Love you've got beauty
Love you've got beauty
In abundance oh so rare
It's wild and it's earthly
-golden as buttercups in your hair
Unadorned and oh so radiantly
-dressed in arrangements fair.
Is that slender hourglass figure
Where I gaze into nature
Only, now all too aware!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Buttercups
Tiny little buttercups
gloriously yellow and small
growing in abundance
a wondrous sight for all.
They said if I picked one of you
and held you under my chin,
a golden glow would shine
right upon my skin.
I did it as a child
when I would see them grow.
and also as an adult
alone, so no one would know.
Tiny little buttercups
I wait for you each spring.
How do you make that yellow glow
like no other flower can bring?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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She Is Lovely (French / Dutch Roundel) (In Answer To Dorothy Parker)
She is lovely, but sometimes silent is she,
so fragile she looks with her golden hair
but always she is seen as fair
and about her sheer beauty most men agree.
Still she smiles with modesty
while her looks are beyond pretty and somewhat rare.
She is lovely, but sometimes silent is she,
so fragile she looks with her golden hair
that I a withering flower see
and men at her do continually stare
but of this she is totally unaware
as if she is from this world free,
she is lovely, but sometimes silent is she.
[Reference: “Roundel” by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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In Mind
There's in my mind a woman
of innocence, unadorned but
fair-featured and smelling of
apples or grass. She wears
a utopian smock or shift, her hair
is light brown and smooth, and she
is kind and very clean without
ostentation-
but she has
no imagination
And there's a
turbulent moon-ridden girl
or old woman, or both,
dressed in opals and rags, feathers
and torn taffeta,
who knows strange songs
but she is not kind.
poem by Denise Levertov
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You Who Say You Do Not Love Nature
You who say that you do not love Nature I wonder about you I do
'Tis sad to think you are not a rare one there are many others like you
You claim that Land for Wildlife should be developed for houses and the old growth trees on them cut down
We are in need of far more houses to add to the size of the town
You do not understand about Nature develop or perish you say
The Greenies you say you do not like of progress they stand in the way
If everybody felt as you do we would have a World without trees
And we would not have any birdsong only pollution blowing in the breeze
We need greenies far more than we need your type the Greenies Nature do defend
And the creatures of Nature in trouble at present they need every friend
With climate change and habitat destruction many species are becoming rare
The World could do with far less of your type and far more of the environmentally aware
You who say you do not love Nature material gains at Nature's expense you pursue
You are an unenlightened person and to your higher self you cannot be true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Vashti
I sometimes take you in my dreams to a far-off land I used to know,
Back in the ages long ago; a land of palms and languid streams.
A land, by night, of jeweled skies, by day, of shores that glistened bright,
Within whose arms, outstretched and white, a sapphire sea lay crescent-wise.
Where twilight fell like silver floss, where rose, the golden moon half-hid
Behind a shadowy pyramid; a land beneath the Southern Cross.
And there the days dreamed in their flight, each one a poem chanted through,
Which at its close was merged into the muted music of the night.
And you were a princess in those days. And I — I was your serving lad.
But who ever served with heart so glad, or lived so for a word of praise?
And if that word you chanced to speak, how all my senses swayed and reeled,
Till low beside your feet I kneeled, with happiness o'erwrought and weak.
If, when your golden cup I bore, you deigned to lower your eyes to mine,
Eyes cold, yet fervid, like the wine, I knew not how to wish for more.
I trembled at the thought to dare to gaze upon, to scrutinize
The deep-sea mystery of your eyes, the sun-lit splendor of your hair.
To let my timid glances rest upon you long enough to note
How fair and slender was your throat, how white the promise of your breast.
But though I did not dare to chance a lingering look, an open gaze
Upon your beauty's blinding rays, I ventured many a stolen glance.
I fancy, too, (but could not state what trick of mind the fancy caused)
At times your eyes upon me paused, and marked my figure lithe and straight.
Once when my eyes met yours it seemed that in
your cheek, despite your pride,
A flush arose and swiftly died; or was it something that I dreamed?
Within your radiance like the star of morning, there I stood and served,
Close by, unheeded, unobserved. You were so near, and, yet, so far.
Ah! just to stretch my hand and touch the musky sandals on your feet!—
My breaking heart! of rapture sweet it never could have held so much.
Oh, beauty-haunted memory! Your face so proud, your eyes so calm,
Your body like a slim young palm, and sinuous as a willow tree.
Caught up beneath your slender arms, and girdled 'round your supple waist,
A robe of curious silk that graced, but only scarce concealed your charms.
A golden band about your head, a crimson jewel at your throat
Which, when the sunlight on it smote, turned to a living heart and bled.
But, oh, that mystic bleeding stone, that work of Nature's magic art,
Which mimicked so a wounded heart, could never bleed as did my own!
Now after ages long and sad, in this stern land we meet anew;
No more a princess proud are you, and I — I am no serving lad.
And yet, dividing us, I meet a wider gulf than that which stood
Between a princess of the blood and him who served low at her feet.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Narcissi
Narcissi bowing in the breeze;
their adorable awkwardness
surfaces to mind small children
dressed in flowered habiliments
in their very first recital.
Each flowery face reflecting
their image at waters edge
like looking into a mirror
pining away in love with each bow,
their own beauty: yellow and white
petals with cup-shaped central crowns.
I gaze at these comely flowers
and seemingly they are aware
of my presence and smile at me.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Strange Woman
Skeleton of beauty veiled by flesh
Etch beauty in thy slender body
Thy definite features so distinct
Resurrect beauty once extinct
To fragile to touch
To rare to give value
With my eyes alone
I traverse every bone
Dead beauty alive on thee
A strange woman an anomaly.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Roundel
She's passing fair; but so demure is she,
So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair,
That few there are who note her and agree
She's passing fair.
Yet when was ever beauty held more rare
Than simple heart and maiden modesty?
What fostered charms with virtue could compare?
Alas, no lover ever stops to see;
The best that she is offered is the air.
Yet- if the passing mark is minus D-
She's passing fair.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Oh, How I Love Late Summer Eve
Oh, how I love late summer eve
When rays of light rush pouring from the gore golden West
And the balmy night wind comes tranquil into rest
The silver cloud in the moon sheen has been long on its way to leave
All mal thoughts and fears take a sweet pause and calm retrieve
No more little gnawing cares, but find with easy quest
The night music, the fragrant bush, the silhouette of flowers with Nature's beauty dressed
And there comes delight my innocent craving a miracle soul to deceive
That is the time when my heart is warm in ecstatic lore
Musing about the beauty of the haze under summer night
Oh, adventurous creatures of the night rise to take your dinted shields
And I see the beauty of the glory the wild summer night yields
Pretty Lil' Princess
A pretty little princess danced before my eyes
Soon we shared these loving longing sighs
Skin so fair i feared it would shatter
If my hand were to touch it with just a soft patter
Long silky black hair bright rosy cheeks
I drempt of her each night for weeks and weeks
Skin so fair, such ebony hair
I longed to see her pose so i could sit and stare
Rosy red rosy cheeks
I hear a symphony when she speaks
Golden smile of pearly white teeth
A blossoming bloom just out of reach
My heart to hold my soul to teach
A blossoming bloom is not out of reach
At last I have held her and she did not melt
At last she knows what passion i've felt
So many days her radiant beauty shined
So many days on thoughts of her i've dined
A radiant beauty with ebony hair
I long to pose her and sit and stare
I long to kiss her skin so fair
This radiant beauty with ebony hair
Pretty little princess stands on her tiptoes
kissed my face and kissed my nose
Pretty little princess alights up off the ground
I know for a while i must have you around
poem by Beau Golden
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A Sun So Fair
The rocks stored up sun
For so long, and so long;
In their rocky hearts
Since time’s begun.
Tumbled and polished;
So rare, so rare-
They could tell a tale
From when we weren't there.
I'm saving these rocks
Born before earth,
Pieces of mantle
That gave me birth.
There's sun in my bones,
And sun in my hair-
Rock crystals- and beauty-
From a sun, so fair
poem by Patti Masterman
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Thought Waves
Thought waves flow
and transmute
as they transform
across the cosmic continuum.
The beauty of the thought
transforms everything;
from the beauty
of the crystalline thought;
seasoned souls shine
forth radiantly.
Through the beauty of the thought
flows the beauty of the soul
from the beauty of the thought
from the beauty of the soul.
From flesh that was receptive
to flesh or form that was adored;
as the beauty of love grows
instinctively naturally;
thus love complimented
guides throughout eternity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Feel Grateful
I feel grateful for all of the beauty I've seen
Since I've last seen wildflowers bloom by the bohreen
And though little of Nature's ways I seem to know
Her beauty surrounds me where-ever I go.
The wonders of Nature is a marvellous thing
There's more to the bird than the song that he sing
And there's more to the animal than meets the eye
And learning of Nature is a thing I enjoy.
The songbird who whistles and sings on a tree
Does not waste his energy on singing for me
In his song his territory he does define
He sings out to others of his borderline.
Of Nature's great beauty we all seem aware
Though her secrets with humans she never will share
In the vastness of Nature we are like grains of sand
And her ways we are not born to understand.
I feel grateful for all of the beauty I've seen
The colours of Nature the brown and the green
And though little about her I do seem to know
Her beauty surrounds me where-ever I go.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Like a goddess you appear
Like a goddess you appear
with strings of falling auburn hair,
the sun sparkling in your golden eyes,
a joyful smile upon your lips,
dressed in a pure white robe
folding slender around every limb
and smelling clean and pure.
Let the African sky, sea and sand
encompass us till dusk glows red
burning in the west
and in the bright yellow moon,
by light of Sirius let us find the way
through velvet nights
to secret places of love and rest.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Do Love The Goddess Of Nature
I do love the Goddess of Nature though to her I never do pray
Her beauty it is all around me I learn from her every day
Yet the more that I've learned about her the more I have come to realize
That there is more far more to Nature her secrets she hides from our eyes
Were I a poet to the Goddess of Nature a poem worthy of her I'd write
A poem that a lover of poetry would feel happy for to recite
A poem extolling her great beauty a beauty none with can hope to compare
But we do not resprect her as we ought to and of that we ought to be aware
We pollute her oceans, waterways and air what we do to our Earth Mother to our own selves we do
Of others I should not be judgemental since I disrespect Nature too
Many humans are environmentally unfriendly we cut down mature and beautiful trees
And we foul the air with carbon emissions pollution is blowing in the breeze
We may disrespect the Goddess of Nature but the Goddess of Nature rules on
And she will be ruling the World when to nothingness we are long gone.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Solitude
This is the maiden Solitude, too fair
For mortal eyes to gaze on--she who dwells
In the lone valley where the water wells
Clear from the marble, where the mountain air
Is resinous with pines, and white peaks bare
Their unpolluted bosoms to the stars,
And holy Reverence the passage bars
To meaner souls who seek to enter there;
Only the worshipper at Nature's shrine
May find that maiden waiting to be won,
With broad calm brow and meek eyes of the dove,
May drink the rarer ether all divine,
And, earthly toils and earthly troubles done,
May win the longed-for sweetness of her love.
poem by James Lister Cuthbertson
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You walk, and look like me
You walk, and look like me,
Your eyes directed down.
I also used to lower mine!
Hey you, passer by, stop!
Read-when you've gathered
A bouquet of buttercups and poppies,
That I was called Marina
And how old I was.
Don't think that this is a grave,
That I will appear,scary...
I myself loved too much
To laugh, when I shouldn't have!
And the blood would come to my face
And my hair was curly...
You passer by, I also was!
You passer by, stop!
Break yourself off a wild stem
And after it a berry,-
No wild strawberry is larger or sweeter
Than one from a graveyard.
Only don't stand gloomily,
Dropping your head on your chest,
Think about me easily,
As easily then forget!
How the sun's ray shines upon you!
You're all covered in golden dust...
-Don't let it disturb you,
My voice from underground.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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By nature man is born
That by nature man is born
in a world where destruction is set
where each infant is met
with a build in thorn
of germs of the plague and unadorned
enters it almost as the Creator’s pet
struggles to get
through the passing years, headstrong and stubborn
surviving against the tooth and claw
with a higher purpose in man build in
to comprehend, to be self aware and to love,
to build splendid things from mere straw,
to impact on everything living
reaching with prayers, with hope to God above.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Man
That by nature man is born
in a world where destruction is set
where each infant is met
with a build in thorn
of germs of the plague and unadorned
enters it almost as the Creator’s pet
struggles to get
through the passing years, headstrong and stubborn
surviving against the tooth and claw
with a higher purpose in man build in
to comprehend, to be self aware and to love,
to build splendid things from mere straw,
to impact on everything living
reaching with prayers, with hope to God above.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Moonbeam Princess
She walked across the path
In the moonbeams of love
Her grace her beauty
Was heavens gift of love
Her raven long hair
Her slender stealth legs
Carried her afloat
To dance on the moonbeam
That flickers in the night
Her hair swirled
In the pale moonlight
As a cool midnight breeze
Caressed her lovingly
Her gossamer dress
Caressed each curve
Her beauty divine
Made my heart
Skip a beat
Suddenly I wake
In sweat, in fear
Will I ever see?
My true love again.
poem by Kaila George
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