About Us Now
there is nothing that tickles the
heart now
no word
no whisper is seductive enough
to make my thoughts
dance
this is part of my autumn
when leaves of myself float
on the river
full of moss and run over
by fleeting creatures
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pirouetting Autumn
The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough.
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming,
I froze upon the twelfth
Clanging tone, caught alone,
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn,
Pirouetting in her leaves,
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly,
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company;
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
A utumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
Autumn autumn autumn autumn
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
When I See Autumn
I see autumn in dancing leaves.
I see autumn in words of poets.
I listen the breeze of autumn in your heart beat.
Which touches my heart when I hug you softly.
I fly in autumn higher and higher.
With a zig zag flow the more I get lighter.
I taste the fruits gifted by trees.
Celebrating and sharing the blessings of autumn.
If you search me please do it soon.
I may get lost in the bushes of autumn.
I get green and green with orange purple flowers.
When the leaves all around me give me the showers.
I dance with the chanting sparrows.
I forget all of my sorrows.
I get lost, lost and lost in the arms of God.
I become numb and dumb when I see autumn.
This poem I write in response of Seema Choudhary's poem 'Beauty of Autumn' and I give her the credit.
poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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The Old Fool In The Wood
'If I could whisper you all I know,'
Said the Old Fool in the Wood,
'You'd never say that green leaves grow.
You'd say, 'Ah, what a happy mood
The Master must be in today,
To think such thoughts,'
That's what you'd say.'
'If I could whisper you all I've heard,'
Said the Old Fool in the fern,
'You'd never say the song of a bird.
You'd say, 'I'll listen, and p'raps I'll learn
One word of His joy as He passed this way,
One syllable more,'
That's what you'd say.'
'If I could tell you all the rest,'
Said the Old Fool under the skies,
'You'd hug your griefs against your breast
And whisper with love-lit eyes,
'I am one with the sorrow that made the may,
And the pulse of His heart,'
That's what you'd say.'
poem by Alfred Noyes
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn In the Wood
I will enter the quiet wood,
On the rustling leaves I will dance,
I will watch the Godhood,
I will prance to the autumn’s romance.
I will wear a colorful dress,
I will mix up myself with the leaves,
I will hear what wind says,
I will feel the tender breeze.
I will see a birch in gilding,
A maple in its nice crimson,
A spiders beautiful sewing
Created with Gods benison.
The Sun will play with the dewdrops,
The leaves will dance rock and roll.
Feeling desirable aromas of hops
The autumn will be a droll.
I will be fascinated by the autumn’s beauty
Where only peace and harmony are on duty.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Amber Glow
Amber Glow
Red and yellow painted leaves
hang idly within the trees
They break and sail along the breeze
As fires of Autumn's time
They dance and surf upon the ground
Overlap each other with ruffling sound
A setting I am glad I found
As fires of Autumn's time
Like fires of the Autumn season
they leap and dance without a reason
A factor of Autumns many seasons
As fires of Autumn's time'
The grey clouds break, the sun appears
The dancing leaves appear to sere
These flames its kept for many years
As fires of Autumn's time
poem by Wesley Mincin
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Sorrow of Departure
Red lotus incense fades on
The jeweled curtain. Autumn
Comes again. Gently I open
My silk dress and float alone
On the orchid boat. Who can
Take a letter beyond the clouds?
Only the wild geese come back
And write their ideograms
On the sky under the full
Moon that floods the West Chamber.
Flowers, after their kind, flutter
And scatter. Water after
Its nature, when spilt, at last
Gathers again in one place.
Creatures of the same species
Long for each other. But we
Are far apart and I have
Grown learned in sorrow.
Nothing can make it dissolve
And go away. One moment,
It is on my eyebrows.
The next, it weighs on my heart.
poem by Li Ching Chao
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Autumn Came
By ripping cheeks,
with cold breeze,
with twitter of sparrows,
Autumn came!
Autumn came to cover
shivering earth
with colorful leaves carpet!
Autumn floats like
sun's epitaph
Autumn echoed like
farewell song of birds
in the evening!
Autumn touches the
breath of last leaves
on the verge of falling
with warmth!
Autumn challenges the
confidence of the tree
who hides buds in the heart
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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Autumn Feels
Autumn just painted the land in rainbows
Colorful leaves play in such a splendid season
Shading my head with delightful thoughts
Memories evoke in sweetness of the fall
Dancing and waving leaves
Swinging and singing breeze
Transform my soul to vibrant ruminations
Rich…….Soft…….Cooling colors
My eyes yearning for reconciliation
Found its space while lying beneath the fallen glade
Of autumn leaves….of autumn season on my skin
25th of November,2009
poem by Catrina Heart
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One Little Comment
One little comment can really change your life;
It can make you feel good or cut you like a knife.
As a result, you may now want to try something new,
Or with an aspect of life, you may now be through.
You mull the comment over and take it to heart;
The speaker of the comment, unaware they’ve played a part.
The chances are that, of the comment, the speaker has forgotten,
But you are now left feeling really encouraged or really rotten.
Some comments are just throw-a-ways,
But they can easily make or break your day.
Some comments stick forever in your mind,
Whether they’re really hurtful or really kind.
Many years later, a comment you may still be able to quote;
It could be one which made you sink or one which made you float.
You will probably still be able to recall it word for word,
And even imitate the tone in which the comment was first heard.
As the result of a comment, you may feel better or worse,
And the speaker of the comment, you’ll either love or curse.
A comment can make you give up or give you the will to succeed;
Off one little comment, our further thoughts will often feed.
They can change the way that you see yourself,
And even have a good or bad effect on your health.
A bad comment can leave us feeling rather unsure,
Whereas a good comment, can leave us wanting more.
Just one comment, which may last only a few fleeting seconds,
May result in a whole new life, which suddenly now beckons.
You may leave your old life far behind,
Or a whole new life, you may now find.
So just take a moment and think before you speak;
Of the joy you may bring or the havoc you may wreak.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Dance, Dance, Dance.
Dance, Dance, Dance
Dance your sweat away
Dance the infectious beat
The hall is full
The music is great
Thumb, thumb, thumb
Our feet make a go
Eyes glitter a world so great
Voices smart and coy
over shoulders they whisper
Dance, Dance, Dance
The silvery moon is up
Stars glitter birds to nest
It is a sweet melody
A journey starts, Dance
Sweet melody and breath
A union!
A young one will see day
Dance, Dance, Dance.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Autumn Falling Leaves
When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,
Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,
Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,
Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,
Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,
Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Lord, Let Me See Your Will For Me In The Big And Small Decisions I Do
Madeline,
we are motes and moles.
Unique protozoans,
green moss sticking to
black stones
slippery on the banks
of the river.
I've read your prayer.
I am eating each word.
I am imploring each syllable.
I like them to be tiny boats
sinking into
my ocean.
On the ocean
floors
i build my
rocks.
In those corals
that dance
with the salt
i too shall
dance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Save This Love Passion
Dance mon amour,
Please dance for me.
show me your perfect curve,
Make me alive, make me lured.
Dance my perfect love,
Please dance for me.
Show me what you can do,
Make me sweat, Make me full.
Dance my truly queen,
Please dance for me.
Show me you are the one,
Make me real, make me whole.
Dance you beauty soul,
Please dance for me.
Show me you only for me,
Make happy, make me feel.
Dance my dear companion,
Please dance for me.
Show me you are chosen one,
Make me love you, make last.
Dance my favourite song,
Please dance for me,
Make me true, make my session.
Make me save this love passion.
poem by Gianni Pintus
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Whisper
i heard
the whisper of the thunder
and in silenced my dreams
shouted a deafening murmur
of a love gone wild
at the river of no return.
there was the brook
where the moss cling
and watch the beating of the heart
float to the hideaway of forgotten melodies
of a love gone astray
in the wilderness of lost emotions
i heard the silent protests
of souls gone weird
frozen on the valley of death
where the bloodshed eyes let bitter tears
be the nourishment of the dry sand
blown by the winds of constant change
i was left unmoved
my feet got numbed so i just looked
for stars in an starless nights
where the clouds hide the aspirations of a heart
forgotten how to be cared and loved
there was again
the whisper of the thunder
that deafened my heart
and the souls cried
for a love lost in the maze of the stars
in solitude i heard the whisper
of the thunder that shattered the dreams
within my heart
i was laid in a coffin
where distant whispers of lives gone
cried and murmur
once there was this love
borne out of mute whispers
lost in the roar
of deafening silence.
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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For I Have Become Murky
i am the river beside you and you are the woman
wanting to go naked and take a bath in my mouth
while wading you think of the calmness of the
a pond, some petals of roses, air showered with
white magnolias,
i am the river beside you and my ripples are tongues.
i move around loving every part of you.
and you tiptoe and wriggle and sing for i am winding
you take the plunge and you search for my heart
the warmth of my floor and the comfort of my banks
the tickles of my fish, the power of my pebbles
you feel that i own you now and you want some more
wanting to stay and savor the embrace of my foams
at noon the sun comes at the height of its brightness
you realize the mistake & you stand and dress yourself
you never want to be a part of me for i have become murky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn
I dwell alone - I dwell alone, alone,
Whilst full my river flows down to the sea,
Gilded with flashing boats
That bring no friend to me:
O love-songs, gurgling from a hundred throats,
O love-pangs, let me be.
Fair fall the freighted boats which gold and stone
And spices bear to sea:
Slim, gleaming maidens swell their mellow notes,
Love-promising, entreating -
Ah! sweet, but fleeting -
Beneath the shivering, snow-white sails.
Hush! the wind flags and fails -
Hush! they will lie becalmed in sight of strand -
Sight of my strand, where I do dwell alone;
Their songs wake singing echoes in my land -
They cannot hear me moan.
One latest, solitary swallow flies
Across the sea, rough autumn-tempest tossed,
Poor bird, shall it be lost?
Dropped down into this uncongenial sea,
With no kind eyes
To watch it while it dies,
Unguessed, uncared for, free:
Set free at last,
The short pang past,
In sleep, in death, in dreamless sleep locked fast.
Mine avenue is all a growth of oaks,
Some rent by thunder strokes,
Some rustling leaves and acorns in the breeze;
Fair fall my fertile trees,
That rear their goodly heads, and live at ease.
A spider's web blocks all mine avenue;
He catches down and foolish painted flies,
That spider wary and wise.
Each morn it hangs a rainbow strung with dew
Betwixt boughs green with sap,
So fair, few creatures guess it is a trap:
I will not mar the web,
Though sad I am to see the small lives ebb.
It shakes - my trees shake - for a wind is roused
In cavern where it housed:
Each white and quivering sail,
Of boats among the water leaves
Hollows and strains in the full-throated gale:
Each maiden sings again -
Each languid maiden, whom the calm
Had lulled to sleep with rest and spice and balm
Miles down my river to the sea
They float and wane,
Long miles away from me.
Perhaps they say: ‘She grieves,
Uplifted, like a beacon, on her tower.’
Perhaps they say: ‘One hour
More, and we dance among the golden sheaves.’
Perhaps they say: ‘One hour
More, and we stand,
Face to face, hand in hand;
Make haste, O slack gale, to the looked-for land!’
My trees are not in flower,
I have no bower,
And gusty creaks my tower,
And lonesome, very lonesome, is my strand.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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