A Bush
A Bush in the middle of a group of tree,
slowly decaying and dieing it shall be.
Turning from green to brown,
getting nothing jsut a frown.
No animals in it nest,
for it is not like the rest.
Everytime it gets a bit more green,
it's a great big scene.
But it always gets browner in the ends,
all alone without real friends.
While all the trees green and thrive,
all the bush does is simply die.
poem by James Pritchard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trees and Plants
Plants and trees
So green so green
The kitchen is the leaf
And the root is the chief
They give us flowers to decorate
And also to celebrate
They give us paper from their wood
And they are found in the woods
With their help we can make whatever we want
From a rubberband to a pant
We don't need to pay tax or fees
To borrow from our lovely trees
They protect us from diseases
That would make us ill
All the carbondioxide
They always take in
Some people cut trees
For things like table and chair
Not knowing what pollution
They are doing to the air
Forests are turning from green to brown
Animals' faces are always with a frown
So let's make this place from brown to green
By planting more saplings and trees
poem by Deepika Ganesh
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Green, green and green
I want a holiday with a scene
Of green, green and green
A summer of green trees
A landscape of green grass
A view full of green vegetables
The colour green
Is a beauty that must be seen!
From a moving vehicles screen
And while we hold onto those machines
That deprives us of the colour green
Remember they provide us vaccines
As well as help the air to be clean
So for green, green and green
I will travel continents across and in-between
And also to any place that I have never been
I will make it routine
Just to see green, green and green
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Green, Green, and More Green
There is green everywhere,
even in peoples' hair.Some
on hands, some on shirts.
There is green everywhere!
Green, green, and more green.
I think I'm going crazy over green.
If you don't wear green you get pinched,
then you'll start to itch.
So many people are obsessed with green.
Green Spring, green air.Green feet, green wheat, green meat.
Green isn't very neat!
poem by Autumn Howard
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The Echoing Green
he shares his dream
with his friends;
the trees, birds,
blooms and sea
in shades of blue,
red, green and brown
he carries his dream
from place to place
always with a song
a poem in his heart
come rain or shine
the breeze brings out
his dream in strange ways
splashes, splotches,
points, dots, surrealism,
inspiration trails his soul
he lets go of his dream
like a breeze
amid the sparkles,
glitters of the sea
profusely, it flows, flows
out of himself
as he negotiates his ways
through all his friends
sharing their tales
with the world
in shades of blue,
red, green and brown
inspired by
'The Echoing Green'
The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies.
The merry bells ring
To welcome the spring.
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells' cheerful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the echoing green.
Old John with white hair
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
'Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls and boys,
In our youth-time were seen
On the echoing green.'
Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mother
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest;
And sport no more seen
On the darkening green.
- William Blake
(1757-1827)
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Rim Of Green
Green panties, green roses
green tits, green milk.
Green moon, posies in green.
green eyes, green full lips
green face, cheese, green..
Green around the rim,
green limes can but erupt...?
poem by Is It Poetry
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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
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A Natural Green
Who coloured the green trees?
Who coloured the green grass?
Who coloured the green hills?
How about my green spider plant? ?
Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.
Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life....
A ride on a helicopter over the huge Rain Forest and see nothing, but acres & acres of simply gorgeous green!
Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.
Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life...
GREEN, I admire and respect the vitality you bring in the air that I breathe...
poem by Premila Patel
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Monroe Louisiana
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
So green, green
Wet-luscious green and alive
So green after the rain
So bright green and clean
Just passing through
On my way to tomorrow
But so green today and yesterday
It was on that stranger's green, green farm
And I didn't stay long
And I didn't expect someone
To fire that shotgun right next to me
The barrel pointed out the front door
Into that green, green world beyond.
There were hot springs
On the green, green farm
In green, green Monroe Louisiana
Back in 1973.
poem by M.L. Squier
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Plant More Trees
Plant more trees
As it looks green
And save the homes of the animals please.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the humans safe
From pollution and disease.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the cities beautiful and clean.
And throw the garbage into a dustbin.
Stop cutting trees
And plant more trees
For a long live of you and me!
poem by Srijita Das
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The Green Dot
A green dot was wandering one day,
Where is its spot, where it can lay! ,
It delayed its arrival,
And all the green is now gone,
The green dot is wandering searching,
Goofing the streets under rain and thunder,
It moves fast and slow, gradual run,
From the shore, to the bays,
When it was deceived by the beauty of trees,
What beauty can it see, but she wasn’t comfee,
Because it wasn’t that green,
What green it could be?
What green does it belong?
It don’t know, but the search seemed to be long,
Oh! Lil green dot, lil green dot,
What is this mess all about?
The lil green dot missed its way,
And now it dun no where to stay,
Where are the other green, where is its stain?
Forever the search, Forever it will feel the pain,
To be away from the other green dots.
poem by Mustafa Ghuneim
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In Lavender And Green
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With bells about your feet,
And music in your step,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With sunshine in your eyes,
And springtime in your hair,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With softness in your words,
And healing in your touch,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With your name upon my lips,
And delight within your kiss,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
In dreams at midnight’s rest,
Or afternoon’s recline?
Come then to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
At the setting of the sun,
When my days are nearly run?
Still come to me in lavender and green?
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
If I wait at heaven’s door,
As I waited once before,
While you walked to organ’s tune,
On a summer’s afternoon.
Now dressed in springtime hues?
My love, companion, muse,
A vision still I see,
Dressed in lavender and green.
poem by Greg Davidson
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A lane in England
In autumn I walked in England
in a lane full of trees
where leaves lay auburn
on a road wet from rain.
Barren, stripped oak trees
were between other green ones
and it was as if I was going
right through a tunnel
with here and there trees
of which the leaves were more yellow.
In the distance the road bended to the right
where a bush fence
cut neatly square
and telephone poles
ran along the edge of the road
and the green moss banks
were covered with auburn leaves
at places
and on the other side
of the road
a shrub stretched out green and long
like a sausage
that was lying next to the road
and I would love
to have a lane like that
next to my driveway.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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GREEN, A Litany
green in the midst of drab desolation
green ‘til the tide in the street overflows
green that preserves green's green reputation
green behind curtains, like cellist & bow
green on occasions no green is permissible
green by inversion a negative flame
green in final disgrace & dismissal
green where the gravedigger shoulders his spade
green like the walls of Verlaine's Belgium prison
green woods, wolf & poet meeting on equal foot
green like embroidery on old smoking-jackets
covered with needlepoint dragons & soot
green like a murderer gone to the guillotine
green like the lawns of this land breaking through
our windows in herbicide frenzy to taunt us
green like the tarnish on brass tiger shoes
green the result of choice or of chance
green when the famished, the hopeful despair
green that we have no hope of outguessing
green for which always we must be prepared
poem by Jay Mandeville
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Red Browed Finches
Red browed finches or red browed firetails two names they are known by
They like to live near cover where from bush to tree they fly
The reason they live near cover the well informed say
Is that they need places to hide in from bigger birds of prey.
Dark olive green in colour red eyebrows, red rump and olive tail
And with only minor differences between the female and the male
Their calls rather high pitched sound a bit like tizeee
Familiar to bushy places and birds one often see.
In a flask shaped nest of dried grass in a thorny bush the female her eggs lay
Six to seven or even eight eggs that look more white than gray
They breed from September to November in Australia in the south
And their young in December can be seen flying about.
They never seem to venture far from the cover of the trees
And they eat grass seeds and insects and sometimes berries and bees
With red eyebrows, red bills and red rumps and darkish olive green
Australia's red browed fnches by cover often seen.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ode To The Green Grass Of Summer
green green grass
spreading slowly on the path
of my feet
treaded upon
such green beauty
covering once
this dust, this mud,
this plain expanse
of ugliness
i sing the song
of green green grasess
spreading thinly on
the pavement
grasshoppers
and ants and some worms
yes, the green green grasses
are still their home
patches of earth
from far
you may see
this stitches
of moss
a landscape
of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A painting a hieroglyphic an epitaph
I painted the trees as birds in flight
Wings pressed against the hour glass
The bird clock stirring
Under the television light
And the ' green bush' was a green bush
And the bush was a bright ray of light burning
I held my passion
Claimed a name for naming
Untrod, unfelt, half seen territory
Making walls my strangers
Making mountains
Captains of my heart
Heroic summits
Left clouds dreamers
And streamers trailing dove tail
Old engravings
Unknown Heiroglyphics from another life
There admist the whirling pools and crackling laughs
The sun and ease of day break
Were the broken, unspoken stones lye amidst the,
Epitaphs!
yvette m smith poet of uk
july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Echoing Green
The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ cheerful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.
Old John, with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
‘Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls & boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the echoing green.’
Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Nature's Favorite Color
The green foliage is an attractive sight
On the vast landscape on a clear summer day,
As the white daisies gradually unfold along the side
Of a winding roadway that is somber and gray.
It is a picturesque view that one will readily admit,
Blesses the color of green to the greatest height,
And yet it is a scene that enlightens one's mind
With euphoria and great pleasure and delight.
It is not the beauty of the unfolding rose,
Nor the mellow sunflowers near the old mill,
But the color green - Nature's matchless green
On the highlands that gives one a welcomed thrill.
It is beholding of the color of green,
On the growth of leaves on a swaying tree,
And on the landscape far and wide indeed,
As green is Nature's favorite color for all to see.
.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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From A Train
Green and green; and evergreen
in my all, and scurrying
in flickered films
of glimpses, painted green...
and a car in the lane silently shimmers,
as I hear the morning swaying past trees that,
green over green,
silently guard the wet summer sadness,
where cattle stare at the hopping rooks
and do not know
of the things that have been...
or care.
Cloudly and bright:
passing the green.
Where, in my remembrance of once long ago,
I felt the mist
rising unseen from the grass
that was green between green
when we kissed.
So I hum a small phrase
that carries my thoughts
ever and onwards,
listlessly flowing
like the world that is passing
the window beside me
all behind all, so totally green
and all in my knowing
and all in my all
and all in my green.
poem by Peter Jones
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