Summer's Here
The crackling of the fire,
The howl of the wind against my window,
The chirping birds in the night sky,
Makes me smile, happily,
But the death of the fire,
The wind just softly blowing,
And the silence of the birds in the night sky,
Makes me sad,
Because, winter is ending and summer is beginning.
poem by Sophie Shaw
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Related quotes
Why are you so troubled? [Ce te legeni?]
– "Why are you so troubled, forest?
There's no wind and there's no rain
Yet your branches are in pain".
– "Yes, I'm troubled, you know why?
'Cause my life is passing by
Days are shrinking, nights are growing
And my leaves are quickly falling.
Wind is blowing from the bay
Chasing singing birds away
Wind is blowing without fear
Summer's gone, winter is here.
How could I avoid to bow
When the birds are leaving now!
Over branches, in the sky
Swallow flocks are flying high
And I'm watching them go by
Knowing that my hope will die.
And are passing all the day
Darkening the airy way,
And like seconds they are flying
With their wings the wind defying.
In their wake, I remain numb
Whitered and a little dumb
Only with my own desire
Which is burning me like fire!"
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Favourite Sounds
Waves crashing against rocks
the rain on windows
birds chirping in the trees
leaves crunching underfoot.
Church bells in the distance
the crackling of a fire
a child's laughter
a loved ones voice.
Treading on snow
the purring of a cat
whistle of the wind
a favourite song.
The sound of silence.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Summer's Wind
You are the wind on a hot summer’s day
That cools off the air
Surrounding my body
You are the wind in my hair
As I walk down the street
You are the wind
That blows through my dreams
And awakens me to feelings
Of living and smiling
You are the wind
In which my hair rises
And my breath quickens
As my smile lifts
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the sun
In which I need
To stay warm
You are the moon
In which I need
To read at night
You are the sun
In which brightens the day
To show me the way
To your arms
You are the moon
In which I need
To see the starts
To gaze under
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the wind
That cools off the air
And helps so I can smile again
You are the wind
In which I feel
Your simple touch
Which makes me yield
You are the wind
In which I stop
And feel, calm, relaxed
And realize I am alive
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
That makes me realize
Life
Might just be
Ok
poem by Scarred Unknown
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Summer Breeze
See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light shining through the window
Lets me know that everything's alright
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, makes me feel it right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Oh sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
And when I come home from a hard day's work
And you're waiting there, yes you're waiting there
Without A care in the world
I see the smile awaiting in the kitchen
Food's cooking and a place there for two
I see the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through
Summer breeze, well it makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine
Blowing through my, making me feel right
Making me feel, making me feel fine
Makes me feel right
Blowing through the jasmine in my, blowing blowing(x5)
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ode on Winter
The Whispering wind blows beside me,
And the chirping birds softly sing their song,
The living leaves of Gaia no longer we see,
As winter has come and it seeks to live long.
The tunes of winter sung by wolves,
And its liveliness’ shown by fog,
The dance of winter preformed by ghouls,
Oh winter, thy shall now have thy own synagogue.
poem by Aditya Mudbhary
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A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire By Night, Smoke By Day
It's fire by night and smoke by day
As we lay in our beds just thinking away
We wake in the morning to do what they say
It's fire by night and it's smoke by day
The sun starts to rise and the birds start to sing
We worry about what to do, what to wear and what to bring
We make a to-do list filled with everything
Just like the summer, the winter, the fall and the spring
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
Our day carries on as we're stuck to the clock
A slave to the ways of the tic and the toc
We carry a key but there isn't a lock
Trying to discover what is already lost
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
Our thoughts start to wander as night settles in
Engaged in a fight we're not ready to win
As we wait for a new tomorrow to begin
The fire starts burning all over again
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
poem by Navillus Tam
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The Kiss I Left
i love you.....
words seem hollow
after so much time...
time lived together,
two souls wrapped in one spirit...
two hearts that cannot beat
without the other...
train wrecks, stars collide,
and yet the light remains...
and the dust of worlds destroyed
forms the beginning again and again...
who are you without me?
who am i without you?
night cannot be without day....
this fire returns from ashes....
the simple brush of hands,
eyes meeting whisper
the secrets of cosmos......
wind softly blowing the shutter closed,
yet the window is always open!
the kiss i left on your eyelids
as you slept.... the smile
your dreaming left on my longing....
small indentions in the pillow....
the first fire in the ancient cave
that remains after time has gone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
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Deeper Than The Night
(tom snow/johnny vastano)
I cant imagine why you say the things you do
Maybe in time Ill understand
What is the reason for the emptiness you feel
When Im trying everything I can
My love is running deeper than the night
Stronger than the north wind blowing
Its a fire burning bright
And its always been this way
Can you hear me?
Am I really coming thru?
Why do your eyes seem to dance away?
I know whats right for you havent I always?
I need you more than I can say
My love is running deeper than the night
Stronger than the north wind blowing
Its a fire burning bright
And its always been this way
My love is running deeper than the night
Stronger than the north wind blowing
Its a fire burning bright
And its always been this way
And Ill never ever change
In my lifetime, Ill stay the same
Yes Ill never, Ill never change
Ill love you, Ill stay the same
My love is running deeper than the night
Stronger than the north wind blowing
Fire burning bright, and it keeps on growing, keeps on growing
(repeats)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melusine
At my windows the night weeps -
The night is mute, the wind probably weeps,
The wind, like a lost child -
What is it that makes him weep so?
O poor Melusine!
Like fire her hair blows in the storm,
Like fire passing clouds, and laments -
There for you, you poor maiden,
My heart speaks a still night prayer!
O poor Melusine!
poem by Georg Trakl
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The Bless Of My Own Silence....
in this place
the first thing that i hear every morning
is the song of the birds
on top of trees
as they prepare to leave
after a night's sleep
as i open my window
and light is still young like some eyes blinking
i wonder
what are these birds up to
they do not build their nests here
they just come
spend a night and then leave and are back again
on the same hour of the same night
i try to ask more questions
that i myself have to answer
but then
something comes up within
the reasons do not really matter
it is their songs
the harmony with the wind
the joy of the trees
the bliss
of my own silence....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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THE BLISS OF MY OWN SILENCE (revised)
in this place
the first thing that i hear every morning
is the song of the birds
on top of trees
as they prepare to leave
after a night's sleep
as i open my window
and light is still young like some eyes blinking
i wonder
what are these birds up to?
they do not build their nests here
they just come
spend a night and then leave and are back again
on the same hour of the another night
i try to ask more questions
that i myself have to answer
but then
something comes up within
the reasons do not really matter
it is their songs
the harmony with the wind
the joy of the trees
the bliss
of my own silence....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind makes me just as Fire
The wind makes me feel-
finally free
The stronger it hits my skin-
the more vividly I see
The fire is inside of me
I go outside-
and touch the wind
Hearing cracks and licks-
as if being whipped
I raise my hands-
yearning so much freedom
My eyes shut
Not knowing what it is I've done-
I realize
Watching this fire in black darkness
And behind closed eyes-
I hear the whips-
and see the rage
Fire is angry
It wants just as much freedom as I
And there-
I understand
In a trance-
I watch this as if it were my child
This fire is my strength
Having all the courage and the power to break free
-yet-
My body refuses to let go
To let this 'thing' called strength take over
And this wind-
it shows me
It shows me what I keep
I keep my fire-
I keep my power
Wind makes me realize-
The strength that I keep is as strong as fire
poem by Monique Hillebrecht
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Desirable Fire?
Life is said to be filled with fire
It is the one that fuels every desire
To be on top of a high rise
To win at every price
As if breaking the rules becomes a behavior
A spark ignites a fire and breaks the barrier
We grow, we triumph and we inspire
It is fire in us that makes other perspire
Right from the genesis
Fire has been the basis
The fire from the sky
The fire the earth spurts by
Each and every time it's the fire that revives n destroys
Which makes the cardinal rule, only d toughest survive
Fire makes the dew, fire makes the ice
Fire makes everyone pay their due price
Fire is the end, it is the life
It beings and ends everybody's strive
poem by Blossom Mist
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The Wind is Blowing
The wind is blowing,
Blowing slow and fast on my skin,
Blowing fast and hard on his skin.
The wind is cold tonight,
Blowing scary in the woods,
Blowing swiftly throw the night.
The wind is warm today,
Blowing hard in town,
Blowing soft in the county.
The wind is cool,
Blowing all the time,
As they say,
The wind is blowing!
poem by Angela M. Maynard
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Wind of Autumn
Wind of Autumn
Wind of autumn
Fire of summer-
Sweet girl of sixteen
Autumn without chirping
Of cuckoo in life-
Does not mean
How can the poets
Construct poetry;
If autumn remain far
Fire of summer
Looks wanton eye;
Say what you desire
Autumn knows the youth
Rainy day cloud;
O! Love rose begin.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Important Birds
Important findings have been made,
Disorders are realised for the people.
Geese shall sound in the skies
To enlighten a few who listen.
Many times a day, the sounds of birds
Arrive and shake the disorder.
An albatross hurts me further,
An eagle has no home here, but further.
Let importance be the guide not the wind,
For wind is reluctant in the eyes of us.
The sky has abandoned the birds at night,
Or have the birds abandoned the night-sky?
Geese and swans are beautiful birds,
But where are all the seagulls?
poem by Naveed Akram
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God Have Pity (Roundel)
In the winter wind, death is at the window,
to the homeless its is very unkind
while its blowing blizzards of snow.
In the winter wind
it gathers whatever it can freezing find;
God have pity on them whom it blows,
even on animals that man has left behind,
when no humanity does somewhere glow,
when no bonds does men to each other bind
and unheard tears do only freezing flow
in the winter wind.
poem by Gert Strydom
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