Lying Under A Leafless Tree....
Lying under a leafless tree,
I hear the song of sorrow.
And wait for a better and
Happier good morrow!
I get the smell of the burning heart,
I feel getting away far, and far…
Where there is no, painful tune,
Will be chasing me ever!
You know, how blessed am I with,
My joyful home and hearth!
Still, I lack the world for all,
And a peaceful good earth….
The fallen leaves has made a wall,
Upon me, I can not count,
How many they are in number
I lie there on leaves' mount.
Who plays his finger upon my violin?
I do not even know….
The grief is shedding,
Tear on me, I'm weeping so!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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I Am Weeping So!
Lying under the violin tree,
I hear the song of sorrow.
And wait for a better and
Happier good morrow!
I get the smell of the burning heart,
I feel getting away far, and far…
Where there is no, painful tune,
Will be chasing me ever!
You know, how blessed am I with,
My joyful home and hearth!
Still, I lack the world for all,
And a peaceful good earth….
The leaves of the tree fall,
Upon me, I can not count,
How many they could be in all!
I'm lying there on leaves' mount.
Who plays his finger on my
Sad full heart, I don't even know!
The grief is shedding,
Tear on me, I'm weeping so!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Autumn
(10/13/11)
The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.
then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.
The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.
But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.
The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.
(memories are made of this- like the song)
poem by Louis Rams
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The Dead Tree At The Center Of Our Garden
a tree at the center of
our garden
is shedding off all its
leaves
the wind at night
blows away all the leaves
away
in the morning
sunlight passes through it
leafless throughout the day
we have become
illuminated
our sad faces are now telling
stories
sooner the tree dies
replaced by a new one
to keep the balance
we do not stop moving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When He Leaves You
I come here as a friend
Though I don't really know you
I know you're in love with him
And he's made your world brand new
I know you think he loves you
And he may believe it too
Pour some coffee and I'll tell you
What you'll soon be going through
When he leaves you
It's gonna more than break your heart
When he leaves you
It's gonna tear your world apart
And you're conna cry a million teardrops
One for every shattered dream
When he leaves you
And comes back home to me
I've known him all thses years
Honey this time's not the first time
I've paid for loving him with tears
And when it's over he'll be mine
I can see I've upset you
Guess I'm a fool to try and help
When it comes hearts and heartache
You got to find out for yourself
When he leaves you
It's gonna more than break your heart
When he leaves you
It's gonna tear your world apart
And you're conna cry a million teardrops
One for every shattered dream
When he leaves you
And comes back home to me
When he leaves you
And comes back home to me
song performed by by Shania Twain from Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Leaves
Beautiful leaves falling down,
Help me regain the sorrow in my eyes,
Beautiful leaves shimmering on a bright night,
Reassure me that I will laugh again,
Beautiful leaves changing colors,
Give the world a meaning of life
Beautiful leaves crumbling on the ground,
Let the birds chirp they're song once again.
Beautiful leaves tumble down,
Understand how I feel,
Beautiful leaves growing around,
Feel my sorrow and sadness
poem by Lucy Gocher
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On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Old Peach Tree
Under the old peach tree
Hearing the buzz of bees
Looking up at pink blossoms so sweet
Watching pink petals fall at my feet
Under the old peach tree almost fallen down
I can hear every sound as the sun goes down
I hear somewhere the song of a mocking bird
The sweetest song I ever heard
As I lean against the old peach tree
I think of things that used to be
This old tree brings me back to my childhood
And the many peaches I ate that were so good
Old peach tree I wish you could talk
Whisper to me some of your thoughts
But instead you fill my heart with your beauty
As I smell the perfume of your blossoms so fruity
I wonder how much longer you'll be here.
How much longer my heart you'll cheer
I hope to lean against you many a spring
And feel the peace that you bring.
poem by Grace Riffle
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The Fountain of Tears
If you go over desert and mountain,
Far into the country of Sorrow,
To-day and to-night and to-morrow,
And maybe for months and for years;
You shall come with a heart that is bursting
For trouble and toiling and thirsting,
You shall certainly come to the fountain
At length,—to the Fountain of Tears.
Very peaceful the place is, and solely
For piteous lamenting and sighing,
And those who come living or dying
Alike from their hopes and their fears;
Full of cypress-like shadows the place is,
And statues that cover their faces:
But out of the gloom springs the holy
And beautiful Fountain of Tears.
And it flows and it flows with a motion
So gentle and lovely and listless,
And murmurs a tune so resistless
To him who hath suffer'd and hears—
You shall surely—without a word spoken,
Kneel down there and know your heart broken,
And yield to the long-curb'd emotion
That day by the Fountain of Tears.
For it grows and it grows, as though leaping
Up higher the more one is thinking;
And ever its tunes go on sinking
More poignantly into the ears:
Yea, so blessèd and good seems that fountain,
Reach'd after dry desert and mountain,
You shall fall down at length in your weeping
And bathe your sad face in the tears.
Then alas! while you lie there a season
And sob between living and dying,
And give up the land you were trying
To find 'mid your hopes and your fears;
—O the world shall come up and pass o'er you,
Strong men shall not stay to care for you,
Nor wonder indeed for what reason
Your way should seem harder than theirs.
But perhaps, while you lie, never lifting
Your cheek from the wet leaves it presses,
Nor caring to raise your wet tresses
And look how the cold world appears—
O perhaps the mere silences round you—
All things in that place Grief hath found you—
Yea, e'en to the clouds o'er you drifting,
May soothe you somewhat through your tears.
You may feel, when a falling leaf brushes
Your face, as though some one had kiss'd you,
Or think at least some one who miss'd you
Had sent you a thought,—if that cheers;
Or a bird's little song, faint and broken,
May pass for a tender word spoken:
—Enough, while around you there rushes
That life-drowning torrent of tears.
And the tears shall flow faster and faster,
Brim over and baffle resistance,
And roll down blear'd roads to each distance
Of past desolation and years;
Till they cover the place of each sorrow,
And leave you no past and no morrow:
For what man is able to master
And stem the great Fountain of Tears?
But the floods and the tears meet and gather;
The sound of them all grows like thunder:
—O into what bosom, I wonder,
Is pour'd the whole sorrow of years?
For Eternity only seems keeping
Account of the great human weeping:
May God, then, the Maker and Father—
May He find a place for the tears!
poem by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
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The Sailor's Garden
There's a soft wind singing in the idle rigging,
High tide splashing, and a young pale moon,
Lights in a window and a fiddle jigging
Over and over there the same short tune.
Oh, was it the tide along the ship's side sighing,
Or was it the sighing wind that breaths and blows,
Came like a voice across the deep crying,
Set my heart a-thinking how my garden grows?
Five years ago it was I planted roses,
Five years ago (the bush is grown a tree):
Five years ago, and once I've seen my posies,
Five years ago - and once they bloomed for me!
I was home in Spring, bloom was in May then,
Birds all were building and buds were on the tree!
When the birds were flown, oh, I was far away then;
When the rose was open I was far at sea.
I was home in autumn; winds of cold November
Shaking the leaf that shivered on the tree;
Brown leaves that sighed of sorrow to remember
Flowers that had fallen and I far at sea.
Oh, many are the roads that lead you here and yonder,
Oh, many are the ways about the world that go;
But the longest way of all's the sailor's way to wander
To the good North Country and an Isle I know.
Oh, many are the winds about the seas a-singing,
Oh, many are the songs they sing both night and noon:
But whether it be good or ill that they come bringing
The best of all's the wind that blows us home in June.
Home, home in June - and soon to be a-going;
Home, home in June - we may not long remain;
Home, home in June, just to see the garden growing,
And then fare you well till you greet us home again.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Untitled
Sure/go to cali/have fun/bring me back/a silver gun/
let me shoot/a hole in the sky/give the moon/another
eye/so I can see/deep inside/in the place/where all
time hides/where people go/after their gone/and love
without love/still marches on/to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when your gone/
to the tune of a different song
you left your heart/in san francisco/getting down at the
disco/when she walked up/too your hand/danced you
down/danced you down/when you land/land on me/you see me/
I'm off the wall/against the wall/I can't call/you can't hear/above the
noise/above the sound/she dances you up/she dances you down/
I grab my coat/and then I'm gone/ to the tune of a different song/
to the tune of a different song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune
of a different song
the holiday covered in snow/now you're back/where'd you go? /
you got a number/she give you her's/was it hot/ what've you got/
did she take your breath away/what have you got to say/did she take your
breath away/on the beach/in the sun/on the sand/on the run/ in the heat/
in the cold/what have you got left to hold/she took your hand/but now she's gone/
and here I stand/life goes on/to the tune of a different song/to the tune of a different
song/miss me when I'm gone/to the tune of a different song
When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Melancholy Song
-believing that humans are made in the image of God
has its implications;
living life here, while looking There
brings about the most precarious, melancholy situations-
There's a sad song singing
In the soul of the wind,
And yet a joyful wind blowing
Through every soul's song.
It never stays
And it never goes,
Calling our hearts onward
To wherever it flows.
It's a song of sadness
And of good cheer,
A song of great warmth
And no small fear.
The song of the masses
And the song of one,
The sound of breaking darkness in the night
And the music of the rising sun.
It's the melancholy in me
And great joy,
It's the deep desire to stay
And yet homeward go.
I know this song
And the tears it brings,
I hear this song
Within my heart, where it sings.
It leaves me lonely
But, never alone,
For it's ever with me
Singing of a place, called Home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The Ghost’s Petition
'There's a footstep coming: look out and see,'
'The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;
No one cometh across the lea.'—
'There's a footstep coming; O sister, look.'—
'The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;
No one cometh across the brook.'—
'But he promised that he would come:
To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,
He must keep his word, and must come home.
'For he promised that he would come:
His word was given; from earth or heaven,
He must keep his word, and must come home.
'Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane;
You can slumber, who need not number
Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.
'I shall sit here awhile, and watch;
Listening, hoping, for one hand groping
In deep shadow to find the latch.'
After the dark, and before the light,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,
Who had watched and wept the weary night.
After the night, and before the day,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping—
Watching, weeping for one away.
There came a footstep climbing the stair;
Some one standing out on the landing
Shook the door like a puff of air—
Shook the door, and in he passed.
Did he enter? In the room centre
Stood her husband: the door shut fast.
'O Robin, but you are cold—
Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white you
Look like a stray lamb from our fold.
'O Robin, but you are late:
Come and sit near me—sit here and cheer me.'—
(Blue the flame burnt in the grate.)
'Lay not down your head on my breast:
I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you
In the shelter that you love best.
'Feel not after my clasping hand:
I am but a shadow, come from the meadow
Where many lie, but no tree can stand.
'We are trees which have shed their leaves:
Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;
Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.
'I could rest if you would not moan
Hour after hour; I have no power
To shut my ears where I lie alone.
'I could rest if you would not cry;
But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping—
Watching, weeping so bitterly.'—
'Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.
Oh night of sorrow!—oh black to-morrow!
Is it thus that you keep your word?
'O you who used so to shelter me
Warm from the least wind—why, now the east wind
Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.
'O my husband of flesh and blood,
For whom my mother I left, and brother,
And all I had, accounting it good,
'What do you do there, underground,
In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.
What do you do there?—what have you found?'—
'What I do there I must not tell:
But I have plenty: kind wife, content ye:
It is well with us—it is well.
'Tender hand hath made our nest;
Our fear is ended, our hope is blended
With present pleasure, and we have rest.'—
'Oh, but Robin, I'm fain to come,
If your present days are so pleasant;
For my days are so wearisome.
'Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake:
Why should I tease you, who cannot please you
Any more with the pains I take?'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Meeting again [Revedere]
– Forest friendly and sincere,
How are you today, my dear,
For since I have seen you last
Lots of years have quickly passed
And since far away I've been
Half the world my eyes have seen.
– I do always what I know,
Hear the blizzard bringing woe,
Breaking branches in its race
Covering the waters' face
Snowing up the narrow way
Chasing all my birds away;
– And in summer, all the time,
Hear the doina, song sublime,
On the path where people mount
To fetch water from the fount,
Filling their jugs with care
Sing the women young and fair.
– Forest dear, with rivers clear
Time goes by and time comes near.
You are young, as people say,
But grow younger every day.
– What is time, despite its aches
Stars still sparkle in the lakes,
If the time is good around
The wind blows, the leaves will sound;
If the time is wild and free
Flows the Danube to the sea,
Only people change from birth,
Wandering upon the earth,
While we stay unmoved therein,
Peaceful as we've always been:
Rivers, oceans, sandy strands,
The world with its desert lands,
Moon and sun and other things,
And the forest with its springs.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Old Men In The Leaf Smoke
The old men rake the yards for winter
Burning the autumn-fallen leaves.
They have no lives, the one or the other.
The leaves are dead, the old men live
Only a little, light as a leaf,
Left to themselves of all their loves:
Light in the head most often too.
Raking the leaves, raking the lives,
Raking life and leaf together,
The old men smell of burning leaves
But which is which they wonder &mdash whether
Anyone tells the leaves and loves &mdash
Anyone left, that is, who lives.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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Carry On The Spark In Your Heart
there will be lots of dry leaves to fall
from a tree to produce a fruit
more leaves to be blown by the wind
to make that flower with a sweet scent
and bright color
there will be thorns and worms and
sickening barks
there will even be deaths of
some trees not just
the shedding of leaves
but what matters most
is for you to carry on
with the mission
to bloom
do not let that spark die
that fire that keeps burning in your heart
make it live
carry on carry on
it does not just take a blink of an eye
to make this
beautiful universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Song
a song I never knew
has now become the song I can never forget
it is the song that can cure all
for I sit and listen to that song everyday
its reminds me of all the good
it reminds me of so much
for these lyrics I will never forget
for no matter how bad a day
all I have to do is hit play
and it will all be ok
with this one song I become
so peaceful
so happy
so relaxed
I never thought I would ever feel this calm
but now I do
everyday
because of this song
our song
the song that reminds me of you
of us
of love
of happiness
of everything good
so now I lay here and just listen
listen to our song
I lay here in happiness
as I listen to our song
word by word
I become happier
as I listen to this song
not one time
but over and over
for this is the only song I want to hear
its me, you, and this song
our song
poem by Caleb Jones
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Freedom Song
I sing for Freedom, from now on
I touch,
I see,
I hear,
I breathe,
I taste
“Freedom Freedom”
The sea and her waves sing “Freedom Freedom”
The ebb and the flow take me by the hand and dance once and again,
Rise and fall,
Up and down
That’s the rhythm of life
That's the rhythm of our dance too
To the rhythm of the Freedom Song they feel good,
I feel nice, I feel free
The tune was made by birds
Do,
Re,
Mi,
Fa,
Sol,
La,
Si
They compose
The Azure makes the song more and more splendid
The Great Smoky Mountains sings too Freedom Freedom
The sunbeam increases the song rhythm
The soft breeze makes the leaves clap,
Unconsciously my body keeps shivering
All flowers smile and sway on the rhythm of the Freedom Song
Freedom Freedom that’s all I feel,
That’s all they say, that’s all they sing and tune
What great moments! ! !
***Freedom Forever & Ever
{July 04,2009}
poem by Glamorous Enigma
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Shadows On The Wall
When the fantasy we live in
Lies in pieces on the ground
And there is no false illusion
That can turn your heart around
Nothing can change the way I feel
Nothing can take your love from me
If only I didnt worry
If only I could see
If only I could see
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Now Im on my own
Chasing shadows on the wall
Shadows on the wall
On the sea of mediocrity
Drifting from a distant shore
No goodbyes no celebration
No-one there to close the door
Only the silence that I feel
Only the lonely road is real
If only I didnt loose you
If only we could be
If only we could be
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Now Im on my own
Chasing shadows on the wall
Shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they start to fall
Chasing dreams that were forever young
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows on the wall
Chasing shadows as they dance on the floor
Chasing shadows on the wall
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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