En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Isle

There was a little lawny islet
By anemone and violet,
Like mosaic, paven:
And its roof was flowers and leaves
Which the summer’s breath enweaves,
Where nor sun nor showers nor breeze
Pierce the pines and tallest trees,
Each a gem engraven;--
Girt by many an azure wave
With which the clouds and mountains pave
A lake's blue chasm.

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A Warm Summer Breeze

The trees whisper in the breeze
The forest peaceful, quiet, and serene.
The warm breeze like a soft caress,
Momentarily eliminating all stress.

Without delay it carries on
Leaving the place in silence when it's gone.
A summer day, a summer breeze,
Softly whispered through the trees.

The summer breeze, softly it comes,
Quickly it leaves,
Causing soft whispers in the trees.
It came and soon left, a warm summer breeze.

poem by Theo Townend
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Purple World

in a purple world
lavender clouds

a violet day
dusk pool

shadowy trees
black grasses

sickle moon
gray mountains

tiny stars
reflected on the lake

let me ask you
were you there once?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Summer

summer is an ancestral house
surrounded with antique trees
blushing leaves
rainbow flowers
nearby the blue sea
white sticky rice and
grilled tangigue
fresh buko juice and
straw hat and a swing
between two coconut trees.

and silence and sea breeze.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Pink?

What is pink? a rose is pink
By the fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float through.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? why, an orange,
Just an orange!

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Color

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Spring's Accomplishments

Spring brings with it a warm, gentle breeze
Along with the trees sprouting their baby soft leaves
Gently tapping the ground are the soft showers
Bringing around soft, springtime flowers
Now here they come, the butterflies and the bees
Attracted to the gardens and newly awakened trees
The trees emanate such a calming scent of sap
And the birds nestle down for a peaceful nap
As Easter approaches, the sunshine gets stronger
And as spring continues, the days get longer
The spring goes into a deep slumber
And who takes over then? It's summer!

poem by Caroline Bulleck
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Songs of the High Country

Soria, in blue mountains,
on the fields of violet,
how often I’ve dreamed of you
on the plain of flowers,
where the Guadalquiviŕ runs
past golden orange-trees
to the sea.

poem by Antonio Machado
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The Myth of Winter

Once more! The earth tilted towards the sun
That sent the frigid wind from north to south
Making summer marked the earth as it leaves
The trees and grassy mountains thirsty and dry,

Doom of the universe that darkened the clouds;
Rains of fate are in Mother Nature’s hands best;
Cynical desire of an earthling is still incomplete;
Must he know how, how winter showers bleed?

Yet, look around the snowy-veil of this mountain;
As bride in the aisle of clouds, she is shimmering;
Willing to standstill upon the eyes of her beholder,
With question in mind: Why winter cries in flakes?

Bound to love the creation of God, this artist’s hand
Laid this endless beauty on canvas, when she dies;
Selfsame, self-story then from wall to wall, he hangs
With tireless doubt in mind: Why do winter leaves?

Then the earth tilts once more away from the sun,
And brought back the trees and mountains anew,
Yet! Still, this earthling has composed a question,
“Why do other places have no winter like mine? “

poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Song

Oh! To be a flower
Nodding in the sun,
Bending, then upspringing
As the breezes run;
Holding up
A scent-brimmed cup,
Full of summer's fragrance to the summer sun.

Oh! To be a butterfly
Still, upon a flower,
Winking with its painted wings,
Happy in the hour.
Blossoms hold
Mines of gold
Deep within the farthest heart of each chaliced flower.

Oh! To be a cloud
Blowing through the blue,
Shadowing the mountains,
Rushing loudly through
Valleys deep
Where torrents keep
Always their plunging thunder and their misty arch of blue.

Oh! To be a wave
Splintering on the sand,
Drawing back, but leaving
Lingeringly the land.
Rainbow light
Flashes bright
Telling tales of coral caves half hid in yellow sand.

Soon they die, the flowers;
Insects live a day;
Clouds dissolve in showers;
Only waves at play
Last forever.
Shall endeavor
Make a sea of purpose mightier than we dream to-day?

poem by Amy Lowell
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Sonnet: The Wind

What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.

What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.

7-18-2001

poem by John Celes
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Turning Leaves

Red, red, red
Right ahead,
Yellow, yellow like the sun,
Through the leaves run,
Orange, orange many trees,
Blowing in the breeze,
A few evergreens,
Many autumn scenes,
Walk along a stream,
Seems as a dream,
Add blue and white,
A bird in flight,
Climb to the top,
Seems the forest never stop,
From the tower view,
Only get a clue,
Sunset indigo and violet,
If only for a bit,
Walk among the leaves,
Feel the fall breeze.

poem by Fritzner Erauda
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My Poetry

It began from a simple word,
Of what the moon had seemingly spoken,
Or a bird’s song I once heard,
Or whispers of the wind of same token;

Then there were colors of the rainbow,
Sketched briefly below the sky blue,
And the clouds’ reflection to the sea,
Spread all their words in my poetry;

The sound of the roaring river,
The melting snow after winter,
The wind breeze in summer,
You hear them in my poetry,

But without the presence of spring,
Flowers blooming every morning,
If no trees, no mountains seen,
In my poetry, you’ll read nothing.

poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Nature

For seasons of life
Each one different
In its majestic wake

Spring
The beginnings of life
Were flowers come to breath?
On a field full of dreams

Butterfly's flutter
Their brilliance in flight
A cycle of life
That gives meaning to life

Summer
Its gentle breeze
Wave's the fields of corn
Its beauty of nature
Grows its colours of gold

The sun shines down
On children at play
As the days drift by
Colours spring to life

Autumn
Golden rays of sunshine
Moves across the fields
Capturing the colours
Of summers falling leaves

Mystical dew drops
Cling to the leaves
As showers and thunder
Cascade upon dead leaves

Winter
Its barren life no more
But buried underground
Beats a life Mother Nature hordes

Then just when you think
There is no life no more
The cycle of life
Begins again once more
Were Mother Nature welcomes
Springtime once more

poem by Kaila George
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September Flowers

September wild flowers grow free
Purple, yellow, lavender, all beam joy
Fall is starting to turn the sumac
A walk can be such a wondrous trip

The air is crisp and vibrant
Touches of red show in the maples
Geese land in slews and ponds
Oaks seem so noble and strong

Hills filled with lush life
Songs of an autumn moon
Radiant sun brings azure blue
Birch and elm reach for love

Greens of summer still rule
This path has many wild flowers
The lake will soon freeze
Meadows will cover with snow

Rain has made everything vibrant
Moss and pine trees grow mellow
Mushrooms glow with sunlight
Soft breezes make the leaves dance

Blue birds gather on a fallen tree
Squirrels gather their acorns
Great Cottonwoods loom like giants
Old logs, field grass, daisies

I sigh amidst the September flowers

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Cool Summer Breeze

The Cool Summer Breeze

Have you experienced the cool summer breeze?

Have you witnessed the constant swaying trees?

How about the buzzing of the bees?

Have you seen the falling of the leaves?

I have, and I love the cool summer breeze.

poem by Abdul Malik Habibalah Wajid Hunter
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Vincent

starry starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
shadows on the hill
sketch the trees and daffodils
catch the breeze and the winter chills
in colors on the snowy linen land
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered you sanity
and how you tried to set them free
they would not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze
reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue
colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
they did not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Whirl-Blast from Behind The Hill

A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound;
Then--all at once the air was still,
And showers of hailstones pattered round.
Where leafless oaks towered high above,
I sat within an undergrove
Of tallest hollies, tall and green;
A fairer bower was never seen.
From year to year the spacious floor
With withered leaves is covered o'er,
And all the year the bower is green.
But see! where'er the hailstones drop
The withered leaves all skip and hop;
There's not a breeze--no breath of air--
Yet here, and there, and everywhere
Along the floor, beneath the shade
By those embowering hollies made,
The leaves in myriads jump and spring,
As if with pipes and music rare
Some Robin Good-fellow were there,
And all those leaves, in festive glee,
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Paradise Found

I am lost inside
A world of my own,
A world that I painted inside of my thoughts
Within a figment of my imagination-
I have taken myself on a journey to a place
I call paradise-
Inside this place I call paradise
I am lost,
Inside this place I call paradise,
I am alone-
Surrounded by trees and mountains,
Violet in hue – wildflowers would grow and
Grass grows high, caressing my ankles
In an almost loving way-
Inside the world of my thoughts
I step inside this paradise I have found and as I
Lose myself within a dream,
In less than a moment’s time,
My imagination has succumbed
To this magical land of my delusions-
Towards this place where I shall forever remain-
I am lost, I am alone but here in this place I call paradise,
Surrounded by trees and mountains,
Violet in hue and where wildflowers grow and
Grass grows high-
In a strange sort of way, I am not really alone-
I have my thoughts, my dreams and my fantasies and
The voices only I can hear are my constant companions-
Birds, trees and forget-me- knots are truly my friends-
In all actuality, I am no longer lost as
I was in that world outside of my dreams
Within that world into which I was born-
In that world where people have always hurt, betrayed and lied to me-
It was inside that world I was truly lost and alone-
I shall never return to that world.
I have lost myself within a dream and in truth,
I have finally found who I truly am and as I listen to the singing
Of the nightingale, the water rushing in the creek below,
A gentle breeze rustling the leaves upon the trees and
As I watch the sun ascend over the mountains,
The deer running freely and
I begin to sing a song of freedom and peace of mind-
Now I know the true meaning of loss and loneliness-
That is being trapped inside a world laden with myriads of people
Who have and shall always hurt and betray one another, as
Every moment in time rapidly advances too fast to control-
As I glance upward towards this sky of azure-blue,
I lock that phantasmal door that separates fantasy from reality-
Delighted to say that this fantasy has become my new reality and
I have found myself within the world of my dreams,
Surrounded by trees and mountains, violet in hue and
Where wildflowers grow plentifully and
When the sun descends behind the mountains and darkness overcomes
Here in my paradise- I can begin to count the stars and
Dance with the moon on the horizon- to the tune of
The singing of the nightingale-alive in my very own heaven and paradise,
Not lost but found and never again alone-
Here inside the world of my fantasies,
Where I have been reborn, within this magical land of my dreams,
Where I shall always sing a song of freedom as I joyfully wish upon a star-

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Promise Made And Kept.

She stood looking out
Across the small lake
With the late afternoon
Sun reflected in the water
And you beside her your
Hand in hers the sound of
Rooks from the high trees
A slight breeze touching
Tall branches and she said
Softly this is our lake this
Is ours to view and sit beside
And be together and promise
Me you’ll not come here with
Another she said looking from
The water into your hazel eyes
Promise me that and cross your
Heart and hope to die and you
Saw the two vivid reflections of
Yourself there in her bright blue
Eyes and you said yes I promise
I’ll never come here with another
And cross my heart and hope to die
And you never did even after she
Died of cancer and the lake you
Think has her there standing now
Gazing ghostly across the water’s
Skin thinking maybe of you both
And those days of love and youth
And both of you sitting and kissing
Beneath the vast sky’s blue roof.

poem by Terry Collett
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Dreams on the Hillside

Last night I slept beneath the starry skies
Cloudless, warm, with fireflies
A cool summer breeze brushed over me
And crickets chimed harmoniously
And while I lay on the dark hillside
My world lit up and reality died.

In a field of paper flowers did I stand
In a world with no evil, hate, or reprimand
I looked up and saw lavender clouds curling in the sky
And watched the dragons and fairies fly

Candy grew from every tree and
The sun and moon smiled down at me
Spotted butterflies flittered here and there
While fairies placed red flowers in my hair

And blue wind painted white leaves yellow
While looking up at me was a small and happy fellow
And the teal clouds rained down golden drops of morning dew
That glistened on the green fescue*.

Chocolate bunnies hopped by the brook
So I stopped to take a look
And there I met a humble honeybee
Who kindly offered some cookies and tea

The weeping willows began to sway and shift
Causing glitter to spray from every crack and rift
While rainbows filled the blooming skies
With honeycombs that lit up my bright blue eyes.

Unicorns galloped over a distant hillside
And sugary bullfrogs hummed and sighed
On velvety bubbles and candy apple trees
Nimble elves danced atop golden leaves-

But all at once I awoke to the chilly fall air
That nipped at my nose with very little care,
I could not find the flowers or the candy apple trees,
The dragons, the bullfrogs, or the yellow-blue leaves
There I lay on the dark hillside under the starry skies
And found that my dreams had all been lies.

*fescue: type of grass

poem by Ali Vaughan
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