Morning Storm
Morning storm
smashing rain
on our
highest panes
we watched in wonder
as swaying trunks
grow drunk
with heaven’s wine
but noonday trees
stand sober
glittering green
on absolute blue
the crystal sky
of spring.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Trees
Green with spendour when Summer's here,
Brown contender in Autumn's sphere,
Bare the branches in Winter's embrace,
New growth created, when Spring shows her face.
Stalwart trunks, with many years standing,
Leaves when over, steadily landing,
Branches swaying in the breeze,
How I love all kinds of trees.
Forests of green, where they all meet,
Swaying together as they all greet,
Each morning, when the light appears,
Each growing slowly over the years.
Sentinels of the land they survey,
Strong and upstanding in every way,
Graceful, mighty, powerful and fine,
Tall and sleek just like the Pine.
The Oak, Ash, Sycamore and Lime,
The Rowan, White Beam and Silver Birch sublime,
Each one giving of their glorious best,
To the World - The World's been blest.
What would we do without our trees,
Don't cut them down, will you please,
Remember how they give us shade,
From the sun, within the glade.
Stand and study these majestic creations,
Upright descendants of past relations,
Their dignity, against all weathers,
If it were us, we'd lose our tethers.
But these gallant trees require our care,
They give oxygen, in the air
That we breathe, so, if we want to survive,
Let us keep our trees alive.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rodin's Man
the serpents... hanging down from the branches..of the apple trees...I sat upon the skies..flew to heaven...washed me the seas...the falling rain...the singing birds...the green eyes of eve...waver in the horizons of the spring....And....all the blue of the green plains...felll on the whiteness of my dreams....And shattered the universe..from head to feet...and nails...AND...the water springs..showering...burst into pieces...I sat upon the highest rock of the universe...face in my hands...pondered...As the statue..RODİ N'S MAN...they call me ADAM...
poem by Metin Sahin
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A Vindication
If heaven loved not the wine,
A Wine Star would not be in heaven;
If earth loved not the wine,
The Wine Spring would not be on the earth.
Since heaven and earth love the wine,
Need a tippling mortal be ashamed?
The transparent wine, I hear,
Has the soothing virtue of a sage,
While the turgid is rich, they say,
As the fertile mind of the wise.
Both the sage and the wise were drinkers,
Why seek for peers among gods and goblins?
Three cups open the grand door to bliss;
Take a jugful, the universe is yours.
Such is the rapture of the wine,
That the sober shall never inherit.
Fragments - Lines 0467 - 0496
Of those now here with us, do not detain anyone who is unwilling to remain,
Nor show the door to anyone who does not wish to go,
Nor wake anyone who is sleeping, Simonides, should one of us,
Well fortified by wine, be gripped by gentle slumber;
Nor bid the wakeful man to sleep against his will;
For everything that is forced is by nature painful.
For the one who wants to drink, let the boy stand close and pour;
Not on all nights is it possible to enjoy delights like these.
But as for me, since I have reached my limit of honey-sweet wine,
I shall think of sleep that loosens cares, going home.
I have reached the point when a man feels most pleasure in drinking wine,
Being neither sober at all nor yet excessively drunk.
Whoever goes beyond the limit of drinking, that man no longer
Is master of his own tongue or of his mind;
He talks recklessly, saying things which the sober find disgraceful,
And feels no shame in any action when he is drunk,
A man of sound sense before, and now a fool. But you,
Understanding these things, should not drink to excess,
But either stand up and leave before you get drunk -- don't let your belly
Overpower you as if you were a base laborer hired by the day --
Or else stay put and refrain from drinking. But no, 'Pour me another'
Is what you keep idly chattering, and that's why you get drunk.
For one cup comes around in the name of friendship, another on a bet;
Another you pour out as a libation for the gods, another you keep on hand,
And you do not know how to refuse. That man is truly invincible,
Who though he has drunk many cups says nothing foolish.
As for the rest of you, take care in what you say as you linger around the wine bowl,
Steering well clear of quarrels with one another,
Speaking in a way that any may hear, whether you address one or all together.
Conducted in this way, a drinking-party proves far from unpleasant.
On Wattle Day
On bushes and trees on the first day of Spring
The nesting songbirds chirp and whistle and sing
In the darkness of midnight as the rain drizzled down
The Goddess of Spring she crept into town
The Spring has arrived in Australia for her three months stay
On the first of September known as Wattle Day
The rain in the morning gave way to sunshine
And the rest of the day may be sunny and fine
The wattle trees cloaked in their bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in late Winter in the rain driven showers
With the arrival of Spring an abundance of green
And wildflowers known to some as weeds everywhere to be seen
The mealaleucas in their blooms of pink to gray
For beauty compete with the wattles on Wattle Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Jack Osbourne (We Watched You Grow)
We watched you grow
from a child to a man
We watched you mature
into a kind and gentle soul
We watched you fight
your addictions and your lows
We watched your loving family
stand by your side
Now you watch the world
stand by you
as you fight your biggest fight
We watched you grow
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man's Wish
If I live to be old, for I find I go down,
Let this be my fate: In a country town
May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
Near a shady grove, and a murmuring brook,
With the ocean at distance, whereupon I may look,
With a spacious plain without hedge or stile,
And an easy pad-nag to ride out a mile.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With Horace and Petrarch, and two or three more
Of the best wits that reign'd in the ages before,
With roast mutton, rather than ven'son or veal,
And clean though coarse linen at every meal.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a pudding on Sundays, with stout humming liquor,
And remnants of Latin to welcome the vicar,
With Monte-Fiascone or Burgundy wine,
To drink the King's health as oft as I dine.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a courage undaunted may I face my last day,
And when I am dead may the better sort say,
In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow,
He's gone, and left not behind him his fellow.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gartloney Rats
The boys from the village were festering sore
For a day on the rant with some music and more
Theyd drink porter in mauras way over in fore
And never get drunk but stay sober
There was harry the banjo and dunne of the swan
With whose bone from the wing hed beat the bodhran
And the song that hed sing was of ganders and all
Hed never get drunk but stay sober
There was woods on the guitar and auld squeeze box too
Who came from a time before aeroplanes flew
Hed sit in a corner and mule quite a few
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
There was mahon the singer who knew all the songs
And never was known to put a foot wrong
Hed sing through the night till the break o the morn
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
Then harry the banjo now there was a man
A bottomless pit if ever there was one
More porter hed lower that there was in the land
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
Well the gartloney rats would play away
Theyd play for the pints and not for the pay
And the pints theyd go down in the usual way
And theyd never get drunk but stay sober
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Visiting The Taoist Priest Dai Tianshan But Not Finding Him
A dog's bark amid the water's sound,
Peach blossom that's made thicker by the rain.
Deep in the trees, I sometimes see a deer,
And at the stream I hear no noonday bell.
Wild bamboo divides the green mist,
A flying spring hangs from the jasper peak.
No-one knows the place to which he's gone,
Sadly, I lean on two or three pines.
The Rain Is Like A Man
the rain this early morning
has an accompanying wind
i look at them by the window
my inner world divided by a thick glass
the trees are swaying and some leaves
begin to fall like some kind of a dance
the rain like a man carries the wind
on his arms and the wind leans down
i catch a glimpse of how they passionately kiss
it is sad and lonely and then the rain stops
the morning sun comes and the leaves
are at the feet of the trees kind of wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He who is drunk from wine can sober up, he who is drunk from wealth cannot.
Stand A Little Rain
Dark cloud is coming
Headed straight for your heart
Might get just a little bit crazy, baby
Might try to tear us apart
When the storm blows over
Only the true love remains
If were ever gonna see a rainbow
We have to stand a little rain
Everybody wants love to be easy
But its never been that way
Each love starts out with blue skies
Sometimes those blue skies turn grey
When the storm blows over
Only the strong love remains
If were ever gonna see a rainbow
We have to stand a little rain
The thunder rolls
And the lightning strikes
Hold on, darling
Its gonna be alright
cause when the storm blows over
Only the true love remains
If were ever gonna see a rainbow
We have to stand a little rain
If were ever gonna see a rainbow
We have to stand a little rain
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can You Stand In The Rain
On a perfect day
I know that I can count on you
When thats not possible
Tell me can you weather the storm
cause I need somebody who will stand by me
Through the good times and bad times
She will always, always be right there
Chorus:
Sunny days
Everybody loves them
Tell me
Can you stand the rain
Storms will come
This we know for sure
Can you stand the rain
Love unconditional
Im not asking this of you
Weve got to make it last
Ill do whatever needs to be done
cause I need somebody who will stand by me
Through the good times and bad times
She will always, always be right there
Chorus
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
No pressure
No pressure from me baby
cause I want you
And I need you
And I love you
Will you be there for me?
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
Can you stand the rain
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Country Path in Late Spring
The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.
And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.
Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.
Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.
Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Where Trees Are, I Am!
Just trees will grow in shapes that please,
My shapes do grow like limbs;
Eyes see, ears hear - abilities!
But trees possess just whims.
Where trees are, I am! So you are
The one with limbs, the one
Who swears with words always bizarre,
Phrases of prediction.
The plants called trees are super-wise,
The stalks are trunks profound,
Their limbs and roots also advise,
The trees are aboveground.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Evening Rain
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
Like the day
Saw the same
All the problems
I follow
I run away
Saw the plane
The grey life
Tomorrow
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I close my eyes
It doesn't work
I can hear tomorrow
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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What's The Use Of Getting Sober
Dv = deep voice, sv = squeaky voice
Dv: boy, you listen to your old pappy
Sv: yeah, pappy
Dv: and stop drinking so much
Sv: i'm-i'm ain't been doing so much drinking, pappy
Dv: shut up, boy! you drink all day and you drink all night and you know, son, that that ain't right
Sv: oh pappy, you just give me a chance. i, i can, i . . .
Dv: shut up, boy! boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
Sv: i know that . . .
Dv: look likes your dear old pappy - about to blow your wig
Sv: oh i'm gonna blow my wig, pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Dv:
I went out last night about half past one
Thought i'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way i was feeling you know what i wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if i was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober if you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well i've been thinking
But i keep drinking
I guess i'm 'bout lose my mind
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Litany
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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