Related quotes: On this cool September's day...

Arbor of solitude

On this cool September's day
I am all ears
Sitting under the arbor
Of solitude
Hands folded!

poem by Framarz Bagheri
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Without dear Blue

Sitting under the arbor
Of Blue
I painted Sharzad on
Canvas of solitude!

poem by Framarz Bagheri
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Arbor Day is not like other holidays. Each of those reposes on the past, while Arbor Day proposes for the future.

quote by Julius Sterling Morton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In a coffin

Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out
as if death out of the blue holds her calm
and nothing will wake her up,
from the last sleep folding coldly round her
and strangely changed from princess to rotting dirt.

Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out.
with no fingers clenching hot around mine
and drawing me nearer,
no arms embracing me to her body
and I am totally alone
and stare at hands folded over her chest.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Warmer Side Of Cool

(jack hues)
Well Im sitting on a hillside
On the warmer side of cool
With the future laid before me
Like a green and misty jewel
And to climb above the tree line
Is only for the fools
So they say
So they say
Chorus:
On the warmer side of cool
What you feel in your heart is all
On the warmer side of cool
Being cool its so easy to be cold
Well Im sitting by the seaside
On the warmer side of cool
With the ocean spread before me
Like a blue and misty jewel
And if I jump into the water
Would an angel break my fall
So they say
So they say
On the warmer side of cool
What you feel in your heart is all
Im sorry if I offend you
If Im a little bit intense
But I never did intend us
To be sitting on the fence
And even though Im guilty
Of making total sense
Im happy when its all
On the warmer side of cool
Repeat chorus
It aint cool to be cold

song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solitude, Only My Second Love

Walking along the sandy beach,
The sun has gone inside the sea.
A cool wind upon my face,
Under the shade of my palm tree.

I wash my leg in the foamy sea,
The waves come gently to my feet,
The cool water like icy juice,
Frees me from the summer heat.

The fair white lady, goddess Moon,
Has come into the nightly sky.
She comes out of the fluffy clouds,
A delight to the soreful eye.

But Solitude, oh Solitude,
Fly forth from me like a dove.
For I wait for my lady bright,
The one whom I do love.

At last she came, she came to me,
The maiden whom I seek.
To rid me of my solitude,
And kissed upon my cheek.

poem by Hrishi Telcontar
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Beach Chairs

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes

poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Holy September

A kiss on the lips of today
For stepping into tommorow.
The blinds are closed for now.
Don't sell yourself for sorrow.
Oh! Precious my september.
Begins with all the stars.
Buses from the summer.
In september driving cars.
Praising my september.
Praising all my needs.
Sends me to tomorrow.
September grows my seeds.
Officers of my journey.
With love inside the day.
The tolerance of my wonder.
The tolerence of my dismay.
Nestled in september.
You've wakened from those dreams.
Oh holy, my september.
The cloth around my seams.
September shines around me,
Like the sun onto my day.
September my september.
Is there any other way?

poem by Attia Taylor
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Love & Solitude

Skies are overcast, windy and cold
Snowflakes falling like birds in troves.
I look through the window of solitude in soul
Sitting in my hotel abode.
Longing to see you, wishing you were here
Sitting beside me with never ending tales
Reminiscing the old times …the bygone days…
the interesting places we travelled through
and enjoyed the stays.
I just saw the gleam of your smile
Like silent lightening through the darkened skies
No, you never left me, I was never alone
Memories in solitude make life go on.

poem by Tasadduq Hussain Ejaz
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When September Arrives, Again

September arrives and Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.

September arrives,
And the sky loses brightness.
Winds start to whip...
Leaves off of trees.
I use to wonder,
Why I heard thundering...
As it rained to bring a change to things.

September seems erratic and dramatic.
Shifting as it does...
To prepare all for the Winter.
Children return to school,
As cool winds descend.
September has come back,
Again...
So quickly.

September arrives,
And Autumn begins.
The Summer then bows to Fall.
I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
In New England.

I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
When September arrived.
And Autumn began,
With winds again.

I use to think,
The leaves would cling on until Spring...
As Autumn began,
With winds again to begin.
When September arrived.
When September...
Arrived!
When September,
Arrives...
Again.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Year Later

Freshman year, cool September morn',
A day which brings despair.
Two warriors standing proud and tall,
Struck down by eagles of the enemy.
What once was there, there was no more.
No more warriors, but heroes are what we have.
Men and women, burdened by grief,
Rise like the Phoenix out of the ashes.

A year later...
Sophomore year, a cool September morn',
A year of pain and suffering gone by.
Two warriors, passed into ghostly passages,
Still live on, as clouds in the sky.

poem by Christine Elm
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I Dreamed.... (Hands)

i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.

hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!

hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....

whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Hands Are Folded

my hands are folded in supplication
I need your help, i need to relax
i need calm, rest, light, peace
courage, forgiveness

my hands are folded
i bow down to my only Saviour
my anchor of safety
my harbor of protection
my heaven of peace

my eyes look up to you
with confidence, with hope
i come as one sick
to his physician
as one poor and needy
to the Lord of heaven and earth

grant that i may see you
in all things
in good and ill health
in joy as in sorrow

grant me oh Lord
the grace to accept with patience
the monotony of daily tasks
to embrace with resignation
the fatigue and exhaustion
of days too long and too full
for my physical strength

grant me the ability to be relaxed
and be calm in the thought of your love
to find rest in the assurance
that you are with me
always and forever...Amen

poem by Meggie Gultiano
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