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The Bond of Star-gazing

Son, his father says,
why do you stare at the stars?
How can something millions
of miles away be of any use
to us?

Son, of what good is a nest-full
of blue-speckled birds’ eggs?
They won’t feed your children;
nobody will buy them.

Son, why do you plant
marigolds and zinnias
in furrows that could
be used for lettuce
and radishes?

Hummingbirds, butterflies,
wild ducks on the pond
over there: pretty, but we
have chores to do,
by the sweat of our brows.

****

One clear night, though,
walking out into the moonlit field,
the son saw a man standing
among the zinnias and marigolds,
looking upward:
Father, why do you stare at the stars?

poem by Sonny Rainshine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Garden In Chicago

In the mid-city, under an oiled sky,
I lay in a garden of such dusky green
It seemed the dregs of the imagination.
Hedged round by elegant spears of iron fence
My face became a moon to absent suns.
A low heat beat upon my reading face;
There rose no roses in that gritty place
But blue-gray lilacs hung their tassels out.
Hard zinnias and ugly marigolds
And one sweet statue of a child stood by.

A gutter of poetry flowed outside the yard,
Making me think I was a bird of prose;
For overhead, bagged in a golden cloud,
There hung the fatted souls of animals,
Wile at my eyes bright dots of butterflies
Turned off and on like distant neon signs.

Assuming that this garden still exists,
One ancient lady patrols the zinnias
(She looks like George Washington crossing the Delaware),
The janitor wanders to the iron rail,
The traffic mounts bombastically out there,
And across the street in a pitch-black bar
With midnight mirrors, the professional
Takes her first whiskey of the afternoon--

Ah! It is like a breath of country air.

poem by Karl Shapiro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sky

I look at the sky,
To daydream about us,
Your eyes looking at me from above,
The stars are bright like a light,
Your eyes are holding up the sky,
At night I think of you,
Sometimes I wonder where I want to go in life,
But I know that you love me,
I thought that I would be broken hearted forever,
But I know that you are the one that makes me smile,
As I glare and stare into the sky I wonder what are you thinking,
Sometimes I wonder how the sky is pretty and blue,
At night I make a wish,
Just one wish to be with you,
The sky might fall,
But I hope you are there to hold me,
When I fall I hope you’ll be there to catch me,
The sky is pretty when its at night when you just stare and hope to get a kiss under the stars.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Twinkling stars

Twinkling stars
Twinkling stars are always inspiring for me.
They are watching me in the nights
as my father did.
I find the image of my father in these stars.
Today my father is away from me like stars.
So when I miss my father
I always recall stars in the nights.
They provide some satisfaction
& relief from my grief.

poem by Vijay Gupta
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Traditional Panorama

cows spotted thick
skins grazing on the green
field with golden rays of
sunshine
early morning
birds flying hovering
on tree branches

fences, and boundaries
cottage of a farmer
blue clouds now starting
to hover in place

a girl singing butterflies
mother milking the cows
and father beginning
to plow the corn field

no plane above the skies
no rockets

at night some meteors
fall,
wishing stars and
zodiac escapades
from the numbing routine
of traditions

no one escapes
the panorama is closed and
strict
the characters are born
marry, beget children,
and then they die
and get buried

years and years
leaves fall, there are no questions.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Father’s Son

Once
when I was still a baby boy
obsessed, thrilled with dark night sky
father said, shut your eyes tightly
then sailed I into dark night sky
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.

But

i fell like lead
just before hard ground
to my father’s arms- veinated, calloused
his chirped nails safely grabbed
then
i opened my eyes
stretching my empty arms, pink nails
for a earnest glimpse of
a dip of deep, dark-blue velvety
golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatched twinkling stars.

and I felt sad.

Then-

father buried his head on my nape
his grizzly beard tickling my face
making little ‘blurp’ ‘blurp’ sounds
my shrill laughter
accosting his deep throaty laughter
echoing my disappointment into dark night sky
before sailing me into dark night sky
back to his rough-gentle arms
again
again
and again
to dip in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpate golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.

“Drink all Ma’s omena* soup
to be taller, reach the dark night sky”
father said, following my gaze
into the dark night sky
static radio bleating reggae
golden full moon bathing us in golden sheen
just me and my father
sleeping in his rough-gentle arms
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars

poem by Manuel Odeny
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The Game of Stare

There’s a boy with his fellow
I caught his eyes with a wander
Now the game has been played
Now you have been challenged
You better asked my name
Before anyone came
But you only stare, stare, stare
Like I annoy your safety ring
Like you can’t even think
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I lose you something
Something you can’t even win

There’s boy in the dance floor
I catch his eyes, he comes closer
Now the game is replayed
Now you better watch out
You better take me out
Before someone calls you coward
Cause you only stare, stare, stare
Like you never see me in dress
Like no one else who dares
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I steal you something
Something you can’t even think

There’s a boy in the park
He makes me catch his eyes
Now the game is forward
Now you don’t want to break up
You better have a word
Before you loose your hold
And you only stare, stare, stare
Like a puppy wants a bone
Like you’ll be lost if I’m gone
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I can give you something
Something you think you can’t win

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Father Of Night

Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose

Here sit thou down upon this flow’ry bank,
And make a garland for thy Lacy’s head.
These pinks, these roses, and these violets,
These blushing gilliflowers, these marigolds,
The fair embroidery of his coronet,
Carry not half such beauty in their cheeks,
As the sweet countenance of my Lacy doth.
O my most unkind father! O my stars,
Why lower’d you so at my nativity,
To make me love, yet live robb’d of my love?
Here as a thief am I imprisoned
For my dear Lacy’s sake within those walls,
Which by my father’s cost were builded up
For better purposes. Here must I languish
For him that doth as much lament, I know,
Mine absence, as for him I pine in woe.

poem by Thomas Dekker
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Grace

This air is flooded with her. I am a boy again, and my mother
and I lie on wet grass, laughing. She startles, turns to
marigolds at my side, saying beautiful, and I can see the red
there is in them.

When she would fall into her thoughts, we'd look for what
distracted her from us.

My mother's gone again as suddenly as ever and, seven months
after the funeral, I go dancing. I am becoming grateful.
Breathing, thinking, marigolds.

poem by Forrest Hamer
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River

It's hard to see that
Hard to believe that I once was all on my own, ohhh yeah
'Cause You've been faithful,
And I'm so grateful that you never left me alone
(But it's so good to know)
To know that You are with me all of the time
(You'll never let me go) 'cause I am walking with You to stay alive
Chorus:
When the mountains fall
And the stars collide
I know You'll be there
Standing by my side, oh-oh-oh
When the river runs
Overflows the seas
I know You'll be there
And You will still be lovin' me
Some try to tell me
That there's another something
That fulfils like You do, ohhh
But I'm not leaving
There's nothing out there
Not a thing more precious than You
(I have no need to fear)
My Father watches over me night and day, yes he does
(My choice is very clear)
I'm so delighted to be walking Your way
Chorus
Bridge:
Never have to worry
I'll never have to fear
'Cause You are always near, taking good care of me
I'll never have to worry
I'll never have to fear
'Cause You are always near, and You will still be lovin' me
Chorus (5x

song performed by by Out Of Eden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

poem by William Henry Davies
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Father

Father, blessed father,
Its morning again.
I give you, father, myself, father,
Continue your plan.
I know together we can climb mountains in the sky.
No one can stop us when Im standing by your side.
Troubles knocking here again;
Ill tell him jesus has me by his hand.
Hell walk me through.
Father, loving father,
Create in me
A pure love, father, your love, father,
Instill it in me.
I remember the nights Ive cried for you;
Now I only have to die for you;
Thank you, lord, youve made it clear just for me.
I see the light;
Its burning out the night.
Oh, father,
Its morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterflies

Eyes aloft, over dangerous places,
The children follow the butterflies,
And, in the sweat of their upturned faces,
Slash with a net at the empty skies.

So it goes they fall amid brambles,
And sting their toes on the nettle-tops,
Till, after a thousand scratches and scrambles,
They wipe their brows and the hunting stops.

Then to quiet them comes their father
And stills the riot of pain and grief,
Saying, "Little ones, go and gather
Out of my garden a cabbage-leaf.

"You will find on it whorls and clots of
Dull grey eggs that, properly fed,
Turn, by way of the worm, to lots of
Glorious butterflies raised from the dead." . . .

"Heaven is beautiful, Earth is ugly,"
The three-dimensioned preacher saith;
So we must not look where the snail and the slug lie
For Psyche's birth. . . . And that is our death!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Symbols

I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower:
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at evensong.

I watched a nest from day to day,
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:
But when they should have hatched in May,
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired, and flew away.

Then in my wrath I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair:
I would have vengeance now.

But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again:
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just? And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Blue Tit's Nest

Some childhood memories with us seem to linger
And I recall when I was nine or so
Of seeing blue tit fly from hole in standing tree stump
One April day more than forty years ago.

I stood on tip toes and tried to look inside the tree stump
But all seemed dark in there I needed light
I hurried back home for to fetch a flash lamp
And what I saw a memorable sight.

A little nest of moss and hay and lined with feathers
And nine pale eggs with freckles brown to red
Laid by the little bird with yellow unders
Blue wings and tail and tiny blue cap on head.

I marvelled at this wondrous sight of Nature
How one small bird so many eggs could lay
The memory all those years has remained with me
And I still can picture what I see today.

I still can picture forty five years later
Nine speckled eggs in nest of moss and hay
Some things from childhood always remain with us
And from the memory never fade away.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Goat Hill

Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son

poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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The Recorded Message

Hello, I’m standing here looking up into the clear moonlit sky
a bright star stands out above the rest and I don’t know why.
Several times I’ve looked away and tried to focus elsewhere,
but each time my eyes return to this stunning heavenly glare.

Without warning all the stars have vanished except for this one,
I’ve rubbed my eyes in disbelief, but yes they have definitely gone.
Even the moon has disappeared from its place high in the sky,
but the brightness hasn’t altered and still I don’t know why.

This star seems to be zooming in and changing the night to day,
but it isn’t a normal daylight seen in the usual kind of way.
All the edges of this light are tinged with yellow and blue,
and to focus my eyes properly is very hard to do.

I’m so overwhelmed I’ve fallen backwards onto the ground
I feel foolish and embarrassed, and look quickly all around.
But there’s no one to be seen; where has everyone gone
there’s no one here to share with me what is going on.

This is beyond understanding, only a few moments a go
people were all around me busily walking to and fro.
I put my hands on to the ground to get up, but they’re not there
everything is disappearing into the yellow and blue tinged glare.

poem by Orlando Belo
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No feather from Woeperdal

No feather from Woeperdal,
no fox’s hair that falls somewhere,
no African marigolds in the spring sun
urge me to be as much in love
as you can.

I’ll rather write to you about flowers
and the curves of your body,
than putting African marigolds in a posy
and mocking other poets.

White, yellow, crimson and any flower’s
colour and smell let me be wordless
and petals leave on leave is nothing
to you coming to my garden
and matchless you are there.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Bond of Star-gazing

Related quotes

A Garden In Chicago

The Sky

Twinkling stars

Traditional Panorama

My Father’s Son

The Game of Stare

Father Of Night

Stars On The Water

Rose

Grace

River

Leisure

Father

Stars On The Water

Butterflies

Symbols

The Blue Tit's Nest

Goat Hill

The Recorded Message

No feather from Woeperdal

En.Citatepedia®.ro

The Bond of Star-gazing

Related quotes

A Garden In Chicago

The Sky

Twinkling stars

Traditional Panorama

My Father’s Son

The Game of Stare

Father Of Night

Stars On The Water

Rose

Grace

River

Leisure

Father

Stars On The Water

Butterflies

Symbols

The Blue Tit's Nest

Goat Hill

The Recorded Message

No feather from Woeperdal

En.Citatepedia^®.ro