A Bookmark as a present for a departing friend
Time is a wonderful thief who steals everything from us?
Shining spring comes through the fallen leaves
And the willy-nilly flowers bloom merrily.
Famous birds sing and the deep rivers flow quietly.
The tricky life begins again and I write on the shifting sands;
'My carefree hidden wise Master, please do not pull this miraculous season away until I finish the tiresome journey.'
[ * My love has been the poem I would have writ
But I could not both live and utter it.]
-Henry.David.Thoreau-
American,1817-18 62
Dedication to my childhood hero ' Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid Star' deceased Paul.Newman
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
My Life Has Been The Poem
My life has been the poem
I would have writ,
But I could not both live
and utter it.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Earth Awakes
Now that the snow has melted,
The rivers flow wildly and sing,
The birds chirp in melody,
And the birth of spring begins.
Flowers slowly waken,
Stretching towards the sun,
Baby Dragonflies, bees and butterflies,
Oh yes! Spring has begun.
Tree's swaying back and forth with life,
Birds singing, playing a flirty game of tag,
Mating season's soon approaching,
Ah! Spring is here at last.
poem by Annalee Hopkins
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For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shining Starr! !
shining star, shining star,
for how you shine so bright
your my wonderful delight.
shining star, shining star,
why is it you?
is is because i loved you to much?
too much i couldnt see.
shining star, shining star,
my heart is breaking,
i didnt have a clue what to do,
until the day come when i met you.
shining star, shining star,
i feel so used,
but why is this?
i have no clue.
shining star, shining star,
its not only you personality that shines to me,
its you insanity.
ohh shining star, shining star,
what am i going to do without you?
i need you in my life again,
to tell you its alright,
because i love you soo much,
its more than words could write,
now back to reality,
so time to go for now,
but i shall be back.. I MISS YOU! ! !
poem by Kirstiie Chapmann
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Who Does Not Really Want To Write The Best Poem In The World?
yes, a five-star poem.
the one fit for first prize
awards, the one that will
make you famous
worldwide,
who does not like to
go on tv? read that famous
poem personally.
me? sorry i don't.
i am tired writing the best poem
of my life
been writing for years
i can imagine
trying to fit in
with the most famous ones
dead and alive
but i know i can never write it
because i can't
because i don't
because i do not have any reason
to write it.
i love to write.
AND that is foremost.
that is final. nothing ambitious.
nothing to change your world
or this world or that world
nothing to influence another
indonesian or turk
or swedish or
anybody or anything
what advantage do i get
when i say i just love to write
when i say i do not want to write the best poem in the world?
nothing, except the joy of having
to make the deep breath
in my life.
air that fills my lungs
and make me dream and make me sleep
longer than you do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Have This Day Discovered
I have this day discovered my mind's name - Delilah
her shallowness and her cunning contraptions
her mirrors and echoes, her fata morganae
and I see that my mind is - myself.
Even so can I bring this profaned temple down:
If I pile myself ever upon myself
I am bound to collapse under my own weight
and when the stage is destroyed -
acting must cease.
I have this day set sail for
the Dawn of Understanding.
Rudderless and fog-surrounded
futureless and time-bewitched
do I travel in the greyness
do I ever watch and wait -
do I travel, willy-nilly
to nilly-willy winds a prey.
It seems this rapidly dissolving craft
is merging with the mist-begotten sea
and slowly sliding out of the embrace of
man's first and final one illusion - name!
Perhaps I have already come to rest
with barnacles and wafting weeds
and bedded on the slowly shifting sands
death's dream of life now wholly dreamt.
Early Works - The Seasons
Sky clouded and morbid blue
with cracks for the sun to shine through.
Fields barren and dead
with leaves turning from green to red.
Birds on high winging south
as rivers flow from its mouth.
Sun shines a light of cold on the
ground as autumn approaching us surrounds.
The leaves of orange and red mould where they are blown
as upon us winder begins to grow.
After a while comes a white blanket of snow
covering everything that will grow.
The nights get long
and the winter winds blow strong.
Everything is frozen fast
and in this wintry waste, none must trespass.
Overnight comes the warmth of a rearing sun
bringing with it the spring,
life to every living thing.
Trees and flowers bud, bloom,
and around the corner summer begins to loom.
As everything, turns’ smiling around
there is heard in the wind loves sweet sound.
Then with sunsets beautiful, but not rare
we can tell summer is in the air.
Flowers in full bloom spread multicolour around
as small creatures scamper on the ground
under the sun profound.
All the mysteries that summer does involve
will soon be gone as the seasons again revolve.
Date Unknown. (Early 1970’s I think)
poem by David Harris
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You Say Keep It Gangsta (feat. Butch Cassidy And Sharissa)
[B] Wyclef, Butch Cassidy, Sharissa
[W] What up
[S] Unnnnnh!
[B] From the West Indies to the West Coast
[W] Callabo
[B] You say keep it gangsta
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
But when the beef come, you're the first to run (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Yo, that ain't your gun, it belongs to... (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(Gangster, la la la la, la la la la)
[Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
I want to dedicate this chant to my people locked down livin life in the yard
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Keep a shank boofed up in their tape just in case a thug wanna play hard
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
All this ice-grillin talk bout you King of New York, now you wanna call a guard
(THAT AIN'T GANGSTA)
But it's too late when the guard show up cause your body's going straight to the morgue
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
But when the beef come, you're the first to run (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Yo, that ain't your gun, it belongs to... (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(...GANGSTER)
[Butch Cassidy] (Wyclef & Sharissa)
I wanna dedicate this jam to the ladies holdin spots when they fellows lock down
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Keep a glock in they pocket blowin shots till they pray I'm in town
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
And to the snitch that ratted on rich the streets got you 16 rounds
(THAT AIN'T GANGSTA)
But theres only one place for a gully rat, six feet under the ground
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
I'm gon keep it gangsta
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
La la la la, la la la la
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(...GANGSTER)
[Big Jack] (Butch Cassidy)
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up
Yo, stop with the posin
Y'all ain't really holdin
I'm about to open, a chapter of the Omen
Casket, closin, bodies, frozen
I've, been chosen, y'all forsaken
Ante up, so the chains get taken
Flash backs of the rock season in the making
Ain't no more MC'n, ice is just gleamin
And you wonder why you got robbed, cause your life had no meaning, fake gangsta
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
But when the beef come, you're the first to run (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Yo, that ain't your gun, it belongs to... (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(...GANGSTER)
Nobody, nobody, nobody
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Sharissa] (Butch Cassidy)
Now what would you do if Henchman's came for you? (GANGSTA)
9 out of 10 times you would flea your crew (GANGSTA)
So people your lying say you running these streets (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You better watch out cause they have heat (GANGSTA)
Now what would you do if Big Jack came for you? (GANGSTA)
9 out of 10 times you would leave your crew (GANGSTA)
So people your lying say you running these streets (GANGSTA)
You better watch out cause they have heat
[Butch Cassidy]
Gangsta
I'm gonna keep it gangsta
You say keep it gangsta
La la la la, la la la la
You say keep it gangsta
Gangsta
You say keep it gangsta
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Most Famous I Am Poem
The most famous 'I Am' poem came from the pen of John Clare
When in Northampton mental asylum his type of person rare
Since when mentally unwell his best poems he did pen
One of the most amazing in his time of literary men.
The most famous 'I Am' poem of self does not boast
From the pen of one who to self never drunk a toast
A poor and mentally ill and near forgotten man
One close to the end of his tragic life span.
The most famous 'I Am' poem to it has a sad ring
'Tis not of the wonderful life it does sing
Now used as the anthem poem of the mentally ill
The most famous 'I Am' poem life's cup of dark sorrows does fill.
The most famous 'I Am' poem not a great song of life
But of one who had struggled with his inner strife
From the heart of a poor poet a cry of despair
The most famous 'I Am' poem from the pen of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bring Me a Poem, Sing Me a Song
Sing me a song, read me a poem
Bring a poem, sing me a song
Sing me a "Je t'aime"
And don't stop reading the long
And beautiful poem that I composed for you
Oh! The moon is bright and the sky is blue
Keep on reading, keep on singing
Bring me the flowers of summer and spring
Keep on singing, keep on reading.
Canta me una bella canción.
Teach me a wonderful lesson.
Love is in the air, the poets are happy,
And the women at the beach are really pretty.
Bring me a poem, sing me a song;
This time, you cannot go wrong.
Sing me a song; read me a long poem,
So I can enjoy this fantastic season,
For the right and appropriate reason,
Because you just told me "Que tu m'aimes,
That you love me, Que tu me amas".
Tell me more; read me more, at last!
Sing me more, bring me more flowers,
More poems, more songs and more jitters.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Into this Universe, and Why not knowing Nor Whence, like Water, willy-nilly flowing And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Wither, willy-nilly blowing.
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Is The season
Spring is the season
For buds to become full bloom
Beyond illusion
Spring is the season
When birds sing new melody
All in unison
spring is the season
For new dreams to come alive
In color vision
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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The Sun Is Out And Shining
The sun is out and shining and there's warmth in the breeze
And the weather rather pleasant around 21 degrees
And pink blossoms on the fruit trees and the wild birds chirp and sing
on this the first day of September and of the calendar Spring.
The poetess is out walking and a song is in her head
And she will write a poem this evening before she goes to bed
Her dedication to September her favourite month of the year
When Spring spreads her green beauty in the Southern Hemisphere.
The lovely golden whistler his song one can't mistake
In backyard on the mirror bush he whistled at daybreak
I'd like to think he piped for Spring though naturalists tell me
That the only reason birds sing is to defend their territory.
The sun is out and shining and Spring is in the air
And blossoms on the fruit trees and parks and gardens wear
Their green cloaks of September and there's warmth in the breeze
And the weather temperatures quite pleasant around 21 degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Thief of childhood
A thief take away my childhood.
He suck my childhood from me,
Slowly, slowly, quietly, quietly.
Every day when I was playing.
Every day on the play ground of my dream.
It was useless for him but he wants it.
Now my heart has only sorrow but no pleasure,
And nothing left in me.
So I planned to kill this thief of
Childhood of every child
But I can’t because it’s the time.
poem by Mohammad Tabish Hussain
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This Is Just An Exercise
this poem
is a morning poem
i write it when
the sun begins to peep
between the two hills
where my house
stands
i write it when the dews
are still alive
glistening with life
on the green leaves
on the white petals
of the flowers
i write it when the birds
start to chirp
and in flocks start
to leave the trees
where they
sleep for the
whole dark night
oh, this poem is nothing
it is just an idea
just an exercise of the mind
this morning
just to assure myself
that i am still a rational being
in touch with art
honed to the skills
of humanity
oh, this is just nothing
but a prelude
to my day
a day
when we wish
we are not thinking at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hes A Thief
He steals hearts and he steals my kisses
He stole away my love
He steals my thoughts
And now it seems
He stole into my dreams
Cos hes a thief , oh
Hes a thief
Hes a thief
Hes got me ensnared in his clutches
His love does not seem real
Hes got me there , in solitaire
His love is made of steel
But hes a thief , oh yeah
Hes a thief , oh
Hes a thief
I locked my heart and threw away the key
But hes knocked once and open sesame
He steals hearts and he steals my kisses
He stole away my love
He steals my thoughts
And now it seems
He stole into my dreams
But hes a thief
Oh, hes a thief
Hes a thief ( fadeout)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shakened And Awaiting On A Meter
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter!
To watch it eat up a clock...
With time I think,
That I've got.
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter...
'Cause,
I've never had it like that...
With time to sit back,
And to waste.
When Winter melts...
A new season comes to start.
When Spring arrives...
The budding on the trees are seen.
Flowers begin to bloom.
Birds begin to sing.
When Summer comes,
Humid and bringing on a sticky heat.
This is followed by Autumn...
And the leaves then fall from trees.
Blowing everywhere on the streets.
And forgetting all the beauty of the colors.
Mixed and drifting with each other.
When Winter melts,
A new season comes to begin.
The budding on the trees are seen.
Flowers begin to bloom.
Birds begin to sing.
And...
People mingling with each other.
No matter what the skin or the color.
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter...
'Cause,
I've never had it like that...
With time to sit back,
And to waste.
With people mingling with each other.
No matter what the skin or the color.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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