Related quotes: Patches of dark grey clouds...

Countryside

Patches of dark grey clouds
and streaks of white clouds
on the greenish brown hills
blocking the daylight;
The water-filled paddy fields
the swaying of the coconut tree leaves
the raindrops on mustard flowers;
some black and white coloured
cows tied under a tree
and a herd of mooing cows heading home;
The smiles of children playing in
rain puddles, various coloured
umbrellas scattered from
here to there, people rushing
to their homes, a small
temple sheltering all;
The cool breeze, the droplets of
water on every face,
the smell of damp brown-earth
made the time stand still.
I paused and resumed
my journey of life.

poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Related quotes

The Muse Of Life

Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The lovely land

The sea is sky-blue and the sky, sea-blue.
The earth is coconut-brown and the coconut, earth brown.
The clouds are water-dark and the water, cloud-dark.
The paddy is grass-green and the grass, paddy-green.
The valleys are spice- rich and the spices, valley- rich.
The rivers are lagoon-seeking and the lagoons, river-seeking.
The rubber is wealth-prone and the wealth, rubber-prone.
The culture is art-borne and the arts, culture-borne.
The traditions are style made and the styles, tradition made.
The rich blur with the poor and the poor, with the rich.
Education sweeps like monsoon rain;
Hygiene shines like fountain water.
Pride surges like the Periyar in summer.
The people charm the land and the land, the people.
Men are woman friendly and women, men friendly.
The land is Kerala, lovely, lovely, lovely.

May,2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rain.

the grass waving in the wind
the tree's swaying in the breeze
the windy weather the rain
winter

the clouds of different shades
black grey white
smoke rising above the house's
fire's alight
warming the air within there homes

keeping them warm from the cold
air outside there cozy homes
rain starting to pour apon there roofs
hitting hard

the weather getting worse
poeple hiding in there homes
away from it all.

poem by Nick.. Sorensen
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Sprinkle Your Love

The glazing sunshine
Afternoon
Under that tree
Tree with dry leaves
Visible roots
Dry earth
Give me water
To drink
And sprinkle your love
On the bareness of my heart
The sky and some patches of white clouds
I stretch
Hold my hands
The hands dry like the branches of that tree
Hold my hands
For these hands
May grow some leaves
And fruits
Like the hope
I have
From the tree
My love
Do not despair
There is blood
Still running in my veins

poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Afternoon rain

Every day this summer
in the late afternoon
the rain just keep pouring down
as if the milling clouds
and the storm has its clock set.

Thunder flashes here and there
white-blue electric bolts
from a sudden grey sky
and big and small drops fall
rushing down to the earth.

Heat rises in steaming white patches
on the hot black tar road
while the first drops make it wet
and water suddenly streams everywhere
in miniature rivers.

People run to reach their cars
and are stuck in huge traffic jams
where cars crawl meters at a time,
while others go to bars
and enjoy a drink or two
and smoke their cigars.

Two teenage girls
that are soaking wet
with T-shirts clinging translucent
dance on the sidewalk
in the falling rain
and their giggles
catches my ear
and suddenly it’s fun to live.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Black, White Or Coloured

I was born black and you were born white or coloured;
But we all came from the lovely hands of the Creator,
Because the Creator loves colours!
And like the muse of the rainbow seen across the sky.

I am always black! !
In the sun, in sickness and even when i die;
But the Creator made it so,
And i will be buried as a black when i die.

You were born white or coloured,
But you came out of the womb with the colour of the rose!
And you became whit eor coloured in the process of your growth,
But you are always blue when it is cold.

You do turn green when there is fear in your eyes!
But yellow when you are sick;
And like the various colours of the rainbow as seen across the sky,
But you will be grey when you die.

This shows that i am always black from birth to death,
But you do have various colours to satisfy your muse like the rainbow;
So you are more coloured than i am in this life,
And we all know the reality of these facts on this earth.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A View

driftwood
with seven twigs
on the shore
as clear as glass
is the water
and all stones and pebbles
are visible

above
blue skies
so blue that the white cotton clouds
appear like sperm cells moving
impregnating
an earth-sky womb

and then
it rains
the water rises
the drift wood again taken
floating
gently to another shore
another island
of white sands

a coconut tree towers
to reach a waft of cloud
winds as cool as ice
sands slipping on the fingers
a leaf from a guyabano tree falls
on the mouth
of a sleeping woman
beside her
the man whose arms are enclosing
her throughout
the rainy night

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reveries of an Imaginary Landscape No.12 - Morning with Water

White mist
hiding the brownish patches of trees
looking upward the canopy scrumptious, vivacious

The air
cold at first
fresh, invigorating

Cool red earth
pitted and smooth, damp and vibrant
silky red flowers and burgeoning patches of green and blue

The sun
blasting, rippling through the canopy
bright dancing shadows on the red, red earth

Running water
clear, warm, from a steamy spring
shiny droplets dripping

poem by Timothy Marshal Nichols
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Banyan Tree

Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.

Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.

A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?

God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved

poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Rainbow Of Clouds

(09/27/11)

Oh! How I love to look at the sky
So many colors that attract the eye.
Blues, grey s , reds, and oranges too
Create such a perfect view.

Especially at dusk or dawn
When new colors are born.
Or when the white clouds look like
Snow covered mountain tops
And the rippling waves that it creates
Puts you at a restful state.

What about the patches of blue
In between the oranges and grey s
And your heart wishing that they would stay.

The skies can create such a therapeutic state
On which so many of us can relate.
Putting our minds and bodies at such ease
Like the feel of a soft gentle breeze.

It also has its black clouds
Covering its face like a shroud.
These dark clouds tend to hide the day
And you never know what will come your way.
But Even the darkest of clouds can bring joy.

The rains that the dark clouds bring
Gives life to everything.

poem by Louis Rams
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A Mountshannon October Morning

The stranger sat upon the park bench,
and looked across the Lough.
Smoke from his pipe
blended with the cool morning breeze.
The distant mountains patchwork of green
sat under the hand of dawn’s rolling mist.
The white capped dark waters rolled endlessly against the shore,
nudging the sheltering boats against their moorings,
and washed over shoreline rocks
speckled with lichen and moss.
A pair of swans with their signets sheltered
in the calmer waters of the harbour
away from the white capped waves.
The sun edged its way into the sky,
from behind the sleeping mountains,
spreading red and oranged fingers
to touch the retreating night clouds.
The village adopted ginger cat
made his morning patrol
along the harbour’s sleeping boats,
in a search for breakfast.
The autumn coloured tree leaves,
fluttered in the morning breeze
as the wind and waves rolling
over the shore bound rocks disturbing
the dawning silence.

poem by David Harris
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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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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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The July Sky

The sky is pouring all day long,
Water from it's pitch dark pot.
The trees, plants and shrubs so got
Relieved from that scorching hot.
Ah! they said to each other-
Rain is blessings, is not it?
How could one live, happily,
In such painful burning heat?
They all chat and smile and crackle.
Flowers let out sweet fragrance,
The faded greenness then chuckle-
As raindrops start their ballet dance.
We should take rest, can work no more-
The Nimbus clouds discuss with friends,
They labored hard throughout the day.
The lightning, mapping all clouds' ends,
Taking metal scale, he rubs on sky,
Announces-all clouds must take a row.
Whose tasks are left, they stay for now,
The white ones make queue, you can go.
Hearing these words, clouds do the same.
Drizzle starts and blows soothing breeze.
Clouds go back, ending their long game,
The earth, shakes hand with smiling trees

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Mr Paddy's Capers.

Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone

To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between

Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out

By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,

She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he

Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held

Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the

Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen

And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,

He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose

Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and

Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let

Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes

Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,

And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.

poem by Terry Collett
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July Sky

ORIGINAL

poem by Nilakshi Das
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The Thunder Cracks In The Gray Sky

The thunder cracks in the gray sky and the rain it is bucketing down
Above the high and dry and bare paddocks by the river that flows by the town
On those paddocks that need heaps of rain it has been awhile since they were green
This countryside is looking dry 'tis as dry as it ever has been
His feathers soaked wet from the rain the magpie flutes on the blackwood tree
From it's drenched leaves the rain drips and drips by the river that flows to the sea
To the river adown the bare hill the water in rivulets run
As soon as the rain will have stopped they will quickly dry out in the sun
The Summer has been warm and dry and the long range weather forecast is for a dry Fall
An hour of heavy thunder rain of little use though better than nothing at all
For months the farmers have been praying for rain their prayers in part answered today
But the sun shines across the brown hills and the rain clouds are clearing away
And the magpie shakes his feathers dry and no rain drops left to drip from the trees
And white butterflies flitting about in the sunshine and feshening breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Clouds Shall Pass

I see clouds
Whitish and feathery
Cotton white and feathery
Dark clouds, winds gather,

Winds howl, winds sweep the sky
Sun shines, coloured rainbow bows
little rain spatters, clouds,
Clouds shall clear, the sun winks.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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The Crocodile

The crock

The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land
and a dusty crocodile.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Reptile