En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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
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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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I'm A Rainbow

I'M A RAINBOW

Is there a remedy for the passions of the soul
brother if there is one I don't really know
have I let my imagination run out of control
I'm a rainbow
just a rainbow

Am I living here in this nameless state
it's light on darkness sound of silence
I just can't get it straight
see I don't wanna be no one that I ain't
I'm a rainbow
just a rainbow

And all the colors that you see
are all part of me
in this crazy world of mine

Like the wind that blows
the trees are sailing for the breeze
ever changing all the time

I'm a rainbow just a rainbow
ever changing all the time
I'm a rainbow colorful rainbow
sometimes I shine

And all the colors that you see
are all part of me
in this crazy world of mine

Like the wind that blows
the trees are sailing for the breeze
ever changing all the time

Da

song performed by by Donna Summer from The Donna Summer Anthology
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Seaside, A Solitude

the seaside is peaceful
the sky is blue with white cumulus clouds hanging there
slowly they move and change shapes
like the air is painting and mixing the colors in space
gentle hues graceful strokes
the white sands extend to some miles
the coconut trees are like handshakes
their shadows restive and steady
i lay my body weary of the years
i look at all these lines and circles and spheres
i like to give up thinking and just be a spectator
i let them talk and i merely listen
the seaside, the seagull, the clouds, the coconut trees, the white sands,
the circles and spheres and lines extending
to nowhere.

i cover my eyes with a straw hat. I cease.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What You Will Miss Here Baby

...the ripe bananas
the coconut juice and young meat
the local wine
the rice cakes
the fruits that you can pick from the trees
the lone line of beaches
surrounding practically the whole island
the fresh air
the wide expanse of green fields
the peace and quite
the hospitality of the people

we have it just name it
and it's all yours for free

because we care.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On Valentine's Day

here, it will be a beautiful morning
the sun has come and the flowers bloom
and the birds still sing their love songs in the air

it is a special day for me, a dinner for two, candle light
in a seafood restaurant beside the sea
peace and quiet and cool sea breeze from the pacific ocean
at the middle of the table
a white rose, beside some crabs, and jasmine rice,
and crispy fried shrimps,

the desert is buko salad placed in the coconut bowl
with slices of apples, pineapples, and cherries

San Mig light beer for me and Sprite for her
we indulge in the usual conversations of husband and wife

simple, honest, faithful, and happy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im A Rainbow

Is there a remedy for the passions of the soul
Brother if there is one I dont really know
Have I let my imagination run out of control
Im a rainbow
Just a rainbow
Am I living here in this nameless state
Its light on darkness sound of silence
I just cant get it straight
See I dont wanna be no one that I aint
Im a rainbow
Just a rainbow
And all the colors that you see
Are all part of me
In this crazy world of mine
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow just a rainbow
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow colorful rainbow
Sometimes I shine
And all the colors that you see
Are all part of me
In this crazy world of mine
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Da, da, da ,da,da...
Like the wind that blows
The trees are sailing for the breeze
Ever changing all the time
Im a rainbow just a rainbow
And sometimes I can shine
Im a rainbow just a rainbow...

song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Butterflies Beauty

Butterfly with beautiful wings,
Glides through the summer
breeze,
As the sun shines upon the wings,
Fluttering oh so silently,
Colors of the rainbow begin to
show brightly,
Like the beautiful colors of
the flowers,
Butterflies blend in so perfect,
Making nature look pretty,
Unique patterns on every wing
has its beautiful story,
Just like nature has its own
story,
Where beauty never ends,
Butterflies will always blend in
with almost anything,
Blending in with flowers, grass,
even trees tall and small,
Including a rest on a fawns little
nose,
It is only to say hi and thank you,
for letting me rest my wings,
Now I must be on my way to enjoy
the summer breeze,
Soon it will be winter and I will
have to leave,
No worries I will return when the grass
is green and trees grow their leaves,
When rivers flow with the sunshine warmth,
Animals tall and small roam again from
slumber,
Flowers blossom beautifully,
that is how you know I will return
again,
Fluttering upon the spring and summer
breeze,
All my family will also return to fill
nature with colorful beauty.

poem by Derek James
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I Have To Walk Away Again Looking For The Fresh Air

one finds a hard time nowadays
looking for fresh air

i step over a good view of the rice fields
from an Asian perspective

the rice fields are flowering
dews still sticking on the blades of grass
the sun is slowly rising from the mountains
a lot of fog hang on the sides
coconut trees are towering
not much winds today from the sea

a middle aged farmer stands under a tree
with his sweater on and his long bolo on his side
smoking his cigar
the woman in the house is cooking mud fish for breakfast
meanwhile she goes out and
starts a fire under the mango tree
burning a rubber tire
to drive some insects away
which she thinks are destroying
the tiny white flowers of
the tree

i smell the smoke coming from the cigar
it is floating in the air
the smoke from the rubber tire burning
is choking me

somehow that is what is being done to this world
brought about by ignorance and superstition and bad habits

i have to walk away again
looking for the fresh air

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Fourth Day Of March

The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.

A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.

The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.

The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.

There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Nature' S Kindergarten

Deep, blue sky,
Overcast
With clouds white.
Gentle breeze
Kissing the branches, trees, leaves
And the nascent buds in between
Caressing
The concrete crust.

Stronger it blows
Trees take to the floor
Branches conduct the choir
White to grey
Synergy high
Bang the floor
Dance
To tunes of thunder
Lightening strikes
In the milieu
Pours the virile
The entire show
In silence bids bye.

poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Autumn Leaves

Autumn leaves, in the trees
Falling to the ground
Colors of many, in the breeze
Of red and orange and brown.
Rainbow parks in the dark
Moonlight shimmers down
On the leaves, from the trees
Falling to the ground.
Lovers walk, hear them talk
To where Children played
See the beauty, and feel the warmth
From where nature stayed.
Barren trees, forgotten leaves
Another year gone by
All alone from a breeze
As the lovers softly cry.
Autumn leaves from the trees
Lying, on the ground
See the beauty, feel the warmth
And hear, autumns sound.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Sonnet: Grow Trees

The branches cut the wind fierce to a breeze;
The leaves break sunlight into chequered beams;
The shade of trees affords all travelers peace;
The wearied ones sleep ’neath the trees in dreams!

And birds too build their nests on branches high;
The squirrels eat their berries with great joy;
The trees make verdant all landscape near-by;
And attract rain in which children enjoy!

Trees make the earth greener and beautiful,
Adding oxygen to the air we breathe;
Preserve its trees, man! Nature is grateful;
The leaves and flowers can make us a wreath.

Trees are so useful to mankind always;
’midst good trees, men have spent their earthly days!

7-14-2002

poem by John Celes
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Wooing Summer

because you are lonely
you woo for summer to come
you ask for the swing
and the breeze by the sea
under the coconut trees

but summer is hard to please
and what comes instead is the rain
bringing its mournful sound
the falling tears of the clouds
the heaviness of what it is carrying

but because you are lonely
and nothing seems to be of remedy
you accept the rain as it is
you accept its condolences
and you begin to understand its sympathies
and then you dance and sing with the rain
seeking the company of its miseries
and then you write: my life is lived, not in vain.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Life I Live

It has been said that blue is the color of the sky although others may say
Blue is an emotion when someone is close to tears-
Sad, melancholy and disheartened-
I look upwards toward the sky on a sunny day when
I don’t feel sad and blue.
Green is the color of the leaves upon the trees, although
I have heard others say they are jealous- green or envious-
I enjoy the trees, especially in the summertime,
Blown about in a gentle and cooling breeze-
The same leaves turn yellow, gold and orange in the autumn and
Fire blazes a bright red in color-
It is the fire of my spirit that burns
When anger plagues my troubled mind-
Rain falls and puts out the fires but
The rage inside of me is a shade of red that will not be tamed.
I look upward towards the sky on a sunny day,
As the leaves upon the trees rustle in the wind-
I pray for the rain to fall to quench the fury that burns my soul-
I don’t feel melancholy blue or jealous-green-
I have days when I enjoy the colors of the autumn foliage-
But the color red of rage defines the life I live.
Today I glance upward toward the blue sky and the leaves upon the trees-
Today I feel sad and blue and close to tears because
Of the pain that the fire inside of me that is always burning-
If the sun and the trees could laugh and send me good vibrations perhaps
They would cheer me and I could capture the colors blue, green, orange and yellow-
And perhaps even red as being bold and beautiful-
And with these colors I could paint a rainbow upon my horizon and
There would be no reason for anger to smolder my heart again-
I could laugh with the sun at the splendor of the rainbow against the sky of cobalt blue- And glad to say that raging fire of resentment
Is behind me now and I never feel sad and blue because
I have repainted my world with colors of joy, happiness and eagerness
To live my new life beneath that rainbow of contentment.-

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
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0018 Man Raking Leaves (re Jim Morrison lyric)

The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.

This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title

the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.

then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.

and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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Stepping Into Something New This Summer

white sea spreading before me
so silky
tiny ripples of the wind
from a far
bringing some stories
from the other island

some leaves fall from
the pitogo tree
some flowers pink and white
lay on the shore

white sands of silence
and peace
soft whispers of the winds
seeping in my skin
i am barefoot
i am naked down to the waist
i am waiting
for the sun to descend upon the bosom
of the horizon
i am dreaming of palm trees
soft winds
of summer

a door opens in my mind
i get in
stepping into something new this summer

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rainbow Rose is her name

Rainbow Rose is her name
Her beauty shines through just like the colours do on a rainbow after the pouring rain.

And when you look deep into her hazel eyes past all her pain and hurt
You see a place like paradise that takes you away like no other and you never want to return.

And when she dances its like watching the leaves dancing so beautifully tenderly blowing on there trees
Just like they do on a beautiful summer nights breeze. X.

poem by David Stevens
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Winter With a Question

The aging trees will creak and groan
To find themselves ringed by frost in sleep
And snow by the wind already blown
Cast upon snow already deep.

The cold is echoed only by silence all,
And the leaves of Autumn entombed in white
At the place where leaves fall
And passing time, vanish from sight.

Who is it that judges these—
Sends leaves beneath the snow
And trees to shiver alongside trees? —
And where do they go?

poem by Ronny Self
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Back To The Usual Walk In The Rice Fields

i am back to this place
and i am feeling strange
there are changes
and some i can tell have been missing

a few meters from where i stand
under this mahogany tree
where the wind is cold and fresh
flavored by the newly cut rice stalks
over this spread of golden fields

the well is still there
but the brown woman with earth skin is gone

an island of coconut trees

(and some mango trees
and banana shrubs)

has turned bald
and the grasses claim another territory to its grassland

the sparrows must have migrated to the nearby forest

the cable lines run an empty length of a sigh
from one pole to another
endlessly clinging is this anonymous electricity

the twenty or so white herons are here again
pecking on some little frogs in small ponds

i walk under the sun
revisiting reevaluating rekindling perhaps
the reasons why i must go on living
a life unlived for quite a time

why are the fields empty? why are the blackbirds circling the tree?
why do people pass by this path unable to know the significance
of this human journey?

the sun is up like an absurdity triumphant
a dog comes near me

it is waggling its tail and i am calling him another name.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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