Leaves Stretch Their Palms
To receive drops of the Sun,
Leaves stretch their palm.
They whisper if water is stored,
The Chlorophyll remains calm.
The branches swing in merriment,
Trees laugh in glee.
Saps flow to get the parts,
The day is very breezy.
Then a thin-beaked swallow,
Comes to feed nestlings.
They chirp to see their mother,
With tender, soft feelings.
The hills watch in great silence,
The brook swiftly passes,
A host of Lilies rock and bloom,
Birds flock in marshes.
I want to stay in touch with them,
I don't want to depart.
They wipe the cares of city life,
They fill delight in heart.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Blossoms
Flowers lovely, marvellous gift from God,
They deck the Earth, they give delight,
They drape the dales and adorn the hills,
They feast the eyes and fill the hearts.
My life blooms when plants are abloom,
Each morn, I gaze at flowers in myriad hues,
That adorn the garden my mother keeps,
Her prized possession next to her kids.
Through the arch window, Roses are in sight,
Chrysanthemums and Daisies, they grow in rows,
The white Lilies and the purple Tulips,
They seem to delight in their contrast shades.
In summer I watch the butterflies flitting around,
Also the honey bees that come to steal the pollen from the blooms,
Small birds that dart into twining boughs,
Build nests in the secret hide of bushy trees.
In rain, I watch the flutter of silvery leaves,
Washed anew and sparkling in radiant glow,
After rain, I count the droplets trapped within,
That struggle to escape from the chamber of hollow blooms.
In breeze, I see the flowers dancing in cheer,
And swing their heads in synchronizing motion,
These sights fill me with indescribable joy,
And set my heart racing in glee.
But when a withering flower comes in view,
It aches my heart and makes me grieve,
Then a question crops within my mind,
Why should a flower wilt and wither so fast.
Before I let the question fly from me
A consoling thought fleets across my brain
Transient it be, it delights all,
Spreads its fragrance all around,
Serves nectar to humming birds and bees,
And decks the Earth in brilliant charm.
What more-needed to fulfill a life,
Than be a source of delight to many!
poem by Valsa George
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Whispers of trees
Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves
Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves
Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells
It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves
Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell
Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell
Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well
Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell
Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell
poem by David Whalen
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In Tempreate Forest
In Temperate Forest,
Neither cold nor warm.
You can take serene rest,
Expanding your arm.
Humming with lively life,
Birds call from the trees.
In their delight and strife;
Insects rustle like breeze.
The thick leaves of forest,
Cut sunlight in drops.
Seeing the peaceful nest,
Heart happily throbs.
Honey-suckle, blue-bell,
Bloom and laugh in gay.
Hazel, dog-wood, sorrel,
Enjoying the day!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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October Rust
I tremble in agony as I walk on Autumn’s leaves.
I touch the sound of it crumbling on the ground.
October, being its very own, passes by me without being known.
As I stand near the edge, I’m thinking of rolling down these hills.
I listen to the leaves break off branches and watch the dawn rain of seeds.
Orange, brown, red, and gold filling in the silence.
Trees rusting leaves off of its broken down walls.
The wind whispers to me of October’s Rust.
So it must be November, because this poem does not cover all the elements of October.
I’m running out of time as I put this pen on this paper.
And the very graveyard I’m walking on sings me a melody of a great song.
A song so great, it teaches me words of wisdom, for heaven’s sake.
67 crows fly right by me, as I pay attention to them by listening with my eyes and seeing with my ears.
I miss October’s Rust.
But November brings me a time of love without rusting itself onto oranges, browns, reds, and golds.
poem by Pam Eszpnal
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Silence Vavroovahana Patra
Silence provides peace;
Poet desires Divine Bliss.
In deep silence prays mother;
Surrenders in the lap of Nature.
Mother attracts, adorned with flowers;
In the lap of Nature provides pleasure.
Blesses poet affectionatinely;
Derives peace divinely.
Profound silence takes mind to Divinity;
At night through silence mind enchants with gaiety.
Poet beholds mother reverentially;
Mind remains in the world of peace delightfully.
Mother Vinapanee blesses poet with affection;
He enjoys the beauty of creation.
Her blessings tranquilises mind daily;
Singing her songs mind derives peace gaily.
The shrine in the dense forest allures the poet;
Mind enchants with delight.
The serene shrine is a Brook of Delight;
Poet drinks the nectar from the Brook of Gaiety.
Silence of the shrine provides profound peace;
Poet surrender on the rosy cosy feet for Divine Bliss.
Hymns breaks the silence of environment;
Poet chants hymns with merriment.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Paradise: In A Dream
Once in a dream I saw the flowers
That bud and bloom in Paradise;
More fair they are than waking eyes
Have seen in all this world of ours.
And faint the perfume-bearing rose,
And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet
Compared with them.
I heard the songs of Paradise:
Each bird sat singing in his place;
A tender song so full of grace
It soared like incense to the skies.
Each bird sat singing to his mate
Soft cooing notes among the trees:
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.
I saw the fourfold River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low.
It hath refreshment for all thirst,
For fainting spirits strength and rest:
Earth holds not such a draught as this
From east to west.
The Tree of Life stood budding there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap sustains its roots,
Its shadowing branches fill the air.
Its leaves are healing for the world,
Its fruit the hungry world can feed,
Sweeter than honey to the taste
And balm indeed.
I saw the gate called Beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look, within;
I saw the golden streets begin,
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
Oh green palm-branches many-leaved—
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor heart conceived.
I hope to see these things again,
But not as once in dreams by night;
To see them with my very sight,
And touch, and handle, and attain:
To have all Heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
To have my part with all the saints,
And with my God.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Our Own Dance....
in the darkness of our
nights
we shall dance
my love
just the two of us
and our shadows
that the moon so full
shall fill with delight
our music is our silence
oh, many shall join us
in this merriment
the sands of the shores
the leaves of the coconut trees
the winds of the horizon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood
In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.
In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.
In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Gone
To touch the glove upon her tender hand,
To watch the jewel sparkle in her ring,
Lifted my heart into a sudden song
As when the wild birds sing.
To touch her shadow on the sunny grass,
To break her pathway through the darkened wood,
Filled all my life with trembling and tears
And silence where I stood.
I watch the shadows gather round my heart,
I live to know that she is gone –
Gone gone for ever, like the tender dove
That left the Ark alone.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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Kookaburra Bird Of Prey
Hear the kookaburra calling at the dawning of the day
Laughing loudly on the gum trees in October morning gray
Little song birds screaming loudly kookaburra they all say
We don't want you on our gum trees from our valley clear away.
Scolding blackbird acting bravely kookaburra let us be
Last year you or else your kin bird killed and ate my family
But this year I'll protect my nestlings I'll protect them with my life
Don't you dare go near my children or their mother my dear wife.
But Kookaburra he laugh louder I am not afraid of you
I could kill you here this minute if I really wanted to
Getting tired of snakes and lizards need a tasty bite of meat
And a little pink skinned nestling would be very nice to eat.
Kookaburra laughing loudly monarch of all he survey
At daybreak in late October out in search of easy prey
Looking for nests on the gum trees out to fill his empty craw
With the flesh of little nestlings which he will eat warm and raw.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wings In The Night
Now in the soft spring midnight
There's rush of wings and whirr,
Birds flying softly, swiftly;
The night's a-flutter, a-stir.
Home by the bitter seas,
They have sped home together.
So glad to be coming home
To the grey hills, the grey weather.
Calling and calling softly
One lights by the window-pane:
The rook, weary with building,
Turns to his sleep again.
Ere ever the moor-hens wake
And the wild duck come in,
The birds are about the house
With a long call and thin.
They have wakened the wood-pigeon
To make her plaintive moan,
The wood-pigeon lamenting
For sorrows not her own.
Oh, they are never birds,
But souls of men on the wind,
Seeking the mother's breast,
The heart that is soft and kind.
Souls of the Irish dead,
Flown from the fields of slaughter,
Home to the mother's arms
Over the wild grey water.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Grateful Water
Live if you can when the water runs dry.
Once in a decade perhaps, or never in a life
Save your tear so that you won’t have to cry.
Let the water flow and wash away the strife.
Dry yourself with water if any miracle you need.
Let the water run upwards for a change to fancy.
Feed the water well to run through the creed.
Run Water! ! Run! ! Flow in a stream of constancy.
Drop of tears, dew drops, even a single dropp of water.
In course of time can change a thing always for real.
Pool, pond, brook, lake will never stop to utter
The utterance of gratitude, in the way they feel
Sometimes to the greatest source of the sea
Even sometimes to the man’s ungrateful plea.
Written in the afternoon of the 12th February,2010
poem by Munia Khan
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Water-Lillies
Unwedded from the world, I stray through trees
To where a pool lies mirrored in the sun
A disk of polished gold that I have won
With labours not unknown to Hercules.
Slender they bathe, all naked as a breeze,
Their nipples hollow and their hair undone,
While from their widespread thighs cool ripples run
To rock the water-lilies round their knees.
Nymphs of the fountains, naiads innocent,
Frail sunbeams who have passed between my arms
So beautiful in your imprisonment,
Fill now my soul with symbols of delight:
Soft voices and soft fingers and soft charms
And the perfume of the lotus in the night.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Them Cool Green Leaves
Them cool green leaves
That comes around
When spring breezy breeze
Is again here found
And night becomes like day
With its reddish sky
When song birds sing and play
In the twilight high
Them cool green days
When a heart beat's found
With playing soft haze
To the earth all bound
And the dark night's stray
Has said its goodbye
When love is okay
And blue is our time's sky
Refrain
Just listen to the songs
That flow so smoothly on
The many sing-alongs
Those never from life are gone
Every tune that fills the air
With beautiful tender plays
And we together share
In many different ways
Them Cool Green Leaves
That comes around
When spring breezy breeze
Is again here found
And night becomes like day
With its reddish sky
When song birds sing and play
In the twilight high
Refrain
* Peter S. Quinn - Them Cool Green Leaves Free Mp3 Download
http: //peter-s-quinn-them-cool-green-leaves-mp3-downlo ad.kohit.net/_/319663
(There are over 50 different texts written on this poem, this one made now, as I was listening…[will be revised later on, perhaps] I hope you enjoy it; -)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Blind Is One, Who Said Love Is Blind!
Love is such great,
They say love is blind,
One who believe this,
is a blind for sure
As Love sees something,
Which mortal eyes fail to see!
Love can see great things,
Where even wise fail to find,
Love is eternal and is infinite,
And it is boon from infinite,
Love knows to give smile,
and not to take, great is that love which sacrifice,
Even Love for love's sake!
Love says,
' go my love, here you suffer,
Can't see your face dried by gloom,
Go somewhere,
where you can bloom,
or else I go somewhere to save our love '!
Love is that great, always grateful to love,
Great to be loved,
Even The Almighty,
bow before that love,
Which can flow as pure as mountain ice melt!
Great poet sang,
'With the Beloved's water of life,
no illness remains
In the Beloved's rose garden of
union, no thorn remains.
They say there is a window
from one heart to another
How can there be a window
where no wall remains? '
And inspired heart sings,
No water required,
As nothing can dry,
The roses of love,
And love is the bed of rose,
To that pair two bodies,
one in love, one wipes the pain of another!
Souls union makes everything possible,
it may look like
perfume bed of roses,
even if full of thorns
Rose is that heart,
Which even swallows pains,
When two souls become one,
All walls fall, all pains fail,
Fair their heart feel,
When two pair of hands wipe tears of one another!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Whatever The Tides
Give The Lord time and space, to fill a heart with His Grace,
To calm a heart filled with fear, knowing God is always near,
Knowing no matter what the tide, in your heart He will abide,
Knowing truly within your heart, that The Lord will not depart.
At Christmas time we often sing, about tidings He will bring,
Good tidings of joy to all men, especially those Born Again,
For that is why Christ came, so all could embrace His Name,
To accept His great Salvation, that He offers to every nation.
The tides of this life, we know, here upon earth ebb and flow,
As those tides change for me, changeless is God of Eternity,
The Lord God and Creator, Who came down to be my Savior,
My Lord is my provider too, and all tides He sees me through.
Whether tides are rough or calm, I am securely in God’s Palm,
Nothing takes me from His Hand, as my Lord helps me stand,
Amidst the shifting sands of life, I’ll stand firm in Jesus Christ,
While on The Rock of Eternity, The Lord God provides for me.
Friend, at any time any place, The Lord will provide His Grace,
With tidings of joy and peace, within a heart, that won’t cease,
Throughout this life I’m assured, in all times by Christ my Lord,
Whether in need or prosperity, my Lord is The God of Eternity.
(Copyright ©12/2011)
New Season
Up from the hills and down through the valley,
A stream whispers unendingly a fading melody,
As it continues on its aimless journey.
The blazing heat scorching innocent vegetation,
Green leaves gently fading to brown.
The grass shriveled up;
Wilted, forgotten and began to die.
Up high in the treetops birds yet sing their songs,
In ritual of prayers to their gods.
Their songs heard even beyond the blue skies.
Suddenly everything changes,
From elsewhere came the darkening clouds;
Stopping over.................,
The shadow obscuring the sun.
Then the rumble of the rolling thunder
overpowers the birds gentle songs,
The mighty thunder scares the birds.
Trees fall silent as the clouds darkens thick;
It sends down a single drop;
Then another and yet another one.
They patter on the leaves then onto the ground.
In no time the mighty delude overpowers the streams
as it floods to the banks swallowing dirty from the bush.
It cleans the forest as it prepares for the new season
to rein.
As the downpour ceases;
Like birds even trees shake drops of rain to the ground.
The birds tease the summer as it runs away from the
coming season, They bid farewell to it.
The branches swing as they rejoice
to welcome king Autumn.
Vegetation sinking beneath the earth,
Holding firm; it begins to grow in full bloom.
With flowers all over
Giving thanks to the mighty AUTUMN.
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Riding On The Thin Thread Of Silence
you are a blithe spirit
a very light bird with a bleeding heart
to save yourself from lack of sleep
you begin to ride on that thin thread of silence
there is this fragility that keeps itself whole
like an eggshell
keeping a substance that waits for the right season to grow
i keep you on the comfort of my palms
and watch you closely
like a sprouting seed on the soft decay of leaves
you are asleep now
you heart stops to bleed
and then i begin to dream about us tomorrow
i stretch the thread of silence trying to fathom
how long
how strong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tree Is My Animal
Tree is My Animal 7/09
Tree is my animal
And I burst forth from the soil
Past root, worm and grub
Unfurled now my leaves seek mother sun
Nourished and illuminated
I stand neath Methuselahs
Father old and true
Aged moss (ancient moss)
Comforts and warms me
Vines find shelter and comfort along my bones
Mother sun still sings
And centuries have past
But as a new nest appears in my arms
Oh I know I have much to go
And I am now Methuselah
And stand next to my father old and true
And watch as my young sapling grows neath me
My love is alone
I am alone
I stretch to touch her leaves and tickle her branches
My poems I send on the wings of birds, butterflies and bees
I feel the scent of her in the perfumed pollen born on wisps of wind
Wherever you are my Love
I will find you
Though seeds may scatter
And leaves grow few
Though centuries may pass
Here I stand
Now
Tendrils touch
At long last
A Moorish lattice of leaf and bark
Filigree
A canopy of lovers to shade
Lovers from the unwanted gaze of mother sun
Our songs sung by birds at play in our tender union
Our union complete
Til centuries wither our bones
Then to earth
A loamy death to share
This union and
Alone no more
poem by Guillermo Veloso
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