Single Woman sans Technology! ! !
Hint of hacienda & a brazen romp down the hill
House built in sedate colors for the most part,
Stone colored tans, green fields stomped in red earth,
A marriage to time & mortality just falling short.
What those horn-rimmed unmended sagging fences hide?
A different story here they all together confide,
Open smack of blissful neglect, time-warped, forlorn place
Away from where those technological clans run ablaze.
What modesty those moss-kissed mammoth trees bare in refrain, ?
Like a stoic digesting a million insinuations a day,
And a dash of existence the overweight cattle gain,
Here I feel one full heart-clot of outraged jealousy,
Here where technology fills no pause & no cable wires block the terrain.
In my chest, empty spaces stood connected,
Where criss-cross Medusa phone wires tangled,
Where even in specks of silence static would enter,
With questions that intend to draw blood & answers that blur.
With wicked curiosity & one hand on the rump of history,
In relation to time why the bat hangs upside down?
Me the city-born nihilist, should I expose this pastoral treachery?
Then why do I stand on the wrong end of this idyllic tapestry.//
No binary digits conspire here, nor do plastic wastes clothe the feet-hind
Countryside has moved from the era of riches to wastes of a different kind,
From one breaking all land barriers, to one that inhibit,
To the era of new energies, with nothing for our future to bequeath.//
Oceanic blue skies, liquidate peach –worn clouds stormy,
Athletic sun takes the escalator & confirms gossip with the daisy,
Just like the cosmic umbilical friend, the Honeyed Moon,
Defies to no more be the transmitting station of all lunacy.
Like little lost children, wild figs &wild flowers run amok
With none to pluck, in a terrain of marshland &scrub,
No shrill locomotives, belching factories, collapsing
Automobiles or big-bellied planes blot the horizon.
Squirrels run marathons to hoard their nuts,
Like half the world convinced of the future death of the species,
& the other half laboring hard towards it,
A century moving towards directions it cannot comprehend,
Like a baby’s happy gurglings on a well-fed stomach.
Sun-ripened huddled lichens &grass trespass,
Who said only bulls think in categories? ,
Droning wind teases the bee-hives,
Whine a new strain of losing virility.
Like padres promising conditional ablution,
Cuckoos sing and scatter a remembrance,
Technology &tropics weren’t built
To hide everything from each other.
What petty life earns one here?
Build dreams on eggshells or one kissing spiders frail?
No wait! Like men’s souls faking existences
Hued flowers criss-cross on the milkman’s beaten trail,
Trouble shooter wasps patrol, ugly mushrooms stand guard,
And crew-cut bushes like milestones dwell,
Dependable stone-walls hold together this architectural fungoid spell.
Here I smell the mouthwash of butterflies
& uniformed bees armed for combat in air,
As they collect rumor, pirate songs
& alight on neutral zones they share.
Buzzing on borrowed perfumes; mustered
With beetle Morse codes on pure bloodlines sling mud,
Red-neck hen’s strut &cock’s dive, grasshoppers
Wait in ambush, crickets bad-mouth.
Sun harangues the lamb” Keep within reach of her corpulent udder’’,
While the toothpaste white mother contemplates mortality on a weak bladder.
Bushes enlist to show collective will,
Berries strategically pinned to hide the navel,
Vagrant Lady-birds on these bushes expatriate,
Beneath the ground no bodies lie dead or overweight.
Chimney is on fire, someone does live here!
What a vat& void to mix chlorophylls &pollens!
All passions directed, all disciplines flexed,
I ask a passer-by-“Does the door-bell ring? ’’
Sizing me into a pinhole he cautions-
‘’It’s a Single woman raising 5 children.’’
x-----x----x
When our quest for picturesque Nature is met with choking technology
2004
poem by Seema joglekar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The mortality of a horizon
The mortality of a horizon
~
What clouds roll on the horizon
Endless beyond the eye
Beyond thought and rhyme
Beyond the reach of a voice
Full beautiful and poetic
Ode to the tapestry of life
And man in full mortality
Falls to a nothingness
Nature in all its wild beauty
Captivates creation
In dying a new life awaits
Seasoned history has spoken
The falling acorn grows
Seeded into the bosom of earth
To stand tall, majestic
There silhouetted upon the horizon
Amongst the rolling clouds
Endless beyond all time
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leisure
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
poem by William Henry Davies
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Highveld
(after Toon van den Heever)
I
In the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open
where rock rabbits, steenbok and baboons revel,
you see the wind skipping through the long grass
and you can still believe in God and His angels,
the rain gathers with thunder
where through the open spaces you can see far into the veldt,
you are astounded by the beauty of flowering proteas
and you still can realize your dependence
but when the city’s rumbling becomes too much,
the jacarandas start flowering in the streets,
buildings of steel and concrete start to curtail you,
you dream about wild flowers appearing everywhere
and it’s the places of a child that you miss,
in the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance.
II
In the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance
and the wind rollicks through the grass
the sky is pure blue and you can look for hours at it,
there you can find freedom from the city’s imprisonment.
When the wind rustles through the march you loose all sadness,
you see the African red-knobbed coot gathering her chickens,
you can hear the finches’ caper, branches full together,
you see every great small happening,
how wild flowers of every imaginable colour
grow as if planted in secret
(and I will go back if I only could)
where I can find some serenity, can have peace
where I will know about God’s heritage;
there the sun shines.
III
There the sun shines
where proteas and aloes flower wildly,
bright up to the horizon
coming out of the earth by themselves
with violets growing purple-blue right through the marsh,
with daisies stretching white over the veldt,
with long tailed widow birds flapping their wings
and the earth is covered with long green grass.
To this piece of ground I am trapped
even when my days are drawing to their end,
it goes even to my heart’s deepest yearning,
with every plant, bush and flower
as it’s bought with sweat and blood,
nobody can strip it from me.
IV
Nobody can strip it from me,
I have to go back to where the sun hangs golden
in the sapphire heaven, I have got to strip the city from me
(but if I only could)
the big desire stays and out of the town I must go
away from the ambulance and police sirens that cuts through everything,
trains whistling almost endlessly,
I have got to go to where only the frog choir and crickets sing.
Again I have got to get the smell of sugar bushes,
smell the rain, spring, summer and even autumn
I must get away from a world where tinned pleasure seduces,
where people use other people for their own pleasure.
I want to stand in the green fields of grass,
when the day dies.
V
When the day dies
letting its last rays fall,
with the birds flying to their nests
darkness comes to this part of the universe,
the doves at dusk still call to each other
as if their voices bind them in the darkness,
you can see the moon sailing golden-yellow through the sky,
you are sometimes blinded by the bright rays,
the city lights glitter far away
in all the colours of the rainbow,
here you want to bond your life to a loved one,
catching her moments long in your eye
when people come together here,
the madness of the human existence is exorcised.
VI
The madness of the human existence is exorcised
even in later years past your own youth,
when you are in the world that your heart desires,
you want to invite the new spring to stay with you
shaking out that which bothers and torments to the early summer wind,
feeling the effervescence of new life,
blinded by the sun you want to find healing
while the whole of spring washes through your life
with the light, air, the flowers, birds and sun splashing down
as if your autumn is only in your imagination,
you want to wash yourself clean from old age,
you are searching for exorcism from the darkness
there are still flowers sprouting out everywhere,
when the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees.
VII
When the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees
with branches being full of coloured leaves,
the sun is still heating as in summer
before the first biting winds begin to whine.
I see opened pod upon opened pod
that lays brown scorched without any signs of seeds,
the dull blue sky has clouds in milky white,
trees become a wild watermill
that is halfway skeleton, halfway still carrying leaves,
afternoons are still drawn out
and even when days earlier end in winter
it’s a time without equal,
as if the summer can last forever,
in the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man & Woman
Two faces of the same subtle world
That constitute the complete world,
Two spins of the same subtle force
That generate all works in universe,
Man and woman are god in halves.
Man and woman in pure forms,
Harmony at its most blissful kind;
Man and woman in harmony spawn
A world of love, peace, contentment,
Where god exists in purest form.
Man and woman are gentle flames
Eager to fill to a single flame;
But, alas, clash shadows 'neath flames
To disturb harmony's fluid flow,
Blur creations with shadows' patches.
A magnetic wind fills man and woman
To pull them together and add to each;
Each is other's need fulfilment, bliss,
And there lies the nature's subtle skill
To stir the world with excitements.
No world is world sans man and woman
To fill colours and flow gentle emotions,
To flood the world with grief and bliss;
Man and woman make life live to live,
Barren like deserts without their match.
Man's half is laid in woman's world,
Woman's half is laid in man's world;
World ordained both to keep diatance
To struggle to reach the other's world;
Like honey's dropp on a sword's edge.
You play with fire to have your half,
Or cower to be safe and lose your Self:
So is the challenge to mould your life;
Man and woman, a pleasant challenge,
Of precious treasures deep in oceans.
Man sans woman, woman sans man,
Empty like a temple without its god;
They fill the void nature created in each,
They work vital forces needed for each;
They share and bare for common good.
Man and woman are length and breadth
Of the live fabric that constitutes life,
Man forming warps to woman's woofs;
Textures are safe till both criss-cross life
To carry their weights across to the end.
Man blossoms woman, woman blooms man,
Both fill around divine fragrance;
Like sun and moon, they complement
And light all the worlds day and night
And make the life a trapeze of pleasures.
Man is woman's needs built to a mould,
Woman is man's needs built to a mould;
And needs in pursuit excite life's course
To network each other to quench thirsts
By ways and means spared by the world.
Man and woman are eyes of life process,
Man and woman lead each other ahead
To treasures of life hidden otherwise;
Woman lights man's; man, woman's life,
If exists the lamp of harmony and love.
poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A World Without Birds
In years from now will the children of the future on warm evenings in the prime of Spring
On trees and bushes in groves, woods and parklands when flowers are blooming hear the wild birds sing
For a World without birds would be sad to live in and sad to learn that they are becoming rare
These are sad times for people who love Nature and who for Nature's creatures genuinely do care,
A World without birds to think of even painful something that one would not rather contemplate
For birds seem an integral part of Nature the poets and painters them do celebrate
They have been in the World for perhaps longer than humans they have evolved from the dinosaur age
Humans even use them for their entertainment they keep them in an aviary or a cage
But birds should never be held in captivity as Nature's creatures meant to live naturally
They are not meant to be captives of humans in Nature's World they should live wild and free
For bird lovers it must be disappointing to know their numbers are on the decline
So nice to hear them singing in the gardens when flowers are blooming in the Spring sunshine
The demise of birds the thought even unpleasant a sadder World without them it would be
They are so much an integral part of Nature at least that is how it does seem to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pray
So here we stand again
Like dust on mother earth
And we hide our faces in our dreams
Only emptiness where angels flew - high on golden wings
And the voice of god has vanished now - lost inside our dreams
But the only way to go is heaven
All we can do is pray
In the darkness we stand with the world in our hands
And we pray
For a better tomorrow
We wait
Far beyond the horizon
There's a sound in the sky
The voice of glory I hear a silent cry
When the heroes of yesterday are gone
All we can do is pray
In the darkness we hide and we wait for the light
And we pray
Oh we pray
Let us pray
I've seen the darkside of the moon in my dreams
Now I know it ain't a place to live for us all
All our gods creation is dead an gone
Now we stand like children all alone forever
All we can do is pray
Forever and forever and forever more
For a better tomorrow - we wait
Pray
There's a light in the dark
And it's shining so bright on our way
Still there is hope on our way
And we pray
Oh
song performed by by Gamma Ray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paschendale
In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke, in the mud and lead
smell of fear and feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbwire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drown in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
everyman does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
running straight at cannon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Go A Bit Mad İn The Summer
Where I live is a bit rough
it's got a bit of a reputation
youths hang around at night
looking for trouble and a fight.
But it's really bad in the Summer
lots of folk walk about half drunk
music blasts around the square
but the Police don't seem to care.
Overweight people half naked
bodies as red as Lobsters
children running wild and free
this is where I live in Coventry.
But you get used to it after a while
better the Devil you know so to speak
but I think is this the same everywhere
and is the grass greener over there?
Still there's good people in this place
neighbours who look after each other
people who have still got their pride
because we all can't live in the countryside.
But the Sun does something around here
humans do tend to go a bit nuts
so roll on those dark cold nights
when it's too cold for kids and fights!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Child
It's too late to turn back
When the green lights flash
Too late to turn around
When the love goes down
Your fire my fate
This woman won't wait
So love beam your laser light
Get ready gonna take this flight
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Two hearts one mind
Baby you're my kind
You're too hot you're too much
You've got that personal touch
Push button play thing
Make my back door ring
Fight fire with a little fire baby
You oughta know you make this
little girl sing
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Do your little shake baby
rattle and roll
Ring my bell baby do my soul
Don't let the grass grow under my feet
Bang my drum baby feel my beat
you're so wild
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
song performed by by Heart from Brigade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treading Dangerously
When we embarked on this path together
Skies at sunrise and sunset seemed deeper
While our glowing shadows cowered in their blaze
Wary like the spring that's only heard of the winter
I ask the spring -Does the winter ever creep in?
It answers; - I don't know.
Then I realize a daunting question like a mountain stood
On our path, to surmount it, I tried to bridge things my way
At times even with coldness, but I stood rebuffed
Cause you stood on top of the hill in pride, nonchalant
I ask the mountain -Will you stand in my path again?
It answers: - I don't know.
Then I bowed to your ways and prayed
the mountain would go away; it did
but at the back of my mind it did raise it's head
Always looming in the horizon
I ask the horizon-Is it still there?
It answers; - I don't know
Now I was lost in the song of spring & the mirth of the rains
The mountain had lost its edge, yet afraid it's talons could hurt
I hid my dreams in your palm, afraid of being robbed
This was neither the place nor the time to reveal them
You shut your palms tight and shut out all the light
I groped in the darkness with only the stars that whisper
Clueless in the wind shimmering illusions
I waited for you to come through the dark end
And when I reached out I held no hand
Did I err? - I ask the night
It answers- I don't know.
I wait now for you, to throw crumbs my way
Living no moment, but dragging from one to the next
My trail of crumbs has come to an end
Both lost in the trail we made
I ask the trail -Will we find our way back?
It answers: I don't know.
The night is engulfed in darkness and the wind
Is drunk, losing it's head it threatens for blood
This is not the time to rock the seas or tempt fate
The storm is on us, tread carefully
As we wander, you blinded by pride, I by faith
Show yourself or let the seas engulf us
I ask the seas -Did we have to go through this?
It answers -I don't know.
On the trail unable to take one step towards each other
Have we taken a thousand steps away from each other?
The mountain again stood mighty in our path
I ask the trail-will we cross over?
It answers-I don't know.
After a tedious toil, you return holding my dreams
And seat your frail self on the trail
And eagerly look at me,
Holding you by the hand leading you on,
I answer-'Come! Mountain or no mountain,
If you think I can- I can'
Seema.J
1st-April-2012
poem by Seema joglekar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out My Window
Looking out the window to see the world
The many trees, the birds, Squirrels, the cars
Mother nature's beauty just on the other side
Wishing I could go out and breathe the air
Trapped inside, getting the cabin fever
Health will not let me out
To walk on the grass, smell the flowers
Enjoy the sounds around
The outside world moving like I don't exist
Please a few minutes out before the cold gets me
I live for the touch of grass and dirt between my toes
The smell of rain in the air, birds a flying
No me stuck in this big old chair, gazing out
Wishing to be young to run around
My body so old and dying, where did my time go
When young, mom couldn't keep me in
Football, baseball, hide and seek, I will not peek
Bike rides, skateboards, walks so endlessly around the block
How time has changed, when did I get old
The view out this window brings fond memories
I wish I could go thru it, escape to the their world
Older I get the more I want out
Body creaking, aches and pains, use your brains
Enjoy it form inside, someday you'll get out
Window be my friend and open up
To feel the breeze and smell the air
For it makes me young again
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Impatience
How can I wait until you come to me?
The once fleet mornings linger by the way;
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee
At my unrest, they seem to pause, and play
Like truant children, while I sigh and say,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours
Refused to pause or loiter with me long;
But now they idly fill their hands with flowers,
And make no haste, but slowly stroll among
The summer blooms, not heeding my one song,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? The nights alone are kind;
They reach forth to a future day, and bring
Sweet dreams of you to people all my mind;
And time speeds by on light and airy wing.
I feast upon your face, I no more sing,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? The morning breaks the spell
A pitying night has flung upon my soul.
You are not near me, and I know full well
My heart has need of patience and control;
Before we meet, hours, days, and weeks must roll,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? Oh, Love, how can I wait
Until the sunlight f your eyes shall shine
Upon my world that seems so desolate?
Until your hand-clasp warms my blood like wine;
Until you come again, oh, Love of mine,
How can I wait?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barefoot Boy
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy, -
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art, - the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye, -
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild-flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his well;
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole's nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the ground-nut trails its vine,
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy, -
Blessings on the barefoot boy!
Oh for boyhood's time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming-birds and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night,
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
Oh for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread;
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the door-stone, gray and rude!
O'er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frogs' orchestra;
And, to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt's for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature Calls
NATURE CALLS
Nature calls like a lost lover
Nature calls like a loving mother
Walking in the woods brings joy to my soul
The sights and sounds make me feel whole
Southern Ohio is considered the Appalachia region
I love all the four seasons
The terrain is varied, dissected by mountains, valleys and ravines
There are rocky out cropping and huge boulders left as the glaciers retreated
Many species of trees and shrubs reach maximum size
Legend has it the old owl is wise
In the rich soil of sheltered valleys salamanders and newts hide beneath decaying logs
And occasionally you find your self walking in a bog
Noisy jays and chickadees flitter from tree to tree
Enjoying the fact that they are free
The forest floor is a carpet of delicate wild flowers
Beautiful to see at any given hour
Raccoons, deer and wild turkeys all feast on nature’s bounty of acorns and hickory nuts
Securing wild life from having runts
Chipmunks and squirrels scurrying to hide their find
Looking like they have lost their mind
Brown thrashers and fox sparrows
Kick up dead leaves looking for some grub
Listen close and you can hear deer antlers rub
Getting lost will never be a concern if you
Feel for the moss that grows on the North side of a tree
Goldenrod tips point West
Wild grapevines wind around the tree starting toward the East
Rattlesnakes, copperheads and black bears are the things to fear
A faint whiff of sour corn mesh tells you’re close to moonshine still for this you can trust
And getting as far away from there is a must
For all these things I am grateful
I don’t know what I would do if I could not walk in the woods
Nature feels my soul
And makes me fill whole
Vickie Gregory
November 2008
poem by Vickie Gregory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Believe
Time, of rise and fly, over me, to the sea,
Love is a pride, wait for me, wait for me,
If you believe in me,
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world youve only dreamed of,
Promise of the seasons,
Give us the future please,
Thats all we need of you.
Running in circles,
Desperate we hold to yours and mine,
Using my body,
Closing our hearts and eyes.
Oh no, open the door and let the wind blow,
Take my hand, together we stand in the eye of the hurricane.
If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world youve only dreamed of,
Promise of the seasons,
Give us the future please,
Thats all we need of you.
Every nation, every woman, child and man
Comes on a moment, where they must take a stand,
Oh no, forget what you know, just let the wind blow,
Blown apart, you open your heart, and thats where anything can be.
If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world youve only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
Thats all we need of you.
Out of control, out of my mind, at last,
Into my dreams, we sailed away.
If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world youve only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
Thats all we need of you.
Oh sing it children
(if you believe in me)
Got to believe
(I will believe in what will be,)
Tell 'em what you want
(we want the world youve only dreamed of,)
World youve only dreamed of
(promise of our seasons,)
(give us the future please, )
(thats all we need of you.)
If you believe in me
I will believe in what will be,
We want the world youve only dreamed of,
Promise of our seasons,
Give us the future please,
Thats all we need of you.
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Days Get Long
I
When summer days get extremely long
the sky becomes a much deeper hue,
a myriad of birds fill the cobalt blue,
constantly singing their gorgeous song
it is as if everything do belong
to the coming spring, are singing true
like some beautiful birds and insects do,
while colourful swarming in their great throng
over the gentle meadow and the valley
filling the tranquil grey evening sky
softly singing a sweet kind of medley
while in jubilance they still do fly
over fields of hay and fields of barley,
sunny day after sunny day pass by.
II
Sunny day after sunny day pass by
with almost a kind of smothering heat
the fields, the open veldt and dirt road lie
far to hot to tread with just bare feet.
Everything shimmers, the poplars that rears
like huge fingers pointing to the sun,
massive broad oak trees of many years
and grass and flowers where life has just begun
glitters in a new emerald green sheen,
the wind rustles things touching one by one
as if finding things where there had not been,
between huge black boulders rocks and stone
the sun blazes on every day the same,
I see the sun making wings of hot flame.
III
I see the sun making wings of hot flame
on the few white clouds in dazzling colours
and in the west there are some small wild game
drinking water while the evening hours
brings the white and blue stars out dazzling clear
with night predators in the pitch black sky
and some more wild game are drawing near,
I hear the hyenas laughing, wild dogs cry,
the growls of lions, the howling of jackals,
I get the smells of the earth and the bush,
I hear some leopards growling, their calls
that are where they are lying in ambush,
at night the predators are hunting prey,
making a living in the dying day.
IV
Making a living in the dying day
swarms of birds fly calling with flapping wings
poplars, cedars and many trees do sway
while the twilight is grey, full of life, brings
as if by some magic, all at play
flying leaves, bats insects and flying things
with a few that lonesome away stray,
most are flying to nests in trees that swings
and eventually places of rest receives
the many small things that are fluttering,
the wind settles among the moving leaves,
the numerous evening birds start to sing
until the full moon shines its silver rays,
when night fades slowly as on other days.
V
When night fades slowly as on other days,
man is still bound by nature and destiny
to the world in which he works and plays
as it probably will be to eternity.
The yellow sun, the cobalt blue heaven
is like it has been from its very birth
with its joyous bright splendour even
like any other day upon this earth
but a time will come when man will be free
from all death and all kinds of destruction
from heartache, the sorrows that he see
with a new amazing introduction
to a place that’s holy, pure and bright;
now suddenly it is silver twilight.
VI
Now suddenly it is silver twilight
and the sheer darkness of night flees away
before the coming new breaking day
with the blazing sheer redness of sunlight
constantly reflecting against the bright
unclouded sky open in its solid grey
with the red blossoming as if its to stay
and in the veldt guinea fowl flees in fright
while a small jackal laughs out its delight
and the few milling dark clouds do stray
before a strong wind as if in spite
and through bushes and grass rocking it plays
churning up eddies before going out of sight
while the hot sun rises with its golden rays.
VII
While the hot sun rises with its golden rays,
you come from a country where rivers meander
where the rain sieves down for many days
where some beautiful wild birds do wander
in lush overgrown tranquil water-meadows,
far away from the busy big city,
filled with thick green living hedgerows
where many bright wild flowers are pretty
but I still do wonder what you will see
in a land where vicious savage beasts
have no civility and do roam free
where the natives have very weird feasts,
where the flaming sun does spare no one,
when summer days get extremely long.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Masters Of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like its your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young peoples blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
Youve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You aint worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that Im young
You might say Im unlearned
But theres one thing I know
Though Im younger than you
Even jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your deathll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And Ill watch while youre lowered
Down to your deathbed
And Ill stand oer your grave
til Im sure that youre dead
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have a solace in my heart
I have a solace in my heart,
a place that’s only mine
where cool breezes blow
and I can be,
forever under a hot African sun
set in a pure blue sky.
Birds and bees swish to and fro
and everywhere there’s
red, blue, yellow and white flowers
and green bushes and trees
and in that place
I am totally free
and totally me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fear
A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
And threw their lurching shadows on a house
Near by, all dark in every glossy window.
A horse's hoof pawed once the hollow floor,
And the back of the gig they stood beside
Moved in a little. The man grasped a wheel,
The woman spoke out sharply, 'Whoa, stand still!'
'I saw it just as plain as a white plate,'
She said, 'as the light on the dashboard ran
Along the bushes at the roadside-a man's face.
You must have seen it too.'
'I didn't see it.
Are you sure--'
'Yes, I'm sure!'
'-it was a face?'
'Joel, I'll have to look. I can't go in,
I can't, and leave a thing like that unsettled.
Doors locked and curtains drawn will make no difference.
I always have felt strange when we came home
To the dark house after so long an absence,
And the key rattled loudly into place
Seemed to warn someone to be getting out
At one door as we entered at another.
What if I'm right, and someone all the time-
Don't hold my arm!'
'I say it's someone passing.'
'You speak as if this were a travelled road.
You forget where we are. What is beyond
That he'd be going to or coming from
At such an hour of night, and on foot too.
What was he standing still for in the bushes?'
'It's not so very late-it's only dark.
There's more in it than you're inclined to say.
Did he look like--?'
'He looked like anyone.
I'll never rest to-night unless I know.
Give me the lantern.'
'You don't want the lantern.'
She pushed past him and got it for herself.
'You're not to come,' she said. 'This is my business.
If the time's come to face it, I'm the one
To put it the right way. He'd never dare-
Listen! He kicked a stone. Hear that, hear that!
He's coming towards us. Joel, go in-please.
Hark!-I don't hear him now. But please go in.'
'In the first place you can't make me believe it's--'
'It is-or someone else he's sent to watch.
And now's the time to have it out with him
While we know definitely where he is.
Let him get off and he'll be everywhere
Around us, looking out of trees and bushes
Till I sha'n't dare to set a foot outdoors.
And I can't stand it. Joel, let me go!'
'But it's nonsense to think he'd care enough.'
'You mean you couldn't understand his caring.
Oh, but you see he hadn't had enough-
Joel, I won't-I won't-I promise you.
We mustn't say hard things. You mustn't either.'
'I'll be the one, if anybody goes!
But you give him the advantage with this light.
What couldn't he do to us standing here!
And if to see was what he wanted, why
He has seen all there was to see and gone.'
He appeared to forget to keep his hold,
But advanced with her as she crossed the grass.
'What do you want?' she cried to all the dark.
She stretched up tall to overlook the light
That hung in both hands hot against her skirt.
'There's no one; so you're wrong,' he said.
'There is.-
What do you want?' she cried, and then herself
Was startled when an answer really came.
'Nothing.' It came from well along the road.
She reached a hand to Joel for support:
The smell of scorching woollen made her faint.
'What are you doing round this house at night?'
'Nothing.' A pause: there seemed no more to say.
And then the voice again: 'You seem afraid.
I saw by the way you whipped up the horse.
I'll just come forward in the lantern light
And let you see.'
'Yes, do.-Joel, go back!'
She stood her ground against the noisy steps
That came on, but her body rocked a little.
'You see,' the voice said.
'Oh.' She looked and looked.
'You don't see-I've a child here by the hand.'
'What's a child doing at this time of night--?'
'Out walking. Every child should have the memory
Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk.
What, son?'
'Then I should think you'd try to find
Somewhere to walk--'
'The highway as it happens-
We're stopping for the fortnight down at Dean's.'
'But if that's all-Joel-you realize-
You won't think anything. You understand?
You understand that we have to be careful.
This is a very, very lonely place.
Joel!' She spoke as if she couldn't turn.
The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground,
It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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