Related quotes: November bomb-fires refuse to take...

Sestina - Cycling

November bomb-fires refuse to take light
Like sultry splutters of a lazy passion.
And drowsy hedgehogs under dead, damp wood
Dream snail’s trail filaments of kiss and touch.
Autumnal sodden leaves, leave underfoot,
A worn, discarded carpet once so lush.

Cold winter heart of mornings, sunlight lush,
Spangle frosts on bare branches and delight
In shining grass blades crunching underfoot.
Invade my sleepy heart, excite my passion.
I yearn for kisses, search for trembling touch.
Tentatively snap dead-wood’s bitter wood.

Rising greenly, sap springs through new wood,
Feeding fresh leaf, nourishing bud till lush
Summer arrives. Await the radiant touch!
Anticipate! The sun’s young rays spread light,
Tempting seeds of lust to swell in passion,
Crushing memories which echo underfoot.

Wise warnings thud above whilst underfoot
The thundering tramplings of the wild, wild wood
Call out. “Unleash your thwarted passion.
Drink in the nectar of life’s root, the lush
Intoxicating spirit that sets light
Your body with the need for urgent touch.

Laden boughs bend overhead to touch
A verdant rug of green laid underfoot.
Sky brightness winks and blinks. The broken light
Peeps through. Charcoal dark, my cleft heart of wood
Remnant of fire, lies guarded in the lush
Cutting blades of grass that hide my passion.

Leaves scuttle, dry husks rush round with passion
Press-ganged by the wind. Gems dyed by the touch
Of death in glowing hues. Fruit full and lush
With wasps, reaping juice fallen underfoot.
For good, my soul is yearly marked like wood
Rings revealing all, sealed away from light.

Envoi

Can passion trampled underfoot spring up
Again? Can touch revive the flame in wood
Snuffed by lush, lush rain? Can kisses make light?

poem by Janet Budd
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Related quotes

Through The Wood

THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.

Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?

Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Lush Life

[Chorus]
Lush life
Takes away the time
Lush life
Takes away the time
Take one step at a time
Boy I'm still in my prime
I want the lush life

A little base is what I want
Need a finer place to do my thang
I want no boys holding me back
Coz once I get there

song performed by by Sugababes from One Touch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rachel(this girl)

Rachel(this girl)
please dont leave me
your like a potato
i need to put you in the fridge
you atre too hot you burn my heart
please dont leave me

you like a passion fruit
because you have passion
you must be god
because you send me to heaven(because of your passion like a passion fruit)

when we touch
i can feel PASSION
like when i touch a passion fruit
electricity sparks between us
like when you get an electric shock(but one that doesnt hurt)

poem by RebeCCA Black
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Your Own Disater

Just think of this and me,
as just a few of the many things,
to lie around and clutter up your shelves
I wish you wern't worht the wait
cos theres somthing id like to say to you
and i dont think that you knwo what you've been missing
and i dont think that you knwow hat you've been missing
and i dare you to forget
the marks oyu left across my neck
from those nights when we were both at our best
and now i could make this obvious
and you, you could deny me
all in one breath you could shug mr off your shoulders
cos i dont think that you know what oyuve been missing
and i dont hitnk that you knwo what you've been missing
cos i dont think that you,
i said i dont think that you know
cos i dont think that you know what youve been missing
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
hey lush have fun
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
hey lush have fun
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
(oh i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
(oh i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
its the weekend
(forget me, its that simple)
(no i dont think that you know what you've been missing)
hey lush, have fun
(forget me, its that simple)
forget me its that simple
forget me its that simple
forget me, its that simple
forget me, its that simple
no i dont think that you know what youve been missing)
forget me, its that simple
forget me, its that simple
forget me, its that simple
forget me, its that simple
just forget me , its that simple

song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is My Passion

Where is my passion
Far too much pain

Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?

Where is my passion
I need must know

Where is my passion
I want so much to grow

Where is my passion
Lost in your lips

Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss

Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes

Where is my passion
Release me to fly

Where is my passion
There in your hands

Where is my passion
Touch me…expand

Where is my passion
Please…be a man

poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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The things I love with a passion

I rock and roll with passion
I talk out my soul with a passion

I eat good food with passion
I defeat bad mood with a passion

I sleep well with passion
I weep hell with a passion

I dream endlessly with passion
I gleam ceaselessly with a passion

I aim for money with passion
I do the same for honey with a passion

I listen carefully with passion
I glisten dutifully with a passion

I search for fame with passion
I research to blame with a passion

I walk everyday with passion
I talk and play with a passion

I embrace life with passion
I face nightlife with a passion

I laugh out with passion
I chaffe about with a passion

I cook with others with passion
I look at mothers with a passion

I touch gently with passion
I clutch tightly with a passion

I work hard with a passion
I rock mad with a passion

I gear up goals with passion
I stir up roles with a passion

I make friends with passion
I take weekends with a passion

I love kissing with passion
I love teasing with a passion

I make love with passion
I take from above with a passion

If push comes to shove
Label me old fashioned
For these are things I caption
In life with all my passion

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Summer

Here comes the happy season, the gay and gaudy comer
Is there more a gentle thing than soft wind in summer?
What is more soothing than the bee's pretty hummer?
The endless dark vaults of summer night glamour

Look the happy butterfly stays one moment at the gate of open flower
While the busy bee buzzes cheerfully from bower to bower
At a solitary forest wood rests in full glory and tranquil, a musk rose blowing
Hidden in lush greenery shy and secretive far from human knowing

Regard the healthy myrtle in the lap of dales
Where secluded nest is built by the melodious nightingales
And the Cornelia bursting countenance
Yields such a scenery for high passion romance

Bring your love to these summer pathless forest wood
All lovers quarrels and rifts will be vanish, and in truth understood

(2010)

poem by Isaac Ziv
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Lush Green Dew - Duncan Wyllie & Ernestine Northover

The lush green dew that rises.
The mist that covers the lawn.
Droplets of water declare.
Dancers that rise in the morn
swirling. The patterns escape
dreamily into the air.
Oceans of clouds hanging, drape,
having not one single care.
Sun rising o’er the garden,
filling each dewdropp with light.
No heart could ever harden
to this beauty in our sight,
of lush green dew that rises.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Your Own Disaster

Just think of this and me
as just a few of many things
to lie around
to clutter up your shelves
And I wish you weren't worth the wait
because there's some thing's
I'd like to say to you...
I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
Cuz I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
I dare you to forget
those marks you left
across my neck
from those nights when we were both
found at our best
I could make this obvious,
and in one breath
you could shrug me off
your shoulders...
I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
Cuz I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
Hey, lush, have fun
It's the weekend
Hey, lush, have fun
Hey, lush, have fun
It's the weekend
Hey, lush, have fun
I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
I don't think that
you know what
you've been missing
Just forget me
it's that simple
Just forget me
it's that simple

song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Me Home

just like a sinner far from zion
i'm far away from where i can rest
i care how i can fight this lion
with spear of wood not even iron
a friend is lynched and a lover is gone
jungle is hard even after all i've done
my heart please take me home
every predator here has a rival
every prey has a thousand predators
with the tigers how do the dear get survival
after the fire how do the grass make revival
to live with vitality so lush and green
it's not a life none that i've ever seen
my heart please take me home

poem by Ray Anyasi
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood

In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.

In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.

In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Plastic Passion

Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion

song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Variations on a Theme by Joyce

The war is in words and the wood is the world
That turns beneath our rootless feet;
the vines that reach, alive and snarled,
Across the path where the sand is swirled,
Twist in the night. The light lies flat.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.

The rain is ruin and our ruin rides
The swiftest winds; the wood is whorled
And turned and smoothed by the turning tides.
--There is rain in the woods, slow rain that breeds
The war in the words. The wood is the world.
This rain is ruin and our ruin rides.

The war is in words and the wood is the world,
Sourceless and seized and forever filled
With green vine twisting on wood more gnarled
Than dead men's hands. The vines are curled
Around these branches, crushed and killed.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.

poem by Weldon Kees
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With Some Passion That Touches Me

Try my love song from the heart inside
Let it touch here through its going
Feel the gathering of its truest glide
As it is willingly and knowing
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me

Let the beauty from within come right here
Through the deep of the dark night
With its flowing and its limits to share
Till all its touches become alright
In the end of its limitless deep
Of the hours from down dark under
With its dances and beats to keep
As we drift though the waves asunder
With some passion that touches freely
With some passion that touches freely

I might be in heart feeling lonely
Though I had my luck in its try
You are touching my soul here and only
Filling moments with each their try
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Within the woodlands for M'lady Lucianne

Glosa

Within the woodlands flowery gladed
Beside the oak trees mossy moot
The shining grass blades timber shaded
Now do quiver underfoot.

William Barnes

Within the woodlands flowery gladed.
A lover and his lass embrace.
She was not to be persuaded
this was the time nor yet the place.

Beside the oak trees mossy moot
he begged and pleaded but in vain
she rejected his urgent suit
Her maidenhead she would retain

The shining grass blades timber shaded
Would not become her marriage bed.
Her maidenhood would not be traded
for all the words of love he said.

Now do quiver underfoot
all of his planned seduction schemes,
to him she was forbidden fruit
The subject of his fevered dreams.

11-Aug-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Magic Meadows (Somewhere In Fantsayland)

In soft green magic
meadows
Quiet, lush, and serene,
Pattern a beautiful carpet,
Near a peaceful water
stream.

There will be little houses,
Standing in a row,
Around the houses, planted
lots of mistletoe.

Heathers lite the passion,
Between their world and
mine,
Planting lots of fruit trees,
So our fairy friends can dine.

Roses, Pansies, and Tulips
have lovely heads,
Fairies use the Tulips, for the
baby beds.

Bees, Butterflies, and Birds,
flying everywhere,
The sweet smell of Roses,
Perfume fills the air.

If I were a fairy, in that fairy
land,
I'd live in green lush meadows,
There I'd find my fairy man.

poem by Heather Burns
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Only Love Would Know

Does the light of passion still burn bright
Only love would know, my imagination
Tells me Im a pent-up fool
In the deep end of the pool
Is the light of passion burnin bright
Only love would know, only love would know
She lives on the other side, you wanna know the reason why
She arrives at promises and you believe in what she says
Everywhere you go
Is the light of passion burnin bright
Everywhere you go, only love would know
You think youve been wronged again
Oh what a way to treat a friend
She belongs to other eyes and surely you must realize
She aint the kind who would soon step aside
Pay any dues at the expense of her pride
Everywhere she goes, only love would know
In the days gone by I came to believe
Everything is trust, all the rest is dust
Mother nature, mother dear, listen to us over here
Are the sounds of laughter ringing true
Only love would know, only love would do
She lives on another plane away from the drivin rain
She says no, you say yes, and thats how it should be I guess
Only love would know
May the light of love surround you tonight
Everywhere you go, only love would know
You think you were wrong until
You learned once and for all its still
Once more lesson on the way
Or that is what it seemed to say
Shes not the kind who would soon step down
Not the kind you would try to walk around
When only a thought would go very well
You can tell by the touch
Ah but only love would know
Passion burnin bright
Tears of passion late at night
Is the light of passion burning bright
Everywhereyou go, only love would know

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to passion

I say, too much passion in us poets,
like a touch of a thousand
saccharine taste invading our veins,
we cannot restrain, we
cannot condemned the only reason for our being,
passion is what keeps us breathing,
passion can make us see it all
different than others,
not to cease, not to die
or give-up, passion grows in our soul,
it reminds us it is there
every minute of our day,
when we need to count the hours
to get to him/her.
Passion is the sedactive to our worst day.
The essential of reason,
the way to a path,
to rivers and streams that find our dreams,
passion is a vessel making a net
reaching our heart our souls
keeping the beat louder and quieter in waves
frequencies, passion is vigor,
is a sparkle in our heart that continually
beats violently and has no outcome.
Passion is un 'Corazon salvaje'.

poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Brave Passion

Brave passion whose fire
is quenched by another’s reason.
The journey to the light of love
is consumed with agendas.
Other paths and presentations
dim and darken the way.
He’s angry who does not
find an easy path to joy
chance might place
within an easy grasp
one whom she can persuade.
Knowing pain and pleasure
at passion’s passing.
Thy love is a binding treat,
It is as wiley as a wood nymphs
path one attempts its capture.
For more than a span of time
Beings run wild to attain it
Kisses grown cold from lack of use
Heat quickly when love’s embrace
lights the embers of desire.
Brave passion thee are not
forgotten only left to glide
In space between duty and desire.
For the span of day let passion reign
and reason chase duty to the edge
of reason’s blessed disaster.

poem by Sandra LampeMartin
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The May Flower Tree

I was walking lone there,
Where we once had been.
I sought the house we lived in,
In the lush lush green.
Perhaps inmates out, I thought,
As none I could see.
She has been haunting ever,
Where's May Flower Tree?
Looked around and discovered,
Ah! she lost her grace!
Hugged her with my eager hands,
Alone at that place.
Touched her old bark earnestly,
Felt the touch of past.
Childhood cried in deep deep pain,
Days crept in we passed.
Suddenly the tree turned green,
The Sun shone brightly.
I saw the May Flower Tree,
An emblem of Infancy!

poem by Nilakshi Das
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