The path is stony
Through valleys deep and hidden
But green hills you'll reach
haiku by Peter S. Quinn
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Plantation Boy
Lots of people walk about proud and free
Lift up your head start looking around
Theres a brandnew feeling of liberty
Like a clear bell thats starting to sound
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Lots of smiling faces for you to meet
So many hands to help you along
Just shake off the mud that weighs down your feet
If you stand tall you just cant go wrong
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Years of picking cotton for little pay
Living alone in some wooden shack
Sweating in the heat of a summers day
This is all over, you wont come back
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Wherever you may go
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oahu
Here on this island, summer never sleeps.
In the green valleys, smoke in cane-time drifts
With mist—frail tide that laps the chasmed deeps
Between the steep clean hills as the sea-tide
Once washed the silent hidden hollow rifts
And unseen valleys of its unborn bride.
Sea-bride, child of earth’s red molten womb,
Daughter of fire and chaos long since sleeping,
Who were the people that made your green hills bloom?
Wedded to the seas they were, like you;
From the dark sea, while you your watch were keeping,
They came to make their destined rendezvous.
The broad bare feet step forth on virgin sand,
And eyes raise to the green eternal hills:
Gray mist, green hills and fertile red-clay land,
Alone no more. The carefree caroling laughter
Drifts inland, where valley mist distills
The songs that shall be sung forever after.
poem by S.J. Fulton
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Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst -
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call -
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
-- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst --
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call --
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green.
Green are the valleys
green are the fields
green are the forests and long rolling hills
green like the shamrock and eyes with a smile
green as old Ireland
The emerald isle.
poem by Charles M. Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lament
Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun,
Those crags in childhood that I used to climb?
Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain,
Hidden is the heart.
A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between,
Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream,
Gone are the rocky places and the green,
Hidden, hidden under sorrow is yonder mountain,
Hidden, hidden.
O storm and gale of tears, whose blinding screen
Makes weather of grief, snow's drifting curtain
Palls th'immortal heights once seen.
Hidden, hidden is the heart,
Hidden, hidden is the heart.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green New Zealand
I've seen great sights of beauty in my travels
The gold and grey landscapes, the brown and green
But south Pacific Islands of New Zealand
Are beautiful as anywhere I've seen.
I've seen the hills of Sherbrooke east of Melbourne
Where tall mountain ash reach upwards towards the sky
And cool rainforests of northern New South Wales and Queensland
Are memories I can recall and enjoy.
I've seen the high hills of Britain and Ireland
Of such green beauty famous bards have wrote
But I would write a song for green New Zealand
Had I been blessed with gift of rhyming poet.
I've seen the wild brown outback of Australia
It's rugged beauty man could never tame
A different sort of beauty to New Zealand
And no two sorts of beauty seem the same.
I've seen the Catskill mountains in their splendour
When flowers were blooming in the month of May
And birds sang in the leafy mountain woodlands
But that was years ago and far away.
The lush green hills and valleys of New Zealand
As beautiful as I have ever seen
And the Homeland of the kakapo and kiwi
Can compare with to anywhere I've been.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inebriation
High on the stony mountain,
Swathed in fog,
Sounds a chilling, lonely gong.
I wander through the valleys,
Through the villages and trees,
And past still pools,
Searching for somewhere I lost.
Far beyond those mountains,
Once it lay,
My somewhere, that I forgot
In the bottom of a glass.
I left there, and my mind was full
Of that mountain fog,
And now I cannot remember where ‘twas.
There was sunlight there,
Of this I am certain.
No misty valleys, no clouded hills.
It was flat, and full of light,
And clouds, and dancing people.
But I lost it,
And I fear I shall never return.
poem by Sophia White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gateway
I can walk
Miles
Through ranges and deserts
Just to see you
Once in a lifetime.
I can climb
high
On mountains and hills
Just to be with you
Once in the whole lifetime.
I can swim
deep and broad
Through rivers and sea
Just to be besides you
Once in a life time
I can fly across the whole sky
Just to reach you
Once in this whole lifetime.
I can walk miles
I can climb high
I can swim deep and wide
I can even fly
But
just how can I touch the heart
The doors of which
You have so tightly locked from inside?
Just how can I reach your soul
You have so cleverly hidden from sight?
Just how can I ever connect to you
When all you want is to sever all ties?
poem by Anjali Kakati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rondel of Gloucestershire
Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills,
And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams,
Wrought by the manifold and vagrant wills
Of sun and ripening rain and wind ; so gleams
My country, that great magic cup which spills
Into my mind a thousand thousand streams
Of glory mellowing on the mellowing hills
And in the httle valleys, thatch and dreams.
O you dear heights of blue no ploughman tiUs,
O valleys where the curling mist upsteams
White over fields of trembhng daffodils.
And you old dusty little water-mills.
Through all my life, for joy of you, sweet thrills
Shook me, and in my death at last there beams
Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills
And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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My Twighlight Time
'Cross the Green of yesteryear, tears~
Comes a gradual ripening of seed~
It cloisters itself, in the valleys deep~
Amongst the fertile sod, it feeds....
Encircled by a range of Mountains~
Frosted themselves, with past snow~
Left o'er icy topping's~
Shining now, in the Green May, We Know!
The snow has been there, a while~
Or at least, since November fourteen~
When the last, of premature snow fell~
Upon the Mountains and Valleys once Green!
November, now remembered, for its most icy womb~
While May, for the ice, melting itself away~
And an opening, to a Civilization Of Beauty~
As, the Seeds Of Goodness, They Bloom In Our Hearts Today!
poem by Theodora Onken
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It Has Been Here to Exist
The increase of social ills,
Has not been hidden in the midst...
Of the Sahara Desert.
Nor has a decadence risen to be seen,
From the depths of oceans.
Or lush valleys of green.
Warnings have been given,
From messengers ignored.
The effects of what is taking place,
Have long been on these shores.
To say that none of this was known...
Is to say that disrespect has never been shown.
And an acknowledgement of this has not been encouraged,
As it has grown.
Wasn't the presence of denial praised to continue on?
The increase of social ills,
Has not been hidden in the midst...
Of the Sahara Desert.
Nor has a decadence risen to be seen,
From the depths of oceans.
Or lush valleys of green.
It has been here to exist.
And still not faced to evaluate and admit.
Because those who are leading the parade,
Are the ones afraid of losing their status.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bohol, Land Of Chocolate Hills
Bohol, land of chololate hills
Melvin Banggollay
B-OHOL, Land of the famous chocolate hills
Cradles the smallest primate ever to exist,
The world renown Philippines tarsiers
That loves to cling upon ruboust small trees
As they stare with their round eyes so big.
O-ver its verdant valleys, I have seen many hills
With wonderful scenery sharing nature's gifts
As they speak to us geographical mysteries
And nature's wonder with the beautiful hills
Scattered around with their perfect cone shapes.
H-eaven I behold when I reach the famous hills
and extend my eye upon the horizon of the hills
For I have seen nature's captivating scenery
of cone shape hills that radiates God's mysteries
And his artistic inclination when he made all these.
O-ver the sky, birds from the heaven fly with glee
As they sing with song of praises as they are free
To soar upon the blue sky as they enjoy the scenery
With a promise that they will never destroy the beauty
Of this abode and sanctuary of nature's tapestry.
L-ove our land and never rape its wealth and beauty
But be stewards of God in protecting all its scenery
with all it creation upon its wide verdant valleys
Like the birds, the tarsiers and other wildlife sanctuary
For our children children to behold these someday
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Wish
I'd like to show your eyes the plains
And a forest green and ruddy,
Far off and soft
Under clear skies on the horizon,
Or some hills
With lovely slopes
So changing and supple and misty,
Seeming to melt in the sweetness of the air,
Either hills
Or forest.
I'd like
For you to hear
Strong, vast, deep, and tender,
The great dull voice of the sea
That moans
Like Love;
And once in a while
Right next to you,
In the interval,
I'd like you to hear
Right next to you
A dove
In the silence
Both soft and weak
Like Love a trifle in the shadows,
I'd like you to hear
The gushing of a spring
For your hands I'd like some flowers,
And for your steps
I'd like a little path, grassy and sandy
Going up a bit and coming down,
Turning and seeming
To approach the limits of silence.
A very little sandy path
Where your steps would leave faint marks,
Our steps
Together.
poem by Henri de Regnier
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The Heavenly Hills of Holland
The heavenly hills of Holland,--
How wondrously they rise
Above the smooth green pastures
Into the azure skies!
With blue and purple hollows,
With peaks of dazzling snow,
Along the far horizon
The clouds are marching slow.
No mortal foot has trodden
The summits of that range,
Nor walked those mystic valleys
Whose colors ever change;
Yet we possess their beauty,
And visit them in dreams,
While the ruddy gold of sunset
From cliff and canyon gleams.
In days of cloudless weather
They melt into the light;
When fog and mist surround us
They're hidden from our sight;
But when returns a season
Clear shining after rain,
While the northwest wind is blowing,
We see the hills again.
The old Dutch painters loved them,
Their pictures show them clear,
Old Hobbema and Ruysdael,
Van Goyen and Vermeer.
Above the level landscape,
Rich polders, long-armed mills,
Canals and ancient cities,--
Float Holland's heavenly hills.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Ode to my Dad & Mom
Poem by...Sivan PG Menon
---
…an ode to my ‘dad and mom’
I don’t remember the day,
I toddled on to this 'space...vast..
How I knelt and jerked to reach
the stars and the sky, still a myth.
I wonder, how I learned walking
And talked to ‘mom and dad’.
It still surprises me,
I could chirp like the sparrows,
And imitate the humming birds.
Blessed am I to have the green woods,
the mountains, the gushing springs,
the lush green farms,
the swaying Daffodils,
and a ‘Strong willed dad & mom’
LIFE did take my tiny finger
As it yearned to be held…
As it cherished to be lead…
Through the serpentine realms of destiny,
I clung to them…in the middle…hand in hand.
The quest to reach the star lit sky
Planets so far…and puzzling…
Blue seas …deep and mysterious
I craved to unravel the truth,
befriended me from birth.
Thoughts masculine …enriched me
virtues feminine, nurtured me
emboldened me to wade ahead
‘more than a dad’….. He is to me.
‘more than a mom’…. She is to me.
Remember, the invaluable are invisible,
do not surface, like the pearl, hidden deep.
Embedded are they in my ‘dad & mom’
So deep. …deep in their inner soul…..shining,
an eternal bliss, divine…
a courage inspires me to dive deep,
excavate the hidden treasure,
that lies in them beyond the shores of relationship,
in the oceanic depth of LOVE & ESTEEM.
a fortune immortal…
an ethereal spirit awakens…rekindles…,
upholds a truth…Yes! mom & dad….
true to its form and splendor
like the scores of expressions NATURE transcends
strengthens my belief in LIFE and… Today, I am…what I am….
poem by Sivan P.G Menon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O! The Sacred Land
O! The Sacred Land,
May ever fall, flow melodious cascades,
Flourish your deep valleys, green glades,
And may time erase the streak of divisions,
Of caste, of creed, of sects and grades.
O! The Sacred Land,
May upon your face flowers ever bloom,
Till the world goes on, till the day of doom,
And may He secure, protect your treasures,
Cast away winds of pain, clouds of gloom.
O! The Sacred Land,
May sweet sun ever shine upon your land,
The rains ever pour upon your thirsty sand,
May your children live the life full of bliss,
While going ahead supporting hand in hand.
O! The Sacred Land,
May you ever progress by leaps and bounds,
And ever vibrate with the melodious sounds,
Your valleys, your plains and forests green,
Your lofty mountains, your hills and mounds.
O! The Sacred Land,
May God thrive your village, city and town,
And He wrap them all with heavenly gown,
Of love and faith, of peace and patience,
And rule the world wearing the golden crown.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Daylight
(sung by chorus)
Daylight over the village green early in the morning.
Daylight over the hills and valleys heralding the morning.
Daylight over the mountains, daylight on the village green,
Daylight over the field and the factories.
Another night has gone away and here comes yet another day.
See the early morning risers walking round with bleary eyes.
Worn out housewives grit their teeth ignoring new born babies cries.
Look at all the busy people this way, that way, everywhere
Biting toast and swallowing tea and breakfast specials on the air.
Feel that daylight.
Feel the sunlight on my pillow and it stops my yawing.
I thank God that Im still around to see another dawn in.
Daylight over the valleys, daylight lighting up the trees,
Daylight over the hillside,
Smile a smile and sing a song, another night has been and gone.
Middle-aged bankers crack their backs and wish they were young and in their teens,
Lonely spinsters dream of dating roger moore or steve mcqueen.
Health fanatics in their attics training for the empire games,
School boys dream of captain scarlet, battle ships and aeroplanes.
Feel that daylight, daylight.
Daylight on the village green,
Daylight,
Field and the valleys,
Daylight.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ireland, Ireland
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Down thy valleys green and sad,
Still thy spirit wanders wailing,
Wanders wailing, wanders mad.
Long ago that anguish took thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and fair,
Spoilers strong in darkness took thee,
Broke thy heart and left thee there.
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Still thy spirit wanders mad;
All too late they love that wronged thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and sad.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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A Captivating Sight
The artist's brush scoops up the shades of green,
and creates a scene.
Trees, banks, deep valleys, fields and gentle hills,
how the picture fills.
Some vivid yellows in the sunshine's rays,
on his canvas, blaze.
Rich blue envisaged in the summer sky,
is the perfect dye.
Such subtle shadows to be applied in black,
require the knack.
The whole portrayal is a captivating sight,
with highlights, white.
Then somewhere you'll find a signature in grey,
inscribed - Manet.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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