0243 The Second Coming
This first August week, the geraniums
are flowering their second flush:
they braved last winter, huddled like cabbage stalks
so as to be inconspicuous
to the meddlesome and sterile fingers of frost,
then burst into abundant life, as did the pelargoniums,
with a blatant generosity or hymn of praise as if
to prove some point we'd overlooked
about Creation.
Last week, dead-headed like a battlefield,
they fell back into themselves, exhausted,
as if they wanted a long summer holiday,
to last right through to autumn's fall;
only, this week, to bear a second coming:
yet changed: their petals paler, exquisite,
water-coloured like shells fresh from the waves,
or the most delicate painted porcelain or
Japanese flowers brushed on silk;
as if God had fallen in love with His own Creation,
seeing it good; and then
repainted it with second, subtler coat;
and given to the geraniums
a second chance to remind us of the love
we missed the first time round.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
0050 Morning rain in early autumn
Today the soft rain is
not falling, rather blessing,
as gentle as mercy,
making the air
more airy, if that can be,
nature’s air conditioning let’s crudely say,
and the geraniums blessing, in their turn,
the front door to my heart’s home, are, manifestly,
exhibiting pleasure.
It’s almost a century since the Indian, Professor Bose –
mark the day with unpicked flowers –
was drummed out of the Royal Society, no less,
for demonstrating to his satisfaction
and the delight of non-members
that plants had nerves, felt pain, revulsion…
and it’s pretty obvious that the
subtly-named Venus Fly Trap
has very effective, non-rust, non-gymnasium
vegetable muscles
while Hinduism, I read yesterday,
completes the picture – plants
feel pleasure as well as pain
and show it
so from today, no idle chat over the garden fence
like ‘the geraniums are perking up…’
it’s ‘the flowers are pleased today! '
and stuff the raised eyebrow…
I, who normally treat gardening as
a spectator sport, now in the light of
this clearer knowledge, dead-headed,
yesterday, the geraniums which looked like
the week after the week before,
a serious hangover after a burst of private
garden show, and today I look at them
tenderly – on this day of soft rain.
And, I feel dead-headed too; maybe today
a poem is flowering gently close by
the heart’s open door; and the geraniums
are – if not, anthropomorphically, pleased –
showing pleasure, in the measure
that Creation permits them to; and I
am pleased; for them; for it; to say the least.
I’ll leave that door open
on this day of soft and gentle mercy.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In A Week Or Two
(james house/gary burr)
In a week or two
I would have been ready
I would have known what to say
But I missed my chance
When the words I love you
Came just a little too late
In a week or two
I was gonna bring you diamonds
In a week or two
A long, long string of pearls and
We wouldve run down to the river at night
Sailed away, just me and you
In a week or two
A little more time
Was all I needed
But somehow fall became spring
But put off today
What you can do tomorrow
Sometimes you dont do a thing
In a week or two
I was gonna bring you diamonds
In a week or two
A long, long string of pearls and
We wouldve run down to the river at night
Sailed away, just me and you
In a week or two
These words in my heart never had a chance to be heard
But Im telling you now for all that its worth
In a week or two
I was gonna bring you diamonds
In a week or two
A long, long string of pearls and
We wouldve run down to the river at night
Sailed away, just me and you
In a week or two
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Week In Week Out
IIs there something more?
Surely there must be
You can't lose everything
So you're quite happy
To live with nothing more
Than a life-long shopping list
You tick off on credit
Well you'll pay for it
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Where are you going to turn?
When all ambition fails?
Why try any more
If human nature's stale?
Invite the hand of God
To touch the lucky few
There's no such thing as God
Nor easy money too?
Week in and week out
These lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0036 Hanging Garden
The pink geraniums
hanging in their plastic terracotta bowl
twist gently to and fro in the slight breeze
as if they’re quietly impatient
for my attention.
It’s their third year up there –
I never expected them to last
more than a year, but
half exposed, half sheltering
under what’s less a porch
than an architectural feature,
they’ve decided to make a go of it
this week in late July moving into August,
they’re into their later style of flowering –
not the profundity of early summer
when they decide exactly when to burst
upon the world petal to petal in a huge bouquet
but delicately, translucent,
both flower and small leaves, letting the sky pass through
as if they know all about colour slides
and simply, do it better.
after their first burst of flower,
they retired into themselves
as if they were exhausted – although
I never asked that of them; while
my respect for them grows year by year
sometimes I think I ought to feed them
like proper gardeners do,
since they don’t have much soil up there
and that’s fed them for three years now
but then I think, no, that’s
asking more of them than they, abundantly, do
so I’ll settle for what they want to offer me
we seem to know each other’s there,
but sometimes they call unexpectedly
like today, when I’m not busy with something else,
and when I give them full attention
as if I’m asking them deep questions
which I’ve never formulated for myself
yet which they’re prepared to answer,
they pour out information about
what I’d call God’s glorious Creation
(what they call it, if they need to call it
anything, gives the mind pause)
in a list which, as they speak it, quality by quality,
gift after gift, invention after invention,
seems no is, as endless as humility
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Into The Last Month Of Winter
Into the last month of Winter and the wattles cloaked in yellow flowers in bloom
And pink flowers on the camellias and yellow flowers on the broom
And all through the night the white backed magpies sing
On the third week of August coming up to the Spring
On the third week of August in the Southern Hemisphere
One does have a sense that Spring is quite near
The paddocks and parklands are looking quite green
And fragile pink flowers on the fruit trees are seen
Into the third week of August and birds sing in the rain
And all through the night frogs sing in pond and drain
And in the calm of the night in the parkland nearby
The breeding spur wing plovers in their territory cry
And all through the night on the moonlit gum trees
The songs of the magpies carry in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modern Love LXX
Modern Love LXX
First chill of autumn
summer has
fallen out of love
cold wind descends
where yesterday
geraniums smiled
autumn breeze
flowers tremble
like aching hearts
winter is launched
a piece of memory -
green tea cermony!
Chilled autumn rain
marigolds dance
upon the meadow
Two cats dart
upon the last grass
of departing summer
cool fall evening
filling black sky
vast empty eternity
frogs laughter
points the way
to lonely saltmarsh
again that ancient
taste of freshly
broken heart
first autumn chill
under burning leaves
the necks of swans
morning prayers
mists lift free
from ocean waves
sun filled glass
fresh peaches taste
gong of morning
red hibiscus opens
in response
to warm stare
two seagull lovers
dip and soar
namaste to summer
morning dove sails
pointing at sky
liquid blue coos
full suspended sun
reflected on water
creating some ocean
buddha moon
toothless grin smile
window hinges
chamomile blossoms
entire garden
bottom dregs of cup
zazen morning twilight
crack in split mind
in exactly the right place
summer's footprint
in deep winter snow
leads to spring
as-ton-ish-ed
to find no one
there, here!
sad snowman
calmly awaiting
springs agony
First autumn chill
summer has
fallen out of love
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holiday Romance
On the subway train he sees adverts
For holidays in jamaica, a weekend in
Rome, a cruise round the
Mediterranean, and dreams of a quiet
Week in a little seaside resort away
From his wife, the ducks on the wall,
The soap operas, the office and his
Friends - and who knows, he might
Encounter a holiday romance.
Holiday romance
I had a break for a week
So I booked my seat
And confirmed a reservation
At a quiet little seaside hotel.
I packed my bags
And I caught my train and
Reached my destination
Just in time for the dinner gong--ding dong.
Then I saw lavinia
Standing at the bottom of the stairs.
And I fell for lavinia
The moment that I saw her standing there.
Lavinia looked so divine
As she walked up to the table to dine
And then lavinias eyes met mine.
I thought can this be love,
Can this be lovey-dove
Or just a holiday romance?
Can this be long lost love at last
Or is it just a flash in the pan?
Then after cheese and liqueurs they struck up the band,
I plucked up my courage and I asked lavinia to dance
That was the start of my holiday romance.
Just a holiday romance.
We did the foxtrot, samba and danced through the night
The last waltz came and we held each other so tight.
That was the start of my holiday romance.
Just a holiday romance
A simple holiday romance.
I wonder should I take a chance?
We walked on the beach,
And we paddled our feet,
And we watched all the swimmers,
And my holiday treat felt complete.
We drank lemonade,
And we sat in the shade,
I thought I must be on a winner
And I acted cool and discreet.
For I knew that lavinia
Was the shyest lady that Id ever met,
And I knew that lavinia
Would only be my lady for the week.
It was just a holiday romance
A simple holiday romance.
I wonder should I take this chance?
Just a holiday romance.
Can this be love,
Can this be lovey-dove
Or just a holiday romance?
I tried to kiss her, she walked away,
She said better stop, my husbands
Coming to collect me today.
That was the end of my holiday,
Sweet and innocent holiday,
End of my holiday romance.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Week
Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run,
But he should have gone there last week.
He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun,
But of turkey of duck saw never a one,
For he should have been there last week,
They said,
There were flocks of 'em there last week.
He wended his way to a waterfall,
And he should have gone there last week.
He carried a camera, legs and all,
But the day was hot and the stream was small,
For he should have gone there last week,
They said,
They drowned a man there last week.
He went for a drive, and he made a start,
Which should have been made last week,
For the old horse died of a broken heart;
So he footed it home and he dragged the cart --
But the horse was all right last week,
They said,
He trotted a match last week.
So he asked all the bushies who came from afar
To visit the town last week
If the'd dine with him, and they said "Hurrah!"
But there wasn't a drop in the whisky jar --
You should have been here last week,
He said,
I drank it all up last week!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Dormouse and the Doctor
There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest....
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"
The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.
The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."
The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"
The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"
The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"
The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"
The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"
The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Week From Today
A week from today it will be the sixth anniversary of the day the towers crumbled.
A week from today the vivid pictures will flash across the television screen remind us of that day.
A week from today mothers, fathers, sons, daughter, friends and even strangers will gather at ground zero and weep as they remember the death the saw that day.
A week from today the President will get on television as we are grieving and remind us this is the reason we’re in Iraq.
And a week from today just like today I will look at my television and yell to the president that is bullshit. You SOB you used our anger and hunger for vengeance of that day to make us believe war is the only way to fight terrorist.
My heart goes out to all those who died from this war and those who died on what will be six years ago A week from today.
First Week/last Week... Carefree
Can we run that again
Is that a womans voice I hear?
I said, lets wait and see. Ill see for myself
Thats a phrase I repeat
To myself
Made a reference to me and
Thats myself too
What progress I have made the first week
First week
First week
First week
Every sentence I use
Refer to women and their names
I heard the voice first last week
I heard it myself
Made a reference to me
Thats myself
This reports incomplete
I see for myself
Every appointment has been moved to last week
Last week
Last week
Last week
Oh...
Ah...
Oh...
I heard the voice first last week
I heard it myself
Made a reference to me
And thats myself
This reports incomplete
I see for myself
Every appointment has been been moved to last week
Last week
Last week
Last week
Oh...
Ah...
Oh...
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby's Age
She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
A week of hyacinths, we say,
And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;
And then because two wishes met
Upon the rose and violet --
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun --
The violet and the rose count one.
A week the apple marked with white;
A week the lily scored in light;
Red poppies closed May's happy moon,
And tulips this blue week in June.
Here end as yet the flowery links;
To-day begins the week of pinks;
But soon -- so grave, and deep, and wise
The meaning grows in Baby's eyes,
So VERY deep for Baby's age --
We think to date a week with sage!
poem by Henry Timrod
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Fingers Of Love
Can you imagine this
An itch to sensitive to scratch
The light that falls through the cracks
An insect to delicate to catch
I hear the endless murmur
Every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze
And the sound that comes to carry me
Across the land and over the sea
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I can't look back
Fingers of love move down
Colour is its own reward
Colour is its own reward
The chiming of a perfect chord
Let's go jumping overboard
Into waves of joy and clarity
Your hands come out to rescue me
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
Fall by the way
From the cradle to the grave
From a palace to the gutter
From beneath the dying waves
To the sun like fingers of love
Through waves of joy and clarity
A fallen angel walked on the sea
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
For you to find me
And all I want
Fingers of love move down
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Of Love
Ooh! hey, hey, now!
Alright,
You went away, had your chance to say
"i love you and i need you baby"
Yeah, but even if
Honey, i told you daddy now
You wouldn't believe me anyway, no, no, no.
Maybe you will now,
I've changed a lot somehow,
Let me prove what i say.
Come back and believe my love,
Please! now, come back, babe, and believe my love,
Won't you come back, and believe the magic of love.
Oh, i want the light without the darkness
I want the sky without the sun, yeah!
When do the stars and the moon reach out ?
When they see me alone without my loved one, yeah!
Oh, now baby, don't you hear me,
Won't-t-t-t-t-t-t you hear me i gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta tell you,
Oh baby, baby, baby, baby, baby,
Honey, i just gotta tell you now,
Honey, i wanna tell you that i want you to dig it!
Now if you believe in magic,
Don't be afraid, afraid to use it, baby,
No, no, no, no, no, no, come on home
Dressed in the mystic silk
Or wearing rich rags and waste
Darling, please!
Come on back to me
I know we can be
Part of a magic race.
Come back, and believe my love
Come back, please believe my love
Come back and believe the magic of love.
Hey! now come back, babe, and believe my love
Come back, please believe my love
Come back and believe the magic of love.
Big brother! thank you!
Big brother & the holding company! they'll be back, not tonight, but they'll be back again. so ... don't forget tomorrow the blood sweat and tears will be here, and then next week both frida
Saturday the who from england will be here with the electric prunes on friday, and sunday the electric prunes will be back again. the grateful dead are coming too with the animals. so now it's
Ng time. so everybody close and go home please.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MySelf
From the places I had been and rain that I felt
from the loneliness that conquer my soul leads to darkness,
yeah I did have friends,
I did have someone to share some
of my loneliness but why is it said
to be that my friends does wear mask
and the loneliness I own does not decrease
but increase
I did believe on them,
but as long as they haven't prove anything
as long as they haven't show me something
that belief starts to fade....
from the narrow path that
I had passed through from the fire on my soul
on the fear in my heart and a poison
on my brain that keeps telling me that I'm nobody.
No one understand me, they told me I'm weird but i just own some other beliefs that its really opposing or i mean my belief does have its own path and so as me... In this class i entered and so as previous ask them and me and the answers definitely the same
from the week I started I show nothing
the second week I show something
in the third week I show a lot of thing
in the fourth week i show nothing
again but as the second week passes
i will try and i will do show everything i got!
But the second week never came.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Week-ends
I don't know what's come to the summer
In these dull and decadent years;
But a fellow grows glummer and glummer
As promise of autumn appears;
For there's not been a sign of a week-end of shine,
Or the sun on the sea all aglimmer.
And, as the weeks pass, wet and windy, alas,
Thin hope grows yet slimmer and slimmer.
Oh, the sad days, the mad days,
Of rain and wind and mud!
The week speeds by with the sun on high
To come a sickening thud.
When the slippery slosh of the gum golosh
On the soaked and sodden ground
Thro' the country lane sounds once again
When the week-end comes around.
When I go to the bush for a week-end
From a city aglow in the sun,
My holiday comes to a bleak end
Ere half a day's length has been run.
And I gaze thro' the pane at the splattering rain,
Forlorn thro' a profitless Sunday,
And come back to town with the sun pouring down
To smile on my labours on Monday.
Oh, the weekends, when pique ends
In grim and gaunt despair!
Hope wakes anew as all week thro'
The glass is pointing fair,
And fine and warm: but a lurking storm
Behind the high hills grows
To spread dismay each Saturday
And another week-end goes.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazy Day
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be beef today cause lamb was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon youll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you sunday moms.
Its such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Todays heaven-sent and youre feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, its quite sad tomorrows so bad
And I dont feel so strong.
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now its almost over till week.
Thats how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lean On Me (Tonight)
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be lamb today 'cause beef was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon you'll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you Sunday moms.
It's such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Today's heaven-sent and you're feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, it's quite sad tomorrow's so bad
And I don't feel too strong.
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
LIke to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now it's almost over till next week.
That's how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Spring
Early Spring flowers,
Poke their tiny colored heads up from the ground,
But winter has not yet decided to leave,
For another week or two,
Old man winter will stick around.
Covering up flower's tender petals,
With its white fluffy form or morning dew,
Putting once more all fast asleep,
Those flowers that tried to spring out through.
Time enough for all of that,
Spring is around the corner to come,
When it will burst forth many fields of greens,
And flowers that bask in the daylight of Springtimes sun.
By: Linda Winchell
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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