Leaves are to creep
Leaves do creep
And they must weep
When On them
The army of grief
Is passing in fleets
Fleets of tussle
Mind and heart’s scuffle
From all around
The heart is bound
The woods become Eden
For me the forbidden
To roam and mourn
In the eves and the morn
The moments of romance
Spent in the dance
The dry leaves resound
The same agonies sound
When under feet
Of heartless beat
The dry leaves weep
For my agonies deep
Leaves do creep
And they must weep
When On them
The army of grief
Is passing in fleets
Fleets of tussle
Mind and heart’s scuffle
From all around
The heart is bound
The woods become Eden
For me the forbidden
To roam and mourn
In the eves and the morn
The moments of romance
Spent in the dance
The dry leaves resound
The same agonies sound
When under feet
Of heartless beat
The dry leaves weep
For my agonies deep
Leaves do creep
And they must weep
When On them
The army of grief
Is passing in fleets
Fleets of tussle
Mind and heart’s scuffle
From all around
The heart is bound
The woods become Eden
For me the forbidden
To roam and mourn
In the eves and the morn
The moments of romance
Spent in the dance
The dry leaves resound
The same agonies sound
When under feet
Of heartless beat
The dry leaves weep
For my agonies deep
poem by Akram Saqib
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Related quotes
A dark chilly dreary morning
It is a dark chilly dreary morning
Sun delayed over city with gray sky in mourning
The throng of comers and goers in my face flits and fleets
And will not let me be
I walk passing eave-drops lofty fall
And the yellow vapors choke
The great city subway sounding wide
The day comes suddenly at last- A dull red ball
Wrapped in drifts of lurid smoke
On the misty East river tide
I loath the city of solitude in squares and in streets
And the faces of stutters that one meets
Empty aloof hearts arrogant introvert souls with no love for me
I crave to crawl, to crouch to creep
Into some under street cafe’ deep
And there to weep and weep and weep
My whole soul out for you in silent grief
copy rights 2010
Death is better than retirement.
His exit is due today.
The send off is befitting.
The eulogy is lip deep,
Not with a heart to weep.
He returns with heavy heart
He would be in them after his exit.
It is not to happen.
He has to weep ever since.
The same thing will happen
When he leaves the world
But he will not be there to weep.
27.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Autumn Days
I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.
And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.
Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!
Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.
They are dead, and the bare trees weep
Not loud as a mortal weeping,
But as sorrow that sighs in sleep,
And as grief that is still in sleeping.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Bohemian Folk-Song
(From the French)
The moon was in the sky,
Pale, pale her light had grown
I went into the forest
All alone.
All alone,
My heart was well-nigh glad,
But when I thought of thee
Grief came and made me sad.
It came with the winds of autumn
When the dead leaves drop from the tree,
Because thy heart hath forgotten
Thy lover afar from thee.
It came with the rain fast falling
Through the dead leaves again,
Because that over a dead love
The heart must weep like rain.
poem by Arthur Symons
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My shattered dreams [A mele visuri]
My shattered dreams, which mind conceives,
Fill up my heart with woe again,
I see them all in the pale leaves
And in the sorrow of the glen.
In snow they will forever sleep,
Covered by time with its thick shawl,
My shattered dreams, which make me weep
And fill my heart with bitter gall!
When happy days, O, lovely trees,
Will give you back what you have lost,
The leaves that from your boughs were tossed,
In night's deep darkness still will freeze
My shattered dreams, which mind conceives!
poem by Alexandru Vlahuţă, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Black leaves.
Picking off the black leaves.
The debris i do not need
Still the daily routine,
Chastens in the eves.
Amonst the black leaves,
You never saw all i could be
Shut your eyes.
Laying down on the wild sleeve
Of my heart.
The black leaves.
Pick them off and still they fall.
Brown, gold and awful cold.
Phone another waiting soul.
Listen to the yawning hole
That you left,
Amidst the black leaves,
I was always more than
You wanted to see.
poem by Peter Vealey
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Before Dawn....
i've been too long in the valley of death,
too long in the prisons, too long at the wheel.
too close to the blade, too far from the fire,
too long defined by lonliness and grief.
they say there's a wind,
that comes from a forbidden place.
that strips leaves from the trees,
and causes mountains to shudder.
they say there's a god,
whose name we cant say.
who walks naked in the instant,
just before dawn.
and they say there's a lover,
who smells like me.
who tastes like my hunger,
whose voice i know.
yes, and they say there's a time,
when the wars will cease.
when the hungry will be fed,
and someone will care.
and i pray there's a hand,
and eyes that shine...
that darkness will undress me,
and name the light!
that small kindnesses will turn,
the ancient potter's wheel.
and make me a cup,
held close by your heart.
if i dance tonight beneath trees that weep,
know that tomorrow i'll burn,
know that my lips wait still...
know that i am alive...
as words fall like leaves...
the cross i lay down,
is but a shovel, but a pen...
the page i write upon...
you, simply you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spring and Fall: To a young child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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To a Young Child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The DanCe
Sitting on a shady hill, a trunk that kissed the ground,
Leaves in glimmery green, wild flowers scents mixes air in profound,
Clouds smoothly moving, the sky turning blue
And trace of the moon is still on cue...
Birds chirping, echoes of water falls is drifting
The DANCE echoed from the hidden speakers, soothing,
Sudden navigation of thoughts flashes back
As rhythm of the DANCe leaves a trance of the past...
A place like this away from the busy commotion of the streets
The first time I laid my feet, felt the happiness, I danced with grace.
As the man turned the stereo on, the DANCe filled the air,
Lifted my spirit to unexplainable joy, I flipped and swayed....
The DANCe of life I had for four years now
Tiring but rewarding of the fulfillment it brings,
Though hurtful events tattood in my heart and mind,
Looking back, it made me a better person and I'm greatful with that.
Now, I still have the DANCe laid on air
Still working out to learn from it and prepare,
My future, I may not know what lies ahead
Yet I am sure, I will DANCe, follow it's rhythm as it flows thru the air....
And as I close my eyes, I see the sun slowly sets
A bonfire slowly lit the place, the DANCe still has it's trace,
I stood, feeling the beat...opening my arms, wrapping on mine
Dancing in it's beat...waiting for the DANCe to cease...
Many dances I have shared with
Even dances with wolves, I have made,
Slow-fast, sensual-rock, salsa-tango-samba, name it I can
But one DANCe is missing which my heart screams....
The DANCe in solemn peace...soul that scream and weep...
Inner peace, inner DANCe of hope and faith...
And from HIS place, one day,
I would have the DANCe I long to have...
poem by InNer WhisPers
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Sympathy
There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning,
While evening pours its silent dew
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair - though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart forever?
They weep - you weep - it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And Winter sheds his grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:
Yet these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted,
Then journey on, if not elate,
Still, never broken-hearted!
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Bringing Our Sheaves with Us
The time for toil is past, and night has come,--
The last and saddest of the harvest-eves;
Worn out with labor long and wearisome,
Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home,
Each laden with his sheaves.
Last of the laborers thy feet I gain,
Lord of the harvest! and my spirit grieves
That I am burdened not so much with grain
As with a heaviness of heart and brain;--
Master, behold my sheaves!
Few, light, and worthless,--yet their trifling weight
Through all my frame a weary aching leaves;
For long I struggled with my hapless fate,
And staid and toiled till it was dark and late,--
Yet these are all my sheaves.
Full well I know I have more tares than wheat,--
Brambles and flowers, dry stalks, and withered leaves
Wherefore I blush and weep, as at thy feet
I kneel down reverently, and repeat,
"Master, behold my sheaves!"
I know these blossoms, clustering heavily
With evening dew upon their folded leaves,
Can claim no value nor utility,--
Therefore shall fragrancy and beauty be
The glory of my sheaves.
So do I gather strength and hope anew;
For well I know thy patient love perceives
Not what I did, but what I strove to do,--
And though the full, ripe ears be sadly few,
Thou wilt accept my sheaves.
poem by Elizabeth Chase Allen from The Atlantic Monthly, vol. 2
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sympathy
here should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning;
While evening pours its silent dew,
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair—though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?
They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And winter sheds its grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:
Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted:
Then, journey on, if not elate,
Still never broken-hearted!
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Taking Is Of Their Interest
Many lifetimes it seems,
Some have personalized their agonies...
To then witness more inflicted,
By those claiming to do humanitarian deeds.
Too few know what it is like,
To be disturbed from their peaceful nights.
To stare hatred in the face...
As if this sickness to inflict,
Has a rightful place.
Many lifetimes it seems,
Some have personalized their agonies...
To be belittled and disrespected,
By an unconsciousness infested.
And manifested from an ignorance...
Still insisting on someone's shores,
The taking is of their interest.
And that is their purpose...
To greed and flee.
As millions remain poor.
Then to declare themselves peace makers.
But no peace comes to this beast who leaves pain.
No gain comes to a mind driven insane,
By an entity that has come...
To monopolize their senses in disguise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest Of Berries
The forest expected it, the woods create,
A storm has arrived with the leaves;
Wind blew and created, the leaves turned,
Bellies adjusted to the food.
What were berries? The berry is wonderful,
For the strawberry is the best.
A forest of leaves crazes me, as no other,
Never in too many lives does it create.
Tomorrow it lies with leaves and more,
The best berries are for me, the law;
When are you expected to dance?
The hour is near when the berries are present.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dead Leaves
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!
How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --
When these dead leaves were green.
How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read --
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between --
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!
How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.
Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.
poem by Edward Booth Loughran
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Love in Autumn
It is already Autumn, and not in my heart only,
The leaves are on the ground,
Green leaves untimely browned,
The leaves bereft of Summer, my heart of Love left lonely.
Swift, in the masque of seasons, the moment of each mummer,
And even so fugitive
Love's hour, Love's hour to live:
Yet, leaves, ye have had your rapture, and thou, poor heart, thy Summer!
poem by Arthur Symons
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Nothin' Shakin'
I tried to find out
What love is all about,
And every day
It sure lets out.
I see my baby
I get week in my knees.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
My pappie told me
There'd be times like these.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
We meet the gang
And go to rocking joes.
The cats are something
On the heels and toes.
I grab my baby,
Tried to give her a squeeze.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
Why must she be
Such a doggone tease?
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I beg her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees, yeah.
She's got a way
That makes me act like a fool.
Spent my money,
Then she plays me cool.
I'm begging her for kisses
On my bended knees.
Oh won't you give me
Some of your loving, baby,
Please please please.
Though i keep trying hard
To make her mine,
One day the wind will blow
And the sun will shine.
Till that time
She puts my heart at ease.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
She locked my heart
And threw away the keys.
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
There's nothing shaking
But the leaves on the trees
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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