Fierce Mooning
Trotting along; fighting death -
with delaying techniques.
Chemo had failed.
Weeping Ashoka, how do I
name you differently?
I may not see you again.
I am hurt, very badly.
Absolutely rooted, firmly
in autumn. My leaves were falling.
Pushing back the interface
between smiles and tears;
the trespasser goes to moon.
It was traditional,
garlanding the poet-
who had killed his muse.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Trust Like A Tree
From tiny seed to tall giant
Firmly rooted in one place
Trusting God will provide
Sun, rain, ample space
If man dare learn from trees
Feet rooted in a single space
Trusting God shall provide
Man ‘n Earth could interface
Angels’ negotiate lasting peace
Where once was strife ‘n war
Satan’s grip would then release
God Within supreme once more
The next time you see a noble tree
Offer grateful words unashamedly
poem by Ray Lucero
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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Summer is weeping
In autumn leaves now falling
- One by one they go
haiku by Peter S. Quinn
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Autumn Days
I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.
And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.
Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!
Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.
They are dead, and the bare trees weep
Not loud as a mortal weeping,
But as sorrow that sighs in sleep,
And as grief that is still in sleeping.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Finds....
The poet finds whatever the moon could not see,
The poet finds whatever the earth does not know,
The poet finds whatever the sun could not see,
The poet finds whatever others do not know,
The poet finds whatever the stars could not see,
So why do the heathen rage and the people plot vanity? !
For she who is pregnant is closer to us,
And the hart pants after streams of water.
Your tears have been your food night and day,
And like your inner self in the lan dof your muse;
But the poet finds whatever the sun could not see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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It’s Just another Night
It’s just another night
In its easy going on dark
When clouds are high in flight
On a sky that in day did spark
Every road is on a lonely
Move and footsteps thru
And I'm sometimes there only
Trying to find back you
Every hour is now perfect
For the swart to come on in
With their flowers of neglect
In their whimsy dimly spin
In their whimsy dimly spin
It’s just another night
When the wings of dark are deep
From the flowers of the light
That we dearly want to keep
Every road is on a lonely
Moods of touching and defile
Sometimes that's what we need only
To walk alone road a mile
Every hour is now perfect
For the swart to come on in
With their flowers of neglect
In their whimsy dimly spin
In their whimsy dimly spin
Where the autumn leaves are falling
Where the autumn leaves are falling
Where the autumn leaves are falling
Where the autumn leaves are falling...
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Autumn Came
By ripping cheeks,
with cold breeze,
with twitter of sparrows,
Autumn came!
Autumn came to cover
shivering earth
with colorful leaves carpet!
Autumn floats like
sun's epitaph
Autumn echoed like
farewell song of birds
in the evening!
Autumn touches the
breath of last leaves
on the verge of falling
with warmth!
Autumn challenges the
confidence of the tree
who hides buds in the heart
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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Autumn Dreams
Grinning pumpkins, falling leaves,
Dancing scarecrows, twirling breeze,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air! Autumn is a woman growing old,
Ready to let what is dead go,
Her youthful radiance has faded, and that's sad,
But underneath she discovers a
spread of colors she didn't know she had. Little children screech and run,
Ghosts and goblins having fun,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air! Around her a kaleidoscope of leaves are whirling.
Deep within her visions stir of new life that will be,
A budding, a flowering, a promise unfurling.
Autumn is a woman growing old,
Ready to let what is dead go. Calico kittens, rain falling rat-a-tat-tat,
Big full moon, funny black cats,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air!
poem by Mary Naylor
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Moon Tonight
The turn my car took on Bandra flyover
Helped me see the part of sky with Moon.
And she looked round-faced – full Moon?
Chauffeur had steadied the car, I was not sure.
Mind went back a few years to my Delhi home
I had counted the full moons to my retirement:
Tried to go up on my terrace in Lodhi Garden
On every bright moon-lit night, alas, alone.
Now I wonder how many full moons before death?
But I don’t know how to time the interval between
Now and Death’s arrival for me: why not every one?
Perhaps there can be no better addition of riches to life.
From home, I put off TV, wore shoes, closed door,
And went down to walk under the Moon: she was
On the East at an angle: only if I walk East I see her.
Now I pass the lane between FDA and Artek Nagar.
I see the bits of broken Moon through the dark foliage
Of the trees, sometimes branches, some leaves in pairs
Asleep, while palm leaves swaying a lullaby gently,
Brushing on, without ever touching, the distant moon.
As I went on the main BKC road, I could see the full
Moon on this clear November sky in broad gaps
Where there were no cassia or queen’s tree, and
No star near, or even far, to distract my attention.
I enjoyed seeing the moon, rather self-consciously,
Keeping track of whether anyone passing by
Is watching me watch the Moon, to think “Is he
A poet or just lunatic, about to fall into a pot-hole? '
Before I turned homewards, I felt sad, very sad
To think that the full Moon is absolutely lost
In the lit streets with headlights and neon-lamps
That one has to search for the moon to see her.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Autumn of our lives
Its Autumn now and its the season
I'm getting old and there's a reason
Were casting off our summers bloom,
Amongst falling leaves I feel in tune
Leaves are falling, disrobing the tree
My hair turning silver, in sympathy
Winds of change are in the air
Stripping us of our summer flare
A gunmetal sky at mornings half light
Heralds the winters darkest night
No birds sing to welcome the day
Migrations begun they're on their way
Second year branches they start breaking
Like my old bones they start aching
We both are rooted to this place
Together the winter we will face
poem by Bob Gibson
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Sta. Ana Wind
have you ever
send autumn leaves
falling
making a heap
of yellow and brown
and orange
on the ground?
in the same manner
i have not seen
the sta. ana wind
but you make me feel
as though
i am within
the softness of the wind
the falling of the leaves
so sweetly
i love it
when you set me free
finally
my hair
keeping some of the
sta. ana wind
my hands
letting go the
autumn leaves
in my mind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Halfdan Kjerulf
Winter had sought his life's tree to o'erthrow,
Youthful and strong. But his blood's vernal flow
Saved it from death through the cold and the maiming;
Late in the summer bright flowers were flaming,
Late in the autumn they swelled to completeness,-
Fruits that were few, but of fragrance and sweetness.
Poets received them to endless seed-sowing,
Where for his folk endless summer is glowing,-
While more and more,
Stricken he hung o'er the death-river's shore,
Fighting in weakness the winter abhorred,
Fighting for summer, the singer's reward,
Fighting while failing, with modesty rare,
Soon but in prayer.
Summer received him! He now is victorious!
Now, while they harvest the yellowing corn,
Now, while the hills hear the notes of the horn,
He
enters glorious.
Mirrored in him is true poetry's force,
Marked by our winter, in summer its source.
E'en as the air with its quivering sheen,
Leaves of the forests and red peaks serene,
Waters that wander 'mid meadows delaying
Sound with the music the sunshine is playing,-
Poetry also shall leap with new life,
If it, though failing, is faithful in strife:-
Leap from death's thronging:-
Soon comes the summer with summer's pure longing.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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But when I lose my temper, I find it difficult to forgive myself. I feel I've failed. I can be calm in a crisis, in the face of death or things that hurt badly. I don't get hysterical, which may be masochistic of me.
quote by Emma Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I lose my temper, I find it difficult to forgive myself. I feel I've failed. I can be calm in a crisis, in the face of death or things that hurt badly. I don't get hysterical, which may be masochistic of me.
quote by Emma Thompson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Autumn Falling Leaves
When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,
Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,
Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,
Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,
Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,
Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Praecaveo Lectoris (Reader, Beware)
We watch the fireflies flicker
dim and dangerous in the darkness
and dream of stars above so bright
that they outshine the moon
We laugh at water rushing in around us
as we sink, sink, sink
and drown eventually
in our fears and even our hope
We shape the heavens in our dreams,
wondering at the impossibilities
and glitter at the clouds,
and dance for the stars and sing for the lost
We look at one another,
laughing, grinning, joking, enjoying...open our eyes
and gasp at the mirror before us
throwing back nightmares and fear
It is not the predator that hunts us,
that lingers in the afterglow, waiting
It is not the shadows that plot against us,
waiting for us to blow out the light
It is the crushing feeling in our chest
that leaves us empty, choking, wanting,
It is the flash of heat in our back
that paralyzes us and chains our tears
and smiles silver in the moonlight...
pushing us deeper into the night
where the sounds whisper in our ear to let it go...
to let the chance pass
We take ourselves home for the day
and rush, rush, rush to arrive
and search the tube for meaning
and think dark thoughts...
Until the scent, so common now,
wakes us up to eat and drink and laugh...
and fall asleep
like practicing for death
poem by Poet Dragon
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Differently
Wish you told me by and by,
That my life would come to this,
That I'd have to find a way
to let things go,
That my friends would turn to foes,
And my love would come to blows,
Then I would have done some things
differently.
Differently...
I would ask you out every night.
Differently...
And I would make you feel so good.
Differently...
And appreciate the things that
you bring to me, babe.
Differently...
Oh yes I would, oh yeah.
Yeah, I know you tried and tried,
But your signal I just missed,
When you said my little girl
would soon be gone,
Yes I didn't hear you then,
And it might be too late now,
That's another thing I'd do
differently.
Differently...
Like trying to make you feel
loved every day.
Differently...
And saying little things to
let you know how I feel.
Differently...
Yes I can hear your young
voice calling me, babe.
Differently...
Oh yes I can.
When I 'm away I call you up,
And you don't seem to miss me as much,
But I know our love
is still there in your heart,
Just differently.
Differently...
Oh yes, I can hear your young
voice calling me, babe.
Differently...
Oh yes I can.
Differently...
I'd appreciate the things that you
bring to me babe, yes I would.
Differently...
Oh come on back to me babe,
bring your love back to me.
Differently...
Oh yeah I need your love,
I need your love.
Differently...
Yes I can tell you babe,
I need your love.
Differently...
Today is a brand new day, yes it is.
Differently...
Got to get your love back, babe,
come on now bring it back to me.
Differently...
Turn it around babe, turn it
around and bring it back.
Differently...
Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, got to get
your love back, come on babe.
Differently...
Yeah I can hear your young
voice calling me babe.
Differently...
Come on back to me, come on back,
yeah yeah, turn it around.
Differently...
Oh yes I can, yes I can.
Differently.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling Thru The Cracks
wild eyed man in the parking lot
got a pistol in his hand
his old lady holds the baby
motor running to the van
factory shut down, aint no work
havent eaten in three days
good hearted man gone desperate
somebody's gonna have to pay
what the hell! who cares?
lives falling thru the cracks
born too early, born too late
on the wrong side of the tracks
fighting for every breath you take
just fighting to survive
falling down and getting back up
just trying to get by...
she pours herself another drink
dont temember how many she's had
dont know whether she's crying
cause she's mad or she's sad
her feet hurt from her day job
her back hurts from working nights
her baby's sick again
and they just turned off her lights
what the hell! who cares?
lives falling thru the cracks
born too early, born too late
on the wrong side of the tracks
fighting for every breath you take
just fighting to survive
falling down and getting back up
just trying to get by...
what the hell! who cares?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Licia Sonnets 47
Like Memnon's rock, touched with the rising sun
Which yields a sound and echoes forth a voice,
But when it's drowned in western seas is done,
And drowsy-like leaves off to make a noise;
So I, my love, enlightened with your shine,
A poet's skill within my soul I shroud,
Not rude like that which finer wits decline,
But such as Muses to the best allowed.
But when your figure and your shape is gone
I speechless am like as I was before;
Or if I write, my verse is filled with moan,
And blurred with tears by falling in such store
Then muse not, Licia, if my Muse be slack,
For when I wrote I did thy beauty lack.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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