Crows
They are circling my house rooftop.
From vantage point to wall they hop.
Irritating noise filling the air,
becoming just too much to bear.
But I ‘m too much of a milksop.
Poisoning them, out of the question.
I'm for green peaceful rendition
to rid myself of this black pest,
so that I can get morning rest
from this unwelcome infestation.
Their natural habitat destroyed
when new building schemes deployed.
Trees and feeding grounds lie barren -
Not a trace of rabbit warren.
I'm unreasonably annoyed.
poem by Suzette Crous
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I Think Your Natural Habitat Is Bed
I think your natural habitat is bed.
Although you do so nicely,
in your kitchen, baking bread,
and when at the dining table,
can disappear the cheapest red,
still, I think your natural habitat is bed.
You paint truly lovely pictures,
in all the colours, blue to red,
write some you beaut bonzer verses,
as swell a modest feller's head,
but you're at your most creative
when you're cavorting with clothes shed.
So I think your natural habitat is bed.
You're really such a lot of fun
at things much better left unsaid.
But should we laugh the way we do?
Or should we groan some more instead?
Perhaps neighbours might be thinking
that we ain't really too well bred?
But you're such a lovely lady
and I'm so very easy led
and I think your natural habitat is bed.
poem by Red O'Mara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hollow Nature Of Being
WALL I:
inside an empty room lies an empty box
and in that box is a four walled inside room within-
on each of the four walls is a mirror reflecting
the deep desertion of the next
and distant within each wall is another
echoing & spiraling back into infinite repetition
with nothing or no one except the physical entities
bearing back upon each other.
WALL II:
an empty room in an empty house
the house itself has no physical attributes because it
was built in a barren field-
there are no animals, no trees,
no beings of any kind
roaming around the house whose image cannot be
imagined,
at best, know that this house in fact
“housed” the room in question,
as any house might any room.
WALL III:
such a barren field stretches to all four corners
carrying itself out beyond the periphery
curling back in on the other side,
and walking in any direction will bring one back to the
beginning-
the barren field that reveals the empty house that
encapsulates the empty room is the most integral point of
reference within the endless flat plain of grass.
WALL IV:
endless flat plains of grass flowing out in all directions covering
the circumference of the area around the empty house residing in
the middle of the plain wherein
the inside of the empty house holds the
empty room & in the
room,
the four mirrored walls reveal only the replication of the
others,
spiraling into infinite repetition-
there is no feeling
no sound
no communication of any kind
woven with the thread of human fiber.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Breathing Space for friend David desantis
Beneath the bridge the river flows
along the bank side alder grows.
There in the shadow of the trees
small creatures move about with ease.
Safe from the flying predators
which hunt along the water course.
In search of some small tasty bite
to satisfy their appetite.
The riverside a habitat
for rabbit vole and water rat.
The peaceful waterside enjoys
an almost total lack of noise.
I walk here seeking solitude
serenity and quietude.
4-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blue Wall / Green Wall
What comes to my mind when I see a green wall?
A green wall reminds me of the grass so green
And the emerald most rarely seen
A green wall reminds me of the leaves so green
And a forest where I have never been
A green wall reminds me of trees with a lot of shade
And the fresh vegetables kept for trade.
What comes to my mind when I see a blue wall?
It reminds me of the sea so blue
I feel like jumping in it too
A blue wall reminds me of the blue sky
You can’t touch it cause it’s very high
A blue wall reminds me of the deep blue bear
It is very dangerous so beware
A blue wall reminds me of a blue whale
To reach it from the shore you have to sail.
poem by Risha Ahmed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Peaceful Morning
From a sea of mist,
the sleeping trees emerged
under a cloudless sky
as the sun’s warming rays
lit up the surrounding hills.
Rabbits scampered on the grass;
birds glided in the sky,
the world began to awake
on a beautiful September morn.
No chill penetrated the air
and from the vantage point
where I stood was just a peaceful morning
emerging to welcome the dawning day.
20 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Now Playing
Sitting alone on a park bench surrounded by a natural beauty that only I can appreciate at this moment in time. Oh, there are occasional intruders in this beautiful place, a few joggers with their MP3’s hanging from their ears, lost in a world of music and running on automatic pilot. They pass through this wonderland in a flash and miss the performance only a sojourner like me perceives: The shifting breeze that blows through the surrounding trees. I watch them slow-dance to a score that was written on the wind and only they can hear the composition they dance to.
A long-eared rodent enters the green dance floor and does his version of the bunny hop, stops to see if anyone is watching and continues his dance unabated.
A chorus of unseen red-breast thrushes singing their familiar early morning rendition of “It’s a beautiful morning” while two male cardinals fly by warbling their version.
A house sparrow alight the bench and looked at me and cocked its head left, and then right, As if to say, what are you doing here? then flies off into the trees behind me.
A squirrel scampers onto the scene and becomes aware of my presence and decides to head back whence it came. Taking that cue, I realized that I had overstayed my visit and it was time to leave.
“Natural Beauty”
Now playing, Act one, scene one
One brief performance
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Naturally Green
My mother always enjoyed
Picnics on lushes green grass
With trees to show
How green Mother Nature keeps
Her house of plants
Without green
There may be no greed
But it is that of the apple
That keeps us whole
Without care,
Green turns to brown.
With love,
Green grows strong.
When green turns to yellow
We go slow
So never let green
Turn red with envy
Or life may go
In a direction
You did not choose
poem by Scot Warren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Susquehanna
Its hard to bleed a man
Hard to bleed a man
When you know where hes falling to
Hard to bleed a wall
Hard to bleed a wall
When the bricks and the sand are you
.
And although we were very thirsty
I question the oasis
And although we were very lonely
I question the womans love
Question the gods above
.
Hard to bake the bread
Hard to bake the bread
When youre standing outside of the kitchen
Hard to join the dance
Hard to join the dance
When you know the song is poisoning everyone
When you know the song is poisoning everyone
.
When you know where hes falling
Question...
Yeah, you know where hes falling
Question...
The womans love, the gods above.
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Once A Place Of Natural Beauty
Once a place of natural beauty for all to be enjoyed
Due to the financial greed of developers the park has been destroyed
Most of the trees shelter for the ringtail and brush tail possums have been cut away
It is an ugly sight that I do gaze upon today.
Huge mounds of earth and clay dug up by bulldozers an ugly sight to see
The destruction of natural habitat for development does seem all wrong to me
The birds and tree dwelling animals need every bush and tree
The financial greed of the wealthy few give rise to Nature's poverty.
The money hungry developers they do not understand
That you render most of the local wildlife homeless when you take from them their land
That in their fights for new territories many of them will die
These are known facts I speak of and facts do never lie.
Just mounds of earth and white clay where beauty did reside
Most of the birds and animals who lived here through dispossession would have died
The destruction of their natural habitat to extinction only lead
For many of Nature's birds and animals losing out to human greed.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At Dawn
Early in the morning;
Before the Sun had come;
A cool breeze was blowing;
I walked up and down.
Neighbours were still sleeping;
The weather was so cold;
All was very quiet;
Except the chirp of Birds!
It had been much raining;
All through the previous night;
Coffee having taken,
I pranced like a kite.
‘Twas a Sunday morning!
And all would get up late;
Just the noise of motors,
Was in the far-off roads.
The Air was quite freshn’ing,
I breathed and breathed and breathed;
I saw a group of black clouds;
In the Sky inter-weaved.
The plants seemed so smiling;
Their leaves were green and fresh;
The ground was wet, sodden;
And showed some sprouts afresh.
Plantain-trees looked stately;
Their green leaves so well-spread;
I saw green leaf-cutters!
On Moringa-tree leaves.
I had a good night’s sleep;
The family left for hol’s;
I listened to the noise,
Of insects ‘neath the leaves.
Two trees had delivered,
A bunch of bananas each!
One was so much sagging;
The trunk would break, it seemed!
The Sky now brightened up;
The Sun still nowhere seen;
As if someone would come,
The garden next look’d clean.
I stretch’d my limbs few times,
Aiming to breathe better;
I had a bout of cough,
By now, ’twas almost Dawn!
Soon the Air got filled up,
With noise of various Birds;
They flew in joy, singing;
Another Dawn was born!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Even Green Bears Like Anecdotes About Them
Which college student would turn down even
a few dollars? A notice goes, up, Dr. Wegner
wants some volunteers for half-an-hour, most,
in the Cognitive Research lab…
so when it’s my turn in the queue,
I go in and he says, now go in there
for fifteen minutes, only one instruction,
don’t think about a green bear…
so, money for old rope, with bear attached,
I go in there, check every few minutes that
I haven’t thought about some idiotic green bear…
come out, he’s sitting there with all his smug
students and assistants, looking just as if
I were some green bear, about to amuse them hugely…
so to shut their silly faces up, I don’t wait, but say,
if you’re going to ask me did I think about
that green bear no I didn’t once I checked
every few minutes to see if I’d thought about it no…
and they all laughed…ticked the boxes, wrote
in their don’t- I- love-my-Prof little notebooks with
their smug little smiles to each other…
now I go to sleep
thinking of feeding them one by one
to that green bear, wow they taste good…
I mean, who in their right mind
ever thinks of some green bear…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Little While, a Little While
A LITTLE while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
Where wilt thou go, my harassed heart—
What thought, what scene invites thee now
What spot, or near or far apart,
Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, 'mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But, if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare,
Moonless above bends twilight's dome;
But what on earth is half so dear—
So longed for—as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone,
The dank moss dripping from the wall,
The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown,
I love them—how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room,
The alien firelight died away;
And from the midst of cheerless gloom,
I passed to bright, unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane
That opened on a common wide;
A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain
Of mountains circling every side.
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm,
So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air;
And, deepening still the dream-like charm,
Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well;
I knew the turfy pathway's sweep,
That, winding o'er each billowy swell,
Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Could I have lingered but an hour,
It well had paid a week of toil;
But Truth has banished Fancy's power:
Restraint and heavy task recoil.
Even as I stood with raptured eye,
Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear,
My hour of rest had fleeted by,
And back came labour, bondage, care.
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
If Nature Survives
Once upon a time dense forest
Now stands open field with no trees to rest
No green branches and no noise of birds
It has become rare chance for melody to be heard
Where has our cuckoo gone?
Why has she deserted morning tune?
What have we done to her go in exile?
I thought she has lost her refuge for a while
The sparrows have disappeared too
Quite in numbers could be seen through
In window hole or in little hide out
They were happily seen to be heard about
They have gone too and become extinct
Probably to far off places and in interior districts
Now villages too have adopted same way
Little trees and forest is done away
You find no crows, owls or eagles
Sky is seen barren and no formation of love triangles
Nature has turned off its kind eye
Not enough of birds could be seen to fly
Deforestation is on rise and on high side
Gap is apparent and looks very wide
We are doing enough of damage to wild culture
As if we have taken out right control for future
Who to be blamed for this outrageous act?
Earth has tolerated it but so far refused to react
Of late natural calamities are on rise
It may spring anytime big surprise
Large population insects and birds stay in forest
It is their birth place and permanent refuge for rest
We need not disturb ecological balance
Let each tree cut be replaced by more to make it dense
If nature survives we survive too
In defiance we fell apart and disintegrate too
No one can survive long its absence
Nature is our mother and real essence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Independent Woman....
we are in this house
that from our sweat built
there are only two of us
in this house
which we have not really
called as home,
something's missing
you give me a hint
not the glass window or
the ceiling fan,
i know it but how can i
tell you?
i won't tell, it will hurt you,
we continue living
somehow
just the two of us in this house
we have our own careers
and every morning we rush to go on our different ways
the night is the only place
of our tryst
we manage to spend time for love
we sleep together and share
what we can
there will be a time when this house shall fall
because it is not a home for us all
there will be one morning when you will finally leave
and take away everything from me
and then i will write it on the wall
this house is never a home,
she never wanted a child to bear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faith I Don't Question
How can I 'see' some things and you don't?
That's a good question.
One I can not explain.
When I see a clear path,
I walk on it.
There may be some obstacles.
I face them and move on.
You,
I hear rustling through the brush,
Cussing at the leaves falling from trees.
And criticizing the insects,
And other animals in their natural habitat.
I hear you struggling over aches and pains.
You inflicted them.
On that route you insist you must maintain.
When I see a clear path,
I walk on it.
There may be some obstacles.
I face them and move on.
How can I 'see' some things and you don't?
That's a good question.
One I can not explain.
I make sure the path I'm on,
Has some direction.
And I stay on it with faith,
I don't question.
I just 'do' and let God be my guide!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When Am I Going To Rest
When am I going to rest?
When I'm going to fetch water
You are on my back
When I'm going to fetch firewood
You are on my back
Oh! When am I going to rest?
When am I going to rest?
When I want to rest
You are on my breast
Suckling like a calf
Yet you have little sharpened teeth
I can even scream if you bite my breast.
All you know is to wee wee, eat and cry
Without giving me time to rest
To my breast
You are the pest
Applying pepper might be a pest control
But still I will not rest
Because there is much to do for you
Perhaps death will be my rest.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Roggae
The circus is the place for me with bears and clowns and noise
I love the shiny music that descends from overhead
Gordan knew the moment when the stars all turned around
But from that vantage point I frowned
If life were easy and not so fast
I wouldnt think about the past
I cant forget to turn the earth so both sides get their share
Of darkness and of light
So now I wander over grounds of light and heat and sound and mist
Provoking dreams that dont exist
A circus of light where dreams can take flight
In the peacefulness dreaming dreams brings
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rooftop Garden
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Looking down below
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Waiting for the sun
Isnt it lovely watching
A plane go by
What a lovely couple
Are you and i
Sitting in our rooftop garden
A few drops of rain
The lights in the city blinking on
Just the same
No sugar in my coffee
Hows your tea
In our rooftop garden
Above the city
Lets not see any letters
Lets not answer the phone
Lets just pretend that
Theres no one at home
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
Up on the roof
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!