From The Cherry Blossoms
Not asking, was most difficult, from
the magma, to send a hot spring. It was
a classical translation of the pain in winter
of human spell, in a temple festival.
The space widens between us, between
our thighs and absences, while studing
the red roof of the landscape, where blood
had dripped from the cherry blossoms.
I say to mother earth, where the border
begins between your breasts and foeticide.
Warriors were becoming monks or priests
were learning the art to kill.
This road is not going anywhere.
The interval between matter and time
links to movement of grief. The ahead
is tomorrow under siege. Sun is refusing
to melt the snow on mountains.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Winter
It’s winter now, the time has come,
Temperatures are freezing,
Bare hands become quite cold and numb,
With gloves, the weather’s pleasing.
Christmas is around the bend,
Sorrow is now closing,
A fun time with gifts to send,
Pain has begun its dozing.
Snow falls gently to the ground,
Laughter fills the air,
Lots of smiles all around,
And grimaces are rare.
A brand new year has now begun,
Old promises renewed,
Another second chance is won,
Past mistakes conclude.
The snow begins to melt away,
Spring is almost here,
In the warm sun now we play,
Yet another time of year.
poem by Brandon McConnell
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Visiting the Hsi-Lin Temple
I dismount from my horse at the Hsi-Lin Temple;
I hurry forward, speeding with light cane.
In the morning I work at a Govermnment office-desk;
In the evening I become a dweller in the Sacred Hills.
In the second month to the north of K’uang-lu
The ice breaks and the snow begins to melt.
On the southern plantation the tea-plant trusts its sprouts;
Through the northern crevice the view of the spring ooze.
This year there is war in An-hui,
In every place soldiers are rushing to arms.
Men of learning have been summoned to the Council Board;
Men of action are marching to the battle-line.
Only I, who have no talents at all,
Am left in the mountains to play with the pebbles of the stream.
Winter's Cold
As the Weather turns colder
the landscape changes colorfully
beautiful shades of greens to lovely fall colors
to the cold of gray and whites
leaves tumble from the branches above
the temperature dropping so fast
send chills down our spines
time to bundle up for a cold winter season
Snow and cold will be upon us, sooner than we want
each winter brings a new tale
either freezing temperatures on heavy snows, sometimes both
snow brings skiers, sledders, skaters, ice fishermen to life
snow forts to snowmen everywhere
the beautiful white landscape comes to life
the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal snow
like glitter tossed around
so breathe taking to see and to enjoy
bundled up inside drinking hot chocolate
waiting for summer to come
beautiful winter turn your cold off and send us our summer sooner.
I miss the summer heat and beautiful outdoors
old man winter does bring some joy,
but for most it brings cold and snow
time for stories around the fireplace with Mom and Dad
hot cocoa and homemade cookies
stay warm for winter will come and go
poem by Michael Peterson
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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Across The Border
Tonight my bag is packed
Tomorrow Ill walk these tracks
That will lead me across the border
Tomorrow my love and I will sleep neath auburn skies
Somewhere across the border
Well leave behind my dear
The pain and sadness we found here
And well drink from the bravos muddy water
Where the sky grows grey and wide
Well meet on the other side
There across the border
For you Ill build a house
High upon a grassy hill
Somewhere across the border
Where pain and memory
Pain and memory have been stilled
There across the border
And sweet blossoms fill the air
Pastures of gold and green
Roll down into cool clear waters
And in your arms neath open skies
Ill kiss the sorrow from your eyes
There across the border
Tonight well sing the songs
Ill dream of you my coraz_n
And tomorrow my heart will be strong
And may the saints blessing and grace
Carry me safely into your arms
There across the border
For what are we
Without hope in our hearts
That someday well drink from gods blessed waters
And eat the fruit from the vine
I know love and fortune will be mine
Somewhere across the border
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Masque Of The Seasons
Scene.--_A kitchen.--Group of Children, popping corn.--The Fairy Queen
of the Seasons discovered in the smoke of the corn-popper.--Waving her
wand, and, with eerie, sharp, imperious ejaculations, addressing the
bespelled auditors, who neither see nor hear her nor suspect her
presence._
QUEEN
Summer or Winter or Spring or Fall,--
Which do you like the best of all?
LITTLE JASPER
When I'm dressed warm as warm can be,
And with boots, to go
Through the deepest snow,
Winter-time is the time for me!
QUEEN
Summer or Winter or Spring or Fall,--
Which do you like the best of all?
LITTLE MILDRED
I like blossoms, and birds that sing;
The grass and the dew,
And the sunshine, too,--
So, best of all I like the Spring.
QUEEN
Summer or Winter or Spring or Fall,--
Which do you like the best of all?
LITTLE MANDEVILLE
O little friends, I most rejoice
When I hear the drums
As the Circus comes,--
So Summer-time's my special choice.
QUEEN
Summer or Winter or Spring or Fall,--
Which do you like the best of all?
LITTLE EDITH
Apples of ruby, and pears of gold,
And grapes of blue
That the bee stings through.--
Fall--it is all that my heart can hold!
QUEEN
Soh! my lovelings and pretty dears,
You've _each_ a favorite, it appears,--
Summer and Winter and Spring and Fall.--
That's the reason I send them _all_!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Spring in Yoshino
The cherry blossoms
heard the temple bell and bowed;
fell gentle as snow.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Suicide Snowman
If I had time to kill the world I'd try
Oh no, but I'm busy
Killing me
I don't have time to build a suicide
Because the snowman melts in spring
The striper girls will not be coming back
In the summer...for me
I don't have time to even say goodbye
We are dying as winter lives
Spring
Snow melts in my lawn and I am free
Corn cob pipe and a button nose
Bottled in the ground too long
Snow melts in my lawn and I am....
If I had time to kill the world I'd try
But I'm busy
Kill is ever me
I don't have time to even say goodbye
We are dying as winter lives
Spring
Snow melts in my lawn and I am free
Corn cob pipe and a button nose
Spring
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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378
when you step in my garden
of earth
water
and fire
you are the woman there
looking softly
daintily whispering to the
cherry blossoms
that now they must bloom
because love is here
and for the moment
it will be full
whole,
stay there
and let the cherry blossoms
take a moment with you
in excitement
some of them dance with the
wind and sadly
now you shall watch them
softly
daintily falling like some
tiny white butterflies
still learning
how to flutter......................
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When You Step Into My Garden
when you step in my garden
of earth
water
and fire
you are the woman there
looking softly
daintily whispering to the
cherry blossoms
that now they must bloom
because love is here
and for the moment
it will be full
whole,
stay there
and let the cherry blossoms
take a moment with you
in excitement
some of them dance with the
wind and sadly
now you shall watch them
softly
daintily falling like some
tiny white butterflies
still learning
how to flutter......................
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring
the smoke
which is descending from the mountains
and scattering
is not the winter smoke from now on
look ahead..
in the mist as soft as a child's hand
the grafting cloth of the rose trunks
are wet now in damps
the scars of the pruned trees are healing
in the bare limbs half asleep
but still neither a sprout or a leaflet
the embers have not fallen yet
it rained all night
like singing a victory song in showers
and now still
it is drizzling slightly brave and warm
more and more
and smiling like a brother
but it is still possible
of the south winds to blow again
even it will snow a little
but the SPRING...?
it is more than a herald now
on and on
The SPRING has come
Nazım HİKMET
Translation Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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At cross road
Never but at cross road,
Are we at cross road?
Is there any load?
Why not we meet?
Even at cross road.
Are we blood thirsty?
And care for no one,
who may come but none?
Doesn’t concern everyone?
Even at cross road.
Can we not share?
Misery and poverty,
happiness and unhappiness,
hunger and roofless human,
even at cross road.
Why do we cut?
Burn the green forest,
and big trees,
do we want disaster?
Even at cross road.
Rain is scarce,
food also less,
nature is finished,
no bloom for ever,
even at cross road.
Why do we cut throat?
Merely for greed,
does the religion preach?
Priests or heads just teach
Even at cross road.
I may not survive,
peace may not revive,
nobody will also survive,
we will soon be extinct,
even at cross road.
Time is running out,
Still human race is not out,
We may still be in,
Kindness may be over,
Even at cross road,
Life is worth to live in,
forget not but just be in,
embrace but not embarrass them,
help but not reject them
Even at cross road.
We May still not adopt,
remain at large but not still opt,
is the nature so cruel?
Kill and get also killed?
Even at cross road
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Winter Love
Such a cold was in january.
In december love had come vainly.
Winter love is short,
Obviously.
Snow is quiet falls
Down on earth.
Snow is on the streets,
Snow's in wood.
Snow in words I hear,
In your eyes, too.
Winter love is short,
Obviously.
Snow is quiet falls
Down on earth.
You are saying: 'Bye'
To me now.
And I hear your voice
Icy, round.
Winter love is short,
Obviously.
Snow is quiet falls
Down on earth.
And the oaths
are cold
In winter time.
I'll wait for long
The spring love.
Winter love is short,
Obviously.
Snow is quiet, falls
Down on earth.
poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Remembering Golden Bells
Ruined and ill—a man of two score;
Pretty and guileless—a girl of three.
Not a boy—but still better than nothing:
To soothe one’s feeling—from time to time a kiss!
There came a day—they suddenly took her from me;
Her soul’s shadow wandered I know not where.
And when I remember how just at the time she died
She lisped strange sounds, beginning to learn to talk,
Then I know that the ties of flesh and blood
Only bind us to a load of grief and sorrow.
At last, by thinking of the time before she was born,
By thought and reason I drove the pain away.
Since my heart forgot her, many days have passed
And three times winter has changed to spring.
This morning, for a little, the old grief came back,
Because, in the road, I met her foster-nurse
Hiroshima
Mother oh Mother
our bark has blistered
our bones weep fire
our branches melt
Mother our eyes
are burning birds
the sun hangs bleeding
beneath our lids
Mother our earth
sucks back its foliage
Mother the sky
is split with pain
in every stone
our fire weeps
in every eye
your children burn
Mother Mother
I am a weeping hand
your breasts
are bone
poem by John Garth Raubenheimer
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Sonnet: Life’s Seasonal Paradox
Queen of the seasons, Spring- Thou could end soon!
When greenness, freshness, melody will cease;
Giving way to the hot summer’s Sun’s noon,
That dries the sheaves of grain rather with ease.
Sultry summer can’t go on forever!
God sends His spell of rain to break thy heat;
And autumn comes in, summer to sever,
As wind blows down fiercely, leaves/nuts to eat.
The sun no more shines brightly as it did,
For winter lays its icy hands on trees;
Snow-capping the mountains like a white-lid;
While stark-naked, leafless trees almost freeze.
But not for long as spring will soon come on!
With joyance, landscape to then green adorn.
poem by John Celes
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Black Snow
Winter has come
He'll show us
What will come upon
The forever lasting signs
Flowers shall wilt
And never grow again
Trees and us have died in Winter's wrath
He have only hallowness
Filled with dread
Does he have darkness in his heart?
Is pain all he seeks?
Yet he have sadness in his eyes
Is pain all he seeks?
We shall wilt
And never grow again
We died upon Winter's wrath
We shall filled his hallowness
Filled with only dread
But, Winter's tears fallen upon us
Expecting ice to stab thee
Cold as his heart we have expected
For coming at us
Is the cold snow of his sadness
His sadness is greater than his hate
His loss is greater than our pain
He murdered us for a reason
Probably he knows that Spring will never revive us
Spring have died with the Earth and tribe
Sadness in his heart?
The pain is what he has left
Yet there is greif in his blackened heart
Is salvation all he seeks?
His pain will finally fall apart
His heart is broken
And forever more, he will never have love again
Spring have died in human's wrath
For his heart is hallow
His tears shall bury us
In black snow
(12-6-09)
poem by Elisha De La Rosa
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Using Brooms With Sticks As Weapons
Priests and monks fighting amongst themselves,
In a sacred place...
To determine which ones are deserving of more space,
With a worshipping done to do of a savior?
Under one roof where their faith is aloof.
Those with the most creative of minds,
Would not find the time to make this up.
And the ones who claim to walk with 'holiness',
Are now reported to be using brooms with sticks as weapons.
When will the truth end all delusions of self righteousness?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The magic of snow
Snowflakes dance like white fairies of old
Each one a treasure to behold
Far more precious than spectrums of stone
For stones, anytime, the rich can easily own
The white season only enchants us a few months a year
The fairies, by magic, soon disappear
God, not man, decides whom these riches bestow
The rich of spirit know the value of silvery sheets of snow
Children charmed by snow's shimmering spell
Gaze at a snowman sculptured by winter's richest girl
Whose love moulded beauty into perfection
And whose childish joy shines from every section
Like a perishing goddess, winter's wind begins to sing
The purity of winter must mature to spring
From the snowman, molten light trickles into a stream
Before the children's eyes, vanishing into a dream
Why are their eyes shining with regret and pain?
Winter will return to cast its spell again
When their white season ends, they should then lament
For that treasure's lost forever, once it is spent
poem by Laura Greene
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