En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Chokecherries

Thirty feet from my windows,
an old kennel-wire fence
thickly grown over with honeysuckle,
poison ivy, and wild roses
just beginning to open
into the loose sort of droopy garlands
an aesthetic young farmer
might drape around Elsie
or Dobbin.

....................Where the wire ends
and the knotted up, spiraling vines
paw toward more light, six slim
grey trunks of chokecherry
feather into leaves and
clusters of blossoming fronds
that lift and fall with the breeze
like diminutive mare's tails
--each separate flower a rose,
each separate flower
three-eighths of an inch of
white disk, radiant
about a head of yellow-gold stamens.

Beyond the chokecherries
and a rutted road, beyond
locusts posts and barbed wire,
a deepening pasture lights up
with ranunculus, "little frogs"
for some reason, lights up
--in fact--with buttercups
as clouds move sunlight around.

And beyond them, veiled
and perhaps faintly blue
in the distance, broadly
lit by the same shifting light,
four rounded green mountains,
on the nearest and tallest of which
someone has built a white silo
and low barn--or more likely
some kind of radar station
that talks all night to darkness,
some kind of early warning,
perhaps an observatory.

............................. ..........I'm
just happy to stand here,
and hold my vote close,
white-blinded and stupidly
gazing into random galaxies
and minor constellations, starbursts
of yellow-haired stamens
in white corollas.

poem by Peter Klappert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A spring evening

Outside the irises flower yellow and purple
and I haven’t seen a red one yet
and there are some pink and white blossoms
on the fruit trees
and the streetlights burn continually
glowing orange-yellow
all day and all night
as if the municipality
does not know how to do things right
and in the fading evening light
the moon is full and white
and the evening star is already shining bright
and a hot breeze sweeps in
through the open windows
and I wonder when the first spring rain
is going to fall
and in the distance I see thunder
crashing down
in blue-white flashes, but the storm
is blown away and again the sky is clear
and the black speckled by stars.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Valley

Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring
To the white-footed Spirit of Snow,
“On the wings of the tempest take wing,
And leave me the valleys, and go.”
And, straightway, the streams were unchained,
And the frost-fettered torrents broke free,
And the strength of the winter-wind waned
In the dawn of a light on the sea.
Then a morning-breeze followed and fell,
And the woods were alive and astir
With the pulse of a song in the dell,
And a whisper of day in the fir.
Swift rings of sweet water were rolled
Down the ways where the lily-leaves grew,
And the green, and the white, and the gold,
Were wedded with purple and blue.

But the lips of the flower of the rose
Said, “where is the ending hereof?
Is it sweet with you, life, at the close?
Is it sad to be emptied of love?”
And the voice of the flower of the peach
Was tender and touching in tone,
“When each has been grafted on each,
It is sorrow to live on alone.”

Then the leaves of the flower of the vine
Said, “what will there be in the day
When the reapers are red with my wine,
And the forests are yellow and grey?”
And the tremulous flower of the quince
Made answer, “three seasons ago
My sisters were star-like, but since,
Their graves have been made in the snow.”

Then the whispering flower of the fern
Said, “who will be sad at the death,
When Summer blows over the burn,
With the fierceness of fire in her breath?”
And the mouth of the flower of the sedge
Was opened to murmur and sigh,
“Sweet wind-breaths that pause at the edge
Of the nightfall, and falter, and die.”

poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shattered windows, Colors of white

Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.

On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.

A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.

The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.

The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.

poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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How to make your wishes come true

She liked white and had not said a word yet

On her tenth birthday
she stood on the red steps
of the red opera house
-the red opera house on the north side of Sydney Harbour
almost opposite the white opera house

She scattered orange petals, yellow petals, green leaves and spoke
in a light blue voice
A bird of navy blue pink and gold feathers stood by her. Was this the grateful bird? Purple gold and white danced
She said
white stillness, pure gold, purple wonder, gold strength, pink joy, pink infinity, navy blue now, strong indigo blue, light blue fountain, the green first reason, compassionate orange, endless yellow,
royal red, single red, free orange, free yellow, green depth as clear as crystal, all attractive light blue, strong indigo blue, strong navy blue, pink wishes, gold compassion, compassionate purple,
gold of golds, of creativity, white of whites, gold truth, purple mentor, funny gold, pink friend of children, navy blue of nature,
indigo blue knowledge, light blue song of nature, green creation, yellow in senses, orange guide, red way, red inspirer, orange giver, yellow help, dazzling green, light blue of the delicate, with indigo blue eyes, navy blue good, with pink kind eyes, golden hair, golden complexion, purple complexion, gold warmth, of white space, white and gold love, of all purple knowledge, gold presence, pink in thunder and storms, navy blue pleasure, indigo blue beauty,
light blue lines, all attractive green, of yellow stirring music, of orange, red refuge, clear red, orange orange, yellow yellow, with green giving hands, of green, light blue truth, indigo blue essence, navy blue sparkle, pink with gold, purple guide, gold here, here white, white is the sun with penetrating vision, purple and golden constant winner, gold reach, of all pink, infinite navy blue, indigo blue knowledge, light blue care, deep green in greens, orange truth, dedicated to yellow, red peace, red glory, orange beauty, yellow, of green and light blue evenings, handsome indigo blue, intelligent navy blue, pink of pinks, of gold golds, purple purple, gold friend,
openness, formless white and gold, prevailing purple, efficient purple, purple origin, purple form, gold and permanent pink, navy blue belief, indigo blue blue, dense green, orange, yellow, red friend, red
and fell silent

Are the colours telling us that reciting the girl's words could make all our wishes come true? What else do red orange yellow green light blue indigo blue navy blue pink gold purple gold white know?
Today is a Monday

poem by Bhupen Thakker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Into White

I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice
Tables of paper wood, windows of light
And everything emptying into white.
A simple garden, with acres of sky
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by
Yellow delanie would sleep well at night
With everything emptying into white.
A sad blue eyed drummer rehearses outside
A black spider dancing on top of his eye
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike
And everything emptying into white.
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white

song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Light, White Heat

(as heard on the ziggy farwell concert lp.)
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my brain
White light - white light gonna make me feel so insane
White heat - white heat shapin them down to my toes
White light - white lights got it now, goodness knows
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my mind
White light - white lights surely gonna make me blind
White heat - white heat shaping way down to my toes
White light - white light could kill me now, goodness knows
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my brain
White light - white light gonna make me feel so insane
White heat - white heat shapin them down to my toes
White light - white lights got it now, goodness knows
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my mind
White light - white lights surely gonna make me blind
White heat - white heat shaping way down to my toes
White light - white light could kill me now, goodness knows
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
White lights a-flashing
White light
Still feels right
Whats that sound, whats that sound
Dont turn on, be dead or alive
No feeling
Here she comes
Oww, yeah
(oh, oh, oh, oh) here she comes
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
(ah, ah, ah, ah)

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Light New Colour

An old man
welcomes
his four day old
grandson

white stillness pure gold purple wonder gold strength pink joy
pink infinity navy blue now strong indigo blue light blue fountain
the green first reason endless yellow compassionate orange
royal red

single red free orange free yellow
green depth as clear as crystal all attractive light blue
strong indigo blue strong navy blue pink wishes gold compassion
compassionate purple gold of golds of creativity

who is quiet
and naturally very small and delicate

red inspirer orange giver yellow help dazzling green
light blue of the delicate with indigo blue eyes navy blue good
with pink kind eyes golden hair
golden complexion purple complexion
gold warmth of white space

white of whites
gold truth purple mentor funny gold pink friend of children
navy blue of nature indigo blue knowledge light blue song of nature
green creation yellow in senses orange guide red way

white and gold love
of all purple knowledge gold presence pink in thunder and storms
navy blue pleasure indigo blue beauty light blue lines
all attractive green of yellow stirring music of orange red refuge

clear red orange orange yellow yellow with green giving hands
of green light blue truth indigo blue essence navy blue sparkle
pink with gold purple guide gold here here white

His feet are curled
His fingers as small as tiny magic wands
His eyes large
Some skin is peeling off his small face
Everything is perfectly formed

white
is the sun with penetrating vision purple and golden constant winner
gold reach of all pink infinite navy blue indigo blue knowledge
light blue care
deep green in greens dedicated to yellow
orange truth
red peace

This perfect body was in his mother only a week ago
thinks the old man
He places his hand on the boys stomach

red glory orange beauty yellow
of green and light blue evenings handsome indigo blue
intelligent navy blue pink of pinks of gold golds purple purple
gold friend openness formless

white and gold
prevailing purple efficient purple purple origin purple form
gold and permanent pink navy blue belief indigo blue blue
dense green yellow orange red friend red

The boy almost gasps at this touch
He yawns
His eyes remain anxiously focused on the window
eager to understand the Australian light

poem by Bhupen Thakker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little Flower White

Out of my little window, In the green meadow
Grows there right, my little flower white

Be it sunlight or the moonlight
My little flower white, always shines bright

Red or blue, rain or dew,
My little flower white, I love you

poem by Titus Menezes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seasons

I

As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.

The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.

Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings

until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.

II

Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid

until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food

and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble

until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.

III

Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing

but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe

and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open

when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lightning

Its crazy but often clear
But often clear
We shimmer and disappear
In color, in black and white
Black and white
We slowly fade out of sight
But these days were lit by lightning
These lights all were white
Its crazy but somehow clear
Somehow clear
We ride in silence out of fear
We spoke and soon come alive
Come alive
We prefer the silence of the blind
But these days were lit by lightning
These lights all were white
These days were lit by lightning
Of sharp,light,sharp,white,light,hard,good,white
Were crazy but often kind
Often kind
Enrage and in violence blind
You gather, and that alone
That alone
We race in small circles home
But these days were lit by lightning
These lights are were white
These days were lit by lightning
Of sharp, white, light
These days were lit by lightning
These lights are were white
These days were lit by light

song performed by by Counting Crows
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hang Wire

Theyre going higher
Wind is whistling on the barbs
Your heads a hammer
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
That man is a liar
The day is like a warm night
Salt rusts the cold line
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
Every morning and every day
Ill bossanova with ya
If there were a fire
Can we scratch beneath this
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire?

song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Trembling Star

"There is my little trembling star," she said.
   I looked; once more
The tender sea had put the sun to bed,
   And heaven's floor
   Was grey.

And nowhere yet in all that young night sky
   Was any star,
But one that hung above the sea. Not high,
   Nor very far
   Away.

"I watch it every night," she said, and crept
   Within my arm.
"Soft little star, I wish the angels kept
   It safe from harm
   Alway.

"I know it is afraid," she said; her eyes
   Held a sweet tear.
"They send it all alone into the skies,
   No big stars near,
   To stay.

"They push it out before the sweet, kind moon
   Lights up the sea.
They laugh because it fears the dark. `Soon, soon,
   You'll braver be,'
   They say.

"One night I climbed far up that high white tree
   Beside the beach,
And tried to stretch my hand across the sea
   And tried to reach
   The grey.

"For something made me feel my heart would break
   Unless that night
I in my hand my trembling star could take
   And kiss its fright
   Away.

"There only blew a strange wind chillily,
   And clouds were swept.
The angels would not let my own star see
   That someone wept.
   I pray

"To Christ, who hears my little prayers each night,
   That He will seek
Through all His skies for that sweet, frightened light,
   And stoop His cheek
   And say

"`My angels must not send so frail a thing
   To light the West.
Lift up the little trembling star to cling
   About my breast
   Alway.'"

poem by Ethel Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The General Public

"Ah, did you once see Shelley plain?" -- Browning.
"Shelley? Oh, yes, I saw him often then,"
The old man said. A dry smile creased his face
With many wrinkles. "That's a great poem, now!
That one of Browning's! Shelley? Shelley plain?
The time that I remember best is this --

A thin mire crept along the rutted ways,
And all the trees were harried by cold rain
That drove a moment fiercely and then ceased,
Falling so slow it hung like a grey mist
Over the school. The walks were like blurred glass.
The buildings reeked with vapor, black and harsh
Against the deepening darkness of the sky;
And each lamp was a hazy yellow moon,
Filling the space about with golden motes,
And making all things larger than they were.
One yellow halo hung above a door,
That gave on a black passage. Round about
Struggled a howling crowd of boys, pell-mell,
Pushing and jostling like a stormy sea,
With shouting faces, turned a pasty white
By the strange light, for foam. They all had clods,
Or slimy balls of mud. A few gripped stones.
And there, his back against the battered door,
His pile of books scattered about his feet,
Stood Shelley while two others held him fast,
And the clods beat upon him. `Shelley! Shelley!'
The high shouts rang through all the corridors,
`Shelley! Mad Shelley! Come along and help!'
And all the crowd dug madly at the earth,
Scratching and clawing at the streaming mud,
And fouled each other and themselves. And still
Shelley stood up. His eyes were like a flame
Set in some white, still room; for all his face
Was white, a whiteness like no human color,
But white and dreadful as consuming fire.
His hands shook now and then, like slender cords
Which bear too heavy weights. He did not speak.
So I saw Shelley plain."
"And you?" I said.

"I? I threw straighter than the most of them,
And had firm clods. I hit him -- well, at least
Thrice in the face. He made good sport that night."

poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
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Bright Colors

bright colors hang
on a horizontal pole

a white bench a red
pail and purple clouds

yellow sand black
sea grass and lavender
shadows umbrellas

on alternate orange and
white and saffron and

yellow green and crimson
blue sea with white foams

escape from a shrinking world
to the sea breeze and solitude

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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Chanson

A RING of gold and a milk-white dove
Are goodly gifts for thee,
And a hempen rope for your own love
To hang upon a tree.

For you a House of Ivory
(Roses are white in the rose-bower)!
A narrow bed for me to lie
(White, O white, is the hemlock flower)!

Myrtle and jessamine for you
(O the red rose is fair to see)!
For me the cypress and the rue
(Fairest of all is rose-mary)!

For you three lovers of your hand
(Green grass where a man lies dead)!
For me three paces on the sand
(Plant lilies at my head)!

poem by Oscar Wilde
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Pink roses

There are pink rose
behind the razor wire,
the cups of some are already open
and the buds of some
still is closed.

Green stems protrude
over a white wall
where razor sharp wire
cordon it off

and the soft scent
of flourishing flowers
catches me while
I walk to the post box
to get some letters.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The White Foxglove

Reynard, the fox, was asked to a party.
"Come", they said, in your Sunday best,
For we like good form, tho' the fun be hearty;
So all who dance must be formally dressed:
Black tail-coat and a shirt-front gleaming.
Brushed and burnished each dancing shoe,
Pantaloons with a silk braid seaming,
Clean white gloves of the snowiest hue.
This most especially -
Very especially -
Snow-white gloves of a spotless hue.

Reynard, the fox, as he dressed (says the fable)
Dreamed of the dance and his lady love,
Then he searched and he hunted in dresser and table,
But all he discovered was - one old glove!
A horrible glove, with a broad black stitching
Sorriest match for his stiff white shirt.
Could lover go wooing a maid so bewitching,
Wearing but one glove, grubby with dirt?
Oh, most disgustedly -
Very disgustedly -
Creased and crumpled and yellow with dirt.

Said Reynard, the fox, to the King of the Fairies,
"King, I come to you craving a dower.
Gloves! All as white as the lamb that was Mary's.
Pray you, fashion a pair from a magic flower.
>From a summer cloud, from the web of a spider.
Skin of a toadstool, a snowberry rind,
Down from the breast of a fledgling eider."
And the King said "Sure", for the King was kind.
Ever so graciously -
Gaily and graciously -
"Oke", said the Monarch, for he was kind.

Then Reynard, the fox, beheld a wonder:
A wave of his wand by the Fairy King -
And there, with the green leaves spreading under,
Sprang forth a sceptre, a magic thing
With garlands of gloves in a gleaming cluster,
White as the fleeces of new-shorn flocks
That fairy shepherds in Arcady muster.
And a pair they presented to Reynard, the fox.
They fitted him perfectly.
Said the King, "perfectly"
"Your Majesty.' Thank you!" said Reynard, the fox.

Reynard, the fox, made haste to the revel;
Beau of the ball, as they had to confess.
And the ladies sighed, "What a handsome devil?"
As for his lady - of course it was, "yes".
Then they danced and they fasted with merry laughter.
While Reynard weaved dreams in the clouds above.
And they called that blossom, from then ever after -
Men, foxes and fairies - the white Fox-glove.
Tall and so slenderly
Graceful and tenderly,
Swaying its sceptre - the White Fox-Glove.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arcturus

"Arcturus" is his other name—
I'd rather call him "Star."
It's very mean of Science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A "Savant" passing by
Murmured "Resurgam"—"Centipede"!
&q uot;Oh Lord—how frail are we"!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a "class"!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in "Cabinets"—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was "Heaven"
Is "Zenith" now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time's brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I'm ready for "the worst"—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed—
I hope the "Children" there Won't be "new fashioned" when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of "Pearl."

poem by Emily Dickinson
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