Snowflakes Mist Born
snowflakes veil mist born
cloud-fold garments shaken
over woodlands brown bare
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Airborn Seeds
seeds fall
out of the bosom
of the air,
the seed
of each
unique
snowflake
born,
born from
the bosom
of mother nature,
the milk
of her
winter
nurturing
woven landscape,
the seed
are the snowflakes
born from
the cloud-folds
of her garments shaken,
soon to be shaken,
'Over the woodlands brown and bare'.
Quoted line from ‘Snowflakes’ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Snow-Flakes. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
Out of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Autumn Song
'WILL you not walk the woods with me?
The shafts of sunlight burn
On many a golden-crested tree
And many a russet fern.
The Summer's robe is dyed anew,
And Autumn's veil of mist
Is gemmed with little pearls of dew
Where first we met and kissed.'
'I will not walk the woodlands brown
Where ghosts and mists are blown,
But I will walk the lonely down
And I will walk alone.
Where Night spreads out her mighty wing
And dead days keep their tryst,
There will I weep the woods of Spring
Where first we met and kissed.'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Bloom is not a Bloom
Bloom not bloom
mist not mist
Night half come
heaven bright go
Come like spring dream how long time?
Go like morning cloud not find place The bloom is not a bloom,
The mist not mist.
At midnight she comes,
And goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream -
how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
Snowflakes Falling
Snowflakes, falling, from miraculous heights.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.
Snowflakes, falling, airy and light.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.
Snowflakes, falling, a blanket of white.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.
Snowflakes, falling, crystalline delight.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.
poem by Ben Payton
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Breath Upon The Looking Glass
My breath expressed
Upon the looking glass
A living veil
Composed of gas
Eyes kept without
Breath held within
A visual shout
A ghastly grin
That fades away
As does the breath
As sure and certain
As life and death
The looking glass
Now free of mist
Lays bare my soul
And doing so insists
That I observe
The exposed nerve
That in said glass
Persists
I hastily breath anew
On said looking glass
To renew said veil
of living gas
Then Hie away
Before it fades
And draws me fast (and forever)
Into the looking glass
poem by David Whalen
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Ice Crystal Lattices
Snowflakes
frozen ice crystals
conglomerations
fall through
Earth
atmosphere
two snow
crystals
microscopic
supercooled
cloud
droplets freeze
variety
shapes
sizes
complex
shapes
emerging
as the flake
falls through
differing
temperature
humidity
air regimes
individual
snowflakes
nearly
unique
in
structure.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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If HE is Not Now Here, HE is Nowhere!
Wandering here and there,
Searching for beloved,
On moutain peaks,
Nature looks beautiful with green forest and meadows covered by veil of fog and mist!
Forest and meadows full of life
Looking at the mountain peak,
standing in meadow the cloud of mist,
covering it now!
For one spiritual minded,
World is felt under veil,
For materialistic mind spirit covered under veil,
Reality is under veil of mind,
Light is more deceptive,
When light passes through veil of ignorance of mind,
Creator looks like creature,
How one can believe creator,
his creation creature are one!
The belief and faith are so strong,
That even if creator comes and say,
'I am the creator',
We drag him to court,
Or show him way to asylum,
Because we are creators of our future,
never want creator to poke his nose,
When misguided mind,
Keeps on misguiding,
Misguiding its own creator!
Every flow of current,
Generate a force,
Which opposes its own origin,
So, son opposes his own father,
not knowing father, mother, son are same and one!
The one not found in me or you,
Or in the space within atom,
Or not found in beauty of nature,
Beauty of life around,
How can he be in Kashi or Jerusalem or Kaaba?
If not He can understand my song of love,
How he can understand Mantra and verses?
If he can't cross the boundary of hearts,
Man made boundaries of caste and creed,
Nation and state borders,
How can I believe, He is LORD OF UNIVERSE?
The One who is not now here is surely nowhere,
One need not find him anywhere,
If he is my true beloved,
He should be here now,
With me and all the time always!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Faun Sees Snow for the First Time
Zeus,
Brazen-thunder-hurler,
Cloud-whirler, son-of-Kronos,
Send vengeance on these Oreads
Who strew
White frozen flecks of mist and cloud
Over the brown trees and the tufted grass
Of the meadows, where the stream
Runs black through shining banks
Of bluish white.
Zeus,
Are the halls of heaven broken up
That you flake down upon me
Feather-strips of marble?
Dis and Styx!
When I stamp my hoof
The frozen-cloud-specks jam into the cleft
So that I reel upon two slippery points ...
Fool, to stand here cursing
When I might be running!
poem by Richard Aldington
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A Still Thoughtless Life Of The Eyeglasses
a pair of eyeglasses with brown frame
lays itself bare
on a white cloth
actually a wiper of mist
or tears perhaps
or dirt like oil or stains
a black casing
stares at it like a niche
as though someone that
appears later
shall be buried on the
red mantel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Fourth Day Of March
The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.
A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.
The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.
The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.
There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Hawk
'CALL down the hawk from the air;
Let him be hooded or caged
Till the yellow eye has grown mild,
For larder and spit are bare,
The old cook enraged,
The scullion gone wild.'
'I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.'
'What tumbling cloud did you cleave,
Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,
Last evening? that I, who had sat
Dumbfounded before a knave,
Should give to my friend
A pretence of wit.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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409
on a trip to Chiba
snowflakes
falling on my shoulder
i am bare
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brown Eyes
Oh, brown Eyes with long black lashes,
Young brown Eyes,
Depths of night from which there flashes
Lightning as of summer skies,
Beautiful brown Eyes!
In your veiled mysterious splendour
Passion lies
Sleeping, but with sudden tender
Dreams that fill with vague surmise
Beautiful brown Eyes.
All my soul, with yearning shaken,
Asks in sighs--
Who will see your heart awaken,
Love's divine sunrise
In those young brown Eyes?
poem by Mathilde Blind
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In The South Western Grampians
In the South Western Grampians of Victoria the Summer hills are brown
And from Casterton to Hamilton the roadway winds up and down
The creeks are barely flowing the roadside drains are dry
And the sun is brightly shining in the clear afternoon sky.
In the South Western Grampians the weather mostly fine
And many days of warm weather and beautiful sun shine
An undulating Countryside and hardly any green
With so few groves and woodlands and few trees to be seen.
Through the South Western Grampians one may travel far and wide
But one won't see many houses in that brown old Countryside
A farming population and few people one see
In the South Western Grampians far Inland from the sea.
On the hills of the South Western Grampians there once were many trees
Where the Indigenous tribes in the Dreamtime lived and had their Coroborees
But now open to the weather those old hills look brown and bare
And the only sound the buzzing of the bush flies in the warm Summer air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 07
The day opens with the brown light of snowfall
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall.
I sit in my chair all day and work and work
Measuring words against each other.
I open the piano and play a tune
But find it does not say what I feel,
I grow tired of measuring words against each other,
I grow tired of these four walls,
And I think of you, who write me that you have just had a daughter
And named her after your first sweetheart,
And you, who break your heart, far away,
In the confusion and savagery of a long war,
And you who, worn by the bitterness of winter,
Will soon go south.
The snowflakes fall almost straight in the brown light
Past my window,
And a sparrow finds refuge on my window-ledge.
This alone comes to me out of the world outside
As I measure word with word.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Knight of the Grail
Lully, lully; lully, lulley;
The fawcon hath born my mak away.
He bare hym vp, he bare hym down;
He bare hym into an orchard brown.
In that orchard ther was an hall,
That was hangid with purpill and pall.
And in that hall ther was a bede;
Hit was hangid with gold so rede.
And yn that bed ther lythe a knyght,
His wowndes bledyng day and nyght.
By that bedes side ther kneleth a may,
And she wepeth both nyght and day.
And by that beddes side ther stondith a ston,
'Corpus Christi' wretyn theron.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Jeckoyva
They made the warrior's grave beside
The dashing of his native time:
And there was mourning in the glen--
The strong wail of a thousand men--
O'er him thus fallen in his pride,
Ere mist of age - or blight or blast
Had o'er his might spirit past.
They made the warrior's grave beneath
The bending of the wild elm's wreath,
When the dark hunter's piercing eye
Had found that mountain rest on high,
Where, scattered by the sharp wind's breath,
Beneath the ragged cliff were thrown
The strong belt and the mouldering bone.
Where was the warrior's foot, when first
The red sun on the mountain burst?
Where -- when the sultry noon-time came
On the green vales with scorching flame,
And made the woodlands faint with thirst?
'Twas where the wind is keen and loud,
And the gray eagle breasts the cloud.
Where was the warrior's foot when night
Veiled in thick cloud the mountain-height?
None heard the loud and sudden crash--
None saw the fallen warrior dash
Down the bare rock so high and white!
But he that drooped not in the chase
Made on the hills his burial-place.
They found him there, when the long day
Of cold desertion passed away,
And traces on that barren cleft
Of struggling hard with death were left--
Deep marks and footprints in the clay!
And they have laid this feathery helm
By the dark river and green elm.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Brown Baby
(oscar brown jr.)
Brown baby
Brown baby
As you grow up
I want you to drink from the plenty cup
I want you to stand up
Tall and proud
I want you to speak up
Speak up clear and cloud
Brown baby
Brown baby
As years roll by
Walk with your head held high
I want you to live by
Live by the justice code
I want you to walk down
Walk down the freedom road
Brown baby
Brown baby
Now baby
Lie away
Lie away sleeping
Lie away here in my arms
While your mommy and daddy protect you
And keep you save from harm
Brown baby
Brown baby
It makes me so glad
That you will have things
Ive never had
When out of mens hearts
All the hate is hurled
Youre gonna live
Youre gonna live in a better world
Brown baby
Mmammamama
Brown baby
Mmammamama
Sweet thing
Lie away sleeping
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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