Related quotes: Like each dropp of your...

Homing

Like each dropp of your humbleness
engulfing my urbanite woes;
the graffiti emerges in tender grace
to resurrect a windmill.

My spirit, the abode of small birds
carrying the sunset on its back
was returning home for the final-
sleep in the lap of twilight.

When autumn comes and crippled,
brown leaves start falling, I will
set the birds free in the winds
to find their new master.

The nest will weep for the broken song.
In space between the eyes, lies the negation
which will not accept the peace of a
grave. I will follow the wilderness-
of thoughts again.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Set them free..They will multiply..

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.

collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.

I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When in winter summer is dead (cyhydedd fer sonnet)

When in winter summer is truly dead,
when the all flowers and leaves are shed
still I hear the dove's lovely coo and sing
as if they are whispering about spring.
Even when the cold winter winds sweep in
the ripe to the remaining plants death bring,
when birds to a distant summer have fled
to follow them your wings you do not spread.
There must be a kind of greatness, something
in romantically together living
there are icy and stripped days ahead,
promising a summer sun rising red
lies always somewhere in the near beyond,
like a dropp falling, falling in a pond.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back home to my girl

I saw the stars weep
in the desert tonight
and I heard the whipoorwill call
all alone in the world
heading west on the trail
how I wish the stars tears
would put paid to my fears
and mend my poor heart
that's been broken apart
and take me back home
to my girl

The ghosts of the winds howl
make sand fountains dance
and swirl with the brushwood
as the moon pays a glance
the shadows leap round
to the wolfs mournful sound
how I wish the winds song
would help me roll along
to lift up my spirit
and take me on with it
returning back home
to my girl.

poem by Charles M. Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eulogy for a veteran

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint of snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain

When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I DID NOT DIE

poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Birds Who Sing The Same Song

Once upon the hunter's lifetime
He entered the forest with his hound
As he waited for animal senses,
He heard the same sound

The sound came from above
It was the sound of birds
Though they were very different,
They had similar words

The birds were of two colors
They were either brown or green
They sang on top of their voices
The song of a queen

First, the hunter watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught some green birds

He brought them home
Thinking he has caught something good
After preparing the meal,
He realizes their meat is not right for food

Again, he watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught brown birds

He brought them home
Thinking the browns would not taste the same
After preparing the meal,
He realizes the meat was worse in the bowl of shame

He now understood the words
And watches them as they sing
The same song, one meaning
A song to get trapped in a ring

The birds sing the same song
A song of the soul
They sing in a competition
They compete for a common goal

They look attractive on the tree
They sing the same song

Understanding their words is the key
They sing the same song

They sound very kind
They sing the same song

They have a motive in mind
They sing the same song

They sing and fly from the leaves to the stem
But the hunter desires none of them

The hunter would now find other creatures
With the best of all features
Because the birds sing the same song

poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn

(10/13/11)

The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.

then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.

The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.

But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.

The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.

(memories are made of this- like the song)

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Obscure Sense Of The Presence Of God

I see how the evening sun lights
the high grass, trees shift in the gentle wind
and small brown birds flit between
outdoor tables as young women
reach for coffee cups
dropp sweet crumbs to the rough sidewalk,
to the birds. Intent on home-work,
office-work, they never look up
to see how the sky
deepens to darker hue;
how day will fade soon
and vermillion night set fire
to the seaward hills.

The west wind will finally drive them in,
and the grateful birds will all fly away.

I see it all.

My old eyes know how this old world works,
how Your love lurks even in the weeds
that grow on the edge of the most
tended garden; hides in the cries of
the grieving mourning dove;
falls like rain in the tender,
moonless night.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Space Traveler

We've taken a voyage from out there in space
and found ourselves on earth.
We took a breath and filled our lungs
and this became our birth.
We are bold adventurers here to face
all the lessons we've come to embrace.

Some never question. Some never ask.
They awaken. They breathe. They sleep.
Some aren't content to live like this
for into their mind did creep
a strange sensation,
a persistant negation
that all that they see is real.
Well that is just how I feel.

I've had these thoughts from way back when.
They'd come right out of the blue.
And when they'd surface they'd remind me
that my questioning wasn't through.
I find that I'm embroiled each day
only with myself to find a way
to accept what's here
regardless of how they appear
until my return into space.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Days Like This...Remind Me Of You

It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.

And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.

I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?

An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.

What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.

Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?

Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.

Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.

Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only On This Day...

For: J.L.