60's Dream
The grass glowed with light,
effervescent green bouncing,
under the blue,
radiant air flowing around,
the hot sun warms my skin,
Wild energy surrounds me,
sparks fly about, insects sing with their burst of life,
so short
Grey skies arrive but there is no doom,
the sun warms the grey and there is light,
the birds still sing,
the grass is still green,
energy surrounds all who breathe,
earth bound we are planetary creatures
jump in to the air and feel the wind,
against your skin,
you are so alive,
under the the sun,
you are warm, heated, loved,
smiling, smiling with the sun god
poem by Sara Winters
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Environments
innocence asks,
why is the sky blue
and the grass green,
guilt asks, of blue and green,
sky and grass,
redemption for sinning,
polluting skies and grasses
grey with smog,
why oh why,
is the sky not blue
nor the grass not green
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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Everything I Am
Everything I am
I am everything
The tree blowing in the wind
The gravel underfoot
The flowers you smell
The colours you see
I am the green grass below your feet
And the blue sky above your head
The warm, brown dirt you rely on
And the air you breathe from the atmosphere
I was born millions of years ago
And yesterday
Within a second and a decade
The world which you use
I am the air you pollute
The animals you slaughter
I am the grass that you cut
And the hills you blow holes in
I am the cliffs you jump off of
The water you drink
The fish that you drown
The deer you shoot
I am the wood that you burn
The oil you use to create energy
The Sun that provides you with warmth
The insects you burn for fun
I am an entity
A being
Yet considered nothing
With no thoughts or feelings
I provide lilfe
Yet I'm considered lifeless
I am one of a kind
Yet treated as an expendable
Everything I am
I am everything
What am I?
Life.
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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The Green Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa.
Down the road I look and there runs mary hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing tho the paint is cracked and dry,
And theres that old oak tree I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
[spoken:]
Then I awake and look around me, at four grey wall surround me
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For theres a guard and theres a sad old padre -
Arm in arm well walk at daybreak.
Again I touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is How All Sunny Days Should Be
Green grass grows fast, green grass
I want you to grow so fast
So I can leap up, from the ground
And pretend to fly, soar so high
And then gravity, cruel, vile, unkind
Will drag me down, and shut my laugh
And then, green grass, (grow fast)
I’ll be sad of falling down
But then, my friend you’ll muffle my fall
And ill lie there
……..Calm………..
And hide, in the very green, tall,
Great, bed like grass
And then I’ll stare at the sky
(Light blue, immense sky)
And get lost in the clouds
(White, light absorbing clouds)
And then I’ll only hear the birds
And the wind brushing the branches
And the flowers will be dancing
To the rhythm of the air
And then I’ll think
“This is how all sunny days should be”
At Dieppe
The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!
One stark monotony of stone,
The long hotel, acutely white,
Against the after-sunset light
Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.
Listless and endless it outlies,
And means, to you and me, no more
Than any pebble on the shore,
Or this indifferent moment as it dies.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Colour Studies {At Dieppe}
The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!
One stark monotony of stone,
The long hotel, acutely white,
Against the after-sunset light
Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.
Listless and endless it outlies,
And means, to you and me, no more
Than any pebble on the shore,
Or this indifferent moment as it dies.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Red Lights
(d. pickerill/p. odonoughue)
You stop on a red light, your life starts again on green
You watch all the colours then fall back into a dream
Theres headlights behind you, they flash out a silver surprise
You go for the hand brake, theres madness behind your eyes
Chorus:
The road goes on for mile and miles
You rush cos you havent got the time
Stop, stop, stop for the red light
Yay, yay, yay is for the green
One, one, one Im on a blue light
Keep your licence clean
He flicks on the amber, a machine gun in all but name
You push down the lever, well, two can play that game
As red lights rush by you theyre vivid and red as blood
The chase makes you feel so good
The road goes on for mile and miles
You rush cos you havent got the time
Dont, dont dont go on a red light
Yay, yay, yay is for the green
One, one, one Im on a blue light
Keep your licence clean
The flash lines are flowing, streaking by so fast
Signposts are flying and grey rain is slanting past
The colours are spinning, a pain on the side of your face
And blackness surrounds you, you finally lost the race
The road goes on for mile and miles
You rush cos you havent got the time
Dont, dont dont go on a red light
Yay, yay, yay wait for the green
One, one, one Im on a blue light
Keep your licence clean
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
And down the road I look and there runs Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they've all come to meet me
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane I'd walk with my sweet Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yesm they've all come
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me
At the gray walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak
Again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the
Green, green grass of home...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Chord of Colour
My Lady clad herself in grey,
That caught and clung about her throat;
Then all the long grey winter day
On me a living splendour smote;
And why grey palmers holy are,
And why grey minsters great in story,
And grey skies ring the morning star,
And grey hairs are a crown of glory.
My Lady clad herself in green,
Like meadows where the wind-waves pass;
Then round my spirit spread, I ween,
A splendour of forgotten grass.
Then all that dropped of stem or sod,
Hoarded as emeralds might be,
I bowed to every bush, and trod
Amid the live grass fearfully.
My Lady clad herself in blue,
Then on me, like the seer long gone,
The likeness of a sapphire grew,
The throne of him that sat thereon.
Then knew I why the Fashioner
Splashed reckless blue on sky and sea;
And ere 'twas good enough for her,
He tried it on Eternity.
Beneath the gnarled old Knowledge-tree
Sat, like an owl, the evil sage:
'The World's a bubble,' solemnly
He read, and turned a second page.
'A bubble, then, old crow,' I cried,
'God keep you in your weary wit!
'A bubble--have you ever spied
'The colours I have seen on it?'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Green, Green Grass Of Home
(words & music by claude putman, jr.)
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
Down the road I look and there runs mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me,
All creatures smiling sweetly
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And theres an old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane Ill walk with my sweet mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Then I awake and look around me
Cold gray walls surround me
And I realize that I was only dreamin
Theres a guard and theres a sad old padre
Arm and arm well walk at daybreak
Again Ill touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me
In the shadow of that old oak tree
As they lay me beneath the green, green grass of home
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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X Celestial Blue and Green of Grass
High over the white clean clouds
she serves hot coffee in the sky
Smiling pretty stewardess
with one green, one blue eye
(alluding to her dual life -
celestial blue and green of grass)
He saw her left side first,
an all embracing smile,
a green, then a blue eye...
Ah, secret charm of dual life!
Unearthly pleasure of the flight.
Not far away from Earth,
a casual face hints at the
closeness of an unknown space.
poem by ONElia AVElar (5 July 2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seasons
Icy fingers of silver and blue
Make my aged body shiver and shake
I pray for springtime anew
Warm breezes release me from my frozen prison
Sunlight is a welcome radiant friend
Fragrant aromas arrise from the earth
And the skies fill with birds who ready for birth
Then the time for oppressive heat does arrive
Feels like hell but I am alive
Sweat pours from my body
Like a hydrant for fire
Soon leaves start to fall
Beauty surrounds me
In colors of red green and gold
But I start to shiver anew
Icy fingers of silver and blue
Are knocking at my door
Please begone Old Jack Frost!
With your cold grasp on my body and mind
Your not wanted in this neck of the woods
So begone!
Don't knock to peddle your basket of goods.
A Storm Is Coming
An angry grey comes from the deepening storm
Caressing the wings of petrels, gulls and a
Lone storm riding albatross
Greens curling twisting into grey corners
Black edges spitting razor rain
Wind driven craziness
Smiling predatory hunters gather on the front line
Storms bring nervous food sources
That have lost caution
Thrown it to the wind so easy
This wind that whips up salty froth
The rain rains
Big fish eat
Little fish die
There is a symphony of sound
That no one hears
Storms assume that the world is deaf
There is a hundred colours here
Mixing on this easel of nature
Out here on the sea of bluster
This way and that way
The wind and the waters
The wind and the waves
The wind and the wild
Wanton storm song
That no one else can sing
And the birds wheel and cry
Turn and fly away just before they cant
The beasts of the deep grey green
do the same
Only I cannot turn and fly away
Only I remain and scream at the sight
sound and might.
poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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One Light: Three Primary Colors
Red is the colour of blood that flows in the body of all creatures given birth
Green is the colour of grass that like a carpet covers a lot of the soil of earth
Blue is the colour of sky that surrounds this world and is of an infinite girth
All three colours come from a Single Source having an Immeasurable worth.
Red is also the colour of danger and a symbol which indicates all to beware
Green is also the colour of the leaves that most of the plants and trees wear
Blue is also the colour of water that covers most of this world which is fair
Three colours are the original blend of all those others found in nature there.
Red is also the colour of anger, passion or pain that is expressed, felt and seen
Green is also the colour of something natural an indication of where it has been
Blue is also the colour of Infinity and the light glowing in a mind which is clean
And all three colours are shades of One Light the essence of all universal sheen.
Of all the three colours I like blue the most as it seems to be uniquely sublime
It speaks to me of loftier and deeper things that were experienced in my prime
It also represents the colour of the biggest phenomena known to man in time
Being a symbol of That in which all exists and from which all began to chime.
------------------------
Note:
There are many other colors but as far as those which form the basis of technology there are only three i.e; as in a R.G.B. monitor and screen projector etc.
poem by George Krokos
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Tall shadow
Tall shadow of grass, cover in sweet pollen of flower's springs.
Hide from a wall of green woods and streams.
It Is the flavour the skin, reddened by the sun.
Left bare, like chaste grapefruits.
The breeze penetrates through the cracks of the trees.
Immaculate of resin,
bowing at the sky
Our body languid, flirt of laziness
We belong to the earth and wind.
Which I offered the sacrifice
of shades and revive mind.
Twittering at the wind, under the bird wings
Columns of light tan,
shaded by thick tree's skin
Re-emerged from the mellow sea
Flowing walks....
poem by Luca Menin
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A Dream Of Heaven
They tell of harps and golden crowns, and singing,
But oh, I think, when ends the strife and pain,
That our dear Lord will lead the souls that love Him
Where are green grass and trees, and soft spring rain;
Where are no scorching suns, or skies drought-blazing,
But dear grey clouds with sunshine stealing through
In level rays, o’er distant wooded valleys,
And still green pools, with waterlilies blue.
And those who sought to save drought-ridden creatures,
And struggled bravely with the grim old earth,
The God of all true hearts will surely give them
Rest from their labours in a new world’s birth:
When they shall feel the fresh wind in their faces,
Fragrant with clover scents and summer shower,
And they shall praise Him in green silent places,
Who, like St. Francis, loved each tree and flower;
Who sae their God in all the changing seasons,
And never failed, or flinched, or Faith denied,
For evermore their loving Lord shall lead them
Where are green woods, and rolling pastures wide.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
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Tropical Sundown
Tremulously, tremulously,
green-blue, radiant light
filters off the lagoon.
Green-blue, radiant light
reflects the waning of the day
folding into night.
All the hours of the
day converge and dissolve in
green-blue radiant light.
poem by Sonny Rainshine
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We Are Playing Together
the blue of the sky,
green, of grass,
colour of your eyes
beginning of the play
look darling, to the moon,
like it is smiling to us.
my defeat,
is for him, delight
we are playing 'in green'.
we have 'green'
we will give, for ourselves,
you for me, and I for you.
poem by Dagmara Anna AuraDagimar
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The battle had passed from the height
The battle has passed from the height,
And still did evening fall;
While heaven with its restful night
Gloriously canopied all.
The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey,
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day.
*
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How golden bright from earth and heaven
The summer day declines!
How gloriously o'er land and sea
The parting sunbeam shines!
There is a voice in the wind that waves
Those bright rejoicing trees.
Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue,
Not a cloud had dimmed the sun,
From the time of morning's earliest dew
Till the summer day was done.
And all as pure and all as bright
The sun of evening died,
And purer still its parting light
Shone on Lake Elnor's tide.
Waveless and calm lies that silent deep
In its wilderness of moors,
Solemn and soft the moonbeams sleep
Upon its heathy shores.
The deer are gathered to their rest,
The wild sheep seek the fold.
Only some spires of bright green grass
Transparently in sunshine quivering.
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old grey stone,
In some warm nook a couc hto find.
In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Comes sighing o'er the healthy sea.
Lady, in thy palace hall,
Once perchance thy face was seen;
Can no memory now recall
Thought again to what has been?
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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