If the Boss says; 'I could have grant you three things.
Conical shape all the way
The tapered cone
Full of pop corns,
Do not run against the wind
Sweet birds would fly away!
Though it's named as 'Flower Road'
You walk in an off-season?
But the harmless bees in alert
Near the Garden of Hope!
And the forbidden tree still not matured
The tiny ripen fruits would take a little while to shine,
By the way if you hear a whisper from the Sky
That mutters of a promise!
Just humbly request my dear Sister & Brother,
A soft mattress, dreamy pillow and a sound sleep
That's more than enough in the peril!
* Thinking of the innocent victims of the Catastrophe in Japan.
If this is a solace?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
My Lovely Flower
I thank God for my lovely flower
For there are millions who are ignorant of her existance,
The enchanting aroma that is with her,
Or her charm that makes me to always keep thinking,
I am fascinated that she was wonderfully made,
Then just kept for me to find one day.
Seeing her is like waking up at dawn to bath in the Sun's rays
She has harmless attraction like a colorful butterfly,
Or a bright flower always sort by the bees for it's beauty,
Not forgetting it's sweet nectar also!
That is my sweet Sweetie.
The flower is far from me and I cannot smell the aroma now,
Last night I went to dreamland where I hoped to find my flower Then I woke up this morning to melodious sounds,
Sounds of chirping birds in the nearby tree as if to praise her,
Thinking about my flower.
I want to tend and care for this flower,
So that she may produce more flowers like herself,
O flower! Remain that lovely forever.
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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Open Your Arms
Sitting under the money tree
look for the fruits of charity
best to pick them fast for they too far gone
they grow rotten to the core on the greedy man's farm
open your moth the words don't come out
even though the thoughts in your head seem to flow
are you so afraid what everybody thinks
are you so afraid to show what you know
to get along, with your sister your brother
get along, we all the same under this shell
brother to brother and sister to sister
and people are people and...
open your arms
monkey do monkey see
why you want to upset me
monkey go monkey say
but let me live my life today
monkey hear monkey walk
monkey you so full of talk
when are we every gonna learn
to fulfill the need to be free
feel free
be free
stand free
wont need mediocrity
brother to sister and
sister to brother and
brother to brother and sister to sister
open your arms
poem by Harlan Lovestone
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Let's Walk Through This Garden
Come, my beloved, let us walk through this garden
Where lots of bees enchanting with the nature
Life of bees has got the life in the heaven
And placed it on the peach and citrus tree
Let us follow the footprint of those bees
Who has walked miles over the mountain?
The mountain to draw nectar high above the cool plain
Let us go into the fields, my beloved,
For the time of those who left to harvest
Seed of love has sowed into this garden
As the spirit nourishes the grain of joy with love in burden
Let us hear the melodies of the wind touch the wings
Let's sit beside this flower and pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.
Let us go into the next field, my beloved,
Let's us not fill our heart with joy of sadness
Bees are yet to shed tears for those who have already lost their heavies
Under the forced of the whispering wind
Let us tend the bloom of the earth
Let us make the flowers our happiest heaven
Let us relax after the day's toil,
And listen to the murmur of the provoke bees
Rather parting with old acquaintance.
Oh! Let us return to our dwelling, my beloved!
For the wind has caused the yellow leaves to fall;
And shroud the withering flower that whisper elegy to the bees
Come my beloved, come close to me since nature has just wearied
And bidding her enthusiasm farewell.
With quiet and content sorrow
Come close to me beloved; come too closed to me.
Let us speak glory of our heart,
For that is greater than the sorrow of the bees
Lost her heaves in the flower garden
Under the force of the merciless whispering wind.
poem by Kezang Dawa
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Sonnet: Nature Resurrects
The ‘curry-leaf’ tree bears berries again!
The black fruits look enticing, succulent;
And more will ripen with the August-rain,
A feast to the spotted-grey bird, God-sent.
The guava-trees are full of flow’rs and fruits!
They ripen fast each morn to squirrel’s squeak;
The landscape will have ripe fruits like a ‘Blitz, ’
Which many birds will then happily beak.
The rain can do such magic to the lands;
It resurrects the almost dead, dry trees;
Some fairies good are working with their wands!
The fauna seems as busy as the bees.
Thus, Nature sprinkles compassion on all!
Her heart melts to each creature’s plaintive call.
8-9-2002
poem by John Celes
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A Dream
i saw a dream
with flowers in the garden
with the breeze in a sudden
with the birds singing
with the bees beeeng
i saw a dream
with a beautiful life
having a adorable wife
with a sweet face
in a sensitive case
i saw a dream
a friend was there
still is here
a sweet sister was there
with a caring hand over my hair
i saw a dream
with beautiful thoughts
with a lots of hope
was happy bcoz i have friends
and a sister more than friends
i saw a dream
of complete life
became so much happy
but i forgot its just a dream
will over as soon as i am waking
i saw a dream
is it my fault?
i thought everything mine
but they were in my dream
they were always far from mine
its just a dream
which is now over
i am still here
the stupid innocent flower
the dream is over
nomore bees are there
no breeze is there
no birds are there
the dream is over
i am stunned again
i am alone
noone is here
just me and my lonlyness is here
the dream is over
the relationship is also over
the caring is just now flirting
and the sweet words are now paining
the dream is over
now feeling the truth
the smiling tooth
the sweet thoughts and
the emotional crafts
the dream is over
it was not mine
bcoz i was just a guest there
played some bad innings
and left losing the heart in stead of earning
the dream is over
i am thankful to my friends and sister
now i am over
seeing the tomorrow
planning for the future
hoping not to be a creature
living here and there
dream is over
poem by Rajnish Jena
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
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Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Weave My Cocoon, Only For Own Metamorphosis!
Strangely life looks like a web,
Knitted by Sunlight,
Light of distant stars,
And light Reflected by moon and planets..
I could have survived and cut the web,
but the web is strengthened by more layers,
May be light absorbed and reflected by me,
And bouncing back from my Kiths and kins,
Mosquitoes and bugs,
My own blood relatives,
Sharing my blood or may be I am sharing thiers!
Life is like ground under fruit bearing tree,
Full of smashed fruits by its own fall,
Half eaten, half ripe, may be fully ripen and may be rotten!
Delicious and sweet fruits it bear,
Sometimes by cosmic friends, parrots and bats,
May be monkeys and niebours,
Test me and tease me,
My ability to access the fruits,
They have better nose and eyes than me,
They observe changes faster than me,
They peck or take a bite,
before I can wake up and see,
Birds are better than bats and monkeys,
Birds just eat enough and fly,
Monkeys and bats are horrible,
They taste one, pluck many,
Take to their friends and relatives,
And throw on their path
as a route map to others,
Rotten fruits smell bad,
Flies and mosquitoes,
Flies spread disease, are better,
Mosquitoes spread disease
and feast on my blood too,
Just like juice after meal!
All these knit web around!
All I have that is my own nest,
My own shining shine,
Where I weep, laugh and workout my own plans,
Which becomes my shield,
And what look like shield is my own cocoon,
Where I sleep or meditate,
Only come out completely metamorphing myself,
cutting cocoon With flying colours!
I feelfree now with coloured wings,
Antennae and suckers,
I fly over flowers,
But gather nectar and I help flowers to live fruitful!
But I am innocent
I sing and dance in air,
With my coloured wings
I am a flying flower
Found in garden or in wild!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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As I Lay Me Down
It felt like springtime on this February morning
In a courtyard birds were singing your praise
I'm still recalling things you said to make me feel alright
I carry them with me today now
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
I wonder why
I feel so high although I am not above thy sorrow
heavy-hearted 'till you call my name
And it felt like churchbells
or the whistle of a train on a summer evening
I want power to meet you barefoot
Barely breathing
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
No doubt that
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
Its not too near for me
Like a flower I need the rain
No its not clear to me
Every season has its change
and I will see you when the sun comes out again
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy... uhuh yea
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
I wonder why
The sun comes out again
song performed by by Sophie B. Hawkins from Whaler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winds Of Seasons With Hands Of Hope
i hear the wind
by the wind sound
talking to the waves
with a wind sound
mounted upon the leaves
on the ground
to wind through
and around the leaves proudly
as it runs through me so loudly
and mannered towards me so gladly
to sing a song
by the winds of seasons
as they change in seasons
and cheer in different joy
i feel the wind under me
i can see the sun shine over me
i can walk along the path to sober me
and sleep around the hands on me
to hold me with hands of hope
as all hands do matter
to hold each soul
with hope
today and the days ever
to let the hands of hope
touch my heart
and cleanse me for yet a season
in winds of seasons
opn17082012/2305
'winds of seasons with hands of hope'
'hands of hope' book no.9 of 2012
aug.2012
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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A parcel from Overseas beyond the Great Barrier Reef!
As a habbit, firstly
I check the sender's name & address
Oh! It's from New South Wales
Australia, My dreamy burial grounds
To rest in peace with Aborigines!
Guess who sent the precious gift?
Brother Poet & Humanitarian
Paddy the Martin!
Two pocket size books
His poetry Anthologies.
'Poems that bloom in my garden
And The ancient Poet.'
I have not started yet the reading
But that smells a rare fragrance of a flower
In the garden of Eden!
Where the Humanity began!
Thank you is not enough
For the soft soul's honest smile
And I add this; 'Let us be friends
And smile together until we reach
The Horizon, Zenith or Infinity
Whatever it is promise to shake hand warmly!
* Humbly to my friend Paddy Martin in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The one I did not become
Hope the sun shine so bright
To make your day bright
Hope the birds can sing
The song I used to sing
Hope the wind can whisper
Three words I used to whisper
Hope the moon will always be there
To inform you I still care
Hope all of the stars up above
Reminds you of my true love
And hope that special someone
Be the one that I didn’t become
11.07.05
poem by Sweet Seven
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Inscription For A Fountain On A Heath
This Sycamore, oft musical with bees,--
Such tents the Patriarchs loved ! O long unharmed
May all its agéd boughs o'er-canopy
The small round basin, which this jutting stone
Keeps pure from falling leaves ! Long may the Spring,
Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath,
Send up cold waters to the traveller
With soft and even pulse ! Nor ever cease
Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance,
Which at the bottom, like a Fairy's Page,
As merry and no taller, dances still,
Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the Fount.
Here Twilight is and Coolness : here is moss,
A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade.
Thou may'st toil far and find no second tree.
Drink, Pilgrim, here ; Here rest ! and if thy heart
Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh
Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound,
Or passing gale or hum of murmuring bees !
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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We Decided To Cut Some Trees
we planted the seeds together
we were thinking of fruits
for our children
we were thinking of the shade
where they can
in the future play
then the fruits in bounty came
mangoes loaded
and some water apples
shining on the twigs
the fruits ripen and some birds
came and ate them
the fruits ripen and some fell
on the ground and some
worms came and ate them
the trees get tired finally of the
seasons
flowering, fruiting, falling and
rotting and trying to
repeat the cycle all over
again
for years and years
we got old of waiting for something
new and exciting
we got bored of the fruits
the children of the neighbors
got married and left the place
we got old and tired and this day
we decided to cut the trees
some for the first time
we are too shaded
we want to see light come
we want to know what sunshine is
again, after all those years
of coldness and darkness under
the shady trees
perhaps, this is something new now
light and sun and another way to look
at our lives
something exciting something to open
to see blue skies to see the full moon
to feel warmth to let the worms sing
to see some precious stones
hidden all these years in our common paths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brother! It seems to be an off-season
The magical song birds flew away from the uncle's orchard without informing him.
The trees some were uprooted and old as same as uncle's gray beard.
I remember the bygone days when the fruits were laden and ripen on the tree tops how they danced merrily?
But now no more any singsong or a friendly chat and only you hear is the faint whisper of decaying leaves over his pet dog 'Marco's' silent tomb.
*Hey! My dear friend nothing could be hold firmly as everything disappears like in a sad dream.
This poem is a dedication to my friend George.Murdock in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Irresistible
Seasons come, seasons go
But each season leaves a distinction
For which it is remembered
So once a season came
With a green environment
Rosy plants all around
And I enjoyed the period
Went to the orchard
And picked a flower
That I stayed with long after the season had vanished
But this same flower I had picked
Went with the season
I did not know I could not stay with it
Without its season
Despite all that
There is a wonderful flower I have seen
Which does not vary with seasons
But stays amidst all circumstances and seasons
It has a goon\d name
That every time I mention it
I find myself hungry
Dear sister
Pick the flower too
The all season flower of salvation!
poem by Brian Bwesigye
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The Gardener
For Violet
In the garden she hath found
Herb of grace and fever-few;
Woundwort there doth much abound,
Heartsease too.
Where she laid dead things away
In the chilly earth, what stir!
Whisper of Spring-time, green and gay,
Comes to her.
All Sweet-Nancies, daffodils,
Talking in their beds below
Of sweet vales and shining hills
Whither they go.
In the garden there's no grief;
God walks there and He is kind,
When the first dear crumpled leaf
Shakes in the wind.
There's no death now. Winter's done.
All's given back. The dead again
Walk with her in the wind and sun
And the sweet rain.
Heartsease in her garden plot,
Ladders-to-Heaven scale the skies;
While the dear forget-me-not
Brightens her eyes.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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All birds must be by now back in their nests
All birds must be by now back in their nests
Sharing with their offsprings
The experiences of the day
And feeding them
With the fruits, nuts and worms
Selectively gathered
With love and care
So that they grow
And soon become strong and skilled enough
To fly on their own wings
They would have started teaching
Their young ones
How to mend the nests
Which twig would go where
Which spongy feather would go where
So that all can have a comfortable sleep
Telling the stories of the past
How the eggs those hatched them
Were protected from invaders
And how they were waiting for these young wonders
Come out breaking the shell
That housed them and helped them shape
Also cautioning them against
Dangerous hungry invaders
With the scheme to devour them
And not to venture into the wind
Before they are trained adequately
In spreading the wings
And in perching on branches
Without the fear of fall
Mom, you did not get us the fruits of this tree
A query from a young one
And mom said, wait two more weeks let the tree flower
And blossom with its orange flowers
Fruits appear within a month
Mom is living is just struggling
No, the dear one
Living is a challenge
Successful living is facing them with joy
Regardless of your overcoming
Or succumbing to the challenge
A clear demonstration of care and love
All birds must be by now in their nests
I am waiting at the local rail station
For the next train towards home
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Who kidnapped our happiness?
I cannot get up early before the lazy Sunrise.
Where should I go?
A retiree seeks a haven to keep his burden head on a soft pillow
And sleep the whole day until she brings the mug of bitter coffee with the usual nagging.
She too became wearied in running behind my oblique shadow
And in the starry night I count the stars one by one in the Galaxy.
I request her to sing like old days and she murmurs her favorite in a housecoat.
'I know the joy of being an old man
That's called sorrow my dear.'
You see the things are blurred and hear very low
Limbs cannot move and the soul full of aches.
The day will come when I smile with you,
You look away!
And I understand dear that you won't recognize me anymore.
And I know the joy of being an old woman
That's called sadness my dear.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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