Prelude to autumn! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
As the monsoon recedes, with vengeance
Sun livid strikes back, but gives up pretence
By mid noon, it retreats and westwards race,
Far from city scape, it slips leaving no trace.
Dusk falls at six, in blows a gentle breeze.
Festive season on, feel like drape silk weaves.
House is plunged in the darkness, but moon beams
Gently descend and rest on leaves it seems.
My upturned face is touched by their caress
Palm fronds swing and night strolls in at its pace.
Cicadas have made a quiet exit with the rain,
I embrace the quiet; no background score or strains.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
Some Raindrops On The Roof On The Leaves Of The Bushes
it is a rainy day today.
rain falls unceasingly on the rooftop
tracing the hidden ways of the gutter
falling gently on pines and leaves
of gentle bushes planted beside
a steel gate
painted red.The time comes
when the rain is so gentle and slow
pouring in rhtythm with the swaying
of the palm leaves
every dropp like the meeting
of a dew to another dew
glistening before my eyes
gentle sounds of raindrops
in cadence like a hammock
a swing like the flapping of
a pegion's wings
as i write this poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Quiet My Love Come Follow Me
Quiet my love come follow me
Let me pour you some wine
Dim the lights down low
Make you know your all mine
Quiet my love come follow me
Let me make you feel complete
Rub your tired shoulders
As our lips gently together meet
Quiet my love come follow me
Let me caress you in my arms
Let's be gentle and go slow
I want to feel all your charm
Quiet my love come follow me
Lay down with me here tonight
Take each other to paradise
Come follow me in pure delight
poem by Suelynn Walters
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As the Monsoon Retreats
Besides the smell
Of the earth,
Lush green trees,
Garden weeds,
And the sound of the rain
Music to my ears, after
Dust storms and hot winds.
I loved the
Croaking of the frogs.
After dusk fall
Twinkling fireflies.
The call of the Cicadas,
Although a bit
Eerie at night.
I would exclaim
Monsoon brings
Wild life
Full of sounds
And delightful sights
Now, as the
Monsoon recedes
I realise, those sounds
Had long since died,
Couldn’t survive and adapt
To polluted environment.
It’s a pity,
Nature has become
A victim
Of human activity.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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So Quiet In Here
Foghorns blowing in the night
Salt sea air in the morning breeze
Driving cars all along the coastline
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
The warm look of radiance on your face
And your heart beating close to mine
And the evening fading in the candle glow
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here. so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, yeah, so peaceful in here
All my struggling in the world
And so many dreams that dont come true
Step back, put it all away
It dont matter, it dont matter anymore
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
A glass of wine with some friends
Talking into the wee hours of the dawn
Sit back and relax your mind
This must be, this must be, what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
Oh this must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Big ships out in the night
And were floating across the waves
Sailing for some other shore
Where we can be what we wanna be
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Baby its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, you can hear, its so quiet
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As the Monsoon Recedes
Besides the heady fragrance
Of the wet earth,
Freashly bathed green trees,
(Evoking images of a damsel
stroking her wet tresses)
Garden weeds,
And the sound of the rain
Music to my ears, after
Scorching summer,
Dust storms and hot winds.
I loved the
Croaking of the frogs.
After dusk fall
Twinkling fireflies.
The call of the Cicadas,
Although a bit
Eerie at night.
I would exclaim
Monsoon brings
Wild life
Full of sounds
And pleasing sights,
Though the family
didn't share my delight
Now, as the
Monsoon recedes
I realise, those sounds
Had long since died,
Couldn’t survive and adapt
To polluted environment.
Victims of
thoughtless human activity.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Love On All Levels
I have loved you like the wind
That gently blows the waves to shore.
I have loved you like the sun
In blissful warmth forever more.
I have loved you like the quiet moon
Way up in the sky.
I have loved you like the snowflakes
That dip and whirl and fly
I have loved you like the gentle rain
That upon my face does mist.
I have loved you with the mystery
Of fog in all its shifts.
I have at times loved you so passionately
Within hail and storm and squall.
I have stood beside you always.
Yes, I've loved you through them all.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Night Bends
Now darkness ponds upon the violet hills;
cicadas sing; the tall elms gently sway;
and night bends near, a deepening shade of gray;
the bass concerto of a bullfrog fills
what silence there once was; globed searchlights play.
Green hanging ferns adorn dark window sills,
all drooping fronds, awaiting morning’s flares;
mosquitoes whine; the lissome moth again
flits like a veiled oud-dancer, and endures
the fumblings of night’s enervate gray rain.
And now the pact of night is made complete;
the air is fresh and cool, washed of the grime
of the city’s ashen breath; and, for a time,
the fragrance of her clings, obscure and sweet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To-Em-Meps ‘The Unmoving Cloud
I
The clouds have gathered, and gathered,
and the rain falls and falls,
The eight ply of the heavens
are all folded into one darkness,
And the wide, flat road stretches out.
I stop in my room toward the East, quiet, quiet,
I pat my new cask of wine.
My friends are estranged, or far distant,
I bow my head and stand still.
II
Rain, rain, and the clouds have gathered,
The eight ply of the heavens are darkness,
The flat land is turned into river.
'Wine, wine, here is wine!'
I drink by my eastern window.
I think of talking and man,
And no boat, no carriage, approaches.
III
The trees in my east-looking garden
are bursting out with new twigs,
They try to stir new affection,
And men say the sun and moon keep on moving
because they can't find a soft seat.
The birds flutter to rest in my tree,
and I think I have heard them saying,
'It is not that there are no other men
But we like this fellow the best,
But however we long to speak
He can not know of our sorrow.'
poem by Ezra Pound
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I Cant Stop The Rain
This is new york, yo
(its getting dark)
Night falls on the city
Finds me all alone
Makes me wonder
Should I just go on home
And I walk up the stairs
To see if youre sill there
Would you mind if
I found you alone
Then a cold wind came callin
Strange how it knew itd bother me
See the night would fade
But the pains gonna stay
Makes me wonder
Have you ever made love to me
I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
Lightnin strikes across the sky
Oh, I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
Lightnin only blinds my eyes
Aint it sad
When the only love I ever had
Just slips away
Right through my fingers
Aint it a shame when I think of your name
The only memory I have is it
I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
Lightnin strikes across the sky
Oh, I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
It takes a witch to curse that goddamn sky
I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
Lightnin strikes across the sky
Oh, I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
cause lightnin only blinds my eyes
Oh, I cant stop the rain, here it comes again
cause lightnin only blinds my eyes
Cant stop it, blinds my eyes
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rainy Day
Slipping through the open sash.
Cool wet freshness
draws me from the depth
of my slumber's darkness.
The gentle cadence
of falling rain.
Its soft pelt splashing
upon the window pane.
Coursing down
the glass transparency.
Rivulets of wetness
distort the world outside I see
A canopy of leaves
keeps dry a nest
of fledgling birds.
While they rest.
Bright golden sun
now hidden away.
By gray clouds
whose visit pay.
The rain they bring
falls on dry earth.
To cleanse and quench
coax forth rebirth.
On a rainy day
the world I see.
Quiet soft gentle
A world of peace to me.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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That One Should Have Lived Longer
In my mother house
There was a cat among some cats
As the drifted away
Mother was no where to be found
But at the market place
A page in mother's diary
Read "My simple cat will be in charge as mother leaves"
A watch, security, maid, keeper, cook, servant! !
How ever they chose to call him
He still remained as he
Others of his kind were "catting" mother's fish their own
Almost every kind lambasted him
But he still remained he
And said to himself "quiet conscience gives me strength"
For his simplicity saved his name in mother's diary
As at noon and afternoon
Cat busy finishing his day's task before mother comes back
Mother shall come back soon that he knew
This cat made peace with mice
He was called the MICEFRIEND
As dusk loomed large
To explode in the sky for night to come
Night comes for mother to come
But cat's task seemed like it was never enough
As a day was assumed to be enough
Cat went across the street to get dinner ready
Peeep! Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! !
The public bus has ran over the cat
The cat fell cold and dead
With a day's task unfinished
Who shall continue his left duties?
Who would mother say congrats if mother comes back home?
As dusk loomed larger and had exploded darkness for the night to rule
Mother came back from the market place
And the league of the extraordinary cat was ended
poem by by unknown author
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The Hill Dwellers
Way back deep into the brain
Way back past the realm of pain
Back where theres never any rain.
And the rain falls gently on the town,
And over the heads of all of us.
And in the labyrinth of streams
Beneath, quiet unearthly presence of
Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around,
Reptiles abounding
Fossils, caves, cool air heights.
Each house repeats a mold
Windows rolled
A beast car locked in against morning.
All now sleeping
Rugs silent, mirrors vacant,
Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples
Wound in sheets.
And daughters, smug
With semen eyes in their nipples
Wait
Theres been a slaughter here!
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quiet Warrior
Standing in a circle the wolves have come
But they wont bother her, no
cause dancing with her hands of leaves shell sing for them
And ease their hungerin
Shes a quiet warrior.
Standing at the oceans stoney shores
The waves all worship her
She stands in trust and lets the night swallow her
Because she knows that shes a piece of the sun
And a quiet warrior.
You ask her where from the wind blows
Shell say its how the sky sings
And you ask her how does the sun rise
Shell say cause you desire it to be seen
And you ask her how does she make your heart fly
And shell tell you, you know why
Shes your quiet warrior.
Ravens they rest on his golden crown
And steal your soul
He smiles and it feels like youve known him
Yes it feels like coming home
Hes a quiet warrior.
And roaring silently hes a lion
And hell hunt for you
His eyes are warm because his hands they are made of light
And they seduce your soul
Hes a quiet warrior.
You ask him where from the wind blows
He says that the earth breathes
And you ask him how does the sun rise
Hell say that shes got wings
And you ask him how does he make your heart fly
And hell tell you, you know why
Hes your quiet warrior.
Transcribed by dan stark
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Picket Guard
"ALL quiet along the Potomac to-night!"
Except here and there a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing! a private or two now and then
Will not count in the news of a battle;
Not an officer lost, only one of the men
Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night!
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
And their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon,
And the light of their camp-fires are gleaming.
A tremulous sigh, as a gentle night-wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping;
While the stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard o'er the army sleeping.
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two on the low trundel bed,
Far away, in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack, his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
And their mother—"may heaven defend her!"
The moon seems to shine forth as brightly as then—
That night, when the love, yet unspoken,
Leaped up to his lips, and when low-murmured vows
Were pledged to be ever unbroken.
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling;
And gathers the gun closer up to his breast
As if to keep down his heart's swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree,
And his footstep is lagging and weary;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Towards the shades of the forest so dreary.
Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves?
Was it the moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looked like a rifle: "Ha! Mary, good-by!"
And his life-blood is ebbing and plashing.
"All quiet along the Potomac to-night!"
No sound save the rush of the river;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead,
And the picket's off duty forever!
poem by Ethel Lynn Beers from All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems (1879)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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All Quiet along the Potomac
ALL quiet along the Potomac," they say,
"Except, now and then, a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing—a private or two now and then
Will not count in the news of the battle;
Not an officer lost—only one of the men
Moaning out all alone the death-rattle."
* * * * *
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
Their tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon
Or the light of the watch-fire, are gleaming.
A tremulous sigh of the gentle night-wind
Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping,
While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard, for the army is sleeping.
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread
As he trams form the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed
Far away in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack; his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep—
For their mother; may Heaven defend her!
The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then,
That night when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips—when low-murmured vows
Were pledged to be ever unbroken.
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place,
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree,
The footstep is lagging and weary;
Yet onward he goes through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shade of the forest so dreary.
Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves?
Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looked like a rifle—"Ha! Mary, good-bye!"
The red life-blood is ebbing and plashing.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
No sound save the rush of the river;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead—
The picket's off duty for ever!
poem by Ethel Lynn Beers from All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems (1879)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Mid-night Sun
it is quiet in the night, as the clock strikes mid night the darkness creeps over the night like a shadow of a person. but no one will be awake till the sun comes back, or if the light breaks thourgh the sadness and darkness that looms over the mid night time.
this the mid night the will end the chapters of the night.
poem by Alexis Stanfield
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Day At Rest
The sun is setting slowly in the west,
to put another day at rest.
The moon now rises from the east,
as stillness drifts through our world,
and heads rest in sleep.
The quiet of the night, comes for us all,
as darkness comes to call.
There are some of us,
who welcome the quiet bliss,
the lovers embraced,
in each other’s arms,
ready to steal a kiss.
The writer who needs,
the evening tranquillity,
to forward on their thoughts,
with nothing to disturb.
So we put the day at rest,
until tomorrow comes to call.
13 May 2007
poem by David Harris
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Getting Old
Now that we're suddenly old and tired,
The mirrors are never as kind,
We venture out in a world that changed
As our youth slipped far behind;
We only walk at a snail's pace
And shiver in autumn rain,
Then stop to rest, as the evening light
Draws down on us, once again.
The young look on, but they never see
They'll be old one day, like us,
They think we live in some cobweb dream
And just fade away, and rust;
When I come in from the world outside
And shutter the outer door,
I see my lover still waits for me
As she's done so often before.
I tend to gaze at her longer now,
To capture her in my mind,
We're not too sure of the time we've got
So we tend to be more than kind,
I kiss her gently and watch the glow
Of stars, at the back of her eyes,
And she opens up like a flower in spring
At a touch, or a sweet surprise.
Then many an evening, after dark
When the wind howls up at the moon,
I gently unwrap my sweetest gift
And rest my face in the gloom,
She sighs and soughs like a gentle breeze,
Leans back like a sapling bent,
And touch is a pit at the end of the world
Where our last few days are spent.
5 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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A Warm Summer Breeze
The trees whisper in the breeze
The forest peaceful, quiet, and serene.
The warm breeze like a soft caress,
Momentarily eliminating all stress.
Without delay it carries on
Leaving the place in silence when it's gone.
A summer day, a summer breeze,
Softly whispered through the trees.
The summer breeze, softly it comes,
Quickly it leaves,
Causing soft whispers in the trees.
It came and soon left, a warm summer breeze.
poem by Theo Townend
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