Frozen Vapours
Heavily overcast sky
With dark clouds
Gentle piercing wind
Rattles oaks, deodhars and pines
Whispers to rodhodendrons
Bloom time not far behind
Birds to safe havens fly
With spring
Again to arrive
Oaks, deodhars and pines
And apple trees
Not far behind
Greet the frozen vapours
With a warm smile.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Jakhoo
Tread that peak
Where the deity lives
Courage, conviction, devotion mixed
That meandering path
Amidst huge deodhars
Canopy of oaks
Colour of rohododendrons
Natural abode
For his mates
Provide security till his gate
Jumps on shoulders
Probes the brain
Hands ensure
Pockets are safe.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Trees Against The Sky
Pines against the sky,
Pluming the purple hill;
Pines . . . and I wonder why,
Heart, you quicken and thrill?
Wistful heart of a boy,
Fill with a strange sweet joy,
Lifting to Heaven nigh -
Pines against the sky.
Palms against the sky,
Failing the hot, hard blue;
Stark on the beach I lie,
Dreaming horizons new;
Heart of my youth elate,
Scorning a humdrum fate,
Keyed to adventure high -
Palms against the sky.
Oaks against the sky,
Ramparts of leaves high-hurled,
Staunch to stand and defy
All the winds of the world;
Stalwart and proud and free,
Firing the man in me
To try and again to try -
Oaks against the sky.
Olives against the sky
Of evening, limpidly bright;
Tranquil and soft and shy,
Dreaming in amber light;
Breathing the peace of life,
Ease after toil and strife . . .
Hark to their silver sigh!
Olives against the sky.
Cypresses glooming the sky,
Stark at the end of the road;
Failing and faint am I,
Lief to be eased of my load;
There where the stones peer white
in the last of the silvery light,
Quiet and cold I'll lie -
Cypresses etching the sky.
Trees, trees against the sky -
O I have loved them well!
There are pleasures you cannot buy,
Treasurers you cannot sell,
And not the smallest of these
Is the gift and glory of trees. . . .
So I gaze and I know now why
It is good to live - and to die. . . .
Trees and the Infinite Sky.
poem by Robert William Service
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In The Pines
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
My love, my love, what have I done
To make you treat me so
You've caused me to weep, you've caused me to mourn
You've caused me to leave my home
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
The longest train I ever saw
Went down that Georgia Line
The engine passed at six o'clock
The caboose went by at nine
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
I asked my captain for the time of day
He said he throwed his watch away
In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines
And you shiver when the cold wind blows
Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Pines
These pines are not the ones that i'm used to
They won't carry me home when I cry
Am I too far gone to recover
Or can I turn if I try
Should I trade my soul for another
Should I stay and pretend that I'm happy
Like so many times before
Yeah these pines
Are not mine
They don't smell so sweet
like the ones in my mind
And I search the needles
'Til I run out of time
But I don't see you in These Pines.
Di I stumble or falter my words
When I'm saying everything is all right
I'm not one to release my depression
But these trees bring it out every night
Well i don't talk 'cos I'm trying to listen
To the wind take me home through these leaves
But it's quiet and don't hear nothing
Cos the wind doesn't blow through these trees
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For You (Sestina)
The tangled wood reminds me of your hair -
dark like the night and falling in whispers.
Kneeling underneath the sheltering pines,
I sip silence and stroke the memories.
You have long been gone, and I miss your hands,
slipping through the long sleeves of languid love.
Time is a leaf on the branch of our love,
curled in the corners of your chestnut hair
and falling like sand through hourglass hands.
Wind strokes my back and quietly whispers.
Stars float down a dark sky of memories,
their bright pulse like beacons above the pines.
Thus hangs the moon, suspended among pines,
promising brighter days showered with love;
but for now, I live in the memories.
I braid a blue blossom into my hair,
its fragrance wafting like weary whispers,
spider-spun silk in the palm of my hands.
I remember how you captured my hands,
held them within the shadow of the pines,
and kissed them soft as butterfly whispers.
It was then that I knew I was in love,
when you gently stroked the length of my hair,
now curled within the moonlight memories.
Moonlight makes magic of the memories,
within the palms of her shimmering hands,
and she sprinkles starlight throughout my hair.
Initials are carved in one of the pines
within a whimsical heart made with love
and sanctified with undying whispers.
The past unfolds in wandering whispers,
ushered through the gate of my memories.
I write a letter of undying love,
hold it like seeds in the palm of my hands,
and plant it with a kiss beneath the pines
as the wind looses a wisp of my hair.
The pale wings of my love move like whispers,
tangling in your hair like memories
captured within your hands beneath the pines.
poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Redbud Peeks
Redbud peeks
Beyond the showy white dogwood.
The wet Spring breeze blows soft,
As the thick smoke clouds race low across
The unseen sky.
Rust pink maple seeds
And Spring green leaves,
Shudder among the dark green pines.
The whistling wind and waving tawny grass
Bid the last Winter cold, 'Be gone! '
Let the warmth of Spring day sun arrive. 'Goodbye! '
(4.13.9 Waterfall)
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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From Lightning and Tempest
The spring-wind pass'd through the forest, and whispered low in the leaves,
And the cedar toss'd her head, and the oak stood firm in his pride ;
The spring-wind pass'd through the town, through the housetops, casements, and eaves,
And whisper'd low in the hearts of the men, and the men replied,
Singing—'Let us rejoice in the light
Of our glory, and beauty, and might ;
Let us follow our own devices, and foster our own desires.
As firm as our oaks in our pride, as our cedars fair in our sight,
We stand like the trees of the forest that brave the frosts and the fires.'
The storm went forth to the forest, the plague went forth to the town,
And the men fell down to the plague, as the trees fell down to the gale ;
And their bloom was a ghastly pallor, and their smile was a ghastly frown,
And the song of their hearts was changed to a wild, disconsolate wail,
Crying—'God ! we have sinn'd, we have sinn'd,
We are bruised, we are shorn, we are thinn'd,
Our strength is turn'd to derision, our pride laid low in the dust,
Our cedars are cleft by Thy lightnings, our oaks are strew'd by Thy wind,
And we fall on our faces seeking Thine aid, though Thy wrath is just.'
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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My Playmate
The pines were dark on Ramoth hill,
Their song was soft and low;
The blossoms in the sweet May wind
Were falling like the snow.
The blossoms drifted at our feet,
The orchard birds sang clear;
The sweetest and the saddest day
It seemed of all the year.
For, more to me than birds or flowers,
My playmate left her home,
And took with her the laughing spring,
The music and the bloom.
She kissed the lips of kith and kin,
She laid her hand in mine
What more could ask the bashful boy
Who fed her father's kine?
She left us in the bloom of May
The constant years told o'er
Their seasons with as sweet May morns,
But she came back no more.
I walk, with noiseless feet, the round
Of uneventful years;
Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring
And reap the autumn ears.
She lives where all the golden year
Her summer roses blow;
The dusky children of the sun
Before her come and go.
There haply with her jewelled hands
She smooths her silken gown,-
No more the homespun lap wherein
I shook the walnuts down.
The wild grapes wait us by the brook,
The brown nuts on the hill,
And still the May-day flowers make sweet
The woods of Follymill.
The lilies blossom in the pond,
The bird builds in the tree,
The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill
The slow song of the sea.
I wonder if she thinks of them,
And how the old time seems,-
If ever the pines of Ramoth wood
Are sounding in her dreams.
I see her face, I hear her voice;
Does she remember mine?
And what to her is now the boy
Who fed her father's kine?
What cares she that the orioles build
For other eyes than ours,-
That other hands with nuts are filled,
And other laps with flowers?
O playmate in the golden time!
Our mossy seat is green,
Its fringing violets blossom yet,
The old trees o'er it lean.
The winds so sweet with birch and fern
A sweeter memory blow;
And there in spring the veeries sing
The song of long ago.
And still the pines of Ramoth wood
Are moaning like the sea,-
The moaning of the sea of change
Between myself and thee!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Trees
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
There is unrest in the forest
There is trouble with the trees
For the maples want more sunligh
And the oaks ignore their pleas
The trouble with the maples
(and theyre quite convinced theyre right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light
But the oaks cant help their feelings
If they like the way theyre made
And they wonder why the maples
Cant be happy in their shade?
There is trouble in the forest
And the creatures all have fled
As the maples scream 'oppression!'
And the oaks, just shake their heads
So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights
the oaks are just too greedy
We will make them give us light
Now theres no more oak oppression
For they passed a noble law
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet,
Axe,
And saw ...
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wounds Heal
Sentries guard the door
First cup of coffee bribes them
Creative flow mixes with clouds
Cold spring day of inward soul
Yellow green imagination
Easel of words
Brighten the world with a bird feeder
The flow of the sea fights the frozen
Memories find corridors
We adjust like birds in flight
The pounce of wind flutters the pines
We are sensitive
Dawn is never the same
Darkness and light
Time and eternity
Love should win in my short freedom
Life is a naked experience
Wounds heal if we let them
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Where Did You Sleep Last Night
Where did you sleep last night
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, where will you go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
Her husband, was a hard working man
Just about a mile from here
His head was found in a driving wheel
But his body never was found
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I will shiver the whole night through
(sing it for me)
My girl, my girl, where will you go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I will shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, where will ya go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, the pines
The sun, the shine
Ill shiver the whole night through
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Did You Sleep Last Night
Where did you sleep last night
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, where will you go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
Her husband, was a hard working man
Just about a mile from here
His head was found in a driving wheel
But his body never was found
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I will shiver the whole night through
(sing it for me)
My girl, my girl, where will you go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, dont lie to me
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun dont ever shine
I will shiver the whole night through
My girl, my girl, where will ya go?
Im going where the cold wind blows
In the pines, the pines
The sun, the shine
Ill shiver the whole night through
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring At Last Is Here
Everything has turned to green again,
Spring at last is here.
The fluffy clouds bring the spring rain,
The sky cries it's gentle tears.
The oaks and elms sport new attire,
Bluebonnets dot the land.
Mockingbirds sing on the telephone wire,
The harmonizing sounds so grand.
The Earth has come to life once more,
Spring is in the air.
Up in the sky Peregrines soar,
New life is everywhere.
3/24/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Spring In Victoria
The bottlebrushes laden with crimson flowers
And there is warmth in the October breeze
And with her Spring has brought her blooms and greenery
And birds are singing on the sunlit trees.
Spring in Victoria my favourite time of year
The birds build their nests and raise their families
The weather not too cool or not too warm
A high today of 17 degrees.
The distinct call sounds of the magpie lark
And the Indian mynah sings his scratchy song
Some birds are easy to identify
And by their voices you never get them wrong.
Spring in Victoria is a time of bloom
And sun shines brightly after the brief showers
The fruit trees cloaked in blossoms of pale pink
And gardens look resplendent in their flowers.
My favourite season is always the spring
And spring in Victoria is now in her prime
The wild birds sing and gardens are in bloom
But Nature's beauty fades with the passage of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sea, Mountain And I
I went to sea many times..
watched the waves, the
virgin islands, I loved
to walk on the sand,
of the far-stretched beach....
I swam and bathed with wilderness,
but, I couldn't love any sea.
I see everyday, the mountain range,
as if they stand in meditation,
with Pines, Oaks, and Birches
tufted with their loving hearts!
The curtain of mists opens up,
with the first appearance of,
the mild ray of the Sun...
The tops of the trees smile
and greet the world and
bow to the creator for all
for them He has done.
The dew-wrapped wet leaves,
stuck to my moving toes...
The winding paths invite
me to go, to go...
Down, down I see, the deep
ditch, with sudden touch of
day light, and darkness
of the unknown mystery,
tells me the horrible truth,
death is nothing but a simple
slip from known to very unknown.
Still, I am in half love
with life and death,
so I fall in deep love with this.
Mountain works in me like
daily fever and doesn't
let me go!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Oranges On Apple Trees
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Oranges on apple trees
Water comes and water goes
Where it ends up no one really knows
Water rises, water falls
Where it comes from no one knows for sure
It seeps from every pore
We have seen the rain before
Not like this - its flooding every shore
People come and people go
I can hear their laughter through the door
But no ones keeping score
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities
(yeah and more)
Oranges and apple trees
I see your face in front of me
Cant believe what no one else could see
I feel it deep inside of me
Everything we love shall be released
And everyone will see
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
I used to be the only one
Not now since youve come
You and I have seen the signs
Thats why the wind died
The wind died
Thats why oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
Endless possibilities (now)
Oranges on apple trees
All the things that we can see
Multi-gender wannabes
Oranges on apple trees
Birds that mate with bumblebees
One big happy family
Endless possibilities (yeah yeah yeah)
Oranges on apple trees (for sure)
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Listen
I will listen closely to your heart
From dawn to sunset I will hear
When the stars shine I will listen
At night I shall hear your dreams
Hear the sea with its mystery
Read the poetry of glory
Spring brings lovely song birds
Wind blows through joyful trees
We listen to nature, why not the heart?
Your sweet garden is filled with flowers
In the gentle morning I will hear you
Together we paint a portrait of passion
The moon shines in your desire
When your lonely clouds cover
I will hold you beyond words
Your smile is a gift of praise
I will listen to your gentle whispers
The touch of your smooth skin
The beauty of your summer eyes
Darling, I will listen with my last breath
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Spring.
'Let the light rain on her, the sweet Spring, till
She teems with greenery in the warm air,
Flower-hued, and vocal with the tender joy
Of bleating lambs and young birds on the wing.'
Thus on the cold hill doth the herdsman pray
Beneath his frozen star; the milkmaid, too,
As her raw hands take up the milking-pail,
And the wind freezes in the red dawn near: —
'Come, Spring, earth's sap, and mount in me until
I bloom, a rose of love: smile in mine eyes
Till my love from his wintry hill shall see
The star of youth, and leap into my arms!
O Spring, sweet Spring! but hear my prayer, and I
Shall build thee bowers of roses on the hill,
And all the summer there with bird and bee
Shall joy feast in the beauty of our love!'
Thus do they chant the wintry time away
In hill and vale, the two who look to when
The warmth of beauty takes life's wonder on,
And the rose of the flesh shall bloom for them.
poem by Robert Crawford
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Not Everyone Looks Forward To Spring
Although it is a time of bloom and blossom
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
It also is a time of heavy pollen
And not everybody looks forward to the Spring.
The garden in full bloom is looking lovely
And blossoms on the bushes and the trees
But pollen by the warm breeze is carried
And you hear some people sniffle, cough and sneeze.
The beauty of Spring on the artist's canvas
And Spring inspire the lyric poet to rhyme
But all of those who have an allergy to pollen
Will tell you that Spring is not their favourite time.
Not every one yearns for the warm weather
Or for the scents of blossom, rose and flower
You cannot enjoy the beauty of a sunlit garden
If you cough and sneeze one hundred times an hour.
It is a time of greenery and beauty
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
And Mother Nature she is at her loveliest
But not everyone looks forward to the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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