The meadows.
The green velvety grass land,
Sway back and forth with band,
I am a seed with the woody gene,
Dispersed in various meadows of greens,
Alpine is so steep with pride and intelligence,
Even I sprout and can't hold the terrain,
Elevated people may have the wisdom,
Trees seldom find solace in such stardom.
Prairies are my next target,
Where I want to try my luck,
Caught with notorious angry wildfire,
Thirsty drought, no life tree can prosper.
When coastal meadows are full of salty sweats,
The desert meadows are hot tempered,
Wet meadows are full of river of tears,
Not compatible for me to grow and fruit.
Not suitable for me to have life and laughter.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Fair Play
Fair play to you
Killarneys lakes are so blue
And the architecture Im taking in with my mind
So fine...
Tell me of poe
Oscar wilde and thoreau
Let your midnight and your daytime turn into love of life
Its a very fine line
But youve got the mind child
To carry on
When its just about to be
Carried on...
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
Theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
A paperback book
As we walk down the street
Fill my mind with tales of mystery, mystery...
And imagination
Forever fair
And Im touching your hair
I wish we could be dreamers
In this dream, ohhh
Let it dream
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
Fair play to you
Killarneys lakes are so blue
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that, love you for that, love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, hah!
Yeah, yeah
And I love you for that
And theres only one meadows way to go
And i, and I say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
Geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
Fair play to you
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Magic Meadows (Somewhere In Fantsayland)
In soft green magic
meadows
Quiet, lush, and serene,
Pattern a beautiful carpet,
Near a peaceful water
stream.
There will be little houses,
Standing in a row,
Around the houses, planted
lots of mistletoe.
Heathers lite the passion,
Between their world and
mine,
Planting lots of fruit trees,
So our fairy friends can dine.
Roses, Pansies, and Tulips
have lovely heads,
Fairies use the Tulips, for the
baby beds.
Bees, Butterflies, and Birds,
flying everywhere,
The sweet smell of Roses,
Perfume fills the air.
If I were a fairy, in that fairy
land,
I'd live in green lush meadows,
There I'd find my fairy man.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wait
It is life in slow motion,
it's the heart in reverse,
it's a hope-and-a-half:
too much and too little at once.
It's a train that suddenly
stops with no station around,
and we can hear the cricket,
and, leaning out the carriage
door, we vainly contemplate
a wind we feel that stirs
the blooming meadows, the meadows
made imaginary by this stop.
Translated by A. Poulin
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Who Can Be My Lord!
Running along the coast,
Climbing the mountain peaks
and ghats man made towers,
Walking along the unknown
paths
here and there in the green meadows,
Searching along the stream,
Raising above the clouds of trifles
to look at the rainbow,
I never found one,
I couldn't as there
wouldn't any one!
The one with that golden feet on
which my head can rest!
So many saints and so many
books,
some were giants and some
were crooks!
They offer not only nuts that are hard to crack,
But Some were most intelligents
to give iron Ingots for my
nuggets,
Some offered their impractical thoughts full of magots,
Some are too selfish,
showed that old books half eaten
by termites and silverfish!
Only thing I understood by all
these,
The green forest and meadows
once if become desert, no one
can create that lush green
meadow or forest and singing birds,
Springing water, which I can
drink, watch and rest
Sprinting deer, dancing peacock,
shining rainbow in my heart!
If some one is able to bring all these glory back,
All that was green,
He can be my Lord forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grown Ups
Adam Sandler, Salma Hayek, Kevin James, Chris Rock, David Spade, Rob Schneider, Maria Bello, Maya Rudolph, Joyce Van Patten, Ebony Jo-Ann, Steve Buscemi, Colin Quinn, Tim Meadows, Tim Meadows
from Grown Ups (2010)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Carol
WHEN loud by landside streamlets gush,
And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,
With sun on the meadows
And songs in the shadows
Comes again to me
The gift of the tongues of the lea,
The gift of the tongues of meadows.
Straightway my olden heart returns
And dances with the dancing burns;
It sings with the sparrows;
To the rain and the (grimy) barrows
Sings my heart aloud -
To the silver-bellied cloud,
To the silver rainy arrows.
It bears the song of the skylark down,
And it hears the singing of the town;
And youth on the highways
And lovers in byways
Follows and sees:
And hearkens the song of the leas
And sings the songs of the highways.
So when the earth is alive with gods,
And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod,
And the grass sings in the meadows,
And the flowers smile in the shadows,
Sits my heart at ease,
Hearing the song of the leas,
Singing the songs of the meadows.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Emotions
Standing in the meadows
by the crystal sea
you and I together
sharing silently
standing in the meadows
on the crystal shore
thinking about you
makes me want you more.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aphrodite Metropolis
Harry loves Myrtle--He has strong arms, from the warehouse,
And on Sunday when they take the bus to emerald meadows he doesn't say:
"What will your chastity amount to when your flesh withers in a little while?"
No,
On Sunday, when they picnic in emerald meadows they look at the Sunday paper:
GIRL SLAYS BANKER-BETRAYER
They spread it around on the grass
BATH-TUB STIRS JERSEY ROW
And then they sit down on it, nice.
Harry doesn't say "Ziggin's Ointment for withered flesh,
Cures thousands of men and women of motes, warts, red veins,
flabby throat, scalp and hair diseases,
Not expensive, and fully guaranteed."
No,
Harry says nothing at all,
He smiles,
And they kiss in the emerald meadows on the Sunday paper.
poem by Kenneth Fearing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking Back At The Greens
i too look back at those green things
from the point of view of my
green thumb
a vegetable garden without an aphid on a leaf
a row of roses, lush green leaves
and red blooms
some petals falling due to the
wind
a line of green mint trees along the path
leading to the highway
sounds of motors threatening what green there is
i come back and settle on this patch
of green meadows
and grass and gray shade
my own shadow cast
on the huge gabi leaf.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why can't we...?
River flows
Only in one direction
And knows its destination
Yet,
Those by the banks
Thrive and prosper
Why can't we be
Like the river?
Tree bears fruit
And gives shade
For none in particular
Yet
Knows not its fruit
Or its shade
Why can't we be
Like the tree?
Rain rains
For earth to regenerate
The seed to sprout
And plant to bear leaf
Yet
Knows not the life
It recharges
Too many hands
On too many things
Do we have desiring
Name, fame and bounty
And suffer
We end up in
Rain of tears
With no shade to protect
We flow direction-less
Allowing our core
To wash away!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the mountains cry
When the mountains cry
Split and cracked walls endocrine
Water come out off for redraws the terrain of time
And shake off the dust and life returns
And blooming flowers
The smell of life in the meadows
The birds return to build the nest
After a long migration
And wore a green dress mountain
The wedding starts
Wedding Life
When the mountains cry
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dryads
When meadows are grey with the morn
In the dusk of the woods it is night:
The oak and the birch and the pine
War with the glimmer of light.
Dryads brown as the leaf
Move in the gloom of the glade;
When meadows are grey with the morn
Dim night in the wood has delayed.
The cocks that crow to the land
Are faint and hollow and shrill:
Dryads brown as the leaf
Whisper, and hide, and are still.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Ancient, Tranquil Meadows
Yellow birds in the green summer grass
And sunlight falling softly upon marigolds,
You could close your eyes and dream
You were an Indian
In ancient, tranquil meadows.
Rain dances and peyote visions
Create prayers and mystic wisdom.
There are certain corridors of time
That transport you back
To pristine and ageless beauty.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Buttercup
Summer is brought
through this lemon zest
of colour-
reflected under the chin,
means, that you like
a flavour.
And in the meadows
of childhood,
and Laughter's happiness,
caught between
the embrace of trees,
at Glendalough,
we sit together.
Like buttercups
In the meadow of laughter,
A reflection upon my chin,
and smile and
laughter,
like a buttercup in
The summer meadow,
Your happiness,
reflects and refracts.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Autumn Walk
ON woodlands ruddy with autumn
The amber sunshine lies;
I look on the beauty round me,
And tears come into my eyes.
For the wind that sweeps the meadows
Blows out of the far Southwest,
Where our gallant men are fighting,
And the gallant dead are at rest.
The golden-rod is leaning,
And the purple aster waves,
In a breeze from the land of battles,
A breath from the land of graves.
Full fast the leaves are dropping
Before that wandering breath;
As fast, on the field of battle,
Our brethren fall in death.
Beautiful over my pathway
The forest spoils are shed;
They are spotting the grassy hillocks
With purple and gold and red.
Beautiful is the death-sleep
Of those who bravely fight
In their country’s holy quarrel,
And perish for the Right.
But who shall comfort the living,
The light of whose homes is gone:
The bride that, early widowed,
Lives broken-hearted on;
The matron whose sons are lying
In graves on a distant shore;
The maiden, whose promised husband
Comes back from the war no more?
I look on the peaceful dwellings
Whose windows glimmer in sight,
With croft and garden and orchard,
That bask in the mellow light;
And I know that, when our couriers
With news of victory come,
They will bring a bitter message
Of hopeless grief to some.
Again I turn to the woodlands,
And shudder as I see
The mock-grape’s blood-red banner
Hung out on the cedar-tree;
And I think of days of slaughter,
And the night-sky red with flames,
On the Chattahoochee’s meadows,
And the wasted banks of the James.
Oh, for the fresh spring-season,
When the groves are in their prime,
And far away in the future
Is the frosty autumn-time!
Oh, for that better season,
When the pride of the foe shall yield,
And the hosts of God and Freedom
March back from the well-won field;
And the matron shall clasp her first-born
With tears of joy and pride;
And the scarred and war-worn lover
Shall claim his promised bride!
The leaves are swept from the branches;
But the living buds are there,
With folded flower and foliage,
To sprout in a kinder air.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whose Garden Was This?
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the whose garden was this? album, and has also been released on the changes album.
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Whose river was this
You say it ran freely
Blue was its colour
And Ive seen blue in some pictures
And Id love to have been there
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose grey sky was this
Or was it a blue one
You say they were breezes
Ive heard records of breezes
And Id love to have felt one
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Words and music by tom paxton
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem for England
This charred and frightened land
Once of meadows green
Now skulks in the shadows
Filled by the mobs scream
The air once so fresh and clean
Now chokes with the fire
The cancer of the mob
Spread with such anger
But rising a stance of defiance
For St George and the lions
England shall stand as one
And fight to protect its pride
The laws that govern
And watched over this land
Till all is restored as should be
And the green and pleasant land
Shall flower in glory
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Across The Door
THE fiddles were playing and playing,
The couples were out on the floor;
From converse and dancing he drew me,
And across the door.
Ah! strange were the dim, wide meadows,
And strange was the cloud-strewn sky,
And strange in the meadows the corncrakes,
And they making cry!
The hawthorn bloom was by us,
Around us the breath of the south
White hawthorn, strange in the night-time
His kiss on my mouth!
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!