Deus Ex Machina
she complains about the storm
last night
for the leaves are making heaps
and this morning
she will be sweeping them
the wind comes and sweeps away
all the leaves towards the pit
awed, she says, because she prays.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Time and Leaves and Heaps
time runs
leaves fall
the ground is filled with heaps and heaps of them
the world too
is thickened by the leaves of time
heaps and heaps of what man once was
we bury all of them
time
leaves
heaps of leaves
so many times
we fall too like leaves
the world is thick of those like us
fair enough.
fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn Morning at Cambridge
I ran out in the morning, when the air was clean and new,
And all the grass was glittering and grey with autumn dew,
I ran out to the apple tree and pulled an apple down,
And all the bells were ringing in the old grey town.
Down in the town, off the bridges and the grass
They are sweeping up the leaves to let the people pass,
Sweeping up the old leaves, golden-reds and browns,
While the men go to lecture with the wind in their gowns.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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The Tree Is Shedding Off Its Leaves
do not be surprised
to see this tree shedding off leaves
it is the season
for it to become a skeleton
it is like
that
giving off everything
what it gained
from the soil which gives it life
the tree is returning
heaps and heaps of leaves
for the wind
to blow and scatter to the earth
until what is left
is the bareness of it all
the one where we are now
a destiny into
emptiness
the glory of nothing
the splendor of being nothing at all
welcome! welcome!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broomstick Rhythm
As youre sweeping
Autumn leaves up
You are sweeping
My fallen heart up with em
As youre sweeping
Autumn leaves up
You are sweeping
In swish-back broomstick rhythm
Youre dressed in red
Your hair [would had a] brush on fire
To make leaves dress up dead
Ordered to parade
Swayed by broomstick rhythm
Hey!
As youre sweeping
Winter snow up
They have fallen
For you so please forgive em
As youre sweeping
Winter snow up
You are sweeping
In swish-back broomstick rhythm
Youre dressed in white
There is no; why dont we surrender
And in envy of you
Melting drips will rush
Brushed in broomstick rhythm
Hey! hey!
As youre sweeping
Summer dust up
See a squirrel
In homage making rhythms
As youre sweeping
Summer dust up
You are sweeping
In swish-back broomstick rhythm
Youre dressed in blue
The sky and sun a hue more paler
Than the glow in your heart
I bask in your rays
Days of broomstick rhythm
As youre sweeping
Springtime rain up
You are sweeping
My tears up for [i live em / a living? ]
As youre sweeping
Springtime rain up
You are sweeping up
What there remains
Of fears I earn
Upon giving my heart
Away to somebody
For good
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sta. Ana Wind
have you ever
send autumn leaves
falling
making a heap
of yellow and brown
and orange
on the ground?
in the same manner
i have not seen
the sta. ana wind
but you make me feel
as though
i am within
the softness of the wind
the falling of the leaves
so sweetly
i love it
when you set me free
finally
my hair
keeping some of the
sta. ana wind
my hands
letting go the
autumn leaves
in my mind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind, Light, Leaves and Men
wind
leaves
they dance
with each other
they carress too
you hear the sound
of their love making
each time they meet
light joins in
to enrich the dance
and become one entity - laugh
louder than the sea
leaves - they are the dream of
wind and light comes true
wind, light, leaves
whenever they gather
men, animals join in their fun
take away one
and the world cries to an end
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A leaf for hand in hand
i can tell the neighbours
not to shout, scream in the night hours
throw their rubbish this side of residence
but the leaves from his trees
i sweep with resignation that
they at least allow me to potter around
to communicate in a certain, tender, soft manner
with the quiet neighbours
the echoes of my sweeping
the leaves blown by the wind
to settle in my garden, my porch
the only encroachment i do not bother
bring up to each other
as i gather the yellow leaves, shrivelled leaves
into a hill for my lmatch
the birds twitter, the next door children chuckle
their mother peering over the fence with
some fruits in her hands
the fruits that help us meet heart to heart
with an uneasy sweetness in between
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leaves (thread)
under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave
early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree
palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein
widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf
with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers
fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind
October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark
leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons
morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder
leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song
These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:
poem by Ben Gieske
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The Leaves
There are leaves on my trees
that don't want to go.
They cling to their branches
and the wind does blow.
They defy the wind
as if to say
'It will take more than you
to take me away.'
We are in December
and still they're here.
Are they boldly waiting
to see the New Year?
If Christmas comes
with ice and snow,
maybe then
my leaves will go.
And I'll look once more
and I will know
that the wind did win
for the leaves did go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forest Of Berries
The forest expected it, the woods create,
A storm has arrived with the leaves;
Wind blew and created, the leaves turned,
Bellies adjusted to the food.
What were berries? The berry is wonderful,
For the strawberry is the best.
A forest of leaves crazes me, as no other,
Never in too many lives does it create.
Tomorrow it lies with leaves and more,
The best berries are for me, the law;
When are you expected to dance?
The hour is near when the berries are present.
poem by Naveed Akram
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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The Rain Is Like A Man
the rain this early morning
has an accompanying wind
i look at them by the window
my inner world divided by a thick glass
the trees are swaying and some leaves
begin to fall like some kind of a dance
the rain like a man carries the wind
on his arms and the wind leans down
i catch a glimpse of how they passionately kiss
it is sad and lonely and then the rain stops
the morning sun comes and the leaves
are at the feet of the trees kind of wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dead Tree At The Center Of Our Garden
a tree at the center of
our garden
is shedding off all its
leaves
the wind at night
blows away all the leaves
away
in the morning
sunlight passes through it
leafless throughout the day
we have become
illuminated
our sad faces are now telling
stories
sooner the tree dies
replaced by a new one
to keep the balance
we do not stop moving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change the pair to get flair.
The rays of sun fall on the blades of leaves.
The leaves are excited, and undergo
Chemical changes with warmth of the sun.
Yesterday, and before, it happened.
Those rays were different, though of the Sun.
The rays of each day feel they are the first
And woo the leaves to the guile of the leaves.
As though the leaves are virgin
The law of diminishing utility
Does not operate in love making
When the pair is altered and instead,
Ensures optimum eroticism.
26.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Storm And The Bush
There are only two things in the world—
The storm in the air and the stretch of green leaves;
The flesh of the forest that quivers and heaves
As the blast on its bosom is hurled.
Above is the whip of the wind
That scourges the cowering forest beneath:
The Storm spits the hiss of the hail from his teeth,
And leaves the world writhing behind!
Like a beast that is bound in a cage
When the keeper's lash lights and the keeper's goad stings,
Each tree his great limbs to his torturer flings
In a groaning and impotent rage.
As the leaves to a fiercer gust lean
The wind throws their undersides upward to sight,
And the foam of the forest-sea flashes to white
Out over full fathoms of green.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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