Trace Of The Rain
the rain
its trace on the leaves
peach glowing.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Peach Tree On The Southern Wall
The peach tree on the southern wall
Has basked so long beneath the sun,
Her score of peaches great and small
Bloom rosy, every one.
A peach for brothers, one for each,
A peach for you and a peach for me;
But the biggest, rosiest, downiest peach
For Grandmamma with her tea.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Peach Blossom at Dalin Temple
Person between fourth month fragrant fragrant end
Mountain temple peach blossom begin bloom out
Great regret spring go not find trace
Not know change over this here come
Across the world this June, the petals all have fallen,
But the mountain temple's peach blossom has just begun to bloom.
I regretted so much that spring had gone without a trace,
I didn't know that it had only moved up here.
Peach Grove Next To Abbatoir
Next to an abbatoir
grows a peach grove.
The former has screams.
The latter is silent.
The slaughterhouse
stinks of blood and urine
and solid waste.
The peach grove is fragrant.
The slaughterhouse yields
a maximum 1000 pounds an acre of
food.
The peach grove yields in
trilevel agriculture four hundred
fifty thousand pounds an acre.
The slaughterhouse is labor
intensive and causes many worker
injuries and deaths.
The peach tree requires nothing
but a seed beneath dirt. The sun
and rain and mother earth
do the rest.
The slaughterhouse food causes
cancer, heart disease, food
poisoning, kidney failure, arthritis,
food poisoning fatalities.
The peach grove is God-designed.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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The Little Peach
A little peach in the orchard grew,--
A little peach of emerald hue;
Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew,
It grew.
One day, passing that orchard through,
That little peach dawned on the view
Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue--
Them two.
Up at that peach a club they threw--
Down from the stem on which it grew
Fell that peach of emerald hue.
Mon Dieu!
John took a bite and Sue a chew,
And then the trouble began to brew,--
Trouble the doctor couldn't subdue.
Too true!
Under the turf where the daisies grew
They planted John and his sister Sue,
And their little souls to the angels flew,--
Boo hoo!
What of that peach of the emerald hue,
Warmed by the sun, and wet by the dew?
Ah, well, its mission on earth is through.
Adieu!
1880.
poem by Eugene Field
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This peach my teacher
This peach
that I’ve just eaten,
been graced by,
been blessed by,
been taught by,
been transformed by…
it’s as if some
Messenger of the Gods
had arrived, stopwatch in hand,
saying, everything holds in perfection
but a little moment -
as William Shakespeare noted:
so I’m going to arrange things so that
as the stopwatch ticks out
ten seconds to that moment,
you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl,
take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin,
cut it carefully twice through the poles,
once equatorially… and as it falls apart,
spear one segment; eat…
this peach
was full of what even Rilke
could say no more than, peachness..
it was a living proof of Plato:
its perfection taught me
where essence meets experience,
where actuality meets the ideal of peach;
where a singular perfection speaks of
all perfections; where perfection
leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect…
how could such a perfect thing
have been invented by one
who does not love? Who is not love?
This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper
must needs make of myself a living God
to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude
for all perfection known..
this peach my teacher.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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To His Two Children
In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green,
And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep.
In East Luh where my family stay,
I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours.
I cannot be back in time for the spring doings,
Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river.
The south wind blowing wafts my homesick spirit
And carries it up to the front of our familiar tavern.
There I see a peach tree on the east side of the house
With thick leaves and branches waving in the blue mist.
It is the tree I planted before my parting three years ago.
The peach tree has grown now as tall as the tavern roof,
While I have wandered about without returning.
Ping-yang, my pretty daughter, I see you stand
By the peach tree and pluck a flowering branch.
You pluck the flowers, but I am not there
How your tears flow like a stream of water!
My little son, Po-chin, grown up to your sister's shoulders,
You come out with her under the peach tree,
But who is there to pat you on the back?
When I think of these things, my senses fail,
And a sharp pain cuts my heart every day.
Now I tear off a piece of white silk to write this letter,
And send it to you with my love a long way up the river.
Rain... Rain... Rain...!
Rain on tinned roof
Rain on concrete
Rain soaking into sands
Rain on soft earth
Rain on metal road
Rain on windscreen
Rain falling into the sea
Rain in the river
Rain on flowers
Rain on leaves
Rain under trees
Rain on hills
Rain on my skin…
Each with its own unique raga
Reverberates across the sky
On to the earth…
05aug2010
10.30hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Watching Tita With A Little Girl On Top Of Autumn Leaves
she holds her hair
on extreme fragility that a grandma
does to a grand
daughter.
two years ago she lost
her husband.
it was sudden and at first
she could not believe that such
parting as abrupt
as that could
happen.
she was fragile too
like a porcelain Austrian doll
about to break into
pieces
thrown on a stone
pavement
she didn't
she chose life, to move on
now holding on to the
glowing hope
of her grand
daughter's peach cheeks
on top of
the drying leaves of autumn
i can hear
the cracks of the heap
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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City Of Peach
Flowers, flowers
peach flowers everywhere
in the mountains and lowlands
of the city of peach.
How lucky I am
to see this beauty everyday
and that's because
I have not given up
I struggle to survive
the cold and lonely winter
of this city of peach.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Sexy Peach
You're a sexy peach.
Delicious on the eyes!
Igniting my taste buds...
To get close enough,
To eat as my treat!
Sexy peach...
I'd love to rub against your fuzziness.
And cuddle on the beach.
Sexy peach...
I wish to feel what now appeals,
And even lick the pit of it!
I'd like to bite every slice...
With the dripping of the nutrients done,
Provided by the succulent Sun.
And your fuzzy on my lips...
Inviting you to kiss,
That sweetness I can not resist.
Let's share it and strip away...
Those inhabitions exciting the addmission,
We both desire to pleasure and ride.
Sexy peach...
I'd love to rub against your fuzziness.
And cuddle on the beach.
Sexy peach...
I wish to feel what now appeals,
And even lick the pit of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Winters Tale
I sit inside a warm dry room
And peer outside at darkest gloom
The wind is howling blowing hard
The leaves all dancing round the yard
The rain just pours and falls at will
The wind exerts the fiercest chill
The willow's flowing branches twist
And dance a dance that can't be missed
For here inside my safety lies
As winter plays before my eyes
No ill I feel from natures wrath
As she selects her chosen path
The glowing fire as if alive
While wind and rain just duck and dive
The warmth of embers glowing bright
cascade around me hold me tight
To me this is my perfect storm
As if upon this moment born
Forgetting all that's in the past
A place of safety.. home at last.
poem by Dave James
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The Comfort of a Storm
I sit inside a warm dry room
And peer outside at darkest gloom
The wind is howling blowing hard
The leaves all dancing round the yard
The rain just pours and falls at will
The wind exerts the fiercest chill
The willow's flowing branches twist
And dance a dance that can't be missed
For here inside my safety lies
As winter plays before my eyes
No ill I feel from natures wrath
As she selects her chosen path
The glowing fire as if alive
While wind and rain just duck and dive
The warmth of embers glowing bright
cascade around me hold me tight
To me this is my perfect storm
As if upon this moment born
Forgetting all that's in the past
A place of safety.. home at last.
poem by Dave James
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Rain On Autumn Night
Cold, cold this third night of autumn
Rain makes me sleepy
Alone, this old man is contented and idle
It's late when I extinguish the lamp and lie down
To sleep, listening to the beautiful sound of rain
Incense ashes still glowing in the burner
My only heat in this lodging
At daybreak, I will stay under the quilt to stay warm
And the steps will be covered by frosty red leaves
Rain-Stuck
rain within
takes me away from me
from the rain outside
throughout the day night
its falling hard
no trace of any map anywhere
no boundary line
no other objects
as far my eyes run
rain rain and falling water
with a ceaseless passion
can't close the eyes
can't sleep
can't think to write
a successful rain-poem
alone moving on the surface
as a rain-legend myself
no where dry anymore
nothing wants to be dried
but alone
and rain within
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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A little fall of rain
My morning starts
With teardrops in my eyes
Like a little fall of rain
In my heart I feel the pain
And the tearless earth
Is longing for, a little fall of rain?
That is what they needed.
I watched the world go by in silence
Humming in old familiar string
As I listened to the music of wind
A mournful cry that’s what I perceive
One by one you fall on the ground
Why do I feel sad?
From a little fall of rain
Why the leaves are looking glowing?
Trees and flowers are suddenly bloom
Then the rivers never stop flowing
In every moment, you pass by
They all so glad and welcome you
A little fall of rain that comes from heaven
You’re always a wonder for them
The sun hides on a cloudy sky.
Even the rainbow never used to smile at
The birds were then stopped singing
Neither the clouds have to stop dancing
A little fall of rain
Looked what you have done?
My tears were a fall on the ground
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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Acrostic (Wintry Days)
Wind in the trees releases the leaves
invites them to fly onto rooftops, cling to the eaves.
Nostalgia hangs in the air, neighbors burn
their quickly raked mounds; try to beat the
rain predicted. Admiring the colors of
yesterday blanketing my yard, the
darkening skies overhead sends a chill that
awakens me to my shivering senses. I retreat and
yield to the need for warmth;
snuggle by a glowing fire as rain arrives.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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The Love Scene
he goes behind
her
kisses her neck
and slides
his hands
under
she faces him
kisses his lips
and pulls his
body towards
her
there she opens
as he closes in
she is shut like the night
as he appears
like the glowing
moon
there is rain
the leaves sing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Peach Munching
harvesting peach
can't wait 'till breakfast
peach munching.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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One does a whole painting for one peach and people think just the opposite - that particular peach is but a detail.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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