Repressed
I could never decipher the
Unintelligible musical notes
Composed by an early spring
Which my garden sparrows
Decoded with effortless eloquence
I could never admire the blackness
Of clouds, or muse my soul
With blaring thunder beats
And dance with my thoughts spread
Into multi coloured feather spectrum
I could never follow my dreams
Or find its buoyant footprints
On the canvas of a special night
When my desires silently wandered
Into the patio of someone else’s eyes.
I could never respond with resolve
Or praise the challenging beauty of life
Never did I pine for moon light
Nor did I become a sunflower
And stared the mighty sun in its face
I could never render my heart
Abundant with strange emotions
By glorifying it’s grandiose
In an epic of vehement cantos
But I ended penning just an odd verse.
poem by Seema Aarella
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Prince Of The Sparrows
He was a Prince of the sparrows
Spreading his wings e'er so proud
Dauntless in his flight-yes daring...
At his best, when high in the clouds;
Functioning, yes indeed, functioning-
Far surpassing the Cardinals O' Spring-
He was a Prince of the sparrows
Such sweet Psalms, he would sing;
Climbing, climbing into the heavens...
Soaring into the Firmaments rest-
Yes, he was a Prince of sparrows
At last, he has found, his longed for NEST! ! ! !
December 31,2011
By, Theodora Onken
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Musical notes of life
The sun peeks through the horizon
In the wake of another day
As heart drums, breathe waves
Vibrations inside veins
Alert the soul;
Though and reason
Move notes of live within
Real self wrestled with the ideal
Arrange sounds of being in time
As inner peace champions the soul
Our life just plays on…
Like good music
Delight to the heart
Nice to the ears
Mind and soul struggle
To define time with vision
Dreams challenged with who we are
Conducts life musical bar
Yet, inharmonic each day unfolds
As hope give way to chaos
Unified or in disarray
The mind compose its play
Our actions write the lyric
Being in time make music
Music for life…
Performed to the audience
To the watching universe
To the world concert it shows
Composed in notes as each day goes
Existence in universe makes music
The sun rises every morning
Another day comes to be
It’s a new note musical key
Harmonized or in disarray
The mind composes its play
Musical notes of life…
poem by Fasika Ayalew
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Early in the Spring
Early in the spring
Not a leaf has struck the ground
The swallow has yet to sing
And the plowmen are no where to be found
Early in the spring
The forest stands still
And no creature dare come out
Before the sun rises o’er the hill
Early in the spring
The valley holds the morning dew
And its serenity may be captured
By only a certain few
Early in the spring
The trees turn, brown to green
Many changes occur
But few can be seen
Early in the spring
Or in the latter of fall
No matter the change of season
The evergreen stands tall
poem by James Kent
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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That Music Extraordinaire, Mozart
That music extraordinaire, Mozart,
Who from his tender days, played with desire
Musical from the bottom of his heart.
Sweet notes from his music he did impart
That captivated audience to admire
That music extraordinaire, Mozart,
Whose tones can set an emotion to start
With a charm to have their hearts raised on fire
Musical from the bottom of his heart.
With pleasant pace from his great style of art
Is such that shows he was such a live wire,
That music extraordinaire, Mozart,
Whose harmony when heard is nice and smart
Can cheerfully raise hearts to go much higher
Musical from the bottom of his heart.
Joy occurs from such wonders that does chart
In tremendous ways that truly inspire.
That music extraordinaire, Mozart,
Musical from the bottom of his heart.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Natural Rhythm
Looking at a meadow, a field of spring’s delight,
with insects fluttering and twittering in flight,
chirping thought the day and in to the twilight.
The butterflies flap an unkempt melody,
contrasted by the sharp humming of a bumblebee,
all balancing an earthly composed symphony.
Even the clouds cast lightning like a conductor,
followed by a seemingly catastrophic blunder,
a raucous rumbling blast of cacophonic thunder.
Now when I look out of my window,
I see the clouds casting a shadow,
upon those fields so open and fallow.
With their grass and flowers swaying in the breeze,
matching the rhythm of the leaves,
a musical rustling amongst the trees.
The whole world seems to mimic this mime,
all moving to and fro, always in time,
as if dancing to a melodic chime.
Maybe the world is not asleep,
and the patter of rain, that the clouds do weep,
is really the Earth’s rhythmical heartbeat.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Eating Fruits
Eating fruits,
Living well,
Going through life,
Seeing many things,
About your muse,
And about the muse of others;
But, this sweet muse of your love is composed with your mind!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Piercing Music
Piercing notes attached to the ears
Reside in the inner recesses of the mind;
Once a spectacular moment is heard
The roof of the house is like a garden.
It elaborates and instigates a trial
For the bitter head, a solution to your ease.
When music is so sudden we seem to recline
And take control over the notes so orchestrated.
Let the ears be conditioned to the essence of thought
Engendered by the music we so love and admire
Like the chiming of church bells to celebrate the Lord.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Colours And Sounds
The morning buzzes;
The thwack of a wet
Newspaper is an eye
Opener.
Six-A.M. Mahogany
With Apricot rising;
Garbage truck playing
Notes of a fatigued
Bass Viol...
And the chorus begins.
Early Morning Sounds:
The Sparrows hitting
High notes;
The clatter of junk mail...
Paper on aluminum;
Days bedazzled with
Mahogany-Apricot-
Azure-Mauve and
Butter Yellow;
Sounds of metal
And birds singing
Their morning-
Their daytime
Songs.
June 12,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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1 Among 50
A few out of many,
But it was 1 among 50 as the muse wrote;
And like a lovely garden with the muse of love,
But the rain comes to water us all in peace.
Do exactly what you have in mind,
And do what is nice to respect my love;
But it was 1 among 50 as the muse wrote,
For the joy of this garden is like living in paradise!
Obey my voice and obey my love,
And like the lovely songs of the birds around;
For this garden is all that we have,
But it was 1 among 50 as the muse wrote!
And the true peace of the mind always comes with love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emerson
I saw the bee!
But when i came around to your garden, it turned into a butterfly;
Yes, in the land of your muse where you have a beautiful garden.
For, true love brought me closer to you.
This is about the wonderful garden of your love! !
And of all the things planted in this garden;
But, your magical works tranformed this bee that i saw into a butterfly,
However, i will always like to visit this garden of love.
I am Emerson and, this bee that i saw attracted me to your beautiful garden;
And like the muse of true love in the land of beautiful flowers,
But, this magical touch will always be in my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A New Moon
Generals,
To pay back;
Kings,
Queens,
Super natural!
With black colours.
Folk,
Lions,
Monsters! !
At the block,
Of the attack,
On your mission,
With bad boys.
Blade, shade!
The police,
Like the muse of the underworld!
But, drink milk to gain energy.
Early come early go!
You want it there so,
It was put in there!
In a sound garden,
Jaguar, puma, lion, tiger, leopard!
Of a sound garden,
Easy come easy go!
Of a sound love,
But, being away for far too long.
In the twilight!
To be told many things,
Of the golden moment,
And, that's the way it is;
But, with a new moon.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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April
The roofs are shining from the rain,
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree --
I could not be so sure of spring
Save that it sings in me.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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After Rain
After Rain
The audacious sun finally showed up, and green
was the winter landscape. I also saw where the sun sets,
just behind the old carob oak, where the almond trees
first blossom. Soundly and snug under a carpet of wild
flowers the sun snoozes till dawn.
Over the easterly range, which is the first defense against
Spanish marauders and the rain on its plain, the clouds
were dark blue, perhaps more rain tomorrow?
In fading light musical notes danced down a phone line,
the first flirt of spring? And should it rain tomorrow,
I will not be downhearted this day will keep me warm for
a week or so.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Since in music we deal with notes, not words, with chords, with transitions, with color and expression, the musical meaning always based on those notes as written and nothing else - has to be divined.
quote by Claude Arrau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose In The Rose Garden
In a garden full of roses,
one is very special to me;
its fragrance holds
love’s seductive touch.
The bush from which it sprang
holds a warning plain to see,
you can admire the beauty,
but hands off don’t touch.
The garden belongs to someone else
and to trespass is a crime.
You can admire anytime,
just so long as you don’t touch.
30 July 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside the first spring rain is falling
Outside the first spring rain is falling
while it is still piercing winter
and there are flowers already blossoming,
sparrows singing cheerfully in a group,
rejoicing already about the magic that spring brings
and in my heart there is love that wants to flower for you,
a feeling that pierces the separation
and around me new life is emerging
and speedy I want to take you in my arms,
show you the beauty of my garden, the beauty of my love,
piercing the chilly cold,
bringing life to that which is still frozen.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Golden Daffodil's
Oh, what joy my eyes behold
To see such beauty there unfold,
And my heart with pleasure fills
When sun from ebbing winter days
Bring forth the Golden Daffodil's.
Lovely flower, majestic king
Who God awakes in early spring
So cloth'd in all your golden hue
No flower on the garden scene
Is as beautiful as you.
With silent voices and knodding heads
Gayly dancing in swirling beds
Your beauty in the garden spills,
And lifts the lonely hearts of all
Oh, Daffodil's, Oh, Daffodil's.
Dazzling in your sunny place
You fill the garden with poise and grace
Your smell is sweet, your color bold,
And for the often pensive mood
You are the flower to the soul.
All too soon under an early spring sky
Leaves will yellow, crumble and die
Sweet flower that we long to stay
Slips away in peaceful sleep
To stir our hearts another day.
By
Richard Netherland Cook
poem by Richard Netherland Cook
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Up in the sky
Up there in the sky
Birds fly so high
That man alone can never try
Reaching that far, even nigh
Toddlers do admire
Moving clouds in the sky
And deeply long and desire
To once fly and feel the sky
Young couples spend some time
Sharing notes on the sky’s beauty,
Its quietness, and uniqueness of its name
Thank God! He just made them so pretty
poem by Stain Katuli
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