It's really great to see you around!
When jolly birds fly in the air
and breeze plays with wanton hair
when dreams meet with eyes' glare
and every place has an air of fair
in my mind you can be found
my eyes want to see you around.
when eve approaches by and by
when stars intend to shine on the sky
when carefree aanchals freely enjoy
on wings of air i don't know why?
i feel myself severely bound
in this wish to see you around.
when the moon shines and looks kind
and sweeps away the worries from the mind
when it encounters the blows of wind
trees look smiling because they find
the beauteous weather all around
and then i want to see you around.
it may be fine or may be bad
whether birds sing or sit so sad
everyone feels grim or glad
whether fun of weather makes one mad
it's always great to see you around
it's really great to see you around
poem by Shahzia Batool

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Braving The British Weather
To brave the British weather, most birds don't have a choice,
But even in the worst weather, they raise such a spirited voice.
Cold and rainy weather can leave some of us feeling a little blue,
But, to me, it seems the little birds hold a different kind of view.
When, to us, the weather seems to go so very, horribly wrong,
The little birds continue to sing their sweet and happy song.
When a cloudless, blue sky still seems so very far from sight,
There is one song which will always ring out, so clear and bright.
When you find yourself walking along, upon rain-soaked ground,
From up in the trees, there will always come a heart-lifting sound.
A dull and dismal day can sometimes make us feel a little bit down:
Our hearts feel a little heavy, and our faces wear an unhappy frown.
Birdsong is a beautiful and pure, but powerful, Heaven-sent gift:
Upon hearing such a pleasant song, our hearts will begin to lift.
Even in wet weather, the little birds sing out with such pure joy:
Like the joy a child has, when hugging their favourite soft toy.
Even when we get wet through, our clothes will very soon dry,
So we should try to keep our chin up, and our spirits flying high.
Such joy is contained within the heart of a creature, so very small:
These tiny little birds really do set a shining example to us all.
poem by Angela Wybrow

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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White

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Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan

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It's Raining In Wonthaggi
On the gum tree in the garden white backed magpie flutes his song
But it's raining in Wonthaggi and the wind is blowing strong
Two days back it was so balmy around twenty five degrees
It was perfect Summer weather with the faintest cooling breeze.
In south Gippsland's changing weather it can change from day to day
And the old timers who live here say it's always been this way
And when it's raining in Wonthaggi there's a strong wind from the sea
And on such inclememt weather indoors is the place to be.
And the magpie he keeps singing I can see him through the pane
And for some strange sort of reason he seems happy in the rain
Though birds sing their best and sweetest on their breeding days in Spring
On wet and changing weather you can also hear them sing.
It is windy in Wonthaggi and the rain is pouring down
And storm water drains are flooded all around the country Town
But the magpie seems quite happy he feels moved to melody
And he celebrate the downpour on high branch of old gum tree.
poem by Francis Duggan

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One Day Nearer Spring
The weather cold this morning it is only two degrees
And a thick fog through the woodland, I can hardly see the trees
And the wildborn birds are silent there is scarcely any breeze
It's a day for woolly jumper though not cold enough to freeze.
For Winter in Victoria the weather seems quite dry
And the mornings foggy and quite cold allowing for July
And the fog doesn't lift till mid morning and the sun shines through the gray
And you see the grayness of your breath on a chilly Winter
day.
But only yesterday I saw male blackbird searching for a nesting site
On the ivy along galvanize fence in mid afternoon sunlight
And from there he flew to camellia tree as he pondered on where best
Might be the safest place for him and his mate to build their year's first nest.
The last leaves off of deciduous tree lay scattered on the ground
And in the grayness of the dawn the silence is profound,
The ghost like trees shrouded in gray and the birds refuse to sing
But every Winter day that dawns is one day nearer Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Fair Weather Faith
Prentending to act so serene
On your so called submissive knees
A shopping list of begging pleas
Adds to your complacencies
As soon as the sun dont shine your way
And youre saving it all up that rainy day
Its a matter of time before you get down n pray
Fair weather faith - protect me from the storm
Fair weather faith - gonna right all my wrongs
Fair weather faith - you know Im doing alright
Fair weather faith - out of mind, out of sight
Well I wonder if the man upstairs
Will bother to lend an ear
If you took the time to share
Another one of your puppet prayers
I aint talkin bout the weather
song performed by by Extreme

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing day
With every passing day
And with every morning sun
I lift my eyes and mind
To the new world that has just begun
No longer afraid
No longer alone
This planet earth
Makes me feel fine
Although weightlessness cannot be found
In space it is all around
Mind can span worlds sometimes time
So let's enjoy it - I feel fine
Free as a bird soaring high
Invisible as the air it needs
When one's mind is elsewhere
Who's to say where life will lead
Looking down to where you stand
And higher than the trees
See all around you
And listen to the breeze
Many things can be told
And as time goes by other things unfold
So listen my friend and don't be afraid
We cannot live forever so live each day
poem by JeanJacques Evendon

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Your Eyes
(written by natalie cole)
Do you realize that I could see the windows of the world through your eyes?
Pretty eyes
(da, da, da, da, da, da, da)
(your eyes)
Your eyes that (da, da, da, da, da, da)
Mesmorize and hypnotize
(la, la, da, la, da, da, da)
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da)
They can tell no lies
Hm, little adelines, (da, da, da, da, da, da)
Youre so fine
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da, la, la)
Even your wrinkles shine
(even your wrinkles shine)
Pretty, pretty eyes. uh
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da, da, da)
Pretty, pretty eyes, uh
Da, da
Your so fine; I just hope theres time
cause your eyes are so kind
I feel like theyre a friend of mine
Although theres pain behind
And its so far away
But they just seem to say
Its okay, cause the rain must fall every now and then
But oh, ho, ho
Everythings gonna be alright again
(there goes that smile again)
There goes that smile again
The one that shines through Ill defend
Never have I seen eyes like yours
That smile much better than any I know
(even your wrinkles shine)
Even your wrinkles shine
(your eyes that smile are fine)
Wont you stay awhile
Wont you look through me
So I can be what you see
Youre so fine
(your eyes)
(la, da, da, da, da, da...)
Your eyes are so kind
(la, da, da)
(your eyes)
I never would have known
It never would have shown
That you were blind
song performed by by Natalie Cole

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Breeze
See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light shining through the window
Lets me know that everything's alright
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, makes me feel it right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Oh sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
And when I come home from a hard day's work
And you're waiting there, yes you're waiting there
Without A care in the world
I see the smile awaiting in the kitchen
Food's cooking and a place there for two
I see the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, making me feel right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel right
Blowing through the jasmine in my, blowing blowing(x5)
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
song performed by by Jason Mraz

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Hearing A Magpie Sing
The magpie sings in the bright sunshine of a humid and a warm day
Perhaps he is telling us something that rain is not that far away
For birds do sing in changing weather on a very warm day when birdsong you hear
You know there's a change in the weather that thundery weather is near.
Birds and animals are more sensitive to Nature than we are since nearer to Nature they live
They pollinate plants in their feeding from Nature they take and to her other things give
They are more Nature friendly than we are and on her resources less of a drain
The huge increase in the human population on Mother Nature does place a huge strain.
So little I know about Nature and so much of her I'd love to know
I fell in love with her as a schoolboy now that seems a long time ago
A wise old lady once did tell me that when out of Season the birds sing
That they detect a change in the weather Nature is a marvellous thing.
The magpie he sings in the sunshine on a warm day of thirty degrees
In his song he is trying to tell me that he senses the rain in the breeze
He can detect changes in Nature of her ways he knows far more than I
In his song he tells me that rain is not distant though there's not a rain cloud in the sky.
poem by Francis Duggan

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South Gippsland In April
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
Yet in the Parks and gardens of Wonthaggi Town
The mynas are singing their songs tell of rain
And the frogs they are calling in the roadside drain.
Though into mid April and the Winter quite near
The weather quite warm for the time of year
On the beach at Cape Paterson the sun lovers lay
It may rain tomorrow but the sun shines today.
Only six weeks left of Autumn the time ticking on
And quite Summery weather though Summer is long gone
The old coastal hills overlooking the sea shore
Have seldom looked this dry or this brown before.
South Gippsland in April a fresh coastal breeze
In the woodland is soughing in the sunlit trees
Utopia on Earth the South Gippslanders say
That from where they live Heaven is not far away.
The birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
It is more like weather in Summer or late Spring
The sun shining brightly but those brown hills nearby
A few hours of rain now would surely enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan

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The Great Escape
Although the songs the birds sing are
Melodious and benign and
Locusts joyfully repeat their summer's tune-
Leaves upon the trees are emerald and their limbs reach for the sky-
The grass has never been greener- and
Clouds contrast with the oceanic blueness of the sky- Even though
Summer would be the favorite time of year for so many people,
At this time this world has become a foreign and terrifying place to me.
My mind has been lost in the clouds,
Not within the fair clouds that decorate the sky, but
Within the ashen and sallow clouds of hell-
From the window of the vault that contains me
I can see people seemingly worshiping the sun,
However, to me the rays of the sun are somewhat blinding, if not otherwise
Brightening all that is terrifying to see-
Cars racing raucously down the streets without a care- and shining upon
All of the people who would wish me none but harm-
If I were to step outside in this moment-
The sun would sear my flesh and its rays would invade my mind in
A devastating and intrusive sort of way-
People would follow behind me mocking me and
Attempting to rob me of my thoughts as their eyes penetrate mine in
A criminal and invasive manner-
The songs the birds sing are indeed benign and sweetly melodious as
Locusts continue to hum their tune- these sounds are placating as
Are the sight of the grass, trees and the cobalt blue sky-
But somewhere along my journey through this life,
I was robbed of my own place in this world, as well as some have told me
I was deprived of my sanity-
If I could become one of these birds and lift my wings to fly away
High above to lose myself inside the beautiful clouds in the sky and to
Abandon the ashen clouds of hell- perhaps in the sky I would find another world there-
A world suited for me alone- I could still hear the birds and the locusts-
Chanting their tunes with the angels, unaware of the world below -as
My eyes would be blinded to people looking upward toward the sky.
The loss of my sanity would become a blessing because it would mean
I have finally found a place devoid of all harm and infringement because
When I lose myself inside the world of my thoughts and dreams,
The real world which is filled with evil, lack of compassion and cruelty
Totally disappears and I can be content as I have finally found freedom from fear…
poem by Claudia Krizay

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Summer's Wind
You are the wind on a hot summer’s day
That cools off the air
Surrounding my body
You are the wind in my hair
As I walk down the street
You are the wind
That blows through my dreams
And awakens me to feelings
Of living and smiling
You are the wind
In which my hair rises
And my breath quickens
As my smile lifts
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the sun
In which I need
To stay warm
You are the moon
In which I need
To read at night
You are the sun
In which brightens the day
To show me the way
To your arms
You are the moon
In which I need
To see the starts
To gaze under
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the wind
That cools off the air
And helps so I can smile again
You are the wind
In which I feel
Your simple touch
Which makes me yield
You are the wind
In which I stop
And feel, calm, relaxed
And realize I am alive
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
That makes me realize
Life
Might just be
Ok
poem by Scarred Unknown

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Why do Birds Chirp in the Trees?
why do little birds chirp so loud in the trees
in the early morn the sun a yellow fiery
globe inching its greeting up the eastern sky?
it is because of the the little birds' excitements
for adventures of the new day
where their wings would take them for worms
for mates, for games, for the breeze in the air
why do birds chirp so loud in the trees at the close of day
the sun a fiery red globe gliding through the coppice western sky
it is because they wish to share their adventures of the day
chiding each other to prove who have taken the most worms
the new mates they have come to know
and where they should head the next day
why do birds stay so quiet in the night
the moon a golden disc keeping watch over foes?
it is because God has pulled a blanket over
their mind so that they can rest and
find strength when the sun starts lighting up a new day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gift Giver of My Life
For me you are amongst the stars.
I sense you are there,
In the universe somewhere.
And I know you know,
I am here.
Even though I am just a speck.
To you I appear,
Much more to you than just a guest.
For me you are the air.
And each breath I breathe...
I share.
As the breeze blows,
Through the trees.
And the radiance that 'is'
That makes me aware.
From me you will not leave.
For me you are the ocean waves.
The tides as far as the horizon seen.
The cold, the ice and Winter snow.
The humidity in Summer...
I wish would go!
You are the mountaintops...
And lush valleys below.
And in my mind...
Thoughts I hold,
You already know.
You are the Sun, the Moon.
And in everything that grows.
The birds and bees.
And in the pollen that makes me sneeze!
You are for me,
The gift giver of my life!
With any imperfections I suspect...
You are there accepting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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The Sun Is Out And Shining
The sun is out and shining and there's warmth in the breeze
And the weather rather pleasant around 21 degrees
And pink blossoms on the fruit trees and the wild birds chirp and sing
on this the first day of September and of the calendar Spring.
The poetess is out walking and a song is in her head
And she will write a poem this evening before she goes to bed
Her dedication to September her favourite month of the year
When Spring spreads her green beauty in the Southern Hemisphere.
The lovely golden whistler his song one can't mistake
In backyard on the mirror bush he whistled at daybreak
I'd like to think he piped for Spring though naturalists tell me
That the only reason birds sing is to defend their territory.
The sun is out and shining and Spring is in the air
And blossoms on the fruit trees and parks and gardens wear
Their green cloaks of September and there's warmth in the breeze
And the weather temperatures quite pleasant around 21 degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan

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The O'Rahilly
SING of the O'Rahilly,
Do not deny his right;
Sing a 'the' before his name;
Allow that he, despite
All those learned historians,
Established it for good;
He wrote out that word himself,
He christened himself with blood.
How goes the weather?
Sing of the O'Rahilly
That had such little sense
He told Pearse and Connolly
He'd gone to great expense
Keeping all the Kerry men
Out of that crazy fight;
That he might be there himself
Had travelled half the night.
How goes the weather?
'Am I such a craven that
I should not get the word
But for what some travelling man
Had heard I had not heard?'
Then on pearse and Connolly
He fixed a bitter look:
'Because I helped to wind the clock
I come to hear it strike.'
How goes the weather?
What remains to sing about
But of the death he met
Stretched under a doorway
Somewhere off Henry Street;
They that found him found upon
The door above his head
'Here died the O'Rahilly.
R.I.P.' writ in blood.
How goes the weather.?
poem by William Butler Yeats

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Biggest gain
Did you not see the pain behind?
Happiness and peace nowhere to find
Only rising waves to meet the silence shore
What else did you see or found more?
Did you not see my inviting eyes?
So many questions to ask for why’s
Always eager to receive peace signals
Some comforts to feel upon its arrivals
I keep face smiling so you do not mind
Upheaval in mind still to reflect very kind
Complete Camouflage to find those beautiful tears
Does not come out but intolerably bears
You find me naughty just for a second
It tells you something for arrival of wind
Feel little warmth if no hidden pain
I shall consider it life’s biggest gain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal

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To spring (in reply to John Keats)
When the last impact of winter disappears,
the sun starts to glow bright in its longing,
cold days are dissipated by sunshine
you arrive in your pretty enchantment
with joyful countenance,
in a dashing conquering,
causing everything to sprout new
skipping along like a young child capering,
then you spread you bridal gown out wide
run jolly and overjoyed
so that insects, birds unite with you rejoicing.
Everybody are swept away by your jauntiness
when blossoms are snow white, golden yellow, blushing pink on branches
insects, birds, the wind, the weather are in love with you, are your followers
as if everything in your presence have great joy,
I hear your voice in every whispering
while you hop along, spread your hair and are flaunting
as a girl, slender and pure bringing arms full of love
full of life, full of passion and still young,
you sing the whole day long
drunk with love
stretching your arms out to me, circling out wider.
For you, everybody sings a paean
the wind, birds and insects sing glad
as if you sweep the feet out from under everything
from the big enchantment, that everything living gets from you
as if your rule will never pass,
suddenly all living things are exuberantly free
and you are so innocent, so without suspicion,
but for me you stay a love child
blinding with your beauty
and even the first rain worships you
seeks pampering from you.
[Reference: To Autumn by John Keats.]
poem by Gert Strydom

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