My little august bloom
My little august bloom
I will always love you
Even when I am feeling blue
Where ever you may be
I will be there next to you
I will always love you
My little august bloom
If you ever cry
I can see it in the sky
I will light a candle for you
My little august bloom
Every breath that I take
I take it just for you
I wish that I was there with you
My little august bloom
You will always be the light
That warms my coldest nights
You shine bright within my eyes
The only reason for my life
My little august bloom
I am so in love with you
Nick Kler
Related quotes
August....
August is the month for kids it’s the last few weeks of freedom before a new school year begins.
August is the month where many parents are excited that its here cause they don’t want their kids home alone.
August is the last month before fall begins.
August is the only month that has fewer holidays than most months.
August is the month where most teens are happy because it means that it’s the last school year for most.
August is the month that I really don’t care for but I also like as well.
poem by Natasha Ligons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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400 ~ Bloom
Just begins to bud,
a rose,
holding hopes and fears
behind
black-red, velvet-soft petals.
Startled by a bright, new world,
it opens,
revealing petals of humility.
Blushing, growing,
opening as it becomes
accustomed
to beauty in light.
Proud color spreads wide across,
full bloom,
not as dark as at first,
glowing
from light that has filled it.
This rose can never die.
As love,
It can lose color, wilt, fade,
but in the mind,
the rose
will forever be in bright, full bloom.
This rose stands a symbol,
to time.
What has occurred to arrive at
now?
All the bloomings have led to one bright bloom,
this rose.
As someone has made me bloom,
she is
beauty and
light. Changing
my colors, releasing
my fears,
I owe her much, love
will never die, like
the glowing bloom of this,
a rose.
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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August 7, 4: 15
J. bon jovi
It was another day
A perfect texas afternoon
A mother and two children play
The way they always do
As they raced home from the mailbox
A mother and her son
Against a little girl of 6 years old
The independant one
The deputies went door to door
Through all the neighborhood
They said I got some news to tell you folks
Im afraid it aint so good
Somehow something happened
Someone got away
Someone got the answers for what happened here today
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
Now the people from the papers and the local tv news
Tried to find the reason
Cop dogs sniffed around for clues
Someone shouted hit and run
The coroner cried foul
Her blue dress was what she wore
The day they laid her body down
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
I know tonight that theres an angel
Up on heavens highest hill
And no one there can hurt you baby
No one ever will
Somewhere someones conscience is like a burning bed
The flames are all around you
How you gonna sleep again
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can't it be August again?
Can't it be August again?
When the trees swayed
With the last breath of summer upon them
The way I laughed
Without a care in the world
Summer tans beginning to linger away
And soon disappear
Can't it be August again?
When these emotions didn't exist
And all I felt was happiness
None of this depression
No, none of these feelings
Can't it be August again?
Where junior year was right around the corner
And i had a license in my hand
And car was only coming out of my mouth
Not your name
Can't it be August again?
Where you didn't even exist in my world
poem by Frani Bell
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12th August
You are my august lady who visited me on the 12th of August,
And the abosolute proof of your love cannot be denied!
For you met what you wanted on this date.
She was as sweet as the apples and,
She motivated me to move on;
For she was like the wealth of a Nation.
Oh yes, the promised land was occupied by her love;
And she had enough from what she wanted.
From Winneba to Accra and from the realms of love,
For she was hoping for something great on this date!
And there it was with her nakedness on 12th August;
With no opinionated controversy like, a boat on the deep blue sea.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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When The Roses Bloom Again
When the roses bloom again,
I know that spring is here.
When the roses bloom again,
love will fill the air;
hearts will start to flutter
like a small bird on the wing.
Voices from the rooftops
will once again begin to sing.
When the roses bloom again,
to my loving arms you will come.
I will feel the warmth and tenderness
of your loving embrace.
When the roses bloom again,
everything will be as it always was.
The perfumes of a new day
will fill my world with love,
and all this will happen
when the roses bloom again.
26 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Into The Last Month Of Winter
Into the last month of Winter and the wattles cloaked in yellow flowers in bloom
And pink flowers on the camellias and yellow flowers on the broom
And all through the night the white backed magpies sing
On the third week of August coming up to the Spring
On the third week of August in the Southern Hemisphere
One does have a sense that Spring is quite near
The paddocks and parklands are looking quite green
And fragile pink flowers on the fruit trees are seen
Into the third week of August and birds sing in the rain
And all through the night frogs sing in pond and drain
And in the calm of the night in the parkland nearby
The breeding spur wing plovers in their territory cry
And all through the night on the moonlit gum trees
The songs of the magpies carry in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song Of August!
August tunes and replays
a tearful song from the heart
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
and monsoon droplets
resonate that heartfelt song
on the strings of August.......
August 2,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Love and Flowers
Love is like flowers,
that bud, blossom, bloom,
and sadly sometimes
fades and die.
Like flowers of the seasons,
that brings colours to our world.
Love has the same effect,
bringing sunshine o our lives.
Like the flowers that wither and die.
Love can sometimes wither
eventually to fade away,
but not always.
10 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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August Town
My August Lady in August Town,
Come and fill my soul with your love!
For your love is all that i need,
And i want you always on this love of mine!
Because it is now empty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Secret Love
Sometimes we keep our love a secret
never giving it a chance to bloom
viewing it from afar
in case too close it may hurt.
Sometimes we lose it
having never tasted the nectar
that we might have had within our grasp
if we had not kept it secret
of the yearning that we had.
Our secret love then becomes a memory,
the impossible dream of no reality
a distant ache in our heart
that never goes away.
7 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Long Ago
I’d like to speak of this memory…
but it’s so faded now…as though nothing is left—
because it was so long ago, in my early adolescent years.
A skin as though of jasmines…
that August evening— was it August?—
I can still just recall the eyes: blue, I think they were…
Ah yes, blue: a sapphire blue.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The Autumn Is Coming
The autumn is coming,
The August is charming,
But the rain often darkens the sky,
And I know, you certainly love me
As I once long ago loved you.
Why the yearning
Is burning inside you?
Why are you so sad when with me?
Why in August the dreams
Can't be sweet as in spring?
The rowan is reddish
But not for the anguish
Rain drops knock at the window today
What a pity that some grievances
Can't be forgotten by loving hearts.
Not in vain
The yearning is burning,
Not in vain you are sad when with me
As in August the dreams are not real,
They come true in the earliest spring.
The autumn is coming,
The August is charming,
But the rain often darkens the sky,
And I know, you certainly love me
As I once long ago loved you.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 28th of August,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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April Flower
Bloom for me,
My April flower.
Show your beauty,
I'll take a gander.
The wind scatters your scent
Giving me the feeling of heaven.
You're the perfection i've dreamt,
The one that i've chosen.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
And let me see,
Your petals that matches no other.
I know you're not mine
And you did not grew for me
I can only see you again this time
Unable to resist fate's cruelty.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
Though we're not destined to be,
Stay in my heart and take shelter.
In my heart, you will not wilt,
You will eternally bloom..
Even if i am burdened by this guilt,
and love is my certained doom.
Bloom for me for the last time,
At least i can call this moment mine
Ignore my reasons that doesn't rhyme,
Show me your beauty that i can't define.
Bloom..for all eternity..April Flower.
poem by John Paul Ang
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Today I Started Loving You Again
There was a time when
I thought that our love was failing.
Then you got ill and nearly died,
and I found out how a lonely life would be,
so today I started loving you again.
The sun in my life began to shine again,
the roses in our garden even started to bloom,
my life began to lift me higher,
and our home is a battleground no more,
for today, I started loving you again.
Never will I doubt our love again.
We have something so precious;
I would be a fool to let it go.
I now realise the consequences.
So today, I started loving you again.
6 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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A Day Without You
I missed you the other day...
...When the sky was blue-oh so blue-
Why the sun was out shining so bright-so very bright-
...And all i could think about was you;
Isn't it funny what love does to our hearts?
...Making us all giddy-so giddy and light-
Raising our spirits to the top-the very top-
...Making our world seem amazingly bright;
Wondering where you are on this day...
...A day where the sparrows sing-they sing so sweet-
Where the first flowers of Spring bloom-really bloom-
...Knowing having you here would make me complete;
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Holocaust Song (August 6th, '45.)
8-15 Tuesday morning
a burning flash dissolved the skies,
death reigned without warning...
August 6th, '45.
In a lightning crash of frozen moment,
thousands were incinerated and scourged alive;
firewinds flayed through paper houses...
August 6th, '45.
People cauterized to the melting earth,
their scalding blood, their flesh that fried:
they were the lucky ones...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who wrote shock on the human eye?
Who etched terror onto mankind's future
that August 6th, '45?
Across the warscape of that flattened city
women stumbled too numb to cry,
their skin pulped with boiling blisters...
August 6th, '45.
Lines of shuffling, staring figures
too stunned and sick to wonder why,
their faces shocked but past all panic...
August 6th, '45.
People peeled like red bananas,
those people lived but quickly died;
skin that hung like paper streamers...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who permitted genocide?
Who sanctioned that mad disaster
on August 6th, '45.
Lurching beings like lifeless corpses
silhouette an ashen sky;
they wandered, abject, without purpose...
August 6th, '45.
Whose pride murdered Nagasaki?
Whose decision prepared the lies?
Were they doomed or just unlucky
that August day, '45?
Escape's denied to all survivors,
cancers haunt them till the day they die.
And their heirs will curse the craven authors
of August 6th, '45.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Stuck In The August Rain
Brings jasmine tea on a painted tray
And bends to kiss my frown away.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
The covers on, the coast is clear.
Were all battened down, only us here.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the august rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.
Single-minded in my gloom.
I appear to revel in this darkened room.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the august rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Far Off
I should like to relate this memory ...
but it is so faded now ... scarecely anthing is left --
because it lies far off, in the years of my early manhood.
A skin as if made of jasmine ...
that night in August -- was it August? -- that night ...
I can just barely remember the eyes; they were, I think, blue ...
Ah yes, blue; a sapphire blue.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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