The Yellows Of The Flowers
THE YELLOWS OF THE FLOWERS
THE YELLOWS OF THE FLOWERS
The Yellows of the Flowers,
the Greens of the Trees,
God’s Colors-
Comfort me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Yellows And Greens
THE YELLOWS AND GREENS
The Yellows and Greens
Who made these leaves?
Who made these skies?
Blue- White is too Beauty
And Gold Gold Vermillion-
Light Light
All this Life
This Happiness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Who Is Afraid Of The Fading Of The Yellows And the Greens
WHO IS AFRAID OF THE FADING OF THE YELLOWS AND GREENS
Who is afraid of the fading of the yellows and greens
of this park’s long summer evening?
Who is afraid of the moon come to replace the sun?
And the lights going slowly to their own longer darkness?
Near its end life is afraid of life
Beautiful still and waiting,
For the end which will inevitably come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Flowers And Fields
The flowers and fields
The yellows and greens
The morning light
Are this morning
A consolation,
A sign that there is something good
Something beautiful
Something which seems hopeful
On this day
When there is such pain sorrow hopelessness guilt fear
Inside me-
That I don't even know how to cry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In Green Melted Yellows
it was in green melted yellows
amid branches of rhyme,
hidden leaves of moisture
at the dryest of times
where i first let unspoken lips,
speak for the mind.
in green melted yellows
betwixt with bananas and thyme
and old dying man sighed
'love itself cannot rhyme'
though it echoes down ages of pages,
shadows and scenes
honeygrass lemons, and
aqua sunbeams.
it was wrapped in green melted yellows
where i then understood;
the beauty of two lovers drowning
over one alone and afloat.
poem by Eddie Frelford
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Emma Concepcion Zanoria
emma of the green meadows
on the skies of white and blue
along the paths of flowers
of reds and yellows
how often have i dreamed of you
on the valleys of ricefields
where the winds of Karupay pass
along the tall coconut trees
to the mysteries of the
pacific ocean
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Is The Word 'Beauty' And Why Does It Mean So Much To Me?
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
Why do I see it in so many things?
The trees the flowers
The yellows and the greens
The road stretching before me
The distance of the sky
The light in a small child's eyes
Music that moves me to tears
All kinds of melodies
That linger in people's faces
Kind words and kinder deeds
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
And why in this small child playing near me now
Do I feel the Goodness and Greatness of God
The Beauty of everything?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Summertime Rain
There is nothing as refreshing
As a sweet summertime rain
After the cooling showers
Nothing is ever quite the same
Because nutrients fill the moisture
For flowers and crops as well
You can almost see them grow
After a summer downpour fell
The seeds sprout so much quicker
Flowers grow tall so very fast
Rain gives everything a boost
And of course it doesn’t last
Then the sun comes streaming out
And flowers lift their little heads
Color comes popping out as well
Yellows, oranges, blues and reds
Oh yes, there’s nothing like it
To get a summer growing spurt
Yes, bring on those summer showers
And sun afterwards wouldn’t hurt!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Where Are The Poems?
Where are the poems?
I don't know.
The poems are all around me
But I cannot write them-
My words cannot do justice to what my eyes see-
The world is the poem now
How beautiful the flowers the trees the green the yellows
The land of Israel in the spring-
The world is the poem now-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Follow Your Rainbow
Go and follow your rainbow
travel it from end to end.
Go see just what awaits you
in the colors of the beams it sends.
The reds and blues the greens and yellows
purple, orange and pinks.
There is every color God has made
all you could ever envision, or even think!
God's paint brushes dipped in colors
mixed and blended until just right.
Then He places a rainbow after every storm
each one, for mankind's hearts delight.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Sunrise
Autumn Sunrise
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted Nov.13,2008
Autumn is here, while the cold blankets the air,
the autumn leaves show their majestic yellows,
with oranges and outstanding browns.
They fall with mysteries of the weather changes,
while the wind becomes stronger,
The colors change on the plants
with flowers even trees blooms with color.
The autumn clouds roll in to blankets
in the skies with stillness and quiet,
the coolness in the mornings with the evenings
wants you to snuggle up in a warm blanket.
Autumn trees as colorful as you can see
that is blankets the land for its winter’s dream,
The animals lay asleep while the
butterflies and birds go south for the winter.
poem by Lori Triggs
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Heaven as spectrum
Bold March sunlight bounces
off the yellow-grey-brown London claybricks
of the house across the gardens;
the next-door neighbour’s cut the dead ivy
and the reflected light hits the artificial flowers
and their strong delicate colours, glowing
in their various cobalt vases; blooming joyful
where living flowers find that corner sad;
the flowers as if washed today with brighter water-colours;
as if grace itself, wishing to send a message
to this room today, had chosen the spectrum
of the flowers’ purples, yellows, blues and reds
as its medium and message; and its smile;
today, the spectrum is for me
metaphor enough – its rainbow limits
playing now-you-see-me… with the retina,
hinting at the formless always beckoning
there, beyond the form..
metaphor enough
for heaven’s mind itself; and heaven’s smile.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ah, Winter!
chill breeze
blowing into
nose eyes n ears
clogged nostrils
watery eyes
choked breathing
ah, but the denuded
trees bearing
bunches of flowers
at each stem
purple orange
white yellows
feasting eyes
through a veil
of watering eyes
colors spraying
perfume forced into
blocked nostrils
chilled winds
pouring dulcet
winter notes
into dumb ears
lungs fail to draw
full cycle of breath!
ah, winter
pleasantly chilling
ah, winter...!
aaachoooooooooooo!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Yellow
She loved yellows,
pinks and golds
and we thought
she'd live forever
so when we saw
her fading
and her colours
they were jading
we planted
daffodils.
They're all bobbing
in the garden,
pretty headed
flowers
but her light
has gone forever,
deep beneath
the gold corn hills
Perhaps by chance
she sees them still.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Where's The Silver?
Colors, colors everywhere
Colors all around
Reds and purples and blues are there
But silver can't be found
I look around, and now I've found some yellows and some greens
I look until my eyes are sore, but silver can't be seen
I look unto the vibrant clouds, but there's no silver lining
Where is all the silver that the miners should be mining?
There are no silver bells a'ringing
The silver songbirds are not singing
The orange sun hangs in the air, but I can't find silver anywhere
I look for hours, look for days, look for silver anyplace
But there always seems to be another color in it's place
I've given up this useless search
There is no silver left to find
I dropp my head and start to cry
When out of my pocket falls a silver dime
poem by Tyler Mason
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Long Yearning (Sent Far)
When the beautiful woman was here, the hall was filled with flowers,
Now the beautiful woman's gone, the bed is lying empty.
On the bed, the embroidered quilt is rolled up: no-one sleeps,
Though three years have now gone by, I think I smell that scent.
The scent is finished but not destroyed,
The woman's gone and does not come.
Yearning yellows the falling leaf,
White dew beads the green moss.
My Four Seasons
I gaze out through my window to the colours of the leaves,
Reds and browns and yellows floating like fairies from the trees.
I follow the as they burst alive and dance among the breeze,
And my smile is echoed effortlessly in the colours of the leaves.
I peer out through my curtains to the snow upon the ground,
Dreaming of the diamonds drowsily fluttering from the clouds,
Strewn across the hedgerows and the fields and all around,
The snow lies peacefully sleeping, a jewel upon the ground.
And look! - all of a sudden grow the bluebells in the wood!
Swaying happily to and fro, just like they always should.
And as the spring awakens, rusty from the flood,
The sun begins to shine upon the bluebells in the wood.
At last, through my curtains I see the flowers of July,
Their beauty almost mirrored in the sunshine in the sky,
And I see the tuplips grinning as a bright blue butterfly
Lands upon the petals of the flowers in July.
poem by Twilight Whispers
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Seascape
Hues of cyanotic blue,
Intermeshing, as
Reds mutate into oranges and yellows,
Deep rose would become a sea of tranquility-
If I could rock myself to an eternal sleep, I could
Listen to the ocean’s waves as they lap against the sand, as
Small diamonds would scintillate in the sunlight.
Variations of greens and yellows would blend with one another, as
Water snakes and anemones would mingle with the
Flora of the sea-
I could hear the roaring of the ocean’s waves on
Moonlit days before sunrise upon awakening, as
I had lost myself within a sea of dreams-
Hues of cyanotic blues,
Deep rose as a tranquil sea could be, coral –red,
Sea grass, viridian in hue,
Sways with the rhythm of the rising tide,
Lost, I am in this myriad of dreams,
Reaching out trying to grasp that moment in reality
That has just slipped through my fingertips,
I would ride bare back upon a sea horse,
Destined to live forever…
The ocean expands parallel to the universe, never ending.
As a storm at sea abates,
I have found some peace of mind in this reflective moment.
Reds mutate to shades of orange to a dusty rose,
Lost in thoughts and reverie, I am
Carried away by the ocean’s waves.
Stardust has settled gently over the horizon- as far as
I can see, and
Upon this very tranquil night,
I see this world through a kaleidoscope;
Chips of broken glass reflecting greens and yellows,
Mauves and violets-
Enveloping all I can for miles and miles where the
Forever expanding ocean would finally meet with the sky-
I would want to live forever on this never abating journey-
Where I have finally escaped reality.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Mothers' Love
It rips at the soul the way only a mothers love could do.
The freshness of it is yet of the autumn dew.
Trees start to turn the colors of reds, yellows and orange.
And then is the sadness in which it comes. the first brown leaf being crumbled up and blowing away.
It becomes dirt and creates something new.
A little baby sprout is growing from it.
It carries but the very features she has.
One day too, she'll become like the freshness of the autumn dew.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Universal Flowers
All all
Trees are
Earth flowers...
Wonder of
Green...
Making trees
Is
Not only
Earth flower's...
A unversel flowers...
Some flowers
Is big...
Some is...
Sumall...
That is not enough
Trees also
Flowers
For
The univers...!
Yes or not...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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