En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Timeless Beauty like a Dream

Every flower petal
That gently falls to the ground
Or autumn leaf
Colorful in soft October sunlight
Is precious and profound.

Nothing or no one
Should escape human praise
Or fail to be appreciated
That offers us
The subtlest or most sublime beauty.

The biblical Joseph wept
When reunited with his brothers
And told that his father was still alive
So that the whole household of Pharaoh heard
Both his anguished and joyous wails.

I nearly wept myself, dear lady,
Upon seeing you for the first time
After surviving a long and flowerless season.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Autumn Sing

Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…

Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….

Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?

No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…

Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….

Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….

No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?

Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…

All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...

poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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The Petal Effect

A flower is born, bringing life to Earth.
With the experiences made on Earth,
A petal falls off the flower.
It slowly takes life from the flower.
He has his first crush, one petal is lost.
Bachelor's degree is obtained and requires another petal.
A family drops two more precious petals.
The last petal falls as life ends on Earth.

poem by Cody Klinker
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Dear Father

Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You've given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I've left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my buddies too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we've reached the beloved's house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?

poem by Amir Khusro
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A Second Spring

The dew indiscriminately

wept for all things living and dead

on this early autumn morning.

Its cold droplets caressed the leaves

while lingering sap-starved leaf stems

clung precariously above

and each dying leaf shed teardrops

for and onto their fallen kind.

One by one they released their hold

falling silently, gracefully

in their final unique fashion:

Some swayed. Others pirouetted;

and many more, somersaulting

into their final resting place.

Sunbeams from an October star

spilt rippling puddles of warm light

on their multicolored remains

amid the vibrant wildflowers.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Albert Camus

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Autumn despair

we say we will
spend some time
for the season
take a walk in
the autumn groove
enjoy the trees
the leaves and
the soft rustle
at our feet
that gently bids
goodbye to another
season of gold and amber

we never let it
dig our heart
to catch a leaf or two

they fall, resigned
to the fact that
we will never
have time
trail the last wind
and listlessly
to the ground
like jilted lovers

soon the snow will
bury them and our wish
to explore the season

Spring will see us
caught up with another year
like fish in a net with the water
just inches away

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Mother Wept

Mother wept, and father sigh’d;
With delight a-glow
Cried the lad, “To-morrow,” cried,
“To the pit I go.”

Up and down the place he sped,
Greeted old and young,
Far and wide the tidings spread,
Clapp’d his hands and sung.

Came his cronies, some to gaze
Rapt in wonder; some
Free with counsel; some with praise;
Some with envy dumb.

“May he,” many a gossip cried,
“Be from peril kept;”
Father hid his face and sighed,
Mother turned and wept

poem by Joseph Skipsey
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A painful passage

I wept and wept, endlessly wept,
Like of which I have never wept
Save at the time of my mother’s death,
While some sequences I read
Off the book ‘The Blind Assassin’
Of Ms Margaret Atwild, wherein
A little girl, by name, Griffen
Watches speechless the gaze of the mother,
Who is in sick bed, the little sister
Being away at play, quite unaware,
And the mother in her feeble voice
Beseeching her to take care of her sister,
To which she assuredly nods and weeps
At the impending end of her mother,
Without thinking who is there to take
Her own care or that what is in store.

I wept and wept, endlessly wept
As the two little sisters resembled
My two granddaughters, me their mother,
As though their mother is in death bed,
With fear of death looming over my head.

I wept and wept, recurrently wept
When I read, wrote and rewrote
The above passage many a time.
27.03.2001, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Distant Winters

There are spring flowers
Exuding an exhilarating fragrance
And unimaginable beauty.
If nurtured, they flourish
Throughout the summer.
In late autumn, every garden is sad
As the colors fade
And every delicate petal
Begins to fall to the ground.

There are certain flowers
That bring us immense joy for awhile
And then they’re never seen again.

Remain someone’s endearing flower
For as long as you have your being in the sunlight of life,
And then, perhaps,
The perfume of your love
Will long be wafted
Into the hearts you’ve touched
After distant winters
Have carried you far away.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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My beautiful flower

You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower

You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower

You are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
i am glad i picked you

poem by Allen Steble
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My Beautiful Love

you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower

you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower

you are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
I am glad I picked you

poem by Chidiebere Franklin
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The Flower’s Name

(after Robert Browing)

I

Through this garden her steps swept
before she opened the gate,
where roses with dew wept
and not a moment longer she could wait,
while there was something gracious in her walk
before she stopped a moment at the letterbox,
in the distance children’s voices she heard talk
while her arm brushed against the snow-white phlox.

II

Her feet carried her in ready steps as she passed by,
saw red carnations in a row
and her eyes sparkled bluer than the sky
while she felt a gentle breeze blow
everywhere flowers and buds did God praise
in their beauty almost casting a spell
while they were blooming for days
with more loveliness and vibrant colours than anyone can tell.

III

She found a flower much more lovely
than any other one she had ever seen
while bees were circling it lively
and to smell it she was keen
but did not know the flower’s name
while it was something precious that she did found,
the flower was blushing as if it were aflame
where it was growing in bloom upon bloom from the ground.

[Reference: “Garden Fancies: I: The flower’s name” by Robert Browing.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Butterfly

The butterfly from flower to flower
The urchin chas’d; and, when at last
He caught it in my lady’s bower,
He cried, “Ha, ha!” and held it fast.

Awhile he laugh’d, but soon he wept,
When looking at the prize he’d caught
He found he had to ruin swept
The very glory he had sought

poem by Joseph Skipsey
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A Beautiful Flower

I have a flower, Yes I have picked a beautiful flower,
One with greatest strength like a tree with mightiness and power,

Power of faith beyond any measure,
Yet precious and few like a beautiful treasure.

How precious its love it shares,
How very precious sweet and rare.

Easily lost as colors are tossed on the tides,
For those who tend to set it aside.

Beauty beyond their eye’s is what I have gained as a prize,
And keeping it, is what makes my heart so wise.

It may seem like neglect on their part,
But neglect has not been the wish of their heart.

Why so often many are in a rush,
The beauty of this flower is often a hush.

I praise my flower for its humbleness,
Staying that way always brings forth its beautifulness.

Yes my flower that I have I would gladly share,
To those who appreciate my gift that is rare.

This flower is a gift and I will tell you why,
Because its known for its beauty that will never die.

For if my flower and me ever depart,
The beauty of it will always be found in my heart.

Yes I have a flower, a beautiful flower to name,
It would have to be beautiful,
it would have to meet its beauty inside and out the same.

For that isn’t hard to do, Why you don’t even need a clue,
For I could have never have picked a better you,

My Dear Friend (put name here)….. Its true.
A name, that’s beautiful as you.

poem by Esther Ayala
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Autumn Fair

You long to see bright Autumn days,
With colorful leaves on yonder trees
In tones of yellow, orange and red
Before Nature's annual freeze.

The colors will burst in every direction,
The tree boughs no longer are green,
Nuts dropping to the leaf strewn ground
Where large, orange pumpkins now are seen.

You long want to see the hues of an Autumn Fair
And the bright sun rising above the distant hill.
You long feel the coolness on your cheeks,
to hear the wind's steady shrill.

Autumn waves her magic wand,
The aroma of leaves you will consume,
The enchanting days of summer are gone,
The land is overwhelmed by Nature's perfume.

There are memories of other Autumn days
That your heart will recall as you ponder,
The gigantic trees and the dropping leaves
As they gave you a special moment of wonder.

But now - you sit before a window
Watching the soft and steady precipitation,
Far from the picturesque Autumn days -
Snow accumulating without any hesitation.

poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Psalm 150

Praise the Lord of the morning
When the sun rises from its sleep
Praise the Lord for His excellent greatness
For His beauty makes me weep

Praise the Lord when the darkness falls
And the moon rises high above
Praise the Lord for His majestic glory
And His everlasting love

Praise the Lord in the winter
When the snow falls on the ground
Praise the Lord for His glorious presence
When we stand upon holy ground

Praise the Lord of the summer
When the days are warm and long
Praise the Lord for His magnificent splendor
And the saints shall sing a new song

Praise the Lord of the springtime
When the blossoms on the tree
Praise the Lord for His holiness
And for the Blood that set us free

Praise the Lord of the Autumn
When the leaves fall to the ground
Praise the Lord for His faithfulness
And that His grace abounds

Praise the Lord when your happy
And there's a smile upon your face
Praise the Lord for His mercy
And for His saving grace

Praise the Lord when you're in despair
And your pierced by a fiery dart
Praise the Lord for HIs loving kindness
That restores your broken heart

Praise the Lord with your last breath
As you lie upon your bed
Praise the Lord for His promises
To raise you from the dead

Praise the Lord for all eternity
As you gather around His throne
Praise the Lord for His incredible beauty
As you worship Him alone

Let trumpet, harp and timbrel praise
And dance before the King
Let all with breath praise the Lord
And with their voices sing

Hallelujah to the King of Kings
We worship and bow down
We sing to you forever more
And we will crown Him with many crowns

poem by Frank McEleny
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Secret Sins Of My Father

Alone you crept
and
Alone I wept
Oh Father,
the secret sins
I kept

You
The Father, who
Took my first kiss,
then sucked away
all my bliss
I
The Daughter, who
had to be dissed,
then locked away
in the mist

Tell me,
Do you remember this?

How you,
dear father caressed my breasts
with your fingertips?

Please say you remember this,
When you,
my father pressed your tongue
through my virgin lips.

Can you Confess this?
Or only Detest this?
When truth is..

Alone you crept
and
Alone I wept
When Father,
They were Your sins
that I kept

Exposed my eyes
Preached those lies
Pushed aside all
My Taboo Cries

Now you shall die
Where my
Scarlet Letter lies
Far from the
heavenly sky

Down through the dirt
Where you'll surely pay for my hurt

Where the Secret Sins of My Father
will hang, an eternal curse

Where the Silent Cries of his Daughter
is sang aloud and forever heard.

poem by Karoliena Somura
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Leaves (thread)

under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave

early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree

palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein

widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf

with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers

fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind

October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark

leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons

morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder

leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song

These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:

poem by Ben Gieske
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The Rapture, My Father And I

'Son, follow me up the mountain! ' my Father said to me.
'The Rapture will occur this day, today, just wait and see! '
He led the way and I stayed near, to make sure he was safe
And all the while he shared the truth that helped explain his faith.
I listened first in wonderment to learn he'd been baptised.
He'd never told me this before or when he trusted Christ.
'He comes again to snatch away the ones He gave new birth.
So please believe! It's not too late! It's time to leave this Earth! '
I smiled, pretending to agree, as we walked upward still...
With him convinced we'd soon be gone, according to God's will.
The sun was shining, all was clear. There was no sign of gloom.
No flash of lightning cross the skies and no portent of doom.
My Father raised his hands on high. He said, 'We're ready, Lord! '
And in the twinkling of an eye, God judged me as a fraud!
My Father vanished suddenly! His clothes fell to the ground!
I stood alone and wept and wept... Nobody else around...

poem by Denis Martindale
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Laura Lee and Her Rose

My name is Laura Lee
And I enjoy spending my time
Playing in the sunlight
With my little Rose,
The daughter of my dreams,
She came to me
As welcome as a lilac breeze
Four years ago when I was twenty.

I’m married to her father
Who is seven years older than me,
I was a young girl
And he was tall and handsome,
His words were sweet
Like tree-ripened summer fruit
And he made me feel loved
Like I never felt before.

When Rose was born,
The love that was inside of me
Was like a small seed taking form,
Blossoming into flower and soul,
Transforming me into mother
And no longer a little girl,
She was the petals of my heart.

But the father of my Rose
No longer appreciated the garden
From which his flower sprung,
The mother that gave him
Such a lovely fragrance
That will linger long into the world
With his same blue eyes,
He no longer kissed me tenderly like before,
I felt rejected and despised.

Rose’s father began offering
His sun-sweetened words to other girls
Even younger than me,
Staying out late into the night
Roaming the city streets
Seeking superficial pleasures
Instead of tending his garden and his flower.

My heart broke like delicate chinaware,
I wept in a world without rainbows,
The man that gave me love
Now treated me harshly and unkind;
I know, I’ll have to leave him
And find all my hope
In the flower that came from me
And the flower that will always be in me.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Poem about Poetry - Did I write them?

did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
does the flower
blossom on its own?
not, not entirely
there are hands
that help each petal
tilt itself, one by one
so that the flower
inches and express
its beauty to you
beauty installed
by a set of hands
one could only describe as
the Lofty Ones

did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
there are verses
that have sprung
in the the mind like
the flower
so finely tuned each
petal has moved, so that
they are in unison with each other
so that they converge as
a beauty all done up to glorify
the unseen hands

the unseen, the unseen
that could only be
known by the heart
as every petal moves
like word to take the heart
to the height of praise
for the Lofty One

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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