Walk With the Wind 6
31
the wind goes around
circling the trees and bushes
this October noon
32
drooping leaves yellow
on to the ground of the night
winter slowly walks
33
as the wind blows
with its many hollow voices
- night goes to star fall
34
momentarily breeze
over my roof and windows
singing for winter
35
no longer living
the bouquets of yesterday
- dried for ornament
36
inside the forest
the silent goes lonely by
- single ruffling leaf
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Related quotes
Slowly Into Winter
the leaves slowly cascade down
to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
the wind blows them around
untill the cold freezes them to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
i return each year to find my leaf lying here
each spring it renews it's promise
this year i didn't wait! after the first spring storm
from its branch it was torn, it lied to me again
so this fall, before the free winds blew
i went to my tree and picked the loveliest leaf icould find
and kept it with mine
untill winter turned slowly to spring
poem by Francis E.rudy
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Still women love men
Wind in spring blows;
Petals wither.
Wind in summer blows;
Fruits fall down.
Wind in autumn blows;
Leaves are shed.
Wind in winter blows;
Barks get cracks.
Still trees love wind.
Still women love men.
27.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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Home Again In My Heart
One in a million in a lonely town,
Two hundred people trying to keep me down,
Ive taken all I can, I aint lookin back.
Small town boy in a back yard lot,
Cant make a living with the luck Ive got
Im gonna leave it all, I aint looking back.
Thats the way I remember, it seemed to me when I was young.
But I can still see the leaves slowly fall to the ground,
And the snow on the trees as the winter comes down.
Still I go home again in my heart.
My father worked hard on the railroad track;
37 years cut across his back,
He gave it all he had for what he believed.
Like every other kid that came before,
I grew up believing there was something more
And I still believe, I still believe.
Thats the way I remember, it seemed to me when I was young.
But I can still see the leaves slowly fall to the ground,
And the snow on the trees as the winter comes down.
Still I go home again in my heart.
But I can still see the lightning on a warm summer night
And the rain on the roof when I close my eyes;
I can still hear us laughing on the front porch in the dark.
There are days when I know that Ive traveled so far
That Ill never find the road leading back to the start,
Still I go home again in my heart
Still I go home again in my heart
In my heart, in my heart
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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Autumn's Grace
The autumn’s dream may keep its dying grace
With flecks and shades of bleeding leaves and yellow.
The cold wind's scorch may wither the green’s space,
When fruits of green a bit more need to mellow.
And autumn’s tear on every leaf perceives
The cold wind, which scorches green so cruelly,
Till glass fleck shade of bleeding yellow leaves
The living world to meet its ground so coolly.
And autumn’s red may silence the bird’s voice,
When shivers of the tree the rain embrace
And nature's hide, having no other choice.
The winter slowly comes showing her white face.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Late October In Ireland
The leaves from the trees are beginning to fall
And the caterpillar seeks a crack in the wall
The month of October is slipping away
And Winter comes closer with each passing day.
The garden flowers have disappeared from the lawn
And the salmon are moving up river to spawn
And the days getting shorter and the nights growing long
And the thrushes and finches no longer in song.
The rain fall in drizzle from sky gloomy gray
And cattle in wet pasture are bellowing for hay
And farmer depressed for the Winter he fear
And fodder quite scarce due to very wet year.
Hedgerows lose their colour as winds strip them bare
And Winter approaching 'the signs everywhere'
And grass growth almost ended and grass not so green
And wildflowers disappearing and few to be seen.
The wind blowing colder and the river in flood
And the water bank high flow the colour of mud
Late October in Ireland and Winter so near
And song birds grown silent and weather severe.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Winterlight
Winter-light
No one walks on the old road anymore, not even on a day
when almond trees are in bloom. Blue weed and thorny
bushes are shooting through, one day the road will be out
of sight. It leads to a ruin of a house, doors and windows
long since stolen, a door frame made of carved stone too;
half the roof has caved in. A vagabond lived in the ruin for
a time, till gruff voices told him to get lost. I saw him slowly
fade away, erased by shimmering winter light.
He must have walked long was found in a grotto, seeking
shelter from the rain. Three days dead, they said. No saintly
women came, cleansed and wrap his tired body in a shroud.
Funeral at five witnessed by a pale functionary of the state.
Church bells didn’t toll. No one walks on the old road
anymore, not since the bushes grew eagle’s talons and a boa
constrictor took abode in the ruin.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Wintertime
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please
poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
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Old Thoughts (Imagine: I'm aging)
- The winter wind blows through the cracks
Around an old window pane,
It mournfully howls a brooding tune
Flashing images of age into my brain.
Time walks on
Always at a steady pace,
Continuously spitting dirt
In humanities face.
The elderly forced to wear age
Worn and weary,
Towards the end
No longer in such a hurry.
For all who long enough live
Age shall wear old upon old,
Yet amazingly for so many
The soul refuses to grow cold.
- (more thoughts come in, with the wind)
I'm alone
And barely breathing
Ecclesiastes is the book
I prefer these days to be reading.
Quietly pondering and listening
I know time is winding down,
For increasingly, in the wind I hear drawing near
A far off inescapable sound.
Far too soon spring buds turn
Into fall's dried and dead leaves.
So short are the sweet summer birdsongs
Hence, south they have flown
Leaving behind empty, old and brittle trees.
So many May days
Have come and gone,
It all starts to sound
Like the same old melancholy song.
The falls not much changed
From the spring,
'Cept the lack of desire
To jump and sing.
Winter's chill draws closer than ever
And summer is far gone,
Cheap thrills no longer seem so clever
As days grow short, and nights long.
Yes 'old' is the way to say
We are running beyond
Our youthful days,
But, old shall take us step-by-step
To the end, of ourselves, and
To the end of all that is here wrong,
Slowly returning us from exile, back
To where we started, and
Have always belonged.
- Through this broken pane tonite
The wild wind yet blows,
Mysteriously whispering epic secrets
About age, life, and meaning.......
The outcome of which, we must trust
God alone fully knows.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Ancient Season
eastern wind blows kissing plants
feeling something new but memorable
it is a brand-new day and way
I have never met you but there is something memorable
I rethink what it is
I felt myself being in a long winter
someone said
When winter comes, something good would come along next
eastern wind blows me again
take all the things considered
watching all trees covered in pink
sitting under one of the trees
the wind comes provoking me into rethinking of what is going on
what must be spring
Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Winter Breeze
The winter breeze
Seems frigid to me.
As I sit in the park
All alone.
The limbs of the trees,
Don't sway or move
Along with the winter breeze...
The tire swing moves,
Occupant free...
While the leaf barren trees
Shiver in the winter breeze.
Even the most playful and darring children,
Wont be caught in the cold.
This winter breeze
Seems frigid to me....
I cant wait for spring....
poem by Ashley Wade
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Autumn (Tree)
The last leaf of summer falls
A tear of summer past.
Winter is coming, darkness calls.
Getting earlier, night arrives fast.
Insects no longer fly,
As frost starts to lie.
Coating the ground in blankets of white,
All bare the tree stands still in fright.
Through empty branches, the wind blasts,
The wood remembers summer last.
When all was green and not yellow,
When summer’s breeze kiss was mellow.
Only a few months, the tree must hold
For spring will make it bold.
With new leaves growing, new to old,
Summer arrives, arms to unfold.
poem by Ben Littlechild
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When the wind blows
When the wind blows in autumn
Falling leaves are the outcome
As the trees become lonesome
Naked without leaves
But with the believe
Again to become wholesome
When the wind blows in winter
It welcomes a chilling breeze
With it comes the familiar freeze
Everything becomes cheaper
Activities decrease, the only increase
Are the utility bills
When the wind blows in spring
Plants spring back to life
All natural life awakens and sings
With the honeybees buzzing and cheering
The wind begins to show signs of caring
For it is awaiting summer and preparing
Whilst gently airing
When the wind blows in summer
Its power is less fierce and dimmer
Like a beginner of a swimmer
The winds touch is a lot calmer
As it turns on its gentle charmer
Allowing us to get carried away
On the hot beaches as dreamers
To a winters wind
They say no, no, no
To a summers wind
They say blow, blow, blow
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Without Me
She is the wrath of silence
Terrible dark quiet
I slowly die
Can you hear the winter tears
Feel the lonely wind
I will wait as you watch
Executed in the night
Living like a dried river bed
Waiting for your fountain
I cuddle the cold
Writhe under moonlight
Shudder in your memory
I feel you in the shadows
I know you love me
You are alone without me
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Haunted In Old Japan
I
Music of the star-shine shimmering o’er the sea
Mirror me no longer in the dusk of memory:
Dim and white the rose-leaves drift along the shore
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
II
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Silent, silent voices, cry no more of home;
Soft beyond the cherry-trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large low moon.
III
We that loved in April, we that turned away
Laughing, ere the wood-dove crooned across the May,
Watch the withered rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
IV
We that saw the winter waste the weeping bower,
We that saw the young love perish like a flower,
We that saw the dark eyes deepening with tears,
Hear the vanished voices in the land beyond the years.
V
We that hurt the thing we loved; we that went astray,
We that in the darkness idly dreamed of day . . .
. . . Ah! The dreary rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
VI
Lonely starry faces, wonderful and white,
Yearning with a cry across the dim sweet night,
All our dreams are blown a-drift as flowers before a fan,
All our hearts are haunted in the heart of old Japan.
VII
Haunted, haunted, haunted; we that mocked and sinned
Hear the vanished voices wailing down the wind,
Watch the ruined rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
VIII
We, the sons of reason, we that chose to bride
Knowledge and rejected the Dream that we denied,
We that mocked the Holy Ghost and chose the Son of Man, [1]
Now must wander haunted in the heart of old Japan
IX
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the sound of falling tears,
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the yearning of the years;
Ah! the phantom rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
X
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Sobbing, sobbing voices, cry no more of home:
Soft beyond the cherry trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large, low moon.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Like the Spring Wind
Warm Spring wind,
Streaming past my vale in swirling crescendos
Past the grey skies of the barren Winter's sorrows
A refreshing breeze,
Roaring past heaving branches in this new season's panorama
From the sparkling seas,
New life merging with the clarion winds over swaying trees and hillocks
This symphony resounding in victory
O'er the bleak wastelands of Winter's dominion
May new love, like the Spring wind
Glide and melt this Winter's heart that reigns in my being
May her kiss forever free me from the bonds of yesterday's prison
Like the sun warming the cold earth
And her touch, like a breath of new life.
poem by Night Flyer
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