Daisy
The dayseye hugging the earth
in August, ha! Spring is
gone down in purple,
weeds stand high in the corn,
the rainbeaten furrow
is clotted with sorrel
and crabgrass, the
branch is black under
the heavy mass of the leaves--
The sun is upon a
slender green stem
ribbed lengthwise.
He lies on his back--
it is a woman also--
he regards his former
majesty and
round the yellow center,
split and creviced and done into
minute flowerheads, he sends out
his twenty rays-- a little
and the wind is among them
to grow cool there!
One turns the thing over
in his hand and looks
at it from the rear: brownedged,
green and pointed scales
armor his yellow.
But turn and turn,
the crisp petals remain
brief, translucent, greenfastened,
barely touching at the edges:
blades of limpid seashell.
poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Primrose
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole--
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks--
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the flange of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree--
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes--
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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ThisFlower
ThisFlower
ThisFlower
This flower had a yellow center white lapetals
with Violet edges each little part a much larger
representation of this whole thing was not
as big as mye own hand eye devised a plan quite
similar to pulling stem from apple reading
alphabetic eye have to get to V for Violet
but instead of tempting fate or GOD or Jesus
his own SON or human reflex eye placed no letter
on this game but gamely twisted this flower
in a circle flicking petals in the air until
to mye surprise only one remained with
yellow centered white for love with Violet
edges this Symbol of our love this Flower
stem of green to base this Flower on,
this viable of love.
poem by Charles Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaves That Are Green
I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song
I'm twenty-two now but I won't be for long
Time hurries on
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl
I held her close but she faded in the night
Like a poem I meant to write
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
I threw a pebble in a brook
And watched the ripple run away
And they never made a sound
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
Hello, hello, hello, hello
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
That's all there is
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fall Leaves Dance
Look up and they're green,
Look up and they're yellow and green.
Then they're yellow, orange, red and green.
And then most are yellow, green, orange, brown,
Masses of moving colors, dancing up and down.
Slow, colorful dances bemuse the morning breeze,
The pace quickens with the evening wind.
It's right, it's left, it's up and down,
It's east, to west, to north, to south,
Warmed and energized by the setting sun.
Squirrels race among the leaves
Doing their dance routines,
Skimming and swaying the branches,
Weighting the limbs and twigs
With buoyant starts, stops and turns.
The new season is appearing: Fall is here!
Quietly and slowly birds hop from branch to branch
Camouflaged among the leaves
That silently fall, to carpet the ground and invite
New crushing, musical rolls from children at play.
poem by Hildred Marjorie Schloss
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Choose Your Color
I will paint the walls blue
Blue is calm, blue is power
Blue is the color of tranquility
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the ceiling green
Green is healthy, green is peace
Green makes time move faster
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the floor red
Red is fire, red is danger
Red is the symbol of passion
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the sky purple
Purple is sad, purple is gloomy
Purple is the color of romance
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the tree black
Black is fear, black is death
Black is the symbol of grief
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the street yellow
Yellow is happy, yellow is fresh
Yellow is the color of sunshine
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the fence orange
orange is wisdom, orange is wealth
Orange is the color of success
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint everything white
White is good, white is pure
White is the color of faith
Have you seen my colors yet?
(August 16th,2006)
poem by Christopher G. Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Yellow And Rose
Notes:
JT on Sony.com: Botany Bay is where they brought the convicts. . .The dregs of British society who became the finest nation on God's green earth. . . beautiful. Yellow and Rose is a half baked thing about transportation, transformation and Australia.
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Oh boy, Botany Bay
Watching the water go by
Here's your home so far away
Here is a tear for your eye
Here is a vast and unknown land
Here are the strangers on the sand
Oh, seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Down under got the south side
This groovy crazy planet
Watching from the outside
It's as smooth as a gravy sandwich
People play music night for day
One caught the sun in a sekere
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Remember when we thought we were in California
We thought it was the eye of the hurricane
Old gypsy woman she tried to warn you
"You'll be back this way again
Hungry for the rain
It's written in your hand, plain"
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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And we will call it Britain
Crisp green the stems of daffodils
That brave in spring cold sun
Soft tender green the hawthorn buds
Unfurled with winter done
Bright green the fresh leaves on the limes
That verdant branches lace
Dark green the lily’s slender shoot
That moist earth, piercing breaks
But greenest of all that is green
An island Earth did make
And we will call it Britain
Natures green estate
poem by Egal Bohen
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My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yellow & Rose
Notes:
Jt on sony.com: botany bay is where they brought the convicts. . .the dregs of british society who became the finest nation on gods green earth. . . beautiful. yellow and rose is a half baked t
About transportation, transformation and australia.
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Oh boy, botany bay
Watching the water go by
Heres your home so far away
Here is a tear for your eye
Here is a vast and unknown land
Here are the strangers on the sand
Oh, seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Down under got the south side
This groovy crazy planet
Watching from the outside
Its as smooth as a gravy sandwich
People play music night for day
One caught the sun in a sekere
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Remember when we thought we were in california
We thought it was the eye of the hurricane
Old gypsy woman she tried to warn you
Youll be back this way again
Hungry for the rain
Its written in your hand, plain
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sun's yellow
Sun, s yellow grow,
yellow seedlings green;
Unless present the sun
photosynthesis not seen.
Green leaves change to
yellow in autumn;
Longer goes for rest
shorter present the sun.
Leaves paint landscape
in sun, s presence;
Chlorophyll goes green,
carotenoids orange.
Intensity of the sun
lot to bear on weather;
Land, s wetness goes
human sweats in summer.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Veronica, Instead
For centuries, poets have been getting it wrong.
They bring 'one perfect rose' to show their love
to their lovers, but now I think
they were mistaken.
I saw a rose today growing
behind the fence of someone's backyard.
The bloom was yellow edged with red
with the obligatory dew glistening on the petals,
the bud pouting open high in the green bush,
so I bent the branch down to me.
There I was on the sidewalk, the flower fresh in my hand
but forgive me.
I couldn't bring myself to snap the stem of the rose
so you could watch petals dropp for days
in the slow dying
displayed in a jar on the kitchen table.
Love is nothing like a dead rose anyway.
The florist will never tape this poem to his cash register
to sell flowers now,
since I left the rose among green leaves.
Instead, I bring you these words,
alive,
just like the rose.
poem by Eric Paul Shaffer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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August
THERE WERE four apples on the bough,
Half gold half red, that one might know
The blood was ripe inside the core;
The colour of the leaves was more
Like stems of yellow corn that grow
Through all the gold June meadow’s floor.
The warm smell of the fruit was good
To feed on, and the split green wood,
With all its bearded lips and stains
Of mosses in the cloven veins,
Most pleasant, if one lay or stood
In sunshine or in happy rains.
There were four apples on the tree,
Red stained through gold, that all might see
The sun went warm from core to rind;
The green leaves made the summer blind
In that soft place they kept for me
With golden apples shut behind.
The leaves caught gold across the sun,
And where the bluest air begun,
Thirsted for song to help the heat;
As I to feel my lady’s feet
Draw close before the day were done;
Both lips grew dry with dreams of it.
In the mute August afternoon
They trembled to some undertune
Of music in the silver air;
Great pleasure was it to be there
Till green turned duskier and the moon
Coloured the corn-sheaves like gold hair.
That August time it was delight
To watch the red moons wane to white
’Twixt grey seamed stems of apple-trees;
A sense of heavy harmonies
Grew on the growth of patient night,
More sweet than shapen music is.
But some three hours before the moon
The air, still eager from the noon,
Flagged after heat, not wholly dead;
Against the stem I leant my head;
The colour soothed me like a tune,
Green leaves all round the gold and red.
I lay there till the warm smell grew
More sharp, when flecks of yellow dew
Between the round ripe leaves had blurred
The rind with stain and wet; I heard
A wind that blew and breathed and blew,
Too weak to alter its one word.
The wet leaves next the gentle fruit
Felt smoother, and the brown tree-root
Felt the mould warmer: I too felt
(As water feels the slow gold melt
Right through it when the day burns mute)
The peace of time wherein love dwelt.
There were four apples on the tree,
Gold stained on red that all might see
The sweet blood filled them to the core:
The colour of her hair is more
Like stems of fair faint gold, that be
Mown from the harvest’s middle floor.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Spring
Spring appears with yellow mango blossoms everywhere;
Bay-leaf trees with tiny silvery blossoms bear.
Cuckoos melody from mango groves reverberates in the sky;
Poets become enthused with peace and inspiration high.
Tiny birds twittering in the sky fill the poet’s minds with ease;
Green leaves dance with the mild vernal breeze.
Fragrant yellow blossoms invite the bees for a kiss;
For these honey-seekers, its nature given bliss.
Sun rays falling on earth make it alluringly rosy;
The rays make the earth-dwellers warm and cosy.
The wavy streams flow down with a melodious muttering;
The green forest all around is most enchanting.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Vivaldi, concerto for flute
Children playing on a green playground
Mothers watching
Closely watching
The faces of children
Smiling
Cool air
Green leaves brown leaves yellow leaves
Soft wind
Leaves falling down to the slow soft wind
Children running
Chasing each other
They are playing
A mother feels the soft wind
Cool air
And sees the trickles of leaves
Blending green brown yellow
With sunshine as canvass
Nature and human figures of mothers and children
Blending
Amazing
What a beautiful painting has God
In quick short brushes
Effortlessly with perfect strokes did make
The frame is laughter of children.
I am taking the whole picture for home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Calendar of Sonnets: September
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut's yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped
The purple grape,--last thing to ripen, late
By very reason of its precious cost.
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy's estate,
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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May Janet
“STAND UP, stand up, thou May Janet,
And go to the wars with me.”
He’s drawn her by both hands
With her face against the sea.
“He that strews red shall gather white,
He that sows white reap red,
Before your face and my daughter’s
Meet in a marriage-bed.
“Gold coin shall grow in the yellow field,
Green corn in the green sea-water,
And red fruit grow of the rose’s red,
Ere your fruit grow in her.”
“But I shall have her by land,” he said,
“Or I shall have her by sea,
Or I shall have her by strong treason
And no grace go with me.”
Her father’s drawn her by both hands,
He’s rent her gown from her,
He’s ta’en the smock round her body,
Cast in the sea-water.
The captain’s drawn her by both sides
Out of the fair green sea;
“Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet,
And come to the war with me.”
The first town they came to
There was a blue bride-chamber;
He clothed her on with silk
And belted her with amber.
The second town they came to
The bridesmen feasted knee to knee;
He clothed her on with silver,
A stately thing to see.
The third town they came to
The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold;
He clothed her on with purple,
A rich thing to behold.
The last town they came to
He clothed her white and red,
With a green flag either side of her
And a gold flag overhead.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In The Early Morning [2]
In the early morning
dew covers every piece of grass and flower
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground
that appears after the first rain,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
Some dew covers every piece of grass and flower,
and new buds appear
on long green stems,
some grow luxuriant and others are slender and fine.
in an aromatic existence.
At dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
on long green stems,
butterflies appear new from there metamorphoses
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays,
at dark red roses and pink hollyhocks
bees and butterflies fly to and thro
in the early morning
while the sun spreads its yellow-golden rays
and I see green sprouts in the soft ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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