Autumn Sunset
Pour the eyes, crystal soul
Venus radiant, tears of wax
The skin listens exquisite, the roots.
Drying out on the green valley
Draw by the river monsoon
Carry by flutes in the air
Citing, misleading
Planting pressed cracks.
In the pots, boiling soft
Pink sunset at the back door
A young olive tree whisper
The autumn night, warm like calm rain
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Olive Of Peace
Now sheath'd is the Sword that was wild as the blast:
The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past;
Old ALBION her Neighbour all smilingly hails—
For the OLIVE of PEACE blooms again in our Vales!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless is he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'
Divinest of Olives, O, never was seen
A bloom so enchanting, a verdure so green!
Sweet, sweet do thy Beauties entwiningly smile
In the Vine-tree of France and the Oak of our Isle!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Long, long did thy envied Exotic delay,
'Till the voice of HUMANITY charm'd thee away;
And here, ever here mayst thou bloom in repose,
As firm as our Oak-tree, and gay as the Rose!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Let ALCIDES his Poplar of Majesty prize,
And VENUS her Myrtle exalt to the skies:
FRANCE and ALBION excell all the Gods of old Greece—
For they crown their wise heads with the OLIVE of PEACE!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
The delicate Lily may gracefully mount,
And the Pink all her charms with the Rainbow recount;
Green, green is the Olive on ALBION'S brow,
And the Lily and Pink to the Olive must bow!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Thou Olive divine, may Eternity's Sun
Beam warm where thy roots thro' the ages shall run;
The Dew of Affection 'light soft where they twine,
And the Love of an Universe stamp thee divine!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless was he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Finished
A perfect night
the stars are sparkling bright
staring into the sky,
the little house in the creek
sits nestled under the tall mossy tree
the house aged by nature...beautiful
as the rain starts to pour
the tall mossy tree protects the house and its front door
the mossy tree bears the weight of the sky
as the house is kept dry
more clouds swarm in recklessly
lightning cracks as it sets fire to the tall mossy tree
the tree stands strong....
but i doesn't know if it can last long
as the rain runs down the tree's trunk and roots
like tears
poem by Wandering Scarlet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thunder Cracks In The Gray Sky
The thunder cracks in the gray sky and the rain it is bucketing down
Above the high and dry and bare paddocks by the river that flows by the town
On those paddocks that need heaps of rain it has been awhile since they were green
This countryside is looking dry 'tis as dry as it ever has been
His feathers soaked wet from the rain the magpie flutes on the blackwood tree
From it's drenched leaves the rain drips and drips by the river that flows to the sea
To the river adown the bare hill the water in rivulets run
As soon as the rain will have stopped they will quickly dry out in the sun
The Summer has been warm and dry and the long range weather forecast is for a dry Fall
An hour of heavy thunder rain of little use though better than nothing at all
For months the farmers have been praying for rain their prayers in part answered today
But the sun shines across the brown hills and the rain clouds are clearing away
And the magpie shakes his feathers dry and no rain drops left to drip from the trees
And white butterflies flitting about in the sunshine and feshening breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Feel Like A Leaf In Autumn
I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded rill
Running down the silent valley down along the moonlit hill
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To it's deep grave in salt water in the bosom of the sea.
I felt like that leaf in Springtime on it's lovely mother tree
With it's brothers and it's sisters one big happy family
A bright green leaf in a green World dancing in the wind and rain
Give me back what's gone forever give me back my youth again.
I felt like that leaf in Summer when the sun shone in the sky
And the world was full of colour and wild songbirds piped for joy
And bright wildflowers in green meadow fit home for fair butterfly
Oh but all that's young and beautiful has one day got to die.
I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded stream
Running down the moonlit valley that was once so very green
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To be gone and lost forever in the bosom of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monsoon at peak! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Monsoon at peak
I hear a monologue-
Rain speaks…
Monsoon at peak,
Thatched roofs
Leak…
Monsoon at peak,
Corn on cob
Wins over coffee…
Monsoon at peak,
Can I go out, mother?
A child pleads…
Monsoon at peak,
A boy steals a look
At a girl soaked to skin…
Monsoon at peak,
Roads flooded,
Where is MCD?
Monsoon at peak,
Umbrellas
New fashion accessory…
Monsoon at peak,
Sun gets much needed
Rest…
Monsoon at peak,
Bathes
Foliage and trees.
Monsoon at peak
Schools closed
Children squeal,
Wish, it rains
Everyday of the week…
Monsoon at peak,
Leave your shoes at the door-
Mother screams…
Monsoon at peak,
Driver stops
To wipe the wind shield…
Monsoon at peak,
Open pavements
Home to many,
Wear deserted look …
Monsoon at peak,
Wet laundry-
Sun rise, please.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain-tree
Rain-tree
The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.
You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.
Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.
Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!
In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.
I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Valley Of Pain
DON'T LET ME GROW BITTER I PRAY
GIVE ME STRENGTH TO CARRY ON MY WAY
IM LEANIN' ON YOU LIKE A WOODEN CANE
WHILE I'M WALKIN THROUGH I'M WALKIN' THROUGH
THE VALLEY OF PAIN
I'M BELIEVN' THERE'S A REASON FOR THIS TRIAL
THIS TOO SHALL PASS IN A LITTLE WHILE
OH LORD HAVE MERCY IF I COMPLAIN
WHILE I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
WHILE I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
WON'T YOU BATHE ME IN A RIVER OF MY TEARS
WHISPER HOPE AND TRUTH AND COURAGE IN MY EARS
WHEN I'M HURTING I HAVE A DANGEROUS TOUNGE
I'LL LOSE IT AND USE IT LIKE A GUN
LORD STOP ME IF YOU SEE ME TAKIN' AIM
WHILE I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
BATHE ME IN A RIVER OF MY TEARS
WHISPER HOPE AND TRUTH AND COURAGE IN MY EARS
REMIND ME WHEN I REACH THE OTHER SIDE
I'LL BE THANKFUL FOR EVERY TEAR THAT I CRIED
DON'T LET ME GROW BITTER I PRAY
GIVE ME STRENGTH TO CARRY ON MY WAY
DON'T LET THE DARKNESS DRIVE ME INSANE
WHILE I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, WALKIN THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN' THROUGH
A VALLEY OF PAIN
I'M WALKIN' THROUGH, I'M WALKIN' THROUGH
THIS VALLEY OF PAIN
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tree Will Be Reminded
The crystal clear skin
That exudes a peeling moon
To a half-crescent smile
Drowned when your waters
Emanated underneath the tree
Where you petrify with every
Abrupt departure, without notes,
Without gifts of flesh nor syrup-kisses,
The tree stood, chaste and pure, though
Decrepit for in the time of your furlough,
There’d be no one the tree’d let
Him touch his trunk, his branches,
His dead twigs and austere leaves
-
The rain had touched his porcelain wrinkles,
He felt it coldly upon his skin that
Wraps him in a mortal flame of summers
And winters; The grass pleads underneath
His roots tethered to the Earth
To remind him of the flustered world
That he breathes in, and so with crude words-
From damsels to old men and children,
He listen passionately, but not take it
To his viscera of rippled age,
The tree stood there, idle, stonily,
Desolate at the middle of the wonderful
Sequoias and petunias and daffodils
He remained subtle and still
As the dissipating dust on a moth’s marred wing
-
And so the moon-dame came back
With her fecund smile and lavish couture,
The tree, oh how he wishes to move,
To give her a verdant clasp of the soul,
To enter her soul, to put friction body upon body,
But not to make love, but to defeat the Sun
In its heat – and with that, he will come to pass
A moribund magnificence of a love stonily crafted
In between distance, in between seasons that
Reminded the tree of how he waited, weathered
Every cold breath of the monsoon and the tepid
Caress of the Sun’s burnt lips – he remembered it all
And wept for a minute and died for a lifetime,
Alive in structure, dead in soul – But the lady,
How alive in soul, and much more in features
She has forgotten about the tree – poor orphan of the world!
-
She dined, with a cloth pressed upon the tree’s roots –
With a man she did, and reveled
And let out a bounty of fruits and the ripeness of her lips
The tree frowned upon, and frowned within.
How reminded the tree will ever be, of how it is uncomplicated
To build a love, but tedious to make it last –
Especially if one soul does not come in terms
With the other - what agony!
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Roots Matter
Look, how the cut branches and leaves get dried!
Sometimes, this happens when the Sun's too hot;
With roots intact, the trunk sprouts from its side;
The tree uprooted sure to death is fraught.
Look, how the trunk has sprouted green again!
The tree has started growing with revenge;
Almost a miracle is done by rain;
But this is how Nature tries to avenge.
Our Body, mind draw nourishment from soul;
Our soul if pure is habitat for God;
If not, the evil spirits take this role;
A sinful soul in Heaven would look odd?
Good roots matter if habits good flourish;
God's grace matters for Man's soul to nourish.
poem by John Celes
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Pink Clouds Never Rain
I have never see a pink cloud rain before.
I have only seen a magenta bolt of lightening try to strike my heart, and
Aqua tears trickling from my dazzled misty eyes, down my
Flushed and lonesome cheek, though
I have never see a pink cloud rain before.
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before.
I have seen spotted purple snakes crawling up my bedroom walls, and
Transparent bubbles filled with dreams floating before my very eyes, though,
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before.
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before, though
I have seen a reddish sun cast shadows down upon a tortuous, rippling river;
I have seen tears cascading down a sloping hill, and
Gulls flapping their gentle, feathered wings atop some cragged cliffs, although
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before.
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before, although
I have heard eerie and commanding thoughts and voices
That no one else could hear.
I have had disturbing, stabbing thoughts that have injured me inside, though
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before.
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before, although
I have slid down an icy mountainside on a very sunny night.
I have wept a sea of deep blue and purple tears, though
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before.
I have never heard thunder clap behind a rosy cloud, or seen
Tears fall from heaven or have heard angels singing.
I have had morbid thoughts of loss, death and suicide,
While thunder clapped, and
These pink clouds could not rain.
Perhaps someday I shall see a pink cloud rain upon a
Magnificent world, which I have created for myself,
Where tall green and golden reeds are surrounded by swirling water pools, and
A hallucinogenic sun sets behind high and mighty mountains-
And there, people would be trustworthy and true to heart.
No, I have never seen a pink cloud rain before, although,
I have seen almost everything there is to see-
Some good sights and some bad-
I have heard some screaming voices echo in my mind, although,
Some quiet ones as well.
I have seen some orange and, pinkish sunsets, and mirages in
The fortress of my own mind, however-
I have never seen a pink cloud rain before, and
I have never seen a pink cloud weep before….
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cordell
She stands alone,
In the autumn rain.
Watching her life walk away.
The soft thud of,
Slowly disappearing dreams,
On the street.
Dreams muffled,
By the autumn rain.
Slowly fading in the twilight.
He won't look back,
There is something in his eye.
The autumn rain.
A voice deep down says,
Turn around you fool.
As the autumn rain falls.
The mustang sits by the curb,
Rain dripping like tears,
From the windshield.
Even his car is crying,
The car with her smell,
The car she loved so.
He gets in and sits behind the wheel,
And the autumn rain comes again.
Inside the car, briney salty, rain.
Looking in the rearview mirror,
He sees her silhouette.
Through his tears and the autumn rain.
Slowly the fastback pulls away,
From the curb.
Leaving her standing by the Cordell,
In the autumn rain.
8/12/12 Alton Texas.
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Son
Pour O pour that parting soul in song
O pour it in the sawdust glow of night
Into the velvet pine-smoke air tonight,
And let the valley carry it along.
And let the valley carry it along.
O land and soil, red soil and sweet-gum tree,
So scant of grass, so proligate of pines,
Now hust before an epoch's sun declines
Thy son, in time, I have returned to thee,
Thy son, I have in time returned to thee.
In time, for though the sun is setting on
A song-lit race of slaves, it has not set;
Though late, O soil, it is not too late yet
To catch thy plaintive soul, leaving, soon gone,
Leaving, to catch thy plaintive soul soon gone.
O Negro slaves, dark purple ripened plums,
Squeezed, and bursting in the pine-wood air,
Passing, before they stripped the old tree bare
One plum was saved for me, one seed becomes
an everlasting song, a singing tree,
Caroling softly souls of slavery,
What they were, and what they are to me,
Caroling softly souls of slavery.
poem by Jean Toomer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry Me (a River)
carry me (a river)
carry me a river
take i there, by the river
let the cool breeze wash away the pain
from within me not in vain
carry me a river
where the sweet melodies of the birds reign
the birds in a singing mood so plain
wipe off my mind from the railing train
and carry me over yonder to clear my brain
as you carry me a river
carry me a river
by the river side
the pebbles and the bubbles
clear as water by the stream
as you carry me a river
told me the best poor surrogate of wisdom is pride
but intelligence and self trust will avoid troubles
not even in your dream
carry me a river
in touch with i roots
in my gideon boots
and some khaki suites
carry me a river
to dream a better me
and look back to see
the horizon by sundown
lost but not a clown
with my thinking crown
i stood up to go back-a town
next time
carry me a river on time
though you carry me there for some time
but next time
carry me a river on time
® ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©25.08.2011
2133h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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River
Oh!
hyacinth of the sea,
a moisturize droplets
that conquers
the green valley of the plain,
come always find a friend
who cool the heyday
of the sun,
and remember that nothing comes
you too warm embrace
than the wind
that redeems the pasture
green
abundant turmoil
seem you may see, yet! calm
calls you
by name to go; where the river full
the grass may grow, find a way
little darling plant,
thou
gone is the clouds sleep near in the
sun, wrestling the great sky lie
the heaven tears
explode and droplets
arise near the river
flow
oh!
river the arm of the sea,
find the leak
where my heart may break,
wipe out my tears that hide
the low tide and come
near my bedside
tide and I’ll go,
with you
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I will wear myself in the beauty of you
I wear myself in the beauty of spring
the white flowers put on my skin
the rose petals paint my cheeks
the red of sunset kisses my lips
I wash my face in the crystal water of stream
I wear myself in the beauty of my dreams
the green hopes put into my eyes
the red of my heart kisses my soul
I wash my face among drops of my tears
I will wear myself in all beauty of this world
and come to your heart
as spring
as summer
as autumn
as winter
as your wish
I will wash my face in your tears
I will wear myself in the beauty of you
poem by Ata Augustyn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under My Skin
(john farrar)
Every night when youre as mean
As a ladder with a broken wrung
When I know youre sorry wont make it
From your heart to your tongue
There are nights when you keep pushing me
And I wont go on
cause when I get mad enough darlin
I will be standing my ground
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, oh, under my skin
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin
There are nights when every kiss
Is an order than I can obey
And I can taste the life comin
From a mile away
There are nights when you keep holdin me
But your arms are too tight
And I dont need what I want
cause what I want just dont feel right
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, oh, under my skin
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin
Everywhere that I go I hear your name
Spoken in whispers, spoken in shame
In shame
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, yeah, under my skin
Come and slide your whisper under my skin
Come and slide your whisper under my skin
Under my skin, ooh under my skin
Come and slide your whisper (under my skin)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hand Of Love
The young woman intertwines her hands with her older man
Smiling laughing at his funny charming jokes
The cool rain is the only relief her boiling heart has
His hand softly squeezes hers
He smiles, she smiles
The sun in both of their eyes
Warming them from the inside out
He touches the side of her face
With the hands of steal
But the touch of silk
With stars in her eyes
And the rain soak their innocents
He gently presses his lips to her hand
Baby you are me unspoken princess
She sighs
Has he’s still holding her delicate hand
He be believes that is made out of gold
He knows she is the other half of his soul
He says I love you to her heart as no words are spoken
Looking into her green eyes
That night in the warm rain of mystery
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crystal River
Slowly, slowly, slowly the crystal river flow,
Moving down the slope of rocks below.
The water were warm since harmattan's due
And frogs croak as they usually do.
But the river has something we never knew:
Deep down, it can make sick ones anew.
Because, there resides the sea-kind and his queen;
To enlarge their empire they were keen
And once they mated and had a son,
But the son offended the sun.
Heaven became angry, including the moon
The river started drying up too soon.
So our crystal river ceased to flow
And relocated to somewhere we'll never know.
And up and down the people go
Searching where the crystal river used to flow
Down the slope of rocks below,
Where now littl little grasses do grow.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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A Highly-Colored Romance
Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Pink Man
Pink is my colour,
wat wld i do without it, i wonder.
Pink is my mans colour,
which he aint shy to wear.
If u saw hm in hs pink shirt,
u wld definately kam to a halt, He is a total hunk.
I write lv letters to him in pink ink,
n watch his eyes blink
wen readin th letter in pink.
I love wearin pink blush,
coz wen he touches me my cheeks flush n i blush.
He gave me a pink rose
wen i wore my pink gloss
n kissd hs sweet lips
makin them turn as pink as my lip gloss.
Pink is th colour of hs door,
we'll slp on hs pink carpet on th floor
cz i wanna feel hs soft skin presd against mine 4 sure.
He is the one i live for,
he is th one to die for.
My pink man,
he's th reason y am nt a nun.
poem by Julie Njoki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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