Life's Seasons
When all the world was Mayday,
And all the skies were blue,
Young innocence made playday
Among the flowers and dew;
Then all of life was Mayday,
And clouds were none or few.
II
When all the world was Summer,
And morn shone overhead,
Love was the sweet newcomer
Who led youth forth to wed;
Then all of life was Summer,
And clouds were golden red.
III
When earth was all October,
And days were gray with mist,
On woodways, sad and sober,
Grave memory kept her tryst;
Then life was all October,
And clouds were twilight-kissed.
IV
Now all the world's December,
And night is all alarm,
Above the last dim ember
Grief bends to keep him warm;
Now all of life's December,
And clouds are driven storm.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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October Girl
I married an October girl
but met her in December's cold,
I remember well
that winter of our meeting
you could not say that it was swell
that frosty first time greeting.
I saw her a second time
October in the spring
when light shone from her face
and joined with my light within;
she blew a gentle breeze
with freshness in her haste
to meet again the man
who previously in December
she had not seemed
so keen to chase.
She blew into my life in spring
through summer and the fall
and swirled around the boughs
of my many outreaching branches,
until she bared me of all the leaves
I'd grown throughout my life
and pointed to the roots of me
that held me strong in strife.
October is a blustery girl
with many winds of change
sometimes with an angry squall
that bares wintered teeth
with lightening storms of rage,
but I never did meet a girl
with such a warm embrace.
I married that October girl
we married in the spring
and as I wait to see
what summer's breeze may bring
I know that October's girl
will shine her light within
as I soar up so very high
upon October's wind.
poem by David Taylor
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Clouds Of My Life
There moves the cloud
with the wind that blows
So bright and white
like the pages of my life…
I sit near the window
and watch those clouds
That shows me the way
my life is being shaped…
Never was I able to
see the clouds
Have the same shape
in every minute of my life…
Why does this happen
is what I think
But everyday is not the same
is what it says to me…
I see the winds
blow off the clouds
Which makes me think
when will my life be blown off? ...
It's hard to see
black clouds coming in between
Making my worst fears
strike into my mind…
It rains day and night
making me feel happy and sad
Happy to see the black clouds fading
but sad about losing the clouds…
Dreams of mine takes
shape in the clouds
Always showing me the face
of the person I like…
It always reminds me
my life is in world's hands
No matter how hard I try
can't change the fate of my life…
It's nice to see the clouds
every morning I wake up
This reminds me there is still a day
because I see the "Clouds of my Life"…
poem by Sowkoor Nischal Shetty
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Mayday
Come help me
M'aider
Venez m'aider
Mayday Mayday Mayday.
And I call you thrice
In the sky in the sea.
This is the month of May
And I call you thrice
For water for air
Come help me
Mayday Mayday Mayday
I suffer in Sun in Storm.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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In the Morning
By SJR December 1,2008
The varying layers of clouds would not evade my attention.
Dark clouds, high clouds, fluffy clouds, wispy clouds –
The sky was a myriad of different formations.
Pervading through them all however,
was a diffuse gray form extending from earth to
Heaven and moving swiftly through the land –
It was amazing to watch!
And I could only reflect on the Spirit of God,
Moving swiftly across the earth,
Always present, filling all of space,
Not necessarily noticeable from within,
But ever active, moving with power and love.
'God is able to do immeasurably more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of, according to His power that is at work within us' Eph 4: 20
----
I will always remember you SJR!
0119
Sonnet for a Grey Morning
Another grey morning, much like the last
and for tomorrow, more fog’s the forecast.
When days seem the same, life always seems cold.
Night flows to night, the sad world grows old
as clouds wrap my soul in still, fatal pall
but hearts must be silent, though bold blood calls
for death to cruel winter, and end to dark days,
fair spring to release enthralled golden rays.
But looking at you, I see in your eyes
the brilliance lost from blue summer's last sky
and when you smile, in your warm glow I feel
your love overwhelm me, new suns revealed.
Overcast, confined though the earth may be
with you in my day, spring’s born endlessly.
poem by Steven Federle
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Storm Clouds
Shapes of clouds in the sky
Are seen as pictures by the human eye.
But when the wind does gently blow
Those shapes into other pictures go.
Storm clouds do not pictures make,
But blacken the skies and makes us wake
To listen for thunder and see lightening too,
And hope that without more ado,
The storm will break, the sun appear,
The black clouds will disappear,
And once again the sky’ll go blue
To bring more pictures for me and you.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 25 October 2003
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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21 October 2011
That day that night had fell in my hands
For b'fore me, lays on my pillow an angel
Who was oblivious to my plans
For to her heavens I ever remain faithful.
21 October 2011 was the day I asked heaven.
To bestow upon me a forever glee
That would expel such sorrow in the world
And break these sad chains from me
And who would walk with my hand, a girl.
If a more smoother silk was to bless my hand
Than a seraph would have me say
That this elegant hair is as gold as grains of sand
Which mesmerise my night to day.
21 October 2011 was when she took my heart away.
"Oh my beauty! " - I could not help express
At the tip of my lungs till they burst
To all persons to the world and rest
For my love, your heart is my first.
"Would you kiss me? " - Your incantation
Your magic, you cast o'er me your spell
For my heart was your infiltration
It's a fairy-tale - You're my love story to tell.
21 October 2011 was when into her arms I fell.
Those lips do not just give dulcet a kiss
But sing with a merry tune
The innocence I reminisce
As does the tenderness of the moon.
Her hands as soft as clouds
That fills happiness in the skies
The night must be of her so proud
For the stars sparkle in her eyes.
21 October 2011 is when God made my world in the days of seven.
Oh God! You answered my prayer!
And sent me an angel from heaven
My heart you guided her straight there
All on the night of 21 October 2011.
21 October 2011.
poem by Theo Williams
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December Snow
Like December snow
That lays in the wood
You're gone too soon
I knew you should
With October skies
You brought your love
But November came
Taking all I have and
Time, take this sadness from me
Time, bring my heart back safely
Hold on to warm September
'Cause life can be like December snow
With your touch of love
in this Autumn world
The Sun was bright
The songs were heard
And maybe fools like me
Are under your spell
But with leaves that fall
I hear you callin'
Time, take this sadness from me
Time, bring my heart back safely
Hold on to warm September
'Cause life can be like December Snow
Time, take this sadness from me
Time, bring my heart back safely
Hold on to warm September
'Cause life can be like December Snow
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will You Love Me In December As You Do In May
Now, in the summer of life, sweetheart
You say you love but me
Gladly I give all my heart to you
Throbbing with ecstasy
But last night I saw, while a-dreaming
, the future old and gray,
And I wondered if youll love me then, dear
Just as you do today?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
You say the glow on my cheek, sweetheart
Is like the rose so sweet
But when the bloom of fair youth has flown
Then will our lips still meet?
When lifes setting sun fades away, dear,
And all is said and done,
Will you arms still entwine and caress me?
Will our hearts beat as one?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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is Your Journey Really Needed!
'IS YOUR JOURNEY REALLY NEEDED!
By hell of course it is
We all have a journey in life a long and bumpy trip
Sometimes its plain sailing,
Often Storm clouds rise above
When the storm clouds die down
Blue skies are above
Taking us on life's journey
Incredible journey it so is,
From your Mothers womb
To children of your own
Life can be a rocky road
As we go along our way
Remember we have to walk through the Rain
To get to Rainbow way.
Dave Bennett
poem by David Bennett
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Blue
Lay at my side and shut out the world
Warm this cold heart and wrap me in love
Pour magic into a space made for you
Lifetimes of longing are to live through
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
All of my life Ive hungered for you
All my lost days of dreaming are through
Riding the clouds on a mission of schemes
Now you are here oh how simple it seems
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
Blue is my world cold is my name
Love was my problem with no one to blame and you
Taught me how to see light shine in me
Light is reflected so easily
I said blue no more blue dont say good-bye
You leave me breathless with nothing to say
Turned me burned me and blew me away
And if you leave like a ghost without trace
This night of love means a world I can face
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
Holding you close timeless together
Heaven just spoke freeze this moment forever and
All other images fall from my eyes
Love you have come to me straight from the skies
I said blue no more blue
I said blue no more blue dont say good-bye
I will always know that love can live
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Angels Kiss...
The dark clouds turned into a brighter white,
And the moon it shone with a brighter light.
The flowers of life stand tall once again,
From this world is vanquished all of lifes pain...
An angel stared at me with eyes of love,
Looking down upon me from high above.
I'm mesmerised by those emerald eyes,
I look deep inside to where love lies...
My love approached, eyes down to the ground,
My heart it pumped with a roaring sound.
My smiling heart said what no one could say,
I breathed in every essence of this beautiful day...
And when my Angel uttered, 'I love you, '
Dark black skies turned into sapphire blue.
The bleak grey clouds turned into white,
And the moon it shone a brighter light...
Winters snow it melted and flowed,
The night passed and the sun it glowed.
All of this the world just could not miss,
For it happens only when angels kiss...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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To Hope
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.
Oh! take thy harp!
Oh! sing as thou wert wont to do,
When, all youth's sunny season long,
I sat and listened to thy song,
And yet 'twas ever, ever new,
With magic in its heaven-tuned string—
The future bliss thy constant theme.
Oh! then each little woe took wing
Away, like phantoms of a dream;
As if each sound
That flutter'd round,
Had floated over Lethe's stream!
By all those bright and happy hours
We spent in life's sweet eastern bow'rs,
Where thou wouldst sit and smile, and show,
Ere buds were come, where flowers would blow,
And oft anticipate the rise
Of life's warm sun that scaled the skies;
By many a story of love and glory,
And friendships promised oft to me;
By all the faith I lent to thee,—
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.
Oh! take thy harp!
Perchance the strings will sound less clear,
That long have lain neglected by
In sorrow's misty atmosphere;
It ne'er may speak as it hath spoken
Such joyous notes so brisk and high;
But are its golden chords all broken?
Are there not some, though weak and low,
To play a lullaby to woe?
But thou canst sing of love no more,
For Celia show'd that dream was vain;
And many a fancied bliss is o'er,
That comes not e'en in dreams again.
Alas! alas!
How pleasures pass,
And leave thee now no subject, save
The peace and bliss beyond the grave!
Then be thy flight among the skies:
Take, then, oh! take the skylark's wing,
And leave dull earth, and heavenward rise
O'er all its tearful clouds, and sing
On skylark's wing!
Another life-spring there adorns
Another youth—without the dread
Of cruel care, whose crown of thorns
Is here for manhood's aching head.
Oh! there are realms of welcome day,
A world where tears are wiped away!
Then be thy flight among the skies:
Take, then, oh! take the skylark's wing,
And leave dull earth, and heavenward rise
O'er all its tearful clouds, and sing
On skylark's wing!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Sonnet In Bee Flat
There must be a place (but I've yet to find one)
beneath the Sol-drawn dawn of autumn skies
where cut-throat trout still find the heart to run
and the fullness of Summer's life never dies.
There, as if Earth had changed rotation,
Instead of honey, nature gathers dew
and composes a world without notation.
Unlike the life of old, this work is new.
Despite the nearing gray cold wintry blast,
the twisted fir tree keeps her dreams of green,
of a chamomile welwitschian past,
and buzzing yellow flights of friends less seen.
But bees still dance their flower pollen-aise,
a song of haze gold mid-October days.
(mindbringer,19 October 2009)
poem by Thomas Holderfield
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Even So
THE DAYS go by—the days go by,
Sadly and wearily to die:
Each with its burden of small cares,
Each with its sad gift of gray hairs
For those who sit, like me, and sigh,
“The days go by! The days go by!”
Ah, nevermore on shining plumes,
Shedding a rain of rare perfumes
That men call memories, they are borne
As in life’s many-visioned morn,
When Love sang in the myrtle-blooms—
Ah, nevermore on shining plumes!
Where is my life? Where is my life?
The morning of my youth was rife
With promise of a golden day.
Where have my hopes gone? Where are they—
The passion and the splendid strife?
Where is my life? Where is my life?
My thoughts take hue from this wild day,
And, like the skies, are ashen gray;
The sharp rain, falling constantly,
Lashes with whips of steel the sea:
What words are left for Hope to say?
My thoughts take hue from this wild day.
I dreamt—my life is all a dream!—
That I should sing a song supreme
To gladden all sad eyes that weep,
And take the Harp to Time, and sweep
Its chords to some eternal theme.
I dreamt—my life is all a dream.
The world is very old and wan—
The sun that once so brightly shone
Is now as pale as the pale moon.
I would that Death came swift and soon;
For all my dreams are dead and gone.
The world is very old and wan.
The world is young, the world is strong,
But I in dreams have wandered long.
God lives. What can Death do to me
The sun is shining on the sea.
Yet shall I sing my splendid song—
The world is young, the world is strong.
poem by Victor James Daley
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The Days go by
THE DAYS go by—the days go by,
Sadly and wearily to die:
Each with its burden of small cares,
Each with its sad gift of gray hairs
For those who sit, like me, and sigh,
“The days go by! The days go by!”
Ah, nevermore on shining plumes,
Shedding a rain of rare perfumes
That men call memories, they are borne
As in life’s many-visioned morn,
When Love sang in the myrtle-blooms—
Ah, nevermore on shining plumes!
Where is my life? Where is my life?
The morning of my youth was rife
With promise of a golden day.
Where have my hopes gone? Where are they—
The passion and the splendid strife?
Where is my life? Where is my life?
My thoughts take hue from this wild day,
And, like the skies, are ashen gray;
The sharp rain, falling constantly,
Lashes with whips of steel the sea:
What words are left for Hope to say?
My thoughts take hue from this wild day.
I dreamt—my life is all a dream!—
That I should sing a song supreme
To gladden all sad eyes that weep,
And take the Harp to Time, and sweep
Its chords to some eternal theme.
I dreamt—my life is all a dream.
The world is very old and wan—
The sun that once so brightly shone
Is now as pale as the pale moon.
I would that Death came swift and soon;
For all my dreams are dead and gone.
The world is very old and wan.
. . . . .
The world is young, the world is strong,
But I in dreams have wandered long.
God lives. What can Death do to me
The sun is shining on the sea.
Yet shall I sing my splendid song—
The world is young, the world is strong.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Clouds
Clouds
I’d have to be really quick
to describe clouds -
a split second’s enough
for them to start being something else.
Their trademark:
they don’t repeat a single
shape, shade, pose, arrangement.
Unburdened by memory of any kind,
they float easily over the facts.
What on earth could they bear witness to?
They scatter whenever something happens.
Compared to clouds,
life rests on solid ground,
practically permanent, almost eternal.
Next to clouds
even a stone seems like a brother,
someone you can trust,
while they’re just distant, flighty cousins.
Let people exist if they want,
and then die, one after another:
clouds simply don't care
what they're up to
down there.
And so their haughty fleet
cruises smoothly over your whole life
and mine, still incomplete.
They aren't obliged to vanish when we're gone.
They don't have to be seen while sailing on.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gold Clouds
As the wind goes on to its own stream
In the gold clouds of tomorrow rising
Like a summer of flowers gold sunbeam
Those from a fantasy world are actualizing
With flow in the evening rays
As the wind goes on to its own stream
And everything is in its twilight’s dream
When glow of the evening plays
With every agleam that as arisen your mind
In the flickering clouds dancing high
When those moments of days are left behind
In the night falling beyond starry sky
And the night fills with dark allays
*(lyric from 1 of my trance songs)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Songs Of The Sky
In a sky of layered clouds,
dawn becomes a rainbow,
moving through the spectrum
toward the day.
In a sky of always blue,
no clouds ride the wind:
the sun burns brightly,
high and hot and long.
In a sky of may grays,
clouds crash, explode and roar;
rain-filled winds sweep across the prairie.
In a sky of many blues,
clouds dance on the wind;
and endless and quixotic
Rohrschach test.
In a sky of always gray,
no clouds seem to move;
overcast blots out imagination.
In a sky of cold, cold blue,
gray clouds scrape the treetops;
harbingers of winter storms to come.
Beneath a sky of darkening gray,
the prairie grasses rustle
on the small, forgotten farms
of what could've been
and was.
In a sky of mottled gray,
cold rains fall, now and then;
the seasons struggle
for control of April.
In a sky of broken gray,
cold winds precede the rains;
and before long
the darkened clouds re-gather.
In a sky as clear as glass,
and blue from top to bottom,
sultry days of August
slowly drift into September.
In a twi-lit noon-time sky,
this annular eclipse
leaves us just a
ring around the moon.
In a sky of many clouds,
sunset's an inferno;
ablaze, in this,
my father's final twilight.
In a sky that slowly burns,
the clouds of fire fade
and leave a darker beauty
to hold the night.
poem by William Kruse
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Day Gone By
The clouds floating,
Like a lazy summer day.
The silver reflections,
Glitter and light my eyes.
The blue clear and bright,
The colour rich with promise.
The clouds gentle now,
As the summer storm has passed.
The day done.
The hours and minutes gone.
I feel the green of the leaves,
In this balmy summer's eve.
(Bolton, UK. Tuesday 26 June 2007)
poem by Champaben Mistry
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