See and Feel
See the tree
That shed its leaves
To face the cold winds
Of winter.
Feel the sweetness
Of the honey that bees
Gathered from flowers
In spring.
See the contentment
Of a cow ruminating
In the shade of a tree
In summer.
See the anxiety
Of the farmer
Awaiting the rains
In monsoon season.
See the effort
Of parents to provide
Better future
For their children.
See the way chicks
Open their beaks
When mother bird
Feeds them.
Feel the sharpness
Of the sword
See the power
Of the written word
Feel the love
Hidden in the heart
See the success
Of man's thoughts...
Until the ability
Of observation
Is completely lost
In seasons and activities
In trees and hills
In the nests that birds build
See all that you can see
With renewed curiosity.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Related quotes
The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Return To Nature
Suppose I am one who has a big ego I did have big plans once I do recall
But egos are a thing that inspire in us the need for success and are part of human nature after all
And now that my ego is a bit deflated and others I don't feel need to impress
Something perhaps that came with the realization that my life never has been a success.
Still I am one who finds solace in Nature and Nature the only God of which I know
I've always marvelled at her strength and beauty and still my admiration for her only grow
I had a church God when I was years younger but I gave my unseen church God away
And I returned again to Mother Nature and in her bosom I will rest one day.
The free born birds that sing in Nature's garden each species is distinctive by their song
And the fox that hunts for rabbits in the paddocks these creatures all to Nature's World belong
And the wedge tailed eagle soaring in the calm sky a very large and fearless bird of prey
Too is a part of Mother Nature's World and in Nature's bosom this bird's bones too will lay.
The swallows fly to warm climes in Winter and return home to greet the warmth of Spring
And chase insects o'er the valley where they first saw daylight and as they fly one hear them chirp and sing
How they can find their way to a far Country in late Fall and in the Spring find their way home again
Is something for which scientists can offer theories yet somehow seems beyond them to explain.
The World is quieter in Mother Nature's World for man made noise to Nature doesn't belong
On sunlit tree beside the rippling waters the thrush in Spring is singing all day long
And Nature she presides o'er all her Seasons and she has seen so many Seasons come and go
Her flowers of Spring and Summer and her brown leaves of Autumn and her hills of Winter wear white hats of snow.
I do not worship false Gods any longer and I returned to Nature years ago
And though Mother Nature has so much to teach us so little about her I seem to know
Yet I feel happy to walk in her garden and along the bank of her quiet water way
'Twas an act of Nature brought me to this World and I'll return to her bosom one day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVIII
HE LAMENTS THAT HIS LOVE IS DEAD
My love is dead, dead and in spite of me,--
Dead while I lived,--while yet my blood was rife
With hope and pleasure and the pride of life.
For my love ended unexpectedly
During the Winter, stricken like a tree
By a night's cold, and frozen to the blood,
Whose leaves fell off and never were renewed
By any promise of the years to be.
And, when the Spring came, and the birds, to mate
Among its branches, lo! they found it bare,
Though all around was Summer in the wood.
Yet they took heart awhile, incredulous
That such a tree should be for ever dead.
``'Tis early yet,'' they cried. ``The Spring is late.
It shall still be as in the days that were.''
But Summer came and went while the tree stood
Bare in the sun like a deserted house.
--Then the birds suddenly despaired and fled.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
Commingle of seasons and love
As i ventured back to love,
A new dawn and a whole new world through my eyes seen,
I felt the tranquil beauty of nature,
I 'am in love again,
Nature seems to show likeness,
The passerine birds sings in joy,
Daffodils and lilies bloomers, dazzled and waved,
The sun shone her warmth on me,
Its spring time,
I ventured to explore the beauty of nature,
The sun rosed up and fell again,
The birds sang and was silent,
The world sleeps,
The stars displayed glitterness,
The winds blew strong and disappeared,
The moon's always wane,
The greeness tends to fade,
The leaves feel off the trees,
I ventured through all these in love with her and nature,
Everywhere i look around is white,
The sun's shinning weak,
Its all white and cold in here,
Spring's gone, summer's gone, autumn's gone,
Winter is here to stay,
Silence, quietness and a gentle breeze,
In the cold light of the day i am,
The ponds freezes and solidifies,
Love sings wintry songs,
With a cold shoulder she tapped goodbye,
I breath the dewy air,
As dewdrops fell on me,
I am frosty, benumbed,
The air in me wreak coldness,
And so is the moment without her,
As i stand alone,
Flowers died, birds don't nests,
The living are indoors,
I am the only one outside,
Lost in wilderness,
In the fields of cold winter,
Mourning the love lost.
poem by Sukkum Chang
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
Rain
Thoughts of rain at sunset
Clouds of rainbow blue
Thoughts of sun on sand-dunes
Where the seabirds flew
This was our season, and we said it couldnt end
But my love left with the rain.
Thoughts of leaves in autumn
Falling from the trees
Thoughts of hoaring tree tops
Leading to the sea
This was our season, no lies and no pretend
But my love left with the rain.
Thoughts of springtime rainfall
Touching flowers that bend
Thoughts of wind in willows
Days that never end
This was our season, but sorrow waited round the bend
For my love left with the rain.
Rains the way you move now
Sun the way you seem
Leaves the way you wonder
Flowers the way you dream
This was our season, and we said it couldnt end
But my love left with the rain
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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Seasons
What is a season, sometimes children ask,
Then to explain to them is not a hard task;
its four groups of months, divided equally,
Winter I like, It's the month so special to me.
First we take Summer, it's sometimes so very hot,
But; when you get to go swimming, it cools you a lot;
Eating Salads, and lovely cold drinks, and sweet too,
But; when it's in the 40's, I just don't know what to do.
Next we have Autumn, a beautiful season to check out,
The colors on each tree change, the wind blows the leaves about;
We know it's almost time, to get our warm clothes ready,
and when it's very windy, it's hard to stay on your feet steady.
Then comes Winter, out comes our warm clothes, and gear,
Our coats, gloves, and rain boots, are always left near;
Then it comes, the rain, Hail, sleet and icy snow,
Where you feel the winters blast, on each finger and toe.
So there is the seasons, each different from the other,
What is your favorite season, or do you prefer, not to bother?
In Melbourne Victoria, It's like all comes together,
Four seasons in a day, oh what strange yet beautiful weather.
poem by Margaret Haig
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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When We Meet Again Sometime This Summer
i tell you, i do not like winters, and i do not wish
to go where winter lies. I am intolerant of anything
that freezes me, that thaws, that gives me frost,
that bites like an ant, that solidifies me like
refrigerator ice.
i like summers. Flowers blooming. Green grass
spreading. Butterflies in different colors in the garden.
Bees just enough for the buzz. I love trees. I love
rivers, and springs and creeks.
Bamboo trees beside the rocks beside the pebbles
beside the river. I like the songs of the rivers. Lots of rivers.
Gentle rains. Hush winds. Cool shades. Shadows of mountains.
When we meet again, i like it to be this summer.
Lots of sun. Warmth., Sweat. Perspirations. Palpitations
of the hearts of the young on summer time.
Under the cool shades of the trees on summer nights.
I always remember summer nights.Strong summer winds.
Flown hair. Drying pants and underwears. My legs exposed
Beside the brook. I like being naked. I like being on top of
everything.
With you, on you, by you, within you, in your mouth all over your face.
Oh summer breeze. See you. Feel you. Love you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Seed
A seed
A bird had swallowed
While in fruit,
Had fallen in some rocky land
As Bird-droppings,
And sprouted into
A lovely tree,
With massive trunk
And boughs with verdant leaves,
And luscious fruits
As birds built nests
And wayfarers had shade from scorching sun!
A seed
A farmer sowed
In fertile land,
Ploughed by oxen
And sweat of brow
’neath scorching sun,
Did sprout also:
But ceased to grow
And withered
As the rains had failed
That year!
Although in both the cases
Seeds seemed similar,
Why did the farmer’s toil
Didn’t fructify?
Perhaps,
The bird had gulped
The best of fruits with seed
That grew despite the rocky soil!
Perhaps, the farmer’s work
Remained by God
Unblessed!
Man’s selfishness
At times ruins his labor great!
The heart of man matters!
Each seed
That’s sowed on earth
Grows by Heaven’s decree!
poem by John Celes
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The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Tapestry Trees
Oak.
I am the Roof-tree and the Keel;
I bridge the seas for woe and weal.
Fir.
High o’er the lordly oak I stand,
And drive him on from land to land.
Ash.
I heft my brother’s iron bane;
I shaft the spear, and build the wain.
Yew.
Dark down the windy dale I grow,
The father of the fateful Bow.
Poplar.
The war-shaft and the milking-bowl
I make, and keep the hay-wain whole.
Olive.
The King I bless; the lamps I trim;
In my warm wave do fishes swim.
Apple-tree.
I bowed my head to Adam’s will;
The cups of toiling men I fill.
Vine.
I draw the blood from out the earth;
I store the sun for winter mirth.
Orange-tree.
Amidst the greenness of my night,
My odorous lamps hang round and bright.
Fig-tree.
I who am little among trees
In honey-making mate the bees.
Mulberry —tree.
Love’s lack hath dyed my berries red:
For Love’s attire my leaves are shed.
Pear-tree.
High o’er the mead-flowers’ hidden feet
I bear aloft my burden sweet.
Bay.
Look on my leafy boughs, the Crown
Of living song and dead renown!
poem by William Morris
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Autumn of our lives
Its Autumn now and its the season
I'm getting old and there's a reason
Were casting off our summers bloom,
Amongst falling leaves I feel in tune
Leaves are falling, disrobing the tree
My hair turning silver, in sympathy
Winds of change are in the air
Stripping us of our summer flare
A gunmetal sky at mornings half light
Heralds the winters darkest night
No birds sing to welcome the day
Migrations begun they're on their way
Second year branches they start breaking
Like my old bones they start aching
We both are rooted to this place
Together the winter we will face
poem by Bob Gibson
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Sonnet: the Drumstick Tree
The drumstick-tree I thought was dead and gone
Is fully clothed by green leaves and flowers;
The bees are active and some fruits are born;
The tree awaits August’s Monsoon showers.
I see the tree growing so fast each morn;
My eyes perceive not the blossoming act;
How well does Nature heal its parts much torn;
Human beings are blind with eyes- the fact.
So, numerous small birds visit the tree,
To eat the flowers that gets dropped nearby;
The tree makes the backyard look so lovely;
Some Millipedes remain and will not die!
The tree looks resurrected, simply great!
God gave a new lease and a newer date.
7-31-2000
poem by John Celes
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When you go Away
When you go away, my friend,
When you say your last good-bye,
Then the summer time will end,
And the winter will be nigh.
Though the green grass decks the heather,
And the birds sing all the day,
There will be no summer weather
After you have gone away.
When I look into your eyes,
I shall thrill with deepest pain,
Thinking that beneath the skies
I may never look again.
You will feel a moment's sorrow,
I shall feel a lasting grief;
You forgetting on the morrow,
I to mourn with no relief.
When we say the last sad word,
And you are no longer near,
And the winds and all the birds
Cannot keep the summer here,
Life will lose its full completeness---
Lose it not for you, but me;
All the beauty and the sweetness
Each can hold, I shall not see.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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