The Road To Sergio Osmena...
beside the long and winding road
the rivers flow, the hills all green,
the forests crown,
thick fogs hang
on the shoulders of mountains,
birds are migrating
and showers of rain pass from time
to time... and then sunshine
and glossy are the leaves
and sunflowers are
blooming on the
countryside.
'this is still a very beautiful world'
i am telling myself again about this conclusion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Winding Roads
the white innova runs
for hours on this winding road
climbing mountains
we see the green forest
beside us
we are on rocky cliffs
we see the rivers wind
down the mountains
we are inside this silence
awed
overlooking the world
somehow this break
shall make us ponder
how we wasted time
on some nooks
of depression
and unnecessary worries
about tomorrow
the winding roads
still climb up this mountain
we look back seeing
the same winding roads
you say
there is no use going back
we look forward
the thrill up there
we do not discount
there is a valley somewhere
where we soon stop
and relax
then we shall talk
about this life
about these winding roads
that seem endless
to our gazes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Night Of Rendezvous
Along the rough mountains
and winding rivers
some forests
he shall pass
and cross &
get wet and dry
to meet her
on this rendezvous
In her little hut
the night is so cold and damp
the love
they have been keeping
shall build a fire
to dissolve fog and mist
and dissipate the coldness
to destroy whatever distance
has this world made against them
whatever walls whatever rain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rosebank
From the village of Rosebank the hills look so green
A beautiful country as fine as i've seen
A gem of the mountains on the higher ground
Is this quiet little village with hills all around.
In the Green Frog cafe i go back in time
A bard of the old school sat crafting his rhyme
His long hair and long beard seemed whiter than gray
And he sat in the cafe and wrote every day.
In the 'Green Frog' each morning for an hour or two
He sipped his coffee looking out on the view
He took in the beauty it came out in words
The green of the woods and the songs of the birds.
He sat in the cafe this maker of song
And sipped on his coffee and he thought hard and long
And he gazed on those mountains and song to him came
And he died old and poor though he lives on in fame.
And though the bard for long years has now lain with the dead
His verses survive and by many still read
And the mountains of Rosebank that gave him his rhyme
Are still green as ever unfaded by time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rolling Down The Hills
(carly simon)
People who have bad times
Write hard luck songs
But when their days are green
They think about love
Sunshine, flowers in a garden
Did I bump you sir?
Im beggin your pardon
Have you seen such a day?
Lets begin it by startin -
And rollin down the hills with me.
People who have short hair
Write short hair songs
But when their hair gets long
They think about winding it around in daisy chains
Waitin for the showers
Just to wash it in the rain
Have you seen such hair?
Well let the wind play -
As youre rollin down the hills with me
People who have no hills
Write songs about plains
But if thats not what you want to do
Well you can jump aboard a bus
Or boat or wooden canoe
I know just the mountain
Thats been waitin for you
Too write songs about the peaks
And the beautiful views -
As youre rollin down the hills with me.
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have never been to Duhallow
hello my friend, i have heard of Duhallow
where trees are thick and green where brooks flow in spring
where flowers bloom where the birds sing
where women take their baths in rivers so clear and clean
where men do wait and gentle as they care
where mountains tower where forests prevail
where the air is cool where the nights as starry as before
hello my friend, i have never been to Duhallow
i have always dreamed of Duhallows
hello my friend, please take me there with you
in Duhallow, to Duhallow, cheers for Duhallow! ..
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Eastern Ghats On A Monsoon Day
a benevolent sky
a silken road
uplifting green on either side
the blue-grey hills move farther away
as i move closer to them
always standing on a hill
the other hill looked more welcoming
never there a high point
nor a lower point!
hills to the right
hills to the left
hills in front
hills behind
down in the valleys
green stretches of paddy
dotted by men, women
from the virgin ghats
a soothing breeze
blowing across the hills
covers them in a huge grey cloud
carefully led here from elsewhere
the hills appear hazy
the trees dance to a merry tune
all connive to release
a comforting shower
tip tap goes the music
lo, here’s the shower
and a little distance away
no rain, the rain at its
game of hide and seek!
rain and breeze blown through
the thick foliage of
coffee and creepers of pepper
winding the sky-kissing silver oaks
the smell of rain
the aroma of air-ripples
touch my cheek
i step on to the road
to be one with the unique
blend of all the earthy perfumes
hordes of unruly cattle and goats
having had their fill
trail back homeward
their keeper struggling
to discipline them
men under large palm-leaf-umbrellas
women giggling with the showers
clouds enveloping us
clouds chasing us
i slowly but reluctantly descend
still smelling of the blended scents
still smelling of raindrops…
21jul2010
13.25hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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She is that sunshine.......
Walking on the beach, with a lazy style
she made it bend,
before i know, we covered that mile,
...'nd my heart was mend
There was a time, when i looked around
but it was all dark
zing in her eyes lit a candle light
made'em fade, the old scar
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
From my window, when i look outside
the grass is green and birds are white
now my door open to that beach
where waves come around to touch her feet
everything that glows is never out of reach...
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
She is that sunshine.......
poem by Mohit Dhawan
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Beautiful
At times I just don't know
How you could be anything but beautiful
I think that I was made for you
And you were made for me
And I know that I will never change
Cause we've been friends through rain or shine
For such a long, long time
Laughing eyes and smiling face
It's seems so lucky just to have the right
Of telling you with all my might
You're beautiful tonight
And I know that you will never stray
Cause ya been that way from day to day
For such a long, long time
And when ya hold me tight
How could life be anything but beautiful
I think that I was made for you
And you were made for me
And I know that I will never change
Cause we've been friends through rain or shine
For such a long, long time
And I must say that it means so much to me
Just to be the one who's telling you
I'm telling you
That you're beautiful
[email protected]
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Winding Ways Of Gried And Insecurities....
....that grief is, 'like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.' (c.s. lewis)
...we have walked for quite a time
in this winding path,
we settled on plateaus
and then started again on those winding
paths of
mountains high
crossed rivers for the nth time
and rested on
grasses with our back
dirties sometimes
...the rains are heavy sometimes
and we feel the cold and some of us
get sick,
hard coughs that seem to take away all
inside our lungs,
pains that stay on our legs for days
the anxieties in our heads
as to where is this journey taking
all of us, , , ,
no one really knows,
but the hope is there,
somewhere is a rainbow
somewhere is a totally new landscape
we imagine what kind of happiness
awaits us there
they are not telling us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beautifuel
At times I just dont know
How you could be anything but beautiful
I think that I was made for you
And you were made for me
And I know that I will never change
Cause weve been friends through rain or shine
For such a long, long time
Laughing eyes and smiling face
Its seems so lucky just to have the right
Of telling you with all my might
Youre beautiful tonight
And I know that you will never stray
Cause ya been that way from day to day
For such a long, long time
And when ya hold me tight
How could life be anything but beautiful
I think that I was made for you
And you were made for me
And I know that I will never change
Cause weve been friends through rain or shine
For such a long, long time
And I must say that it means so much to me
Just to be the one whos telling you
Im telling you
That youre beautiful
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Green Old Duhallow From Here Far Away
The fields in their beautiful wildflowers of May
In green old Duhallow from here far away
And nesting birds sing in grove and on hedgerow
In Cullen where Araglen waters do flow
On to the Blackwater en route to the sea
The old river babbles on eternally
Through a Countryside that is as ancient as time
That has inspired poets of the past for to rhyme
About the great beauty around them they had seen
In May when the landscape was looking so green
For May is a beautiful time of the year
In green old Duhallow so far north of here
The wonders of Nature a thing to enjoy
The cock pheasants are cucking in old Lisnaboy
In fancy I am back in the long ago
Just remembering a beauty that I used to know.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
White butterflies flitting in the warm sunlight
and cock robin with the sun on his red breast sing
In green old Duhallow in the latter Spring.
In fancy the song of the chaffinch I hear
In green old Duhallow so far north of here
Where the babbling waters of Araglen flow
Through fields to the Blackwater by grove and hedgerow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Showery October Afternoon
It is a showery afternoon water drips from the trees
But it's not cold a mild Spring day perhaps twenty degrees
In late October in the hills you do get days like these
When morning sun give way to showers though cool enough the breeze.
The black faced cuckoo shrike is back from places far away
A bird you never can mistake in cloak of silver gray
And in the wood the high pitched voice of the gray currawong
These birds you come to recognize by their distinctive song.
On the high gum tree in their nest young magpies chirp and call
And October in the Dandenongs the loveliest month of all
The high paddocks of Belgrave South are looking lush and green
And Mother Nature beautiful as lovely as I've seen.
The migratory welcome swallows back in the hills again
They fly low o'er the paddocks the flies are low in rain
My favourite Season of the year has always been the Spring
In storm and rain and sunshine the wild birds chirp and sing
This morning pretty butterflies flitted around the flowers
But the afternoon turned cloudy and sun gave way to showers
In October in the Dandenongs you do get days like these
A day of showers and sun shine water dripping off the trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Morning Time
Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place
Rainy Daze
Tears falling from my sky
Mixing with the raindrops running from my eyes
And our sky may cry in crystal showers
And tomorrow may seem a hundred miles away
And your hurting may be strong for the moment
But this sadness cannot stay
Bring me the sunshine to dry up all the rain
The sunshine to put and end to our pain
Now you know the years have been hard ones
You see it when you look into their eyes
And you hope for them that these crystal teardrops
Will somehow just pass by
And our skies may cry in crystal showers
And it seems we can't leave yesterdays behind
But you know our sun will shine down again
Yea, you know it's just a matter of time
Bring me the sunshine to dry up all the tears
Bring me the sunshine, it's been raining for years
And our skies may cry in crystal showers
And tomorrow may seem a hundred miles away
But this rain, it just can't stay.
The Gippsland Hills
The hills of Gippsland were so green but that was in September
And songbirds piping happy songs as well I might remember
But now the Gippsland hills are gray since sun changed the grass colour
And though the sun shines hot today this countryside looks duller.
The Gippsland hills were green in Spring and grass growing winds were blowing
And all along the sunlit hills the wildering flowers were showing
And bell magpie piped his joyful notes and butcherbird was singing
And through those hills those happy hills the bushlark's voice went ringing.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills grown lonelier and quieter
And like the shades of old man's hair they've turned a gray type whiter
The nearby creek in trickle flow, the birds have lost their voices
And not one of Nature's minstrels now on Gippsland hills rejoices.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills have lost their Spring like colour
And though the sun shines hot today the Gippsland hills look duller
But Spring bring green to Gippsland hills Spring rains and soft winds blowing
And birds will sing on Gippsland hills and Gippsland creeks fast flowing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How beautiful! !
How beautiful this life is,
It keeps changing every moment
Welcome the new season
And forget the one that went
How beautiful this rain is
The sky is sprinkling love
Each heart is fluttering its wings
Like an innocent dove
How beautiful this moment is
It’s nothing on its own
But may grow into a great chronicle
The seed has just been sown
How beautiful this season is
Every flower is budding out
And my heart is blooming with them
After a long time of drought
How beautiful poetry is
That sitting at my office seat
I’m staring at the windows around
Just to make it complete; -)
How beautiful Sapient policy is
That you work on all 364 days
And don’t feel like doing it on one
In your manager’s books, it stays
How beautiful this industry is
It’s stays very kind with you
But it may kick you out
Suddenly out of the blue
How beautiful this conclusion is
It reflects my real pain
That I’m supporting my application
Even in this beautiful rain: -(.
poem by Vivek Mehta
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Green New Zealand
I've seen great sights of beauty in my travels
The gold and grey landscapes, the brown and green
But south Pacific Islands of New Zealand
Are beautiful as anywhere I've seen.
I've seen the hills of Sherbrooke east of Melbourne
Where tall mountain ash reach upwards towards the sky
And cool rainforests of northern New South Wales and Queensland
Are memories I can recall and enjoy.
I've seen the high hills of Britain and Ireland
Of such green beauty famous bards have wrote
But I would write a song for green New Zealand
Had I been blessed with gift of rhyming poet.
I've seen the wild brown outback of Australia
It's rugged beauty man could never tame
A different sort of beauty to New Zealand
And no two sorts of beauty seem the same.
I've seen the Catskill mountains in their splendour
When flowers were blooming in the month of May
And birds sang in the leafy mountain woodlands
But that was years ago and far away.
The lush green hills and valleys of New Zealand
As beautiful as I have ever seen
And the Homeland of the kakapo and kiwi
Can compare with to anywhere I've been.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Ancient Hills Of Toora
The ancient hills of Toora are looking brown today
Yet they were lush and rather green when last I passed this way
But that was last September when the nesting birds did sing
And every where looked greener in the early days of Spring.
To those ancient hills of Toora the Seasons come and go
And where once were thousands of gum trees only a few gums grow
And the Aboriginals who lived and hunted on those hills are not around today
Time brings with it great changes and it's always been that way.
The ancient hills of Toora as old as father time
And they were millions of years old when Christ was in his prime
The oldest human on Planet Earth perhaps fifteen years with five score
But the ancient hills of Toora will exist forever more.
The ancient hills of Toora overlooking Toora Town
From the long and warm dry Summer have never looked so brown
But I recall last September decked in their wildering flowers
Those ancient hills of Toora lush and green after Spring showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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