Grass stands tall! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
How do raindrops balance on grass blades?
It seemed like stars had descended on glade.
Startled, I watched standing by a lamppost.
Undeterred by clouds, and earth played host.
Overnight the grass had gained inches in height.
I sat and looked despite mosquito bites.
You would have said if you were by my side,
They have tears of joy glistening in eyes.
Does grass have feelings, eyes and ears?
Could it be… music of rain it can hear?
Raindrops, tears or stars… whatever you name,
All I know is we have talked and shared.
For on that moonless, still, cloudy night,
I simply forgot whatever was on my mind.
I bent down, and am sure heard it whisper,
Oh yes, I have no doubt grass can speak and hear.
When I woke up after a fitful, disturbed night,
And wandered out, I was aghast at the sight.
Grass was quiet yet dignified; it had been run over.
By a merciless, noisy and rusty lawn mower.
The stubble reminded of an unshaven face.
, Stoic, no trace of grief or need for solace.
A couple of days later gardener stood exasperated.
Grass laughed and stood tall, wet and animated.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice
I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.
I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.
Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.
I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.
Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Moorland Night
My face is against the grass - the moorland grass is wet -
My eyes are shut against the grass, against my lips there are the little blades,
Over my head the curlews call, And now there is the night wind in my hair;
My heart is against the grass and the sweet earth, - it has gone still, at last;
It does not want to beat any more,
And why should it beat?
This is the end of the journey.
The Thing is found.
This is the end of all the roads -
Over the grass there is the night-dew
And the wind that drives up from the sea along the moorland road,
I hear a curlew start out from the heath
And fly off calling through the dusk,
The wild, long, rippling call -:
The Thing is found and I am quiet with the earth;
Perhaps the earth will hold it or the wind, or that bird's cry,
But it is not for long in any life I know. This cannot stay,
Not now, not yet, not in a dying world, with me, for very long;
I leave it here:
And one day the wet grass may give it back -
One day the quiet earth may give it back -
The calling birds may give it back as they go by -
To someone walking on the moor who starves for love and will not know
Who gave it to all these to give away;
Or, if I come and ask for it again
Oh! then, to me.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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The Grass Smells Red
The grass smells red.
Untill these mortal bounds find thier way into the catostrophic fire's of love and redemption, the grass will smell red.
The grass tells a story of wars unsung and battles lost.
The grass tells a story of love gained and a fury found again.
The grass smells red...but does it speak?
Does it's voice ring out like the bells in a steeple?
Does it feel the pain of those who died?
Did it hear the screams?
The grass smells red and it grow's red.
It feels red.
This grass will die red.
poem by Troy Nichols
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind (Undubbed Master)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, Your hair's softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what we've found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment we're living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
No the grass won't pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And The Grass Wont Pay No Mind
(words & music by neil diamond)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, your hairs softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what weve found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment were living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
No the grass wont pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before You
Supposing Death
to be a woman
what then?
She asked
would you embrace it
as willingly as you do me?
The afternoon sun
seemed to hang
in the sky
like a child's balloon
as you lay that day
in the tall grass
maybe
you said
if it had eyes
and a smile like yours
and she pulled
a stem of grass
and placed between lips
and stared above
as birds flew
to and fro
and would you go
willingly into the dark
as you do with me
into this tall grass?
You turned to face her
taking in
her blue eyes
and cheeks
maybe
if it allowed me
to kiss as good
as you do
and as long
and she turned over
took out
the stem of grass
and kissed your lips
welcome to Miss Death
she said
and you both laughed
and lay back
gazing at the summer sky
a deep blue
not knowing then
death would come for her
long before
it would ever
come for you.
poem by Terry Collett
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How To Deal With A Very Beautiful Disciple
she comes like a princess from the
a castle high up there on those blue clouds
descending from the sun
down to the mountains
and the rivers
and to this
pond
i am the grass, and she wants to lie down with me
so i can teach her about what, i ask, about poetry she says,
no there is no poetry with me for
i am the grass, and you signal the wind so you may leave at once
and be back to the arms of the heavens
but i think a while and change my mind for i am the grass
and i am a teacher of all mankind, those who want to die and be
covered with my hands, and those who want to stay and be
with my greeness, my softness and i in humility whispers to her
my princess, stay with me for a while, lie with me, and sleep with me
under the moon, the darkness of the night shall be our blanket,
my thick leaves of grass, your pillow,
i am the grass, i may not teach you what poetry is,
what i have is to spread
love and togetherness, and intimacy that i have with the soil
my secrets with the worms, my eternity
with what death has concealed from the eyes of your world.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is How All Sunny Days Should Be
Green grass grows fast, green grass
I want you to grow so fast
So I can leap up, from the ground
And pretend to fly, soar so high
And then gravity, cruel, vile, unkind
Will drag me down, and shut my laugh
And then, green grass, (grow fast)
I’ll be sad of falling down
But then, my friend you’ll muffle my fall
And ill lie there
……..Calm………..
And hide, in the very green, tall,
Great, bed like grass
And then I’ll stare at the sky
(Light blue, immense sky)
And get lost in the clouds
(White, light absorbing clouds)
And then I’ll only hear the birds
And the wind brushing the branches
And the flowers will be dancing
To the rhythm of the air
And then I’ll think
“This is how all sunny days should be”
Summer Nears
As summer neared pouncing on the young,
We are yet to hear the whole irony of a gun.
This gun is near called the summer and wind,
I call a plain honour the height of vigour.
Watchful fields encompass the clouds,
With grass green, grass not grey until night.
The lights of night are near like the Sunday,
When the hours of lightning are astray.
Inside the eyes of my head brings a sight
Of the wild variety, a worrisome smile is about.
Within the minds and hearts there is abolition
Of the summers and winters of ancient nature.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mowing
There was not a sound
but that of the machine
that howl against the sky
and magically sheared the grass
from where it grew.
No bushes of grass, or even weeds
could keep its length
when that yellow long necked
Weedeater appeared.
Grass, weeds and stems
were scattered everywhere
and underneath, with the smell
of mown grass in the air
a beautiful lawn appeared.
poem by Gert Strydom
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One Saturday Morning At The Mountain Top Inside The House
it is raining outside
it is the habitualness of the image that flows inside us
green grass and rolling hills and clouds a drifting
the sound of rain like footsteps of children playing under the shower from heaven
i sit upon a chair looking outside
i am not thinking about anything simply watching the rain
the green grass
the trees the sea and the horizon that extends more than what my eyes can see
more than what i can contain
this empty bowl with a wide mouth open
this hollowness that cannot speak because it does not have the exact words
to say
it seems to me that the correct existence that fills this void is nothing
but the silence of the trees, the grass, the hills and the far away seas
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dumb Soldier
When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found
And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hid my hiding-place;
Grasses run like a green sea
O'er the lawn up to my knee.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But, for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I should like to do.
He has seen the starry hours
And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale myself.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Grass Is Greener
One thing that I have heard
As I have often been told
Was the grass is always greener
On the other side of the road,
And to the that one statement
I truly had no ideal,
Was it but a lie that I often heard
Or was that assumption for real.
So on top of my own roof
I went to, after my climb
To check another ones yard
Of course a yard, that wasn't mine.
And there is where I stood
As I surveyed across the road
To see if anyone's grass was greener
As I often had heard and also been told.
And there from where that I stood
And from what that I could see
Their grass was not any greener
Than my yard, that I do believe.
So I surveyed the yards of my neighbors
As up on my roof I stood as I thought
Maybe all yards are all different then
So I got off my roof, and I went for a walk.
I walked down the street
Then I walked up the next block
Seems as though the houses got bigger
Along with their possession's and their lots.
Their grass didn't seem any greener
Than mine or the other that I have seen
Though theirs yards were much larger
As though a good picture from everyone's dream.
So there I left, and I continued my walk
I then came across some railroad tracks
And there stood houses and from what I saw,
Their grass was as green, front yard and back.
Though their yards they wasn't as large
As the ones I have seen
And their houses weren't as large or as nice
But their yards, they were just as green.
So then I headed back unto my home
To reflect back on the things that I have seen,
And of the ideals people thought of and said
And what in their mind they really did mean.
So when I got back unto my home
I climbed again on top of my roof
So there I could reflect and think to myself
About my neighbors and me and to tell the truth.
Though the grass might be greener, I did say
On the other side of the road,
But this one thing I tell you my friend,
The grass, it still has to be mowed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Background Of Softest Blue Sky (Rev.)
Rainfall in thin silver slivers
crystal drops cling to rails
sun a radiant shaft through clouds
gleaming strings stream down
thunder rolls in deep-throated delight
rumbling contentment, satisfied
Rain plays percussion on roof iron, grass
glows in phosphorescent green
sunrays form dragonfly wings in my eyes
as I gaze into a rich, baritone thunder
a symphony in silver
A mint imperial sun winking
playing crystal drops twinkling
on blades of grass, raindrops in chords
on roof counterpoint to thunder’s
comforting booms, sunbeams glistening in
silver clouds, background of softest blue
poem by Margaret Alice
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Broken Rosalyn
Rosalyn is in misery, her heart is broken
writhing and wailing on her garden floor
watering the grasses with her pouring tears
crying mild and muttering wild - 'why me'
smacking and skelping the faultless grass
sniveling and cheering the harlequin-ed flowers
oh! this glory that shone before
is become the gloom of mourn
her flustered heart now cries tears of blood
her blissful life - woe betide
ever smiling face, wrung by hurting love
her days of leer are gone for good
and now she'll live ever in loving gloom
Rosalyn that glistered with the shining sun
is now married to the moonless night
her cry on the grass
it lingered a while
and there came a time
and up she sat
smacked the grass and groused aloud - 'why me'
and then she rose
and stamps her feet - on the watered blameless grass
oh! the poor broken lass
her wet face bowed
by frown's heavy boulder
and hair shelves from sore weary shoulder
as fragments of littered grass drops from pale-brown gown
she whimpered with hateful brusque
in sorry sniffles and glare of pain
saying - 'i'll never love again'
poem by Mbanaso Samuel
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