Reverie: The Orchard on the Slope
1 Thin ridges of land unploughed
2 Along the tree-rows
3 Covered with long cream grasses
4 Wind-torn.
5 Brown sand between them,
6 Blue boughs above.
. . . . .
7 Row and row of waves ever
8 In the breaking;
9 Ever in arching and convulsed
10 Imminence;
11 Roll of muddy sea between;
12 Low clouds down-pressing
13 And pallid and streaming rain.
poem by Raymond Knister
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Happy Tree
Winter cold breeze,
Tree freezy.
The hand of Tree shakes as the wind blew.
So cold tree turn icy blue,
under blue moon night.
Lucky me,
Have a home to keep me dream.
Sweet as white cream,
So sad Tree.
I want Tree to be as happy as me,
Take my puffy blanket,
Roll Treedy like a sushi roll.
Good dream, creamy Tree.
My happy Tree.
poem by Dong123321 4931
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Alison
Broken rain clouds,
pink like her lips
full wet, and
blue sky with
tunes out the back of her pickup
in the wind and the rain clouds
are moving cross reasons to leave.
Turning ‘round, lookin' back
as the wind scares the birds
through the air like shed tears,
her foot on the throttle
leaves a long muddy trail.
poem by Rick Stokes
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The balloon in the tree
There high up in the tree
was a bright Red balloon
how did it get there I mused?
Was it put there by a little boy
or did the wind pluck it from his hand?
it was stuck firm on a branch now.
When I came by the tree the next day
I looked up and it was still there
and it wasn't the only balloon
there was a blue one and a yellow one?
The following day the tree was covered in them
all different colours and sizes and shapes
the wind and rain couldn't pop them dead.
Every day more balloons were there in the tree
all different colours, shapes, and sizes,
the wind and rain wouldn't hit them at all.
I was the only person who knew of the tree
it became invisible to anybody else
the balloon tree was there just for me.
When a balloon died another took it's place
so the tree was always covered in balloons
throughout the years it stood proud and strong.
You may say I'm making this up or I'm mad
and there's no such thing as a balloon tree
but I know it's true so that's all that matters.
This is for Chloe, Holly, Katie, and Oliver.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Erie waters
A dash of yellow sand,
Wind-scattered and sun-tanned;
Some waves that curl and cream along the margin of the strand;
And, creeping close to these
Long shores that lounge at ease,
Old Erie rocks and ripples to a fresh sou'-western breeze.
A sky of blue and grey;
Some stormy clouds that play
At scurrying up with ragged edge, then laughing blow away,
Just leaving in their trail
Some snatches of a gale;
To whistling summer winds we lift a single daring sail.
O! wind so sweet and swift,
O! danger-freighted gift
Bestowed on Erie with her waves that foam and fall and lift,
We laugh in your wild face,
And break into a race
With flying clouds and tossing gulls that weave and interlace.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Self-centered....
the blond
has a hand that carries a cone of
vanilla ice cream
it is summer
he looks at the sea
and lets his ice cream melt
not licking it yet
the sea is so blue
a woman looks at his
well chiseled body his
butterfly back
his abs and
strong arms
the ice cream melts
the man looks at the sand
and estimates the size
of his shadow
the sand is so white
the woman with her long black hair
in a two piece
the main attraction of this poem
backs out
and buys her own cone of
vanilla ice cream
and she licks it until the ice cream
is consumed
the man goes to the sea and makes
his needed dive
indeed the sea is so blue
and it is a sad summer....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunset On The Beach
Warm wind blows on my skin,
waves splash as I splash my fin.
Warm blue water of the ocean,
fish swim around me in motion.
I stare up at the setting sun,
clouds of yellow, pink, purple
wrapped into clouds swirling into one.
A lonely pelican flies by,
as more clouds cross the sky.
I see lovers walk through sand,
each holding each other hands.
Then waves become white with force,
I realize I’ve stayed my course,
leaving before rain starts to pour,
I say “goodbye sunset” as I transform and walk to shore.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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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
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Mad Man Moon
Was it summer when the river ran dry,
Or was it just another dam.
When the evil of a snowflake in june
Could still be a source of relief.
O how I love you, I once cried long ago,
But I was the one who decided to go.
To search beyond the final crest,
Though Id heard it said just birds could dwell so high.
So I pretended to have wings for my arms
And took off in the air.
I flew to places which the clouds never see,
Too close to the deserts of sand,
Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise.
I would welcome a horses kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand.
If this deserts all therell ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me.
A fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams,
A dream of mad man moon.
Hey man,
Im the sand man.
And boy have I news for you;
Theyre gonna throw you in gaol
And you know they cant fail
cos sand is thicker than blood.
But a prison in sand
Is a haven in hell,
For a gaol can give you a goal
[and a] goal can find you a role
On a muddy pitch in newcastle,
Where it rains so much
You cant wait for a touch
Of sun and sand, sun and sand...
Within the valley of shadowless death
They pray for thunderclouds and rain,
But to the multitude who stand in the rain
Heaven is where the sun shines.
The grass will be greener till the stems turn to brown
And thoughts will fly higher till the earth brings them down.
Forever caught in desert lands one has to learn
To disbelieve the sea.
If this deserts all therell ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me.
A fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams,
A dream of mad man moon.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Preoccupied...
the paths mend
themselves
grasses know how
to sew what
familiarity is torn
the rivers too
know how to wind and
unwind
they curl upon
the banks and
carry those lonely
rocks
the tree that were cut
are quick with
their buds
the clouds that flee
come back with
glee
the horses that die
always replace
what is gone
with a number of
their youngs
these changes
mesmerize
these new views
hypnotize
and those unwary
and preoccupied
do not notice that
we have long been
gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ebb-Tide
NOW the vexed clouds, wind-driven, spread wings of white,
Long leaning wings across the sea and land.
The waves creep back bequeathing to our sight
The treasure-house of their deserted sand,
And where the nearer waves curl white and low,
Knee-deep in swirling brine the slow-foot shrimpers go.
Pale breadth of sand, where clamorous gulls confer,
Marked with broad arrows by their planted feet;
White rippled pools, where late deep waters were
And ever the white waves marshalled in retreat
And the grey wind in sole supremacy
O'er opal and amber cold of darkening sky and sea.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Autunm Clouds
AUTUMN CLOUDS
That morning’s landscape is pleasant and exceptional;
A goose flies high into the heaven. The sky’s water has
Fallen, and autumn clouds are thin, the western wind has
Blown a million elements go into the firmament. Long
Rain has not harmed the land.
poem by Darryl K. Porter
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At Evening Time There Shall Be Light
THE day was wild with wind and rain,
One grey wrapped sky and sea and shore,
It seemed our marsh would never again
Wear the rich robes that once it wore.
The scattered farms looked sad and chill,
Their sheltering trees writhed all awry,
And waves of mist broke on the hill
Where once the great sea thundered by.
Then God remembered this His land,
This little land that is our own,
He caught the rain up in His hand,
He hid the winds behind His throne,
He soothed the fretful waves to rest,
He called the clouds to come away,
And, by blue pathways, to the west,
They went, like children tired of play.
And then God bade our marsh put on
Its holy vestment of fine gold;
From marge to marge the glory shone
On lichened farm and fence and fold;
In the gold sky that walled the west,
In each transfigured stone and tree,
The glory of God was manifest,
Plain for a little child to see!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Like My Father Before Me
Like my father before me,
and in the way that my son,
my daughter will do
I have sprouted from this fertile land
have felt the rain falling in big drops
upon the red-brown hot sand,
have smelt new life springing forth
from the wetness of rain,
from the wetness of human seed
I have smelt the sulphur of blue-white thunder,
have experienced the wonder
of seeing new seedlings bursting
right through the ground
and this continent of Africa
where the sun hangs
in a cobalt blue sky,
will as long as I am living
be home to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Sea Grass and The Waves Of The Sea
i went to the beach this afternoon,
the coconut plants that i have planted months ago on the shoreline
have grown taller,
the grasses have spread,
and the shoreline has increase its size
as though the sea is avoiding a confrontation
between sand and
roots,
as though the sand is finally winning against the tide,
the waves are calm,
as though, they miss the leaves of the sea grasses,
unperturbed by the beauty that it has not seen
on the depths of its being,
i wonder, if the feeling is the same
with you, i am the patch of land wanting to own
a part of the sea
you are the sea, and i think, you miss me too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Songs Of The Sky
In a sky of layered clouds,
dawn becomes a rainbow,
moving through the spectrum
toward the day.
In a sky of always blue,
no clouds ride the wind:
the sun burns brightly,
high and hot and long.
In a sky of may grays,
clouds crash, explode and roar;
rain-filled winds sweep across the prairie.
In a sky of many blues,
clouds dance on the wind;
and endless and quixotic
Rohrschach test.
In a sky of always gray,
no clouds seem to move;
overcast blots out imagination.
In a sky of cold, cold blue,
gray clouds scrape the treetops;
harbingers of winter storms to come.
Beneath a sky of darkening gray,
the prairie grasses rustle
on the small, forgotten farms
of what could've been
and was.
In a sky of mottled gray,
cold rains fall, now and then;
the seasons struggle
for control of April.
In a sky of broken gray,
cold winds precede the rains;
and before long
the darkened clouds re-gather.
In a sky as clear as glass,
and blue from top to bottom,
sultry days of August
slowly drift into September.
In a twi-lit noon-time sky,
this annular eclipse
leaves us just a
ring around the moon.
In a sky of many clouds,
sunset's an inferno;
ablaze, in this,
my father's final twilight.
In a sky that slowly burns,
the clouds of fire fade
and leave a darker beauty
to hold the night.
poem by William Kruse
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Chillingham
I
Through the sunny garden
The humming bees are still;
The fir climbs the heather,
The heather climbs the hill.
The low clouds have riven
A little rift through.
The hill climbs to heaven,
Far away and blue.
II
O the high valley, the little low hill,
And the cornfield over the sea,
The wind that rages and then lies still,
And the clouds that rest and flee!
O the gray island in the rainbow haze,
And the long thin spits of land,
The roughening pastures and the stony ways,
And the golden flash of the sand!
O the red heather on the moss-wrought rock,
And the fir-tree stiff and straight,
The shaggy old sheep-dog barking at the flock,
And the rotten old five-barred gate!
O the brown bracken, the blackberry bough,
The scent of the gorse in the air!
I shall love them ever as I love them now,
I shall weary in Heaven to be there!
III
Strike, Life, a happy hour, and let me live
But in that grace!
I shall have gathered all the world can give,
Unending Time and Space!
Bring light and air--the thin and shining air
Of the North land,
The light that falls on tower and garden there,
Close to the gold sea-sand.
Bring flowers, the latest colours of the earth,
Ere nun-like frost
Lay her hard hand upon this rainbow mirth,
With twinkling emerald crossed.
The white star of the traveller's joy, the deep
Empurpled rays that hide the smoky stone,
The dahlia rooted in Egyptian sleep,
The last frail rose alone.
Let music whisper from a casement set
By them of old,
Where the light smell of lavender may yet
Rise from the soft loose mould.
Then shall I know, with eyes and ears awake,
Not in bright gleams,
The joy my Heavenly Father joys to make
For men who grieve, in dreams!
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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28 Wind Poems
Wind chimes play not on time... but when the Spirit moves.
The South Wind has for the evening donned jasmine scent*
*
The wind weaves many white caps so quickly for the blue sea
*
Mother Wind moves the water rocker
to and fro on the stormy sound's deeps. On the boatcradle by lapping
waves she is softly lulled to sleep.
*
Will, your winded wings will win.
*
Clouds' whitewaterweave covered the sky.. and yet
everywhere there was a patch of blue.. it was a different
hue... here aqua.. there cerulean... or teal or indigo
*
The east wind blowing westward marries the falling rain
turning her attention elsewhere
*
Crosswinds quilt the Connecticut River ever so slightly
but stil the waters flow to the sea.
*
As gauzy veils lie on the shoulders of the slender, as avalanche
clouds pour through tall firs, as morning mist
rolls through ship masts, do monsoon clouds flow
over the peaks of the Himalayas
*
Froggie croaks on his rock dais encircled by dizzy daisies
throughout summer days. The wind makes them wave in applause.
*
The wind has blown away the cloud cover..
and he pond's reflection from grey to blue clover
*
Spirit Wind when talking with wind chimes
strikes not on the hour nor at the 'right' time
================================= ===
poem by Saiom Shriver
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Back To An Old Place
it is summer
scorching summer
season creeping,
grasses are wilting
trees are shedding of
their last leaves,
what i see are bones
of trees,
skeletons of
branches,
the dry wind keeps
blowing the leaves
away,
what i have is this
bald surrounding
emptied of their
essence
beyond me are
brown mountains
vultures are
in the skies
eying for
death as prey
i sit upon a rock
the only rock
left here
i have no cover on
my head
i am half naked
i have no one to talk
to,
they have left this
arid place
a long time ago
i am back
i am telling the
sand soil,
i have something
to write and
tell the world
about it
it is summer
in this vast desert
a long time ago
this was ours
and the trees are green
grasses verdant
butterflies flutter
and innocently
land on our
hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As you like it
The wind blows from the west,
And takes the clouds strongly away,
And causes in the sky unrest,
Kites are soaring where astray,
Its effects lies too on the land,
Under a tree I sit all day long,
Where leaves are lying on the sand,
I'm busy where composing my song.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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Hailstone Food
My father loved the rain
Rain with hailstones
Twenty years gone past
When green and blue
Was all I knew
No red of blood
Nor ‘supreme’ of white
Nor ‘beauty’ of black
Just green and blue and love
It rained with hailstones
White stones from heaven
My father knelt down
On wet September grass
His head to the sky
Few stones in his hands
My father said
‘‘Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
I recall less of other days
When it didn’t rain
Perhaps such days were spent
Patiently waiting to say
“Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
Twenty years long wait
Four hearts waiting, breaking
My father waiting, breaking
Waiting! ?
But every body waited for him
I think my father never knew
About the power within him
To make the rain fall
Down once again
And hailstones to scatter
His September lawn
I know now
He was a patient man
Yesterday I dug a hole
And I closed a chapter
With all my childhood’s tears
I put my father in the ground
Funny this:
As the body went down
The clouds began collecting
As the sand filled the hole
The rain began to fall
And as we left the site
White stones scattered the land
poem by LLM Mbatha
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