Hurricane
Tall buildings and trees fell flat
Grass blades bounced back
haiku by Sathya Narayana
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The Travelling Bear
GRASS-BLADES push up between the cobblestones
And catch the sun on their flat sides
Shooting it back,
Gold and emerald,
Into the eyes of passers-by.
And over the cobblestones,
Square-footed and heavy,
Dances the trained bear.
The cobbles cut his feet,
And he has a ring in his nose
But still he dances,
For the keeper pricks him with a sharp stick,
Under his fur.
Now the crowd gapes and chuckles,
And boys and young women shuffle their feet in time to the dancing bear,
They see him wobbling
Against a dust of emerald and gold,
And they are greatly delighted.
The legs of the bear shake with fatigue
And his back aches,
And the shining grass-blades dazzle and confuse him.
But still he dances,
Because of the little, pointed stick.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Disgusting Changes Indeed
when i come back to my
old hometown
the creeks where we as
children once fished
are gone,
trees replaced with
tall buildings
playgrounds turning
into commercial districts
markets into
monotonous stalls
they call it progress
i am saying
goodbye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Off the Track
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!
“Keep the sun on yer right,” they said—
But, hang it, he's gone an' got over my head!
“Make for a belt of apple trees;”—
Jist so. But where's yer belt, if ye please?
By gum, it's hot! This child'll melt,
An' there ain't no apples, nor ain't no belt.
“Keep clear o' the timber-getters' tracks,”
But wich is wich, I'd beg to ax?
They forks and jines, the devil knows how—
I wish I'd a sight o' either now!
“Leave the track,” sez they, “when you sees
Some yards to the right two big grass trees.”
Two! It's dozens on dozens I pass—
Most on 'em big, an' all on 'em grass.
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
I'm fairly taken aback, aback.
“Keep tow'rd the river. You can't go wrong.”
Whew? Can't I, though! That was rayther strong.
“Follow the lay o' the land,” sez they;
But, Lord, this flat ain't got no lay!
Whew! Ain't it hot on the pint o' the nose?
An' the more I mops the hotter I grows.
“An' when you comes to the foot o' the range”—
WHEN! That's the pint. But ain't it strange,
That the further I goes, to left or right,
The more there ain't no range in sight.
Gum trees, gum trees, slim an' high,
Timber green an' timber dry.
Blackened stumps an' fallen logs—
Lively work as on we jogs!
Oh the devil an' all take the flat, the flat!
I'm one myself for the matter o' that.
I'm mazed, an' so is the brute I rides,
An' the sun's getting over the left besides.
Dash it, I'll follow my nose, my nose!
Step out, straight forrard, here goes, here goes!
Let the sun be left, or the sun be right,
Summat or other must come in sight.
* * * * *
Well, well! If this ain't too bad by half!
Lor', how the beggars 'll laugh an' chaff!
Back to my startin' point? Yes; tis so.
I put up them slip-rails six hours ago.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Shadows And Tall Trees
Back to the cold restless streets at night
I talk to myself about tomorrow night
Walls of white protest
A gravestone in name
Who is it now
It's always the same
Who is it now
Who calls me inside
Are the leaves on the trees
Just living disguise
I walk sweet rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Life through a window
Discoloured pain
Mrs. Brown's washing is always the same
I walk street rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
(Out there)
Do you feel in me...
Anything redeeming
Any worthwhile feeling
Is love like a tightrope
Hanging from the ceiling
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and Tall Trees
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Within the woodlands for M'lady Lucianne
Glosa
Within the woodlands flowery gladed
Beside the oak trees mossy moot
The shining grass blades timber shaded
Now do quiver underfoot.
William Barnes
Within the woodlands flowery gladed.
A lover and his lass embrace.
She was not to be persuaded
this was the time nor yet the place.
Beside the oak trees mossy moot
he begged and pleaded but in vain
she rejected his urgent suit
Her maidenhead she would retain
The shining grass blades timber shaded
Would not become her marriage bed.
Her maidenhood would not be traded
for all the words of love he said.
Now do quiver underfoot
all of his planned seduction schemes,
to him she was forbidden fruit
The subject of his fevered dreams.
11-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It's Five O'Clock Somewhere
[Alan:]
The sun is hot and that old clock,
is movin' slow, and so am I.
Work day passes like molasses,
in winter time, but it's July.
Getting paid by the hour,
and older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me,
over the limit.
I could call him something,
think I'll just call it a day...
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
This lunch break is gonna take
all afternoon, half the night.
Tomorrow morning I know there'll be hell to pay,
but, hey, that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now, in over a year.
My Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
If the phone's for me you can tell them
I just sailed away....
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
[Instrumental]
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
and be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
what would Jimmy Buffett do.
[Jimmy:]
Funny you should ask Alan, I'd say...
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care.
[Together:]
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
[Alan:]
... but he don't care, I don't care.
Together
It's five o'clock somewhere.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See And Feel The Wonder
Leave me in the cool tall grass
With my back against a tree
Tilt my head back a bit
Put soft brush beneath my knee
Put my hands atop one another
For I have the need, you see
To see and feel the wonder
To repose beneath the tree
So journey on…Don’t look back
Think no more of me
Just leave me in the cool tall grass
With my back against a tree
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Venus Stop The Train
Venus, stop the train
For the brakeman lost his place
Satellites were spinning and out of space
They televised her feelings while the light
The light struck terror
I kept my distance because she fell in love with everyone
Smoking grass and taking Christmas trees
She fell in love with me
I was polite to her
A soft sadness having much more than her
Loneliness
Her father warmed the benches
Vice president of southern branches
He reached out to her when her mother slept
He would never forget the light
The light, the light striking terror
I kept my distance because she fell in love with everyone
Smoking grass and taking Christmas trees
She fell in love with me
I was polite to her
A soft sadness having much more than her
Loneliness
Satellites spinning
Satellites spin
Well the light
The light, the light
The light, the light
The light strikes terror
The light strikes terror
I keep my distance because she falls in love with everyone
Smoking grass and taking Christmas trees
She falls in love with me
I'm polite to her
A soft sadness having much more than her
Ugliness
I keep my distance cause she falls in love with everyone
Smoking grass and taking Christmas trees
She falls in love with me
I'm polite to her
I reach my soft hand out to her
I've known her for a very, very long time
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Jersey The Garden State
In NYC where the buildings are tall,
so much to do, no time for it all.
Now across the Hudson River
is a much smaller state.
I hear there are very hard working people
who make this Garden State great.
Now the water in New Jersey
used to be Pristine,
It came out of underground springs
that was very CLEAN.
Oil refineries, and power plants to this date,
destroy Jersey but make NYC great.
By lighting up all their tall buildings
making it the City that Never Sleeps,
but hurting Jersey without anything to reap.
Lets bring back Jersey as it was in the past,
rid the state of it’s pollution that cannot last.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.10,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plum's Destiny
A little plum dropped from the tree
and struck a frog upon his knee.
The frog did hurt and cried a lot
the plum said Oops, I plum forgot.
Which wasn't altogether true
you see a plum is always blue
a frog however must be green
thus he can easily be seen.
So, folks, it truly stands to reason
that in the Fall, the ripening season
a bit of care would be advised
that way a frog is not surprised.
In any case, the knee did swell
the plum just stayed right where it fell,
so in an effort now to heal
the frog fell for the plum appeal.
He grabbed the plum and opened wide
the plum prepared for its last ride.
And said before it was too late
a plum is to be eaten, mate.
So, you can see that those that fall
from trees or buildings, big and tall
will usually just fail to see
the maker of their destiny.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Tall Tall Trees
If you want to drive a big limousine
Ill buy the longest one youve ever seen
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
If you want to own a great big mansion
Well Ill give it my utmost attention
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Well Im a fool, a fool for you
(it may take awhile, but Ill prove its true
Well if its lovin you want, then Ive got it
If its money you want, then Ill get it
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
(yahoo)
Instrumental break
If you want to take a trip across the ocean
Ill travel anywhere you take a notion
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
If you want to own a great big mansion
Well Ill give it my utmost attention
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Well Im a fool, a fool for you
(it may take awhile, but Ill prove its true
Well if its lovin you want, then Ive got it
If its money you want, then Ill get it
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Yeah, Im a fool, fool, fool for you
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Jersey The Garden State
In NYC where the buildings are tall,
so much to do, no time for it all.
Now across the Hudson River
is a much smaller state.
I hear there are very hard working people
who make this Garden State great.
Now the water in New Jersey
used to be Pristine,
It came out of underground springs
that was very CLEAN.
Oil refineries, and power plants to this date,
destroy Jersey but make NYC great.
By lighting up all their tall buildings
making it the City that Never Sleeps,
but hurting Jersey without anything to reap.
Lets bring back Jersey as it was in the past,
rid the state of it’s pollution for it cannot last.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.10,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kicked Around
Ive been pulled to pieces, Ive got an arm over here,
Ive got a leg over there, Ive got my ass somewhere upside down,
But Im back, Im here to tell you Im back, better than before,
Cant keep a good thing down, uh-uh.
Well Ive been kicked around, never thought that I could fall,
Thought that I was standing tall, turned out I was the ball,
And you know what, and i, and i, and Ive been kicked around,
Baby after all, I took all the shots you called,
Turned out I was the ball, you kicked you pushed.
And Ive been kicked around, and Ive been upside down,
Oh Ive been bounced around, kicked around,
Im gonna get you, get you, your very momma will regret you,
Im going to stomp and drag you to your knees,
Your very papa will forget you, kicked around.
Oh i, oh i, oh Ive been bounced around,
Let me tell you, Im here to tell you,
You can get up, you can put all the pieces back together,
Yeah, dont let him stomp on you baby, get up now!
I said you made me feel so small, bouncing me against the wall,
Just like I was the ball, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Oh i, oh i, oh i, oh Ive been kicked around,
Now look at me baby, (trips alone) paved the memories you gave me,
My eyes are open, eyes are open, now I can see,
Youre nothing but a bad, bad memory,
Im all together now, all together now,
Im the biggest ball you ever did see, Im gonna roll on you,
Im gonna fall on you, Im gonna stomp on you,
Im gonna punch on you, Im gonna choke on you,
Im gonna rip you, drag you to your knees,
Your very papa will regret you!
No need to come begging to me, my heart is deaf to your plea,
The hurt you have planted has grown much in me,
Im gonna lie to you, get away from me!
Oh i, oh i, oh i, oh Ive been kicked around,
And Ive been upside down, been kicked around,
Yeah, here I am, Im back, Im all together,
Cant keep a good woman down, Im big and tall,
Listen to me, just listen to me, just look at me,
Im back, here I am, hear me coming....
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Switches, Pop, And Persimmon Rockets
I remember, well, that tall old persimmon
That stood in the yard, when I was a lad
The soft fruit that fell from that tall old persimmon
When picked up and eaten, what sweetness, it had
It didn’t take long to eat up all the ripe ones
And then what was left laying under the tree
Was firm, shiny fruit that resembled green apples
And it seemed it should also be tasty, to me
I picked up a big one and brushed off the dirt
Then sunk my teeth in its flesh, firm and green
My mouth puckered up like a prune in the sun
I found that persimmons aren’t tasty when green
My brothers and I and the neighbors as well
Would play in its shade most all the day long
Softball or horseshoes or cowboys and Indians
It didn’t much matter ‘cause life was a song
Since no one could eat those hard green persimmons
We wondered if use for such fruit could be found
While playing one day, through a sheer stroke of genius
A discovery was made of gargantuan bounds
Right there on the ground we made our discovery
A single use switch that my pop made me cut
And once he had finished the job it was cut for
He dropped it right there where I, then picked it up
It seemed, such a waste, to get only one use
From such a fine switch as this one I had cut
So, onto its tip I pushed one green persimmon
And reared back and flung it as hard as I could
We couldn’t believe how smoothly it flew
Up through the trees and over the fence
It bounced off the roof of the house on the next street
We all were astounded, how far that it went
A new sport was born that glorious day
Contests were held and a champion was named
We bounced more’n a dozen hard green persimmons
Off of that rooftop the very first day
One day when that neighbor should’ve been working
He found green persimmons all over his lot
He studied awhile on the puzzle before him
Then, as fate would have it, he called up my pop
It didn’t take pop long to figure it out
When he found all our ordnance piled in the ditch
Since I was the oldest, he called me in first
And told me, “young man, go cut me a switch”
I cut you a good one, I said to my pop
But, I feel I must say, as I give it to you
For a switch of this nature, it seems a disgrace
To be wantonly put to such vulgar a use
© C R Clark-6/15/2008
poem by C.R. Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hurricane / Cradle To The Grave
From cradle to grave
I am woman, I am son!
I can give birth to sheep, I can give birth to son!
And I can be cool, soft as the breeze,
Ill be a hurricane, ripping up trees!
I am woman, I am son!
I am woman, I am son!
Cant see where I run, no matter how far!
I am woman, I am son!
I can give birth to sheep, I can give birth to son!
And I can be cool, soft like the breeze,
Ill be a hurricane, ripping up trees!
Want some [? ] twice a [? ]
I can see, over candle-light,
Ill take care of you, untill you die.
I can [? ] brush, I can [? ] screw,
When I walk by, flowers will bloom.
Want some [? ] twice a [? ]
Ill be a hurricane, ripping up trees!
You keep takin...my head should be aching!
I can see, over candle-light,
Ill take care of you, untill you die,
Ill be a hurricane, ripping up trees!
You keep takin...
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In heaven,
In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
"What did you do?"
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
"And what did you do?"
The little blade answered, "Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them."
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
"Oh, best little blade of grass!" He said.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still I am grateful
Slain by her eyes and torn by her charm,
I fell flat, she in me a butterfly.
I fell back in pain when she slipped out.
I still feel happy she gave me a chance to pine.
11.06.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Five O'clock Somewhere
The sun is hot and that old clock is movin' slow,
An' so am I.
Work day passes like molasses in wintertime,
But it's July.
I'm gettin' paid by the hour, an' older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me over the limit.
I'd like to call him somethin',
I think I'll just call it a day.
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
Oh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoon,
An' half the night.
Tomorrow mornin', I know there'll be hell to pay,
Hey, but that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now in over a year.
Our Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
if the 'phones for me,
You can tell 'em I just sailed away.
An' pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
An' be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
What would Jimmy Buffett do?
JIMMY BUFFETT:
Funny you should ask Alan,
I'd say:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
ALAN JACKSON & JIMMY BUFFETT:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
He don't care.
I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
What time zone am I on? What country am I in?
ALAN JACKSON:
It doesn't matter, it's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
It's always on five in Margaritaville, come to think of it.
ALAN JACKSON:
Yeah, I heard that.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
You been there haven't you.
ALAN JACKSON:
Yes, sir.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
I seen your boat there.
ALAN JACKSON:
I've been to Margaritaville a few times.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
All right, well that's good.
ALAN JACKSON:
Stumbled all the way back.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
OK. Just wanna make sure you can keep it between the navigational beacons.
ALAN JACKSON:
Between the bouys, I gotcha.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
All right. Well, it's five o'clock. Let's go somewhere.
ALAN JACKSON:
I'm ready, crank it up.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
Let's get out of here.
ALAN JACKSON:
I'm gone.
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moorland Night
My face is against the grass - the moorland grass is wet -
My eyes are shut against the grass, against my lips there are the little blades,
Over my head the curlews call, And now there is the night wind in my hair;
My heart is against the grass and the sweet earth, - it has gone still, at last;
It does not want to beat any more,
And why should it beat?
This is the end of the journey.
The Thing is found.
This is the end of all the roads -
Over the grass there is the night-dew
And the wind that drives up from the sea along the moorland road,
I hear a curlew start out from the heath
And fly off calling through the dusk,
The wild, long, rippling call -:
The Thing is found and I am quiet with the earth;
Perhaps the earth will hold it or the wind, or that bird's cry,
But it is not for long in any life I know. This cannot stay,
Not now, not yet, not in a dying world, with me, for very long;
I leave it here:
And one day the wet grass may give it back -
One day the quiet earth may give it back -
The calling birds may give it back as they go by -
To someone walking on the moor who starves for love and will not know
Who gave it to all these to give away;
Or, if I come and ask for it again
Oh! then, to me.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Before You
Supposing Death
to be a woman
what then?
She asked
would you embrace it
as willingly as you do me?
The afternoon sun
seemed to hang
in the sky
like a child's balloon
as you lay that day
in the tall grass
maybe
you said
if it had eyes
and a smile like yours
and she pulled
a stem of grass
and placed between lips
and stared above
as birds flew
to and fro
and would you go
willingly into the dark
as you do with me
into this tall grass?
You turned to face her
taking in
her blue eyes
and cheeks
maybe
if it allowed me
to kiss as good
as you do
and as long
and she turned over
took out
the stem of grass
and kissed your lips
welcome to Miss Death
she said
and you both laughed
and lay back
gazing at the summer sky
a deep blue
not knowing then
death would come for her
long before
it would ever
come for you.
poem by Terry Collett
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