Please do not cut the green grass!
I am the grass; I cover all.
-Carl Sandburg
'They cut the grass their children to run
And where do I play with my little ones? '
The old Grasshopper Father cries.
'Please do not cut the grass
As your children have enough parks to run,
It's a sin that Lawnmower cuts not only the grass?
Thin necks of our whole nation too! '
The old Grasshopper Mother shouts.
*To brother Premji Premji in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
A Grasshopper Must Jump
offer young grasshopper
tiny roots of wisdom
to perceive her reality
grasshopper wants desires
to jump ever more boldly
from grass blade to blade
see how high I can jump
see how far I can jump
screams young grasshopper
grasshopper wants praise
grasshopper wants esteem
grasshopper wants no advice
grasshopper hears with legs
so jump blindly grasshopper
learn own leap life lessons
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grasshopper
Grasshopper
grasshopper
all day long
we hear your scraping
summer song
like
rusty
fiddles
in
the
grass
as through
the meadow
path
we pass
such funny legs
such funny feet
and how we wonder
what you eat
maybe a single blink of dew
sipped from a clover leaf would do
then high in air
once more you spring
to fall in grass again
and sing.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, ""You're tearing up the grass""; ""We're not raising grass,"" Dad would reply. ""We're raising boys"".
quote by Harmon Killebrew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grass Smells Red
The grass smells red.
Untill these mortal bounds find thier way into the catostrophic fire's of love and redemption, the grass will smell red.
The grass tells a story of wars unsung and battles lost.
The grass tells a story of love gained and a fury found again.
The grass smells red...but does it speak?
Does it's voice ring out like the bells in a steeple?
Does it feel the pain of those who died?
Did it hear the screams?
The grass smells red and it grow's red.
It feels red.
This grass will die red.
poem by Troy Nichols
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Grass
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice
I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.
I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.
Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.
I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.
Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Through the field I See
A field of green grass awaits me.
I have been on this grass before and it brought suffering and
anguish.
I wait for the pure colors of pink and red to cover all of the
envious grass.
In this field of colors I have not experienced.
Many a people, hand in hand, take this path of red and pink.
Through many a people take the field of grass choosing the
poison of which they will drink.
poem by Stephen Howard
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With The Trees And Vines
with the trees
surrounding the death
of a grasshopper
and the sorrow
lessen
with the grass and
vines and the breeze
grief shortens
its stay
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poverty's Grass
Arrogance said
We eat Poverty's grass
As Mockery fed
Biased high class
Now the famine
The Suicide breed
Pride is the sin
Destroyed your seed
We may eat grass
But you eat the soil
Your words are brass
And now you recoil
Grass tastes better
That you must know
But Death is the bitter
Seed that you grow
Dried and barren
Your land had become
Our grass can be eaten -
Do you want some?
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Mowing
There was not a sound
but that of the machine
that howl against the sky
and magically sheared the grass
from where it grew.
No bushes of grass, or even weeds
could keep its length
when that yellow long necked
Weedeater appeared.
Grass, weeds and stems
were scattered everywhere
and underneath, with the smell
of mown grass in the air
a beautiful lawn appeared.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Calgary Morn
Sitting on my friend’s deck
soaking up the morning sun
that promise of another wonderful day
while watching the birds at play,
with the only sound to mar the silence
is a lawnmower cutting grass somewhere,
which scents the air
with the sweet smell of newly cut grass.
I sit quietly with my thoughts
wondering what surprises
this Calgary day is going to bring.
Sunshine smiles from my friends
with a hug or two.
This beautiful Calgary morn
holds much to love
and want to cling on too.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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Mowing the Lawn
The chestnut tree is now stripped bare
and all of the golden leaves have been raked,
bagged in black sacks.
The last summer sun
hangs white hot in the autumn air
while the lawnmower growls willingly.
There’s sand and grass
coming into my nose and the weed-eater
cuts away the jungle.
I see the two cats
climbing down a evergreen tree
from the roof of the garage
and there are ripe yellow tomatoes
on stems in long rows
and a few figs swelling out
hanging on branches
and I cut tufts of grass
at the back of the prickly pears.
poem by Gert Strydom
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America
Waxing Bodies,
Waning Minds,
Dried up Souls,
Ha...America!
poem by Premji Premji
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Greatest sin
Poverty is not a sin,
Dostoevsky had written.
But, if you turn your face away
That's the largest sin
poem by Premji Premji
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Obama or Mc Caine
Whether Obama or Mc Caine,
America will be the same as ever:
Hardcore conservative!
poem by Premji Premji
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