Maple Lives
This yellow sweet anthem of spring is nearing
Sung and played by the Green Mistress's steering
Of mated birds and collected hives
This busy song, her ode to maple lives.
Frothing from her mother-bark's leaf
Is this sole drop, wet and golden and candy sweet.
How delicious for her to swallow all in her path,
To collect and drown their secret wrath...
Then forth she wanders, glassy and bubbling,
With stolen specks of silent troubling...
Frozen conspiracies and shadowed fights,
Arousing this nature's cast of caramel light.
The poor mass of humbled beings broken by her design,
Will illustrate the price of what's physically benign.
This maturing candy rock of once silent sweet flirt,
Will allow you to flavor those souls she had hurt.
poem by Masiela Lusha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Counting-Out Rhyme
Silver bark of beech, and sallow
Bark of yellow birch and yellow
Twig of willow.
Stripe of green in moosewood maple,
Colour seen in leaf of apple,
Bark of popple.
Wood of popple pale as moonbeam,
Wood of oak for yoke and barn-beam,
Wood of hornbeam.
Silver bark of beech, and hollow
Stem of elder, tall and yellow
Twig of willow.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No One Heard
A song was sung that no one heard.
The song was sung all through the town.
It played for days - from dust until dawn.
It greeted on the morning and midnight yawn.
A song was sung that no one heard.
The melody was sweet and words were strong.
The instruments were the piano and the gong.
No one heard, no they did not,
For to hear, you needed the purest heart.
The song was played in the land on man;
A song was sung that no one heard.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
poem by Leslie Alexis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To His Lady
(Who asked a Song in Spring)
WHY do you bid your poet sing,
Who has no mind to song--
Who only wants to see the Spring,
Long sought and tarrying long?
The shivering, dreary winter through
My song enshrined my vow;
If then my songs were sweet to you,
Let me be silent now!
Have I not duly sung, my dear,
Your goodness and your grace?
Now that your rival, Spring, is here,
O let me see her face!
The hedge is white with buds of May,
The fields are green with Spring,
Oh, give your bard a holiday:
He does not want to sing!
He wants to listen; all alone,
He wants to steal away
To hear the ring-doves' tender tone,
And what the thrushes say.
He wants to hear what can't be heard
When you and love are near--
The sweet Spring's soft and secret word;
Oh, let him go, my dear!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song Thats Sung..
A song that's sung
tells more than a story
a song that's sung
is sung from the heart
a song that's sung
is a story from the soul
a song that's sung
is the greatest love
a song that's sung
is a give from above
a song that's sung
is an emotion in a melody
a song that's sung
can be whatever you want it to be
a song that's sung
can have a million meanings
a song that's sung
is a diary of emotions...
poem by Emily Summers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Because We Are Loved
'...we come into being because we are loved and because we are meant to love others.'
Thomas Merton, Honorable Reader: Reflections on My Work
Deep inside
my silent room,
I gaze
at nothing,
as beyond the door
in trees glowing,
green and glistening,
birds sing, spring-
mad, mated,
passion-played!
The sun's rising
and cradling
Your risen
world,
I emerge.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Were the World Writ to a Song
Were the world writ to a song
Of what men and maidens would we sing
What legendary endeavours would we praise
The tales and tributes of days now past
What chords would they strike in the night
Ah the song and melody of the earth
Gentle stranger of the spirited mind
That which we have seen and that we know
Is not all of the truth but more besides
And life is there for the living
However the hardships come to weigh
No still the song is sung evermore
Still the world turns while night greets day
Men and maidens go about their business
Beginning and ending stories to be sung
Were the world writ to a song
How would we all be played out
And what verse would we leave in memory
But the song to our lives is our story
Were the world writ to a song
How would I be sung
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Maple Tree
The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
Bark ribb'd like corderoy in seamy screed
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers
And mossy round the stoven spread dark green
And blotched leaved orchis and the blue-bell flowers -
Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen.
I love to see them gemm'd with morning hours.
I love the lone green places where they be
And the sweet clothing of the Maple tree.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
So Good To Be Alive
A thing of beauty for all to behold
The capeweed in their lovely flowers of gold
And yellow blossoms covering the broom
It is a day of sunshine and of bloom,
Nesting birds chirp and sing on bush and tree
In the park of the old town by the sea
The chorus of the sweet voice of the Spring
And Nature's beauty an amazing thing
As beautiful as she has ever been
Mother Nature she looks stunning in her green
A high today of 22 degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and the breeze
Near prime of Spring and Summer on the way
And so good to be alive on such a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Song Of My Nation
i heard the song of my nation
in a foreign land it was played smoothely
i had sworn to remain in exile forever
but it was before i heard the song of my nation
i closed my eyes to listen
but imaginations took control
i saw my home, i felt the cry of my people
and i stood for my people, fought with them
it was the song of my nation that called my name
it questioned my love for my people
while the song played, i packed to leave
to find the path home, which was nolonger clear
it was the anthem, the anthem of my nation
it told of my perishing people
it whispered the cry of a widow and the widower
it screamed the agony of newly orphaned child
today iam finding my path home
i will use diplomacy, i may take the arms and fight
but today the song spoke to me, as the flag waved hopelessly
i will die a soldier, soldiering on for my people!
poem by Inomusa Ndlovu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's Just A Song (Lyric) :
You hear the sound of the song.
It's coming on real strong.
It gives you a sense of strength.
it filters through the air.
It lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It takes you out in space.
Closer to second base.
It follows through so cool.
The smoothest thing for you.
A sound that sounds so clear.
A sound you'll want to hear.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It sends you through the air.
A sound that makes you high.
It makes you feel so good.
A sound that always should.
Just lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song..
Song-Lyric-Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1989,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
See>>www.edwardspoetry.com
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Laddy The Protector
Bark, bark is what you would hear,
from Laddy the Sheltie who would bark off your ear.
He was the protector who wasn’t afraid,
he would make sure mother Jean was o.k.
He rescued her in the her swimming pool,
she fell in and he pulled on her robe so very smooth.
Photos of Laddy and Shieka my Pom-Shelty pup,
They both sat on chairs, sitting straight up.
They both played and played all day,
Shieka made Laddy happy when Jean passed away.
Now Laddy is with mother Jean,
I hope they are happy once again.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 20,2011
www.suechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Green Thicket
All in a green thicket I heard a bird sing,
And blithe though his song was it made the tears spring,
To hear a bird sing as he swung on his spray,
All in a green thicket at break of the day.
All in a green thicket his song it did pour
That told of the Springs that shall come nevermore,
That sang of sweet blossoms, now faded and dry,
All in a green thicket in Aprils gone by.
All in a green thicket that morning in Spring,
I smelt the sharp scent of each young growing thing,
I smelt the sweet herbage all drowned with the dew,
And the time that's gone from me was with me anew.
All in a green thicket at break of the day
It was like the dear voice of a friend far away,
It was like the kind touch of a hand that I know,
And the smile and the tears of dead Aprils ago,
All in a green thicket one morning in Spring,
For to smell the young woodland and hear the bird sing,
Oh, long did I loiter and dream by the way,
All in a green thicket at break of the day.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life's Song
How High do birds fly?
Do they not know?
That the blue of the sky,
Is only a mirage,
Do they not know?
That our lives are but dreams,
That Time, drowns in the streams,
Of Past, Present, and Gone,
When the Swan's song is sung,
And our short lives are done.
poem by Sandra Feldman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Laddy The Protector
Bark, bark is what you would hear,
from Laddy the Sheltie who would bark off your ear.
He was the protector who wasn't afraid,
he would make sure mother Jean was o.k.
He rescued her in the her swimming pool,
she fell in and he pulled on her robe so very smooth.
Photos of Laddy and Shieka my Pom-Shelty pup,
They both sat on chairs, sitting straight up.
They both played and played all day,
Shieka made Laddy happy when Jean passed away.
Now Laddy is with mother Jean,
I hope they are happy once again.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 20,2011
www.suechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
September's Brought The Spring
The golden whistler whistles on the gray gum tree
And lyrebird in good mood for mimicry
And magpie piping in the morning gray
And currawong tell rain not far away.
I love the hills of Sherbrooke in the Spring
When wattles bloom and all the free birds sing
The voice of yellow tailed black cockatoo
And spotted dove utter his mating coo.
The rhododendrons flushed with bright pink flowers
And the trees look greener after cool spring showers
September brings with it rich greenery
And nest building birds prepare for family.
Were I a bard born with the gift of rhyme
I'd write a song for Sherbrooke in Springtime
And I'd sing my song that some might wish to hear
Of Sherbrooke in September of the year.
The yellow robin singing in the wind and rain
And the sky turn bright and the sun shine out again
And in Sherbrooke woods the wild and free birds sing
And September's come and brought with it the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!