Natures gift
In our hands we have a world of green
So much unknown so much unseen
As thickly woven around as its mysterious ravines
All of this life in a small bean
As serene as dusk as bright as dawn
In its early life as small as a fawn
But as the time goes on and on
It develops thick branches and a trunk with great brawn
Sometimes green sometimes pale
Sometimes flies away in a gale
Sometimes in a storm it flails
And sometimes the delicate life can sail
The lyrical sound better than a lute
Even when the conditions don't suit
This life, the gold, the larger loot
It sticks strong to the ground with thick branching roots
Like a blessing that never ends
We get gifts every time there's a holiday
But no matter how much we spend
Nature gives gifts on every day in every way
poem by Logan Fulk
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The Gifts of Life and Pollution
Nature's gifts are sunny beaches,
Nature's gifts are rocky mountains,
Nature's gifts are vast oceans,
Nature's gifts are the tranquil colors in the rainbow,
Nature's gifts are rain forests,
Nature's gift is life.
Our gifts are oceans filled with toxins,
Our gifts are global warming,
Our gifts are deserted forests,
Our gifts are killed animals,
Our gifts are serious diseases,
Our gift is pollution.
poem by Melanie Jackson
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Life
IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give,
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Whose moss-grown arms their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruits their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who, while we eat, renews the ready store,
Which at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.
poem by Jones Very
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Voices of nature
Wind, the uninterrupted language which holds the secrets to life
the silence pursues us to listen with the deepest part of our heart
A fallen leaf in flight bears the basics of something so right
by seeing its beauty in flight our hearts absorbs its might
Blue, green, brown and yellow the landmarks of natures life
powerful foundations they hold to strengthen its roots so bright
Water, a giver of life which replenishes our thirst at night
calm but deadly it is when wind intervenes, so unforeseen
Green, rising vertically from the ground it makes no sound
a nutrition for all living things it has a meaning to deeper things
Brown, the foundation to growth as ground refines what we chose
the soil to new beginnings, a creation of life's divine giving's
Yellow, our lantern of guiding us through the unknown day
growths helping hand it resembles so many unforeseen plans
Blue, green, brown and yellow combined for a new life beginning
if mankind could see the passion nature exceeds, life would be so serene
Blue, green, brown and yellow all the symbols of natures heaven
water, grass, earth and sun they are the life support since it begun
United as one to stimulate growth to show us the secrets to life
as the voices of nature travels, it reveals the unfound path.
poem by Maryam Khan
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Samuel Gardner
I who kept the greenhouse,
Lover of trees and flowers,
Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,
Measuring its generous branches with my eye,
And listened to its rejoicing leaves
Lovingly patting each other
With sweet aeolian whispers.
And well they might:
For the roots had grown so wide and deep
That the soil of the hill could not withhold
Aught of its virtue, enriched by rain,
And warmed by the sun;
But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,
Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,
And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,
Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.
Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can see
That the branches of a tree
Spread no wider than its roots.
And how shall the soul of a man
Be larger than the life he has lived?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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Summer
Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so. I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boat's wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of nature's changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great world's heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!
poem by Amy Lowell
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Best Part
Best part of the life is youth
I don't know how far is the truth?
But certainly it is fact and enterprising
Life itself is on move and surprising
You prefer to see all green
Expect no loss and only win
You are on move and thrust is motto
You love all girls and their photos
As tree looks decorative with green leaf
Life too as at its peak but to remain brief
Any time that saga may be over
With bare branches and no possible cover
What to expect and what not to grab?
Everything is at feet with no restriction or cap
Down to earth is your approach and goal within sight
World belongs to you whether you are wrong or right
Seize the opportunity and strike at its root
Fine the target and precisely shoot
Time may not wait for any laxity on your part
Have it in your hand and look damn smart
So to say green represents dedication
Building strong and viable relation
No hasty move even with little excitation
But alas! Time moves on gradually with rotation
Leaf may turn yellow and look very pale
All ideas may stagnate and face may turn pale
This may come soon before ground is lost
Try hard for enough gain before it blows with high cost
If you act sensible when river is in spate
There won't be any problem to relate
Timely help may control the situation
Life may then have no problem with it continuation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sonnet: Have a Child Soon
You have a child as early as you can,
Before the sun has set in your love-life!
Try hard- ’tis worth the labor woman, man;
Never worry about the added strife.
A family-life isn’t wholesome, spent childless!
Children are gifts of God, our living dolls!
The modern age has made earthlings reckless;
Without a child, you can’t for long rejoice.
Prepare the ground before you sow the seed;
But sow it only when conditions suit;
No married life’s joyful, childless indeed;
What is the use of growing trees sans fruit?
Yet, every tree must bear its fruit somehow!
Set right the environment but start right now.
6-12-2001
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: On Separation
Which tree forever stays with leaves same, old?
Its branches, roots and trunk-size, changing keep;
It has its days of silver and of gold;
The crown and roots keep spreading, wide and deep.
The fruits it bears do vary in their size;
And number, taste that age and seasons make;
It has a period when it stands so nice;
The gnawing environs, its life does take.
Yet, people praise the tree in fruition stage!
And curse it when adverse conditions strike;
Nevertheless, none can prevent it age;
Men too are treated by this world alike.
All through his life, man too can't be the same;
Why praise the rising Sun, yet Sun-set blame?
poem by John Celes
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Big Time
Suc cess
Im on my way, Im making it
Ive giot to make it show, yeah
So much larger than life
Im going to watch it growing
The place where I come from is a small town
They think so small
They use small words
-but not me
Im smarter than that
I worked it out
Ive been stretching my mouth
To let those big words come right out
Ive had enough, Im getting out
To the city, the big big city
Ill be a big noise with all the big boys
Theres so much stuff I will own
And I will pray to a big god
As I kneel in the big church
Big time
Im on my way-Im making it
Big time big time
Ive got to make it show yeah
Big time big time
So much larger than life
Big time
Im going to watch it growing
Big time
My parties all have big names
And I greet them with the widest smile
Tell them how my life is one big adventure^
And always theyre amazed
When I show them round my house, to my bed
I had it made like a mountain range
With a snow-white pillow for my big fat head
And my heaven will be a big heaven
And I will walk through the front door
Big time
Im on my way-Im making it
Big time big time
Ive got to make it show-yeah
Big time big time
So much larger than life
Im going to watch it growing
Big time big time
My car is getting bigger
Big time
My house is getting bigger
Big time
My eyes are getting bigger
Big time
And my mouth
Big time
My belly is getting bigger
Big time
And my bank account
Big time
Look at my circumstance
Big time
And the bulge in my big big big big big big big
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is......
Life
Life is a wonderful thing,
nothing compares to it.
Life allow us to live,
life allows us to die.
Life make us strong,
life makes us feel small.
Life allow us to grow,
life allow us to lie.
Life is a moment in time,
life is a blink of an eye.
Life is a prison without bars,
our actions will take care of that.
Life makes us believe,
life makes us cry.
Life is a dream,
life is an....ice cream?
poem by Juan Carlos Abeti
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The Tree (Rime Royal Sequence)
Sitting still in the cool welcoming shade
of a natural place where things do thrive
enjoying the peace the shadow has made
it adds to the sheer quality of life
and I wonder how it does survive?
Against the thick trunk I have set the spade;
nothing, no argument can persuade
me different, while I think of good things
which brings some old memories back to me
I hear a myriad of small birds that sing
as if this is how things have got to be,
I am happy, feel wonderment and glee,
a kind of serenity that comes unseen
as if this is how life had once been.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Marigold field
When at dawn were all just pawns
Who toil until the evening
Who use every last bit of brawn
To have the skeptics believing
At dusk were all just shallow husks
Who lie in wait for the break of day
Who feel like we're speared on the tips of tusks
And no one can hear what we say
The delicate flower of a seasonal change
The glory of life so fast
We take the coin of life as nothing but change
Until our life has passed
As gently as the night
The time we try to buy
Our end is bane like night is fright
Never again shall we see the sky
All my wounds have not been healed
And everyone gathers to weep
I lay down in a marigold field
And quickly fall asleep
poem by Logan Fulk
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The lunar blossom
I am the flower of the moon
Who stands tall in the darkness
I am the light of shadows
Who wander perpetually
I rest in serene silence
The music of the night
The dusk showers fall
And I stay ablaze
As small as a mouse
With purpose larger than life
I sail ebony waters
Obsidian winds fill my sails
I am the boat of life
The beacon of hope
I am seemingly irrelevant
Only to blind who do not seek their truths
Through the day I stay
My light spears dusk like tusk
I am the flower of the moon
Who stands tall in darkness
poem by Logan Fulk
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Everlasting Abiding Love
Who will infusion write
superbly written proverbial
parable in wisdom verse
Promoting the essential need
of a stock of daily compliments
to store up as a life time larder
Of everlasting abiding love?
Secret recipe for eternal love
is not mythical flame above
Small treasure gifts of kindness
serve to daily alleviate life woes
life serves all such bitter blows
Happiness bright source flames
from true love’s treasure gifts
in times of need this store uplifts
Inspired by the poem ‘Happiness II’ by Juan Olivarez.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Gift
His spirit is His special gift,
He gives to you and me.
When you receive and embrace it,
All His other gifts you'll see.
But you have to seek to find it,
You won't receive if you don't ask.
Then you will then see through spiritual eyes,
Not through your man made mask.
There are people in this world,
You may like or you may not.
Each have their gifts to offer
But God's gifts just can't be bought.
So often we seek man made gifts,
That benefit ourselves.
But once we get what we want,
We store it on our shelves.
And as they sit and gather dust,
We look for our next fix.
We take our eyes off the real prize,
It's one of Satan's greatest tricks.
So when your old, and your life is done,
Do you think that you will say?
I'm happy I made a life of wealth,
And pushed those I loved away.
So listen to this simple truth,
And see what life's about.
It will take a great leap of faith,
But you'll love how it turns out.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Irises, a painting by Vincent van Gogh (Ekphrastic Poetry)
There is an explosion of green life in the light,
This life extrapolates all its emerald green.
This life needs its eternity to be as tight
And as deep as an icy queen needs her own sheen.
And all the colors of the rainbow may be seen
In different amounts to the different shades.
Blue iris is placed in a complex world of green.
Into the flowers’ bed, these flowers are like spades.
They need to reassure, as Pantone may suggest,
This world of mystery, which no longer excites.
With pale neutral yellow tongs, they're in great request,
With neutral yellow thoughts, they please the Queen of White.
Alongside darker colors, neutral things sustain
The balance of thoughts serving as background to pray.
The warm cadmium yellow may exigently drain
The bad spirits and irises keep them away.
Van Gogh used such a small amount of indigo,
While this indigo conveys truthfulness and trust,
But his emerald green was like a piccolo,
And through this emerald his world was readjust.
Using the bright head against the rich blue background,
Van Gogh sent messages writing with his colors.
In ochre's religious fight, he lost his ear's sound
To purify this world, where the thought discolors.
MCN: C7YFX-N68R2-2YAHJ
© copyright Tue Jan 31 UTC 2012 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Each Thing Of Life In Nature
Each thing of life in Nature has a duty to fulfil
In Spring the skylark leaves the ground and soars above the hill
'Tis hardly for the love of song that upwards he does fly
And carols his way upwards towards the gray clouds of the sky.
The red earth worm who lives in the ground sheltered from the sun, rain and storm
Though to us quite insignificant has a duty to perform
It aerates the surface soil which helps crops for to grow
To Nature's little earth worm respect we ought to show.
Each life form serves some purpose in Nature of which we are aware
The mouse the rat the lizard and the rabbit and the hare
Are preyed upon by predators the small by the bigger eat
For every herbivore born there's one born to eat meat.
In Nature every life form serves some purpose that's how it does seem to me
But with what i say I know too well that not all would agree
In Nature each life form serves some purpose from the great to the small
And that applies to human beings as well as things that swim, fly walk and crawl.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Stand By Your Man!
Across the world, this golden rule
Has paved the way for peace,
It's warmed up hearts that once were cool,
For wonders never cease...
Though times may change from good to bad
And even bad to worse,
This golden rule can make hearts glad,
Bring blessing and not curse...
Across the world, this truth holds fast,
Forgive, forgive, forgive,
Forgiveness heals, until at last,
We love the one we're with...
Life isn't easy, all the time,
Decisions right not wrong,
Sometimes life isn't worth a dime,
It's then, we must be strong...
Across the world, this hope persists,
That love will conquer all,
That's why the world's evangelists
Preach to the great and small...
It doesn't matter who you are,
You must do what you can!
It doesn't matter, near or far,
You must stand by your man!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Purpose
Tall trees touch the sun,
As the moon follows behind,
Lost inside of a rainbow.
The sun’s rays fail to dispel the darkness,
Although
It may be very early morning.
Leaves on the trees are
Small cupped hands, which
Cling to branches of unreality.
They hold dewdrops,
Tears of naiads
Lost in the storm of their
Abject misery,
Destined as they were
To reach heaven someday
Too far to travel from
Their homes amongst the woodlands.
One could have been myself,
Rising early, at daybreak
Each and every morning,
I would venture outward to
Walk the same rugged pathway
Uphill and down,
Winding about myriads of trees,
Some that would scrape the sky and others
Fallen by many a windstorm-
In my dream I would board a small jet plane,
Fluorescent in its color,
Headed towards the heavens, as it
Would travel through the forest at dawn-
Perhaps, I thought at one time,
This could be a different kind of a journey-
Now I know,
I am none but a lost soul,
With no purpose in life,
Awakening every single day
Only to voyage outward,
To follow the sun…
I may capture each moment in time,
Loving every tree and being mesmerized by
The sight of young deer grazing and then leaping
Through the brush, and
Although so in love with nature,
My life is none but static-
Listening to the same lullaby
Day and night, though soothing as it may be, and
Seeing the world through the eyes of a dreamer,
This phantasmal life is without change or purpose-
Perhaps I should be grateful that the sun
Does not hide its face and
Someday I may lose myself inside the clouds that decorate the sky,
Follow the moon towards midnight’s passage, hide
Inside that rainbow captured and
Lose myself in a
Different realm of time…
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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