and the lusciousness and
the sweetness of life
beyond the dark, heavy clouds
beyond the rain and the flood
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jessie Mitchell’s Mother
Into her mother’s bedroom to wash the ballooning body.
“My mother is jelly-hearted and she has a brain of jelly:
Sweet, quiver-soft, irrelevant. Not essential.
Only a habit would cry if she should die.
A pleasant sort of fool without the least iron. . . .
Are you better, mother, do you think it will come today?”
The stretched yellow rag that was Jessie Mitchell’s mother
Reviewed her. Young, and so thin, and so straight.
So straight! as if nothing could ever bend her.
But poor men would bend her, and doing things with poor men,
Being much in bed, and babies would bend her over,
And the rest of things in life that were for poor women,
Coming to them grinning and pretty with intent to bend and to kill.
Comparisons shattered her heart, ate at her bulwarks:
The shabby and the bright: she, almost hating her daughter,
Crept into an old sly refuge: “Jessie’s black
And her way will be black, and jerkier even than mine.
Mine, in fact, because I was lovely, had flowers
Tucked in the jerks, flowers were here and there. . . .”
She revived for the moment settled and dried-up triumphs,
Forced perfume into old petals, pulled up the droop,
Refueled
Triumphant long-exhaled breaths.
Her exquisite yellow youth . . .
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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For The Buds That Bloom
for the buds that bloom
thank you
for the flowers that show the
biggest petals and the sweetest scent
thank you
for those that keep on holding the dew
thank you
and for those who enjoy even the slightest moment
of my appreciation and praise
all for the glory of God
even for the slightest moment
and then wilt and die
in an instant
like the click of the hand
or the ticking of the clock for a second or two
thank you
i have learned a lot. i have opened. i have kept the answers. i am ready
for the next question that God may ask of me.
even for the shortest moment of my life.
thank you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sitting As If Fresh Flowers
Sometimes the answers,
Are not compatible...
To the questions asked.
When thoughts are uncertain.
But times pass.
And there those answers are.
Sitting as if fresh flowers,
Noticed.
When Sunlight blocked...
Is invited by opened curtains.
Blooming.
Scented and ready to pick.
Sniffed.
By someone wishing to hold them close.
With an understanding of this...
Coming as it does unresisted and quick.
Delighted they are able,
To appreciate them being there.
And their presence somehow,
Now...
Made more aware!
Like the clearing of the atmosphere.
When a polluted sourness,
Is removed from the air.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deaths Projections
When the heavens change, stars re arrange themselves
Upon the blanket sky. From the hollows of the mountain comes
The herald of Our Mother, tears frozen in her eyes.
The destruction of Eden
Is the deconstruction of the soul
Without our mother natures nurture
How can we ever come to grow?
I’m not here to represent
That which has already been presented
In the form of Our Lady the Earth.
Eden weaves the summer leaves
As brothers green breathe in life anew.
Summers gone, the Autumn come
There’re no more skies of mellow blue.
With Winter comes crisp virgin snow
Capping the valleys height.
Summers gone, it’s been too long
It’s still so far out of sight.
From deaths projections bend the expectations
Of a shadow shifting in moods.
The greatest irony man has ever known is to deny his creation
By use of a will that hath grown as it hath flourished through the years.
poem by David Lacey
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From The Moment You Awakened
From the moment you awakened,
To face a new day.
As fresh as the leaving,
Of scented morning dew.
It was you who made decisions,
To address as you presented yourself...
With choices you alone made.
From the moment you awakened,
Until you made accusations...
To place blame on someone else,
For that which you alone chose to do...
Is to say to anyone within listening distance,
From the moment you awakened...
To face the day,
You premeditated to find excuses to make.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Days Are Now Hotter Than They Were Before (Rondel Prime)
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
while the spring brings out what it has in store
in a time that is gentle, sweet and kind
while glory waits just outside the front door
and happiness is even in the slight wind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
and spring feels as it will last forevermore,
will it brings the most joyful times to mind,
when people in fun do each other adore
as if they can all unhappiness rescind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hymn of Joy
To the music of Beethoven's ninth symphony
Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee,
Praising Thee their sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!
All Thy works with joy surround Thee,
Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee,
Centre of unbroken praise:
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
Blooming meadow, flashing sea,
Chanting bird and flowing fountain,
Call us to rejoice in Thee.
Thou art giving and forgiving,
Ever blessing, ever blest,
Well-spring of the joy of living,
Ocean-depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother, --
All who live in love are Thine:
Teach us how to love each other,
Lift us to the Joy Divine.
Mortals join the mighty chorus,
Which the morning stars began;
Father-love is reigning o'er us,
Brother-love binds man to man.
Ever singing march we onward,
Victors in the midst of strife;
Joyful music lifts us sunward
In the triumph song of life.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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