Little Marsh-Sprites
I have whipped you out of sight
Through the midday soot;
To await the evening light
Of quiet solitude.
Now – we’re sitting on a moss
In the heart of fen;
Crescent with a crooked mouth
Is our only friend.
I’m like you – a nature geek,
With a spooky face;
Quiet and shy like forest creek
In a hidden place.
Loosely hangs a parting bell
On my foolish cap.
Rivers weaving through a spell
Of a nature’s lap.
And we’re sitting, little fools,
Greenish caps protrude;
Peeping from the low-land pools
Into solitude.
Dream deliriums of water,
Rusty run-off wave…
We’re forgotten echoings
Of a someone’s rave…
- Alexander Blok, January,1905.
Trans. by V.Postnikov,2006
poem by Vic Postnikov
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A Man Who Knows Much About Nature
He has not been to college or uni and for so called success in life he does not have much to show
But about flora and fauna and Nature there is so much he seems to know
He knows all of the trees in the Parkland by the bark or the leaves that they wear
A man who knows much about Nature and for the health of Nature he care.
A man who knows much about nature by their songs the birds he recognize
He like the quiet place in the country far removed from human made noise
In the shadow of a tree by the river the sun shining bright in the sky
Listening to birds singing around him such moments of peace he enjoy.
He like places without man's buildings away from the noise of the street
A quiet place in Nature's own kingdom where the creek and the river meet
Where lark he is soaring and singing as upward and upwards he fly
He has been a student of Nature ever since he was a young school going boy.
A man who knows much about Nature and to Nature he remains true
And Nature needs all of her good friends for Nature's good friends are too few
The weekend finds him in a quiet place on a sunny day sitting by a tree
Near where the creek flows into the river the river that flows to the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The more you’re asking for repose
The more you’re asking for repose,
The more you fear, the more you fear.
The fog is creeping from the fields,
The fog is crawling in your chest.
Sink in the velvet of the night…
Forget the former life you’ve had,
Forget the future life ahead…
The fog is crawling right behind…
One thing in mind –
To sleep, to sleep…
But someone
Terminates your rest.
- Alexander Blok,1910
Trans. by V.Postnikov,2008
poem by Vic Postnikov
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The Goat Paths
The crooked paths go every way
Upon the hill - they wind about
Through the heather in and out
Of the quiet sunniness.
And there the goats, day after day,
Stray in sunny quietness,
Cropping here and cropping there,
As they pause and turn and pass,
Now a bit of heather spray,
Now a mouthful of the grass.
In the deeper sunniness,
In the place where nothing stirs,
Quietly in quietness,
In the quiet of the furze,
For a time they come and lie
Staring on the roving sky.
If you approach they run away,
They leap and stare, away they bound,
With a sudden angry sound,
To the sunny quietude;
Crouching down where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze,
Couching down again to brood
In the sunny solitude.
If I were as wise as they
I would stray apart and brood,
I would beat a hidden way
Through he quiet heather spray
To a sunny solitude;
And should you come I'd run away,
I would make an angry sound,
I would stare and turn and bound
To the deeper quietude,
To the place where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze.
In that airy quietness
I would think as long as they;
Through the quiet sunniness
I would stray away to brood
By a hidden beaten way
In a sunny solitude.
I would think until I found
Something I can never find,
Something lying on the ground,
In the bottom of my mind.
poem by James Stephens
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Sitting In The Midday Sun
(sung by the tramp)
Im sitting by the side of a river
Underneath the pale blue sky
Ive got no need to worry, Im in no hurry
Im looking at the world go by.
Just sitting in the midday sun,
Just soaking up that currant bun,
With no particular purpose or reason
Sitting in the midday sun.
Everybody say Im lazy
They all tell me get a job you slob,
Id rather be a hobo walking round with nothing
Than a rich man scared of losing all hes got.
So Im just sitting in the midday sun
Just soaking up that currant bun,
Why should I have to give my reasons
For sitting in the midday sun
Oh look at all the ladies
Looking their best in their summer dresses,
Oh sitting in the sun.
Ive got no home,
Ive got no money
But who needs a job when its sunny. wah wah.
I havent got a steady occupation
And I cant afford a telephone.
I havent got a stereo, radio or video
A mortgage, overdraft, a bank loan.
The only way that I can get my fun
Is by sitting in the midday sun
With no particular purpose or reason
Sitting in the midday sun.
Oh listen to the people,
Say Im a failure and Ive got nothing,
Ah but if they would only see
Ive got my pride,
Ive got no money,
But who needs a job when its sunny. wah wah.
Everybody thinks Im crazy,
And everybody says Im dumb,
But when I see the people shouting at each other
Id rather be an out of work bum.
So Im just sitting in the midday sun
Just soaking up that currant bun,
With no particular purpose or reason
Sitting in the midday sun.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snatching solitude
Snatching solitude from sleep
For a few wakeful hours, to reclaim myself
From the web of relationships that define us
And the responsibilities that dictate our days
Now that isn’t such a wise thing!
Doctors often say, while they tend to the heart
As an organ, rarely seeing the soul
That needs mending too
But now that stillness overcomes hurtling day
I tend to my temple
That stands with windows open
Welcoming new winds from o’er the land
That quiet corner is my favourite place
Where a candle glows, softly
Lighting up dark corners, and freeing my spirit
To commune with the vastness beyond
Sometimes a quiet whisper holds clues
To a story yet to unfold, while at others
The quiet holds me in a warm embrace
While I snatch solitude from sleep.
poem by Anita Atina
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In The Solitude Of My Mind
As I sit and watch the fire’s glow
in the solitude of my mind,
I can see more than any person realises.
I sometimes wonder if it is the future
my mind allows me to see,
or am I daydreaming
hypnotised by the dancing flames.
I can sit for hours
enchanted under its spell
and visit many countries
in the solitude of my mind.
The world has no boundaries;
there is no place I cannot go,
no tongue that I cannot speak,
as I sit in silence
in the solitude of my mind.
3 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Moss Hanging From Sunset Trees
I love the beauty of nature
I love the quiet of a still river...
I love the beauty of rare pristine nature
I love the quiet tranquil flow of a still river...
I love the sparkle light on sunset water
I love moss hanging from sunset trees...
cool breeze blows across cool river water
sounds smells infuse senses river lover sees...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In Solitude
In solitude I remain
With absolutely nothing to gain
Perhaps in time I will be strong
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song
A solitary place
Is not where I belong
Read my lips and trace the lines on my face
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song
But social isolation
Combined with social manipulation
Places me once again in solitude
You see! Solitude is not my preferred attitude
This isn’t a journey of spiritual enlightenment
As some people might say to my resentment
But in great loneliness of this magnitude
I must find some self awareness in solitude
I must find strength and pretend
That everyone around me is my friend
To put this state of scale of elevation to an end
I must pretend, I must pretend
That even Solitude is my friend
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Guess Me
obliquely from under cosmic eyelids
is beating by eyes sneer of pupils
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
is bringing the dislike of rays in the gift
the silver October chilled the night
with autumn breath hardening
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the bare limbs of trees peeping
it is hard to forget these premonitions
what else are living, it ache with memory
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
greedy nature with one's dream
bad charm of the stifling hour
with billowy cloud are heaving our dreams
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the question or you it really is you
if this way it is... guess me
where the stream is a green grenade
there with white flower my dream are dreaming
the of the reconciliation with oneself and with world
if this way is... guess me...
----
written - 2005-01-26 23: 50: 42
translated - 2009-05-12 20: 15
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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A heart chanced
A heart chanced
~
A heart chanced once more
After years of silent solitude
Met only silence in its asking
And wept into a quiet nothing
A pride and strength deflated
The hope which fed each word
Broken like the dream left behind
The memories of past heartbreak
Revoked in this new silence
A question asked, regretted
A belief chanced, lost
The simple words spoken
Honest and gently thought
Fall into a quiet silence
A solitude of reply
To the heart which fought
To believe and chance again
Sits sadly quietly weeping
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Waiting
Waiting
sitting in silence
finding things to do
on this normal, quiet evening.
rustling papers
and tapping keyboard,
with one eye on the phone
waiting for disaster
to ring through my complacency.
I can almost see
the sterile walls, the contained chaos
as hurried doctors and nurses
bring relief to the battle-weary
binding the hundred wounds
of collision and anger,
cancer and a failing heart.
I can almost, but not quite, hear
The IV pumps, heart monitors,
crash-carts clattering down
shining halls, carrying the artillery
we aim at the enemy.
But right now,
right here
all is quiet;
the cat mews patiently
for her evening meal
as I watch for the phone
to light up
and give me the news
that will shatter
this quiet evening.
poem by Steven Federle
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Another New Beginning And The Past Is Now Forgotten....
we get blinded by the rage of our
own biases
our own prejudices are monsters within us
eating us slowly
until we disappear from the face
of our reasons
the wise man says
it is destiny, there is nothing to worry
nature is just fulfilling
what the stars have drawn
in the skies of your
very own palms
when all of them is taken away
it is nature that is claiming its prize
but soon nature returns back
what was painfully taken
in joys doubled and even tripled
look at the rivers now
aren't they seductive with their own clarity?
look at the trees
some leaves are beginning to grown on their bald branches
the fish are showing their colored scales
and the moss are growing their greenish hairs
the children have arrived with their boats and paddles
ready for another sail another swim
they are our new divers to claim their new pearls
the women are singing and the lovers are following them
the old are settled on their chairs and listening to the old
songs of the winds
another new beginning
the past is now forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem Of The Evening Is A Quiet Poem
THE POEM OF THE EVENING IS A QUIET POEM
The poem of the evening is a quiet poem
It comes in gentleness with tired eyes
It does not know how long it will last
It believes a fresh breeze
And a simple song
Are all its needs
To feel happiness.
The poem of the evening this evening
Believes in life
Believes in Goodness of God
Believes it will somehow be alright.
The poem of the evening this evening
May be a foolish one
But it is a quietly happy one.
We need such poems sometimes
For life is hard in the long working days
And in the times of difficult idleness
When no dreams come.
Quiet and quiet
Soft as sleep
The poem of the evening this evening
Is a gentle one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Solitude
How many times have you told me you love her
As many times as I've wanted to tell you the truth
How long have I stood here beside you
I live through you
You looked through me
Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
How many times have I done this to myself
How long will it take before I see
When will this hole in my heart be mended
Who now is left alone but me
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true
Everyone leave me stranded
Forgotten, abandoned, left behind
I can't stay here another night
Your secret admirer
Who could it be
Ooh, Can't you see
All along it was me
How can you be so blind
As to see right through me
And Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lincoln Monument: Washington
Let's go see Old Abe
Sitting in the marble and the moonlight,
Sitting lonely in the marble and the moonlight,
Quiet for ten thousand centuries, old Abe.
Quiet for a million, million years.
Quiet-
And yet a voice forever
Against the
Timeless walls
Of time-
Old Abe.
poem by Langston Hughes
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I would advise you to write, my dear friend, because with your active nature, solitude is simply intolerable to you, and after some time your solitude would become perhaps attractive if you were to people it with creatures of your own fancy.
quote by Wilfrid Laurier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Simplicity Of Nature
reeds on the side of the lake
ripples of water
sand over mud
a green island on the other side
shades of the horizon
blue and darker sometimes
blue skies and fluffy white clouds
how this view sings in harmony
with the heart of a man
sitting in solitude under a tree
on the grass
nature is indeed simpler than man
more beautiful even without him
but who shall know? when man becomes
extinct, who shall know?
when man is finally excluded, who shall tell?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rave On, John Donne
Rave on john donne, rave on thy holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down through the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on down through time and space down through the corridors
Rave on words on printed page
Rave on, you left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Uptempo, frenzied heels
Rave on, walt whitman, nose down in wet grass
Rave on fill the senses
On natures bright green shady path
Rave on omar khayyam, rave on kahlil gibran
Oh, what sweet wine we drinketh
The celebration will be held
We will partake the wine and break the holy bread
Rave on let a man come out of ireland
Rave on on mr. yeats,
Rave on down through the holy rosey cross
Rave on down through theosophy, and the golden dawn
Rave on through the writing of a vision
Rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on
Rave on john donne, rave on thy holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down though the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on words on printed page
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've Been In Love With Nature
I've been in love with Nature ever since I was a boy
And a walk in Nature's quiet places is always a thing of joy
In woods and Land for Wildlife the wild birds chirp and sing
And the beauty that lives in Nature is an amazing thing
For our sins against Mother Nature we will be made to pay
The smog above the City is growing by the day
The rivers are polluted and pollution nowadays is rife
And an unhealthy environment a danger to human life
As well as every other life form unhealthy air, rivers and seas
Can cause terminal illness and give rise to disease
We will receive from Nature what only is our due
And what we do to her to ourselves we do so happens to be true
The average weather temperatures are rising by a couple of degrees
And sea levels are rising and pollution in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?
Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.
But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.
One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.
How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.
I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?
I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.
poem by David Mitchell
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