Nathan La Franeer
I hired a coach to take me from confusion to the plane
And though we shared a common space I know Ill never meet again
The driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear-view mirror
I read his name and it was plainly written nathan la franeer
I asked him would he hurry
But we crawled the canyons slowly
Thru the buyers and the sellers
Thru the burglar bells and the wishing wells
With gangs and girly shows
The ghostly garden grows
The cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day
I looked thru window-glass at streets and nathan grumbled at the grey
I saw an aging cripple selling superman balloons
The city grated thru chrome-plate
The clock struck slowly half-past-noon
Thru the tunnel tiled and turning
Into daylight once again I am escaping
Once again goodbye
To symphonies and dirty trees
With parks and plastic clothes
The ghostly garden grows
He asked me for a dollar more
He cursed me to my face
He hated everyone who paid to ride
And share his common space
I picked my bags up from the curb
And stumbled to the door
Another man reached out his hand
Another hand reached out for more
And I filled it full of silver
And I left the fingers counting
And the sky goes on forever
Without meter maids and peace parades
You feed it all your woes
The ghostly garden grows
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Where the passion flower grows
Lay down on your pillow
and turn the lights down low
let me take you to the garden
where the passion flower grows
Close your eyes and enter dreams
as love's emotion sets the scene
and flitters through the garden
where the passion flower grows
Touch the tender petals
of the flower as she grows
a tentative endeavour
as your feelings overflow
Let me draw you to the place
where ecstasy can be embraced
the beauty of the garden
where the passion flower grows
Feel your mind exploding
in the heavy scented air
experience the shiver
as your captured unaware
A little touch of heaven
where imagination flows
the valley in the garden
where the passion flower grows.
poem by Charles M. Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghostly Man
Ghostly man
Look at my Life
I can see thru and thru
Ghostly man
You're alot like me...
And you...
Pale grey heart
full of wisps of love
Oh, Ghostly man
What reason do...
Pale in sight
Hollow, Hollow, vision
Do you haunt my way
Ghostly man
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wildflowers
The hills were alive with wildflowers
And I was as wild, even wilder than they
For at least I could run, they just died in the sun
And I refused to just wither in place
Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing not where Id go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew
Were content to be lost in the crowd
They were common and close, I had no room for growth
I wanted so much to branch out
I uprooted myself from home ground and left
Took my dreams and I took to the road
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right
In a garden so different from me
I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone
So the garden, one day, set me free
Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend
I just let him decide where wed go
When a flower grows wild, it can always survive
Wildflowers dont care where they grow
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden Of Peace
Written by dewey bunnel and gerry beckley, 1994
Found on hourglass.
I look inside at the scarlet room
Places to hide in the dusty gloom
A noisy clock and a silver spoon
A china cup on the mantlepiece
Gathering dust as it did in the east
And just outside lies the garden of peace
Oh, tell me is this really true
Can it be, peace has come to me and you
Tell me over, over and over
Tell me is this really happening
Inside this world its beautiful
Peace in this garden has come true
A mirror pond reflects the dawn
Over the banks, cross the emerald lawn
A breeze has come and Im carried along
So follow the path through the knowing trees
And each time you laugh, it is love you release
That love will come back in the garden of peace
So, tell me is this really true
Can it be, peace has come to me and you
Tell me over, over and over
Tell me is this really happening
Inside this world its beautiful
Peace in the garden has come true
Oh, tell me is this really true
Can it be, peace has come to me and you
Tell me over, over and over
Tell me is this really happening
Inside this world its beautiful
Peace in the garden has come true ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quite Naturally for M 'lady Tai Chi Italy
My garden is a wilderness.
Devoid of all formality
but full of beauty nonetheless.
There everything grows naturally.
Self seeded plants grow where they please
with trees and shrubs placed randomly.
A haunt of butterflies and bees
and fairies too quite probably.
I do not choose to interfere
with what nature decides to do
She knows what plants will flourish here
but always subject to review.
She is a master gardener
superior to any man.
It is entirely up to her
to carry out her master plan.
There’s nothing that I need to do.
Nature supplies the maintenance.
As seasons change so does the view.
Always kept in perfect balance.
The only thing which I supply
are garden seats of weathered wood.
Chosen to blend in carefully
as I intended that they should.
Somewhere to sit and meditate
or if you choose, to read or write.
And sometimes if the hour grows late.
Enjoy the quiet of the night.
My garden is a wilderness
devoid of all formality.
Not the result of laziness
I leave it how it wants to be
26-Sep-08
http: //.blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Ghostly Floss
Ghostly Floss
Your form, an evenness of attention
a cause of synchronized emotions
to travel routes of eternal blossoms
to accompany my souls extension.
No solar tide in my ocean travels
red roses blossom in surmised garden
with her glance Atropos unravels
solitude rules in my carried burden.
Ghostly floss, relentless rain mortised
joint symmetry, worlds of grievance
Ghostly floss, where monodies abide
feeling of persecution's distance.
-
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Mother and sphinx
(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)
Grim is the face that looks into the night
Over the stretch of sands;
A sullen rock in a sea of white--
A ghostly shadow in ghostly light,
Peering and moaning it stands.
"Oh, is it the king that rides this way--
Oh, is it the king that rides so free?
I have looked for the king this many a day,
But the years that mock me will not say
Why tarrieth he!"
'T is not your king that shall ride to-night,
But a child that is fast asleep;
And the horse he shall ride is the Dream-horse white--
Aha, he shall speed through the ghostly light
Where the ghostly shadows creep!
"My eyes are dull and my face is sere,
Yet unto the word he gave I cling,
For he was a Pharaoh that set me here--
And, lo! I have waited this many a year
For him--my king!"
Oh, past thy face my darling shall ride
Swift as the burning winds that bear
The sand clouds over the desert wide--
Swift to the verdure and palms beside
The wells off there!
"And is it the mighty king I shall see
Come riding into the night?
Oh, is it the king come back to me--
Proudly and fiercely rideth he,
With centuries dight!"
I know no king but my dark-eyed dear
That shall ride the Dream-Horse white;
But see! he wakes at my bosom here,
While the Dream-Horse frettingly lingers near
To speed with my babe to-night!
And out of the desert darkness peers
A ghostly, ghastly, shadowy thing
Like a spirit come out of the mouldering years,
And ever that waiting spectre hears
The coming king!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose Garden
I watched you in your
garden,
Roses growing every-
where.
Flowers were so lovely,
Perfume filled the air.
Touching them so
gently,
Creating a bouquet,
Tieing yellow
ribbons,
So they would'nt blow
away.
As I left the garden,
On that summer day
I turned and looked
once more,
Then slowly walked
away.
I admire your lovely
garden,
So happy I would be,
If I were the rosebud,
You touched so
tenderly.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Garden of Life
A garden of life is again a garden that I desire,
It grows from a point and a line that I concoct,
The real line is here, the garden is upon us.
What can May bring towards the end of the day?
It is summer evening, gardener of the week is absent
To feel fellowship with flowers and with plants and with trees.
Why do the seasons give in? What do you do in the night?
The day felt a picture too bold for the night, which was kind,
I like it when heat has ridden past the day.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers Bloom Like People
The flowers in the garden strike blue,
Just like lovely you.
These flowers at the forefront speak loud,
Opening the doors to what is allowed.
Never do we release so many scents
As this day. This day, we march like gents.
Just like roses we announce,
We sometimes ponder and pounce.
In effect we denounce our leaders,
Leading the committee of readers.
These are the authority of the dance
Of flowers, in our garden of chance.
From this garden I walk into fields,
Then streets are with us, no more hayfields.
The green garden was behind now and then,
With innocence at its side, compared again.
A ghostly swamp is not our task,
Merely we dine in pleasure and mask.
For we arrive in the city streets,
Walking is an objective so much it cheats.
We are some, they are many,
This conundrum augments the penny,
For if they are greater than us,
We shall be greater with words to discuss.
Flowers, we claim, are at our heads,
They do swear to keep beds;
Our heads also keep them, one after the other,
The rooms to occupy are more than our mother.
The soil is so endangered by us,
Flowers keep great ideas in dirtiness.
The gardeners work forever this way,
Shaking the soil with their day.
May our sleeping hours prove to be higher
Than all of nature’s, still we can tire.
Flower the world with our march,
The march continues to arch.
May fatigue be the enemy of our protest,
This riot we create, and then be assessed.
What we are is not your concern,
The bushes and plants have a turn.
Their laziness requires religious thought,
We need to think better than today as sought.
Let the population know what we have forsaken,
The streets should be empty and obedient with abortion.
The walkers are right, just totally right,
An abduction causes us a different light.
They take away some flowers from the garden,
The garden of Us, we are the garden to pardon.
May we string new words,
Extract blessing from our birds.
The garden is polite like a stage,
Acting will never grow or enrage.
The nature of substances is grand,
Like that of this very land.
Lazy flowers shout too hard,
That is why they droop and be charred.
They wilt and slowly drop,
Like us as we come to the top.
Life is about the riots of flowers,
We marched up and down, with powers.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Picket Fence
i've cut off the curls
I shaved half my face
Became half the man you asked to replace.
I'm willing to save you
You said you're worth saving
But half of my appetite's lost half it's craving
Stand in the mirror
That's me beside you
The one with the smile, the one who abides you.
Don't mind the madman
The killer, the lover
He's slowly fading one into the other.
Where is that white picket fence
That i painted myself in the late days of april?
Where are the daffodil mountians?
I know that they're somewhere around here by the garden.
You say that you're happy
Well you should know better
I see that you've sewn up that rip in your sweater
That some lover tore off you
That left you both shaking
That bled deep inside you the wound you'd forsaken
Where is that white picket fence
That i painted myself in the late days of april?
Where are the daffodil mountians?
I know that they're somewhere around here by the garden.
Don't fear i will save you
Don't shout you'll awaken
The corpse in the desert staked out beside you
I cut off his wing
And shaved half his face
But i thought that i saw his eyes...move
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Miniature Woman
The Blue-Eyed Giant, the Miniature Woman
and the Honeysuckle
He was a blue-eyed giant,
He loved a miniature woman.
The woman's dream was of a miniature house
with a garden where honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.
The giant loved like a giant,
and his hands were used to such big things
that the giant could not
make the building,
could not knock on the door
of the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
at that house.
He was a blue-eyed giant,
he loved a miniature woman,
a mini miniature woman.
The woman was hungry for comfort
and tired of the giant's long strides.
And bye bye off she went to the embraces of a rich dwarf with a garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.
Now the blue-eyed giant realizes,
a giant isn't even a graveyard for love:
in the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house...
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Unfulfilled Desire
He had greyed
Wrinkles on the face
Spectacles on the eyes
He saw her with probing
Eyes
Sitting on a bench in the
Garden
Reading a book near
The hotel
He was staying
He had come to the city
Four decades
After he completed
His studies
If not mistaken
It was she
Who filled his life?
With unfulfilled desire
She had also aged
Glow on the face
Had turned in to gloom
Slowly walked and
Stood in front of her
Seeing the light obstructed
She lifted her face
Her eyes remained
Wide open
She could not believe
It was he
She cleaned her eyes
To confirm
What she thought
Was right
Could not utter a
Single word
Tears started flowing
The man asked
How are you?
How is your family?
She replied
I did not marry
Slowly asked
In an anxious tone
Did you?
No
I also did not
Was the answer
Tell me
Why you did not?
The woman blushed
Said in a muffled tone
Because
You did not
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Return of Jonathon Grise
I stood on the porch
Like one in a daze,
And stared at the oak panelled door,
She'd shut it so quietly, there, in my face
That I just couldn't take it on board.
Her face was composed, but determined I knew,
Dismissive, but what could it mean?
The wedding we'd planned for the Spring was no more
Said the love of my life, Annie Deane!
I stumbled on out
In the gathering gloom,
And winter crawled into my heart,
The night was a portent of shadows and doom
As an owl fluttered past in the dark,
Storm clouds were filling the evening sky
And the wind set its wail in the trees,
The name of a monster was echoed out there,
The name of one, Jonathon Grise!
He'd come to the village
On just such a night,
Had stopped at the old village Inn,
The brim of his hat hid his face from the sight
Of the publican, signing him in,
He had an old trunk that he dragged to his room,
A magical symbol on top,
The publican smelt some old incense he burned
So he went up, and told him to stop.
I never was told
What was said when he knocked,
The publican staggered back down,
His face and his hair had turned grey, so they say,
When asked, the old man had just frowned.
He never said anything more on the case,
But bowed when he passed, to keep peace,
I sensed something evil, unclean in the man
That we all knew as Jonathon Grise.
He never went out
In the daytime, we knew,
But pottered about in the dark,
His cloak would be seen flaring out in the wind
As he strode through the trees in the park,
He bought the old cottage that stood by the shore
Moved in, with a rottweiler hound,
We dared not approach, or the dog would come out,
Bare its teeth, and start sniffing around.
He was watched by the locals,
But never approached,
And he never spoke to a soul,
He seemed quite content on his own in the dark
When the nights were both clammy and cold.
Then one foggy night I saw Widow McLean
Walking down to his house from the fells,
She walked in a daze, and her eyes, they were glazed
As she carried her basket of spells.
Long thought to be harmless,
A lonely old witch,
She knocked at his door in the gloom,
Then entered and stayed for an hour or more
Concocting her spells in his room,
I asked how she knew him, the mystery man
On the following day in the square,
She shivered, looked frightened, and held up one hand,
'I never was... never was there! '
Barely a month had
Gone by since the gloom
Of rejection had landed on me,
The heart that had loved had turned into a tomb
For the love that had set us both free.
Then rumours were whispered that in the Great Hall
The banns had been read and released,
The banns for the wedding of my Annie Deane
With that horror called Jonathon Grise!
My mind couldn't take it,
I tore at my hair,
I ripped at my coat and my shirt,
I drank a whole bottle of whisky off straight
In the hopes it would kill off the hurt,
I wondered how long since the two of them met,
And drunkenly swore my revenge,
I set off to squeeze all the truth from the throat
Of the visiting Widow from Henge.
She screamed when she saw me
Burst in through her door,
I looked like a figure from hell,
What spell had she cast there for Jonathon Grise?
She finally said she would tell.
'The man is pure evil, I met him before,
I met him before you were born,
He came on the night of a westerly gale,
Cast out from a Barque in the storm.'
'I think he deserted,
He wore seaman's clothes,
He never went back to the sea,
He married a woman, and left her in child,
A woman you'll never believe! '
'Just try me, ' I snarled, 'so he's done it before,
And now thinks he'll do it again! '
'Ah yes, but that happened when I was a child,
I couldn't have been more than ten! '
I stopped in my tracks
And I looked at her face,
The Widow was wrinkled and old,
She must have been seventy-seven or eight,
I felt all my innards run cold.
'You must be mistaken, this Jonathon Grise
Must only be thirty or so...'
'The man is the same, ' said the Widow, 'his name
Is the Sailor Who Never Grows Old.'
I sat for a moment
To gather my thoughts,
'You say that he married close by? '
'Ah yes, that he did, but the woman he wed,
In the churchyard, now, she lies! '
'Just tell me her name and I'll leave you in peace, '
I replied, with a portent of fear,
'Her name was Helene, and the child Richard Deane,
Your Annie's Great Grandfather, dear! '
I dropped like a thunderbolt
Onto the hearth,
I couldn't stand up for my life,
The devil had spawned the Great Grandfather
Of the woman he'd have for his wife.
My heart, it burst, and a thousand tears
Came flooding from deep within,
There must be a way to send Jonathon Grise
Back down to the devil's kiln.
I sat with the Widow
For thirteen days,
We read every spell in her book,
On the morning before Annie's wedding bells rang
She tossed all her charms in the brook.
'You said he deserted a ship once, at sea,
Do you have a drowned sailors spell? '
Her eyes had gleamed, old Widow McLean
As she lifted a caul from the well.
That night the moon
Stayed in, and hid,
The stars, they gave up their lease,
A mist came rolling on in from the sea
To the cottage of Jonathon Grise,
A groaning and creaking of timbers and masts
And the plash of the oars then grew,
The longboats, sent from the ghostly Barque
Rowed in with a ghostly crew.
They dragged him swearing
Away to the beach,
He cursed at the Barquentine,
They threw him into a longboat there,
And then he began to scream,
I watched as the ghostly sailing ship
Hove to in the rising swell,
While Jonathon hung from the yardarm there
At last, on his way to Hell.
28 January 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror...
I Looked At The Mirror
Mirror, Looked Back At Me
I Asked The Mirror
What Do You See?
The Mirror Smiled
“Same As You See”
I Touched The Mirror
The Mirror, Touched Me
Pressing To Break Thru
Glass Vanity
For Tho’ Eye To Eye
Sometimes I See
Mirror’s Right
Is Left To Me
And My Right Side … Made Mirror Left
I Got Perplexed At Imagery
And I Turned Away From Mirror
And Mirror Turned From Me
Our Backs To Each Other
Exposed Rigidly
But, Both Turned Back To Face
And Touch Same Place, And Be
Contained and Content
In Each Other’s Space Respectfully
We Shattered The Barrier
Between Mirror and Me
Back To Reflecting Our World
And The Same Things, We See …
Oh … Mirror, Mirror …
Reflecting You … Seeing Me …
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friendship's Flower
Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.
And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.
And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.
And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you.
poem by Winniek Koh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rooftop Garden
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Looking down below
Sitting in our rooftop garden
Waiting for the sun
Isnt it lovely watching
A plane go by
What a lovely couple
Are you and i
Sitting in our rooftop garden
A few drops of rain
The lights in the city blinking on
Just the same
No sugar in my coffee
Hows your tea
In our rooftop garden
Above the city
Lets not see any letters
Lets not answer the phone
Lets just pretend that
Theres no one at home
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
In our rooftop garden
Up on the roof
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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FriendShip Flowers
Life is like a garden
And friendship like a flower,
That blooms and grows in beauty
With the sunshine and the shower.
And lovely are the blossoms
That are tended with great care,
By those who work unselfishly
To make the place more fair.
And, like the garden blossoms,
Friendship's flower grows more sweet
When watched and tended carefully
By those we know and meet.
And, if the seed of friendship
Is planted deep and true
And watched with understanding,
Friendship's flower will bloom for you (
poem by Mazher Sheikh
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thats All I Want From You
(1955) m. rotha (pseud. of fritz rotter)
Our little love slowly grows and grows
Not one that comes and goes
Thats all I want from you
A sunny day with hopes up to the sky
Another day that comes and dies
Thats all I want from you
Dont let me down, oh show me that you care
Remember when you give, you always get your share
Dont let me down, I have no time to wait
Tomorrow might not come, when dreamers dream too late
Our little love slowly grows and grows
Not one that comes and goes
Thats all I want from you
A sunny day with hopes up to the sky
Another day that comes and dies
Thats all I want from you
Dont let me down, oh show me that you care
Remember when you give, you always get your share
Dont let me down, I have no time to wait
Tomorrow might not come, when dreamers dream too late
Our little love slowly grows and grows
Not one that comes and goes
Thats all I want from you
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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