Poems on various subjects in various styles. I hope that you like them
Gladioli; troupe of dancers flinging green arms above their heads. The spirit of life; of gay romance; their florid petals of flaming red.
June and July, how soon they fly but, while they're here, let's smile and cheer.
I wish you were here; I wish you could see sun-shimmer, like starlight, pour over the sea; hear wild blue waves crashing upon golden sand;
Love is not in the skin; the flesh; the hair; the eyes or teeth. True love is found within the heart that’s beating underneath.
The long, slow kiss of summer; enjoy it while it lasts; the dripping honey sunshine; easy breezes brushing past; the sweet nothings of bird song Nature murmurs in your ear;
The buzzing bees can never rest; always upon their nectar quest; crawling on daffodils and daisies they must think I am very lazy just lying on my back and snoozing
Little book mite, munching on a page; chewing sayings by some ancient sage; while you’re busy feasting on a book don’t you ever stop to take a look at the pretty words which you devour;
As you sleep, my heart doth sleep and, in your serene beauty, makes its bed.
A picture used to hang upon my wall; a picture of green fields and hills and trees; silver rivers and pure, white waterfalls; blue skies and happy song birds flapping free.
3 Magic Words Three magic words, when spoken, the gates of heaven, open and make the world, bright beautiful and new like music they are to hear; gold dust sprinkled on the air
If green shoots were far too timid to set themselves free from seeds, we would lose all of those vivid colours that the springtime breeds. If little chicks were all too shy
What eery sound is that? Wild mating cries of cats; distorted steel guitars or some strange ray from mars in a 50’s drive-in movie. It sends shivers right through me.
Just think, without their blissful light how dark this restless night would be.
Remember the Spring when the Earth is cold; remember the sun’s gentle kiss of gold; remember the grass and the flowers that grow when the world is all hidden with ice and snow;
Within love’s land, though I may be a stranger and cannot tell what sorrows, there, may hide for you, my love, I’d put my heart in danger; for you such risk is surely justified.
1st Verse: Politics are parlour tricks; the fight has already been fixed; no matter who the people choose, the rich will win; the poor will lose. They only make a mockery
Oh, joyous love, come unto me; come fill my heart with pipes and timbrels; the soaring notes of ecstasy; the clash and crash of passions cymbals. Come fill me with fathoms of gold.
No high walled garden can compare with wild spring blooms spread everywhere; no bird in a cage ever sings sweetly as those that stretch their wings; no man made lamp e’er shined as bright
The mole comes up to see the sun and I, I am a lot like he. I’ve lived a life in gloom but none can bear the darkness constantly. Hearts must have joy as lungs need air;
Now my love has put down its roots and can’t be shook by wind or storm; bright are its blossoms; sweet, its fruits touched by loves sunlight, gold and warm
No picture can capture the grandeur of Nature; no canvas is vast as her broad open skies; her clouds, like a snow capped mountain in stature her sun, like a blue god’s bright golden eye
After the dance, we both lie down together and share the ecstasy of love inside. After the dance of life, lie down forever in that ecstasy upon the other side.
Tomorrow is for fools; Today the spring is here; the sun’s a glistering jewel in the heavens bright and clear; there’s laughter on the breeze and blossoms fill the bough;
Into the hearts of men, I go and there, the seeds of roses, sow; the brightest blooms that ever grew, of glittering and golden hue. Upon my flute I play an air
The sun is her orange and her yellow; her blue, the seas below and skies above; her green, the leafy trees and grassy meadows; her red, the bright red rose which blooms for love
An Infant’s heart begins to beat like a distant booming drum; coming nearer and growing louder, the closer it becomes. And it leads a carnival parade
I praise the joyful litany of things that are so wonderful about the Spring; her sun, a golden kiss on bluer skies; her gentle breeze, April’s contented sighs;
Your love shields me from all of sorrows darts so none, however sharp, can pierce my heart. I feel blessed, no matter with what I’m cursed and rich, no matter how empty my purse;
I am just a Robo-Hobo riding in a space boxcar; over lazer light rails I go, travelling across the stars. Other folks may live under domes but I’ve got no fixed address;
a smile spreading across the mothers face. Mankind had tried to put Nature in fetters but, perhaps, this species would do better; choose love, respect and kindness as its path.
Running through a summers day, I chased a butterfly of blue and gold but it would always fly away; would never stay still long enough to hold. That butterfly has long since gone
No wonder trees are all so slim; the way they bend and stretch their limbs; doing Treerobics all day long to keep them healthy, fit and strong.
Often the door to my Heaven opens; sometimes in the heart of a rose;
Honey bees all jive in their be-bop hive; all the little bugs do the jitterbug. The daffodils grow like trumpets that blow; roses root-toot-toot in their red zoot suits.
Two little birds dance far above, performing their beautiful ballet of love; Rogers and Astaire on the stage of the air; they whirl and they glide, always side by side.
A love for Nature’s never unrequited. Into Earth’s spreading arms, we’re all invited. To each of us, the sunset’s kiss, she blows; for all the golden bloom of sunrise grows;
Silver April raindrops shower; over everything they pour; touching all with Midas power; polishing the whole world’s floor; transforming the grey and grimmer
Long beaked sea-birds seek out little morsels on the shore. Anything they eke out is a thing they’re thankful for. Eagerly sanderlings scurry as the waves retreat;
Distant voices are blurred; noises instead of words; arguments become storms; gentle laughter like birds; angry mobs bray and roar; crowds are waves on the shore but though you hear far less
My memory was given to adorn with twinkling silver nights and golden dawns; bright skies of woad and eve’s of indigo; green leaves and grass and every bloom that grows;
The seed cannot contain the flower once it has heard the voice of Spring, nor has the cocoon any power to hold back the butterflies wings; the change of season has begun
Just wee Tom Thumb am I; lost in the towering grass; leaning upon the trunk of every daffodil I pass. My life span may be days; my heart beat a bee’s wing but I’m honoured to gaze
Albino children dance in the moonlight; the sun’s far too bright but the stars just right for their complexion, pale and the sweet nightingale sings its enchanting song
The rolling, golden bowling ball of sun shatters all the tall skittles of night; driving blackness back to oblivion with its amazing blades of blazing light.
The axis of the earth rotates towards the sun; cold winters at an end; bold spring has just begun; a time to venture forth; for life to stretch its legs;
Chilly winter days are past. The happy spring is here at last. The sun that hid its head away is spreading all its golden rays. The birds are singing merrily in every branch of every tree
Blooms are brooms to sweep winter away; brushes to paint the world bright and gay; fairy wands that cast colourful spells; Nature’s symphony of ringing bells;
Regally, like a queen, the beautiful baleen waves her tail up and down and makes a mellow cello sound. While, like in a ballet, her calf, around her, plays; he glides between her fins,
Its bill is like two dry sticks rubbed together and, like the blazing fire that they start are the amazing crossbills crimson feathers. That's why it starts a fire in my heart.
Blackbird, all the notes you use weave whirling, twirling curlicues; notes like little birds that fly through ear and heart like air and sky. On a blackboard, in bright chalks,
Magical galaxies, towering over us; sprinkling twinkling showers all over us; sparkling starbursts and spirals and rings; fabulous nebulas; fairy tale things.
The wings of the blue morpho have no patterns; they look just like blue lingerie of satin. The swallowtail’s pretty wings always look just like crayon in a colouring book.
Bluebells blooming; life resuming after winter harsh and cold; roses spraying sweet perfume and daffodils spreading their gold. Poppies popping up, no stopping Springtime once it has begun
Aurora Borealis awe-inspiring sight; when God takes out her paintbrush, splashing skies with coloured light; like ancient spirits dancing; or vast silk veils of green and red,
It is a peaceful day. The Earth tranquilly lays beneath the sky’s broad gaze and happy birds flit about, flap and play. A gentle, quiet breeze strokes through the willow trees
A little thing can tip the scales; lighten the heart so joy prevails, like a flake of snow or a gentle kiss, small things containing worlds of bliss.
Smile; make your frown a grin. Smile; let some sunshine in. Smile; let me see you beam. Smile; it makes your eyes gleam. Smile; it’s good for your health. Smile; just enjoy yourself.
Bigger. Stronger. Leaner. Meaner. Faster. Fiercer. Tiger. Roar! ------------------------ I am tiger. I am power and, when I grrr or I glower, craven creatures run and cower
First my toes turn into talons, then my mouth becomes a beak, feathers grow upon my fingers; songs replace the words I speak. Then I spread my wings out widely
A spindly splodge of ink god spilt, you make up for your looks with grace; strutting upon the air with stilts; drifting past at a ghostly pace. Oh daddy long legs, you’re so queer
Language can alter consciousness; letters like L.S.D.; stories can take you on a trip beyond reality. Try prose instead of Prozac; lines of verse and not Cocaine;
Christmas morning; Sun is rising in blue skies of Bethlehem. Song birds serenade the new born like a choir of cherubim. Christmas morning; day is dawning; celebrate the infant king;
Christmas lily, as white as the snow and shaped like a trumpet an angel would blow; you announce to us all that the Christmas is here and bring into our hearts the gift of good cheer
A Christmas tree, you’ve planted in my heart; a love both eternal and evergreen with silver bells of laughter and red ribbons of your smiles; soft glowing candles of joyful memories;
I can’t wait till I spy that ship of gold; with sunray rigging and full sails of light
Little Robin with your heart so big, chirping happily upon a twig; when I hear your jolly carolling, silver bells inside me start to ring. Little Holly leaves that prickle us;
Nature’s not just a pretty face, you know; there’s intellect in everything that grows. Some might even say that it looks designed but, in Nature’s form, I see Nature’s mind.
A rubbing of the sun appears in gold and deep etched clouds in blue Crayola sky and myself, as I looked at six years old, with bright, new copper pennies for my eyes.
Everywhere you’ll hear lovebirds sing and every day will be like the spring.
I have a golden smile for every sunbeam; a gentle kiss for every pretty flower that blooms; a silver tear of joy for every tiny raindrop and, for the big bass drum of thunder, a heart that booms.
I see a gentle mother within everything I see; the way the trees embrace the birds within their boughs and sunlit clouds look like a mother who is smiling tenderly
Oh, great Muse of Autumn fire; gold and crimson, blazing bright, who could help but be inspired by such an amazing sight but there’s no true way to capture butterflies in black and white;
Autumn born, full moon faced and naked as a tree, I grew to love each new Autumn as if it were born from me; love every leaf that bowed to earth, soft as an infant’s tread;
Oh, great magic patchwork carpet, woven from star-like leaves of gold, on tortoise wings of time you take me far from white Winters world of cold to the exotic realms of Summer
Blaze on, Summer bright; surround my heart in rays of light; armour of gold that glistens on long after August days have gone and press your flowers deep in me; heap up sweet scented memories
August, most august; Summer's sweet parting kiss, like those sights and sounds of Heaven fallen angels sorely miss. Winter’s wall shall come between us but I take comfort in this;
Little, black, fluttering, pipistrelle bat; circling my ceiling like a surreal windmill sail; your tattered, leather wings unfolded like a flashers mac
Outside, I hear the loud percussion of rain falling in rank and file; splashing, clattering; grey clouds gushing on terracotta pots and tiles. Shooting shining silver quivers,
Breath of love, blow hard upon the sail of this, my little heart shaped sailing boat and stormy seas and thunder shan’t prevail. Though waves juggle her, she shall stay afloat.
Inspiring, like spires and arches of churches, the little chicks chirping up high on their perches in branches of beeches and larches and birches
A poem worthy of our love is a thing beyond the power of words. A poem is too small a thing; our love requires a choir of birds. Our love should have a hurricane with rose petals to strew,
Alone, in the eyes of man, I was but I never felt alone; not in the warm embrace of summer; far away from the cold hearted crowds; not with the breath of her breeze in my hair;
Beauty’s gonna get ya with a left hook and a right; a hundred bucks I bet ya, you’ll be seeing stars tonight. Beauty is a boxer; red roses are boxing gloves.
A fluttering of hearts, a shimmering of memories and a miracle of hopes; a carnival of dreams; a summertime of hugs and a fairy tale of kisses; a jubilee of smiles; a rhapsody of rainbows
Now is the time when red roses bloom and the song of suckling swallows fills the air. Now, the world is fertile, painted and perfumed and wearing eglantine in tangled hair.
Sunset upon snow; an infant’s eye grows sleepy. With laughter it will awake. Snowflakes, snowflakes, snow flakes falling. Winter gives me a book of Haiku. Present wrapped in white
Far warmer than fur garments is that fuzzy glow I feel; that happiness that hugs my heart when I see baby seals. My heart falls into their warm eyes; as bright as stars in the North Pole
Come tread upon the snow with me; we’ve travelling to do. It looks so pretty and so pure and darling so do you but Winters not worth anything unless we’re having fun.
I know three comely misses named April, May and June; with tulips, they blow kisses; with blackbirds, whistle tunes. And over hills and vales, each wears a long, green velvet gown;
The Forgiving Springtime When the infant sheds white cloak of death; when newborn smile stretches across the Earth, she has no memory of the cold winter; of the harshly arguing winds;
Dark flames eat butterfly wings, tear through the handiwork of time; ugly hearts hate beautiful things, they wallow in their age of grime. One eyed men hunt the unicorn.
Young children run and laugh and scream towards the fireworks display; teenagers drift with inward dreams, fireworks filled their hearts today; parents watch kids with starry eyes,
Inspired by Steve Button I thought I'd write a quick automatic poem. Don't know if it's any good. It's kind of Nursery Rhymey.
Probably doesn't fit the IP because it might be viewed as insulting but it's based upon the language of my childhood bullies.
This might seem a little corny, like a Valentines card poem but I always thought of it as a lock where the reader is a key.
Curling clouds, of permanent waves, pinned back, her bright eye is pressed against the eye piece; in love with the light that freckles the black, like the freckles constellated on her face.
Alot of Shakespeare's Sonnets make the argument that a poem can give literary immortality to its subject. This Sonnet is a reaction to that idea.
Gripping in the title means both "that which holds your attention" and also "Clinging onto".
Where is your daddy, little girl? Tell me, is he at home today? Where is your daddy, little girl? You know, he has some debts to pay.
We trudge through the smoke filled field, the cold and mud of Murrayfield park; the camera flash, of wailing candles, pinning ribbons on the dark.
This was meant to be a song but I couldn't think of another verse/chorus so I'm submitting it as a poem.
Based on "To the virgins, to make much of time" by Robert Herrick.
Round about the roundabout and arcing over our car, as we drove home from the clinic, through the brainwashing tumbledrum, the constant stutter and tutting of rain, a rainbow rose above;
In terrorizing visions, I see virions of greed; icosahedral capsids vaster than cathedral domes and, wherever they hover, poverty erupts and bleeds
Thinking about this week’s IP, it occurred to me that no one needs to be transported by music more than those who are confined to a prison of some kind.
What name pours forth instinctively when we are born again; borne into the arms of love; into a new eternity; tiny, helpless, wide-eyed and clinging? EM-MA! The mother of all words of love.
Birthday candles blazing in a circle, like the family and friends gathered around you, like the silver quiver of a hunter’s moon. Blow them out and then make your secret wish,
Stonechat; Nature’s Demosthenes, your beauty pleads her case with ease, your bright black coat and russet breast says all that needs to be expressed. When it seems as if men cannot
My heart must be a mirror of the earth, For when I see a rose one grows inside And gazing round at springtime’s spreading birth My heart bursts with broad fields and steep hillsides.
I see a fingerprint of god against the dusty plains. I see an X-ray showing me both death and glowing life. I see bars, but underneath a thing that won’t be caged.
I woke upon some hunter’s wall and could not feel my limbs at all; my body gone, in fear, I screamed but, thank the stars, it was a dream. Rejoicing; in my life, I thrilled;
The child’s eyes widen, behind binocular lenses, watching as featherless hatchlings grasp for air with tiny talons; tender mums and fathers feeding crop milk to their hungry young
Let us join hands, we five and sing a roundel of purple; purple that pricks with beauty against the thorny grimness of a stone shattered world.
Beside the face of heaven, there I rise and see the opening of your lustrous eyes. The birth of two bright stars, each morn, I see. No man was ever fortunate as me.
We gather brambles while the clouds above grow black. Soon sweet rain will flow. Curly clouds part and let the bright June sun shine through to warm my bald spot. My pumpkin lantern
From Heaven’s hand my love was formed; from only Heaven did she come; a true miracle was performed and all who say ought else are dumb.
Marduk, who held a paper sun and paper world within your hands; maker of kings; lord of the lies. The fear of you is fading. All those who knelt at your feet now tear you down
Peace and the nightingale sing in harmony with each other, reminding me of infancy and the cooing of my mother. Thank goodness; like memories of my loved ones that live on,
Oh love, that made the sun so warm and bright! Oh love, that set the stars within the night! I read the pages of my heart each day and strive to live according to love’s way.
We met infront of Marx’s tomb; watched the October setting sun; gazed up as stars rose from the gloom. I chose a star, said “You’re that one”. And then we kissed and raised a fist
May we not fall in love again? Now that the swallows have come home and the bright sun’s once more in the sky and cold and winter snow is gone and the golden flowers are reborn.
Making all things shine; that is your noble art. ‘twas you who poured the gold into each atom of my heart. Yours was the kiss that kindled this bright candle in my breast,
Autumn Vow When the oestrogen of green has gone, I’ll still love you as I did in spring; When the wind turns harsh and night grows long; While the fires of anthocyanin
And we find ourselves in Flanders field again, trapped by those bloody poppies, row on row. We say “Christ! Sweet dove, do not leave. For it is with you, we long to go”.
To the brightest suns of Summer, add the brightest stars and moons and the oceans gentlest murmur and the skylarks sweetest tune and all miracles together that this world was ever shown
Our bodies stood upon this earth; our hearts upon the moon; our cares in cold December; our lips in brightest June. There was no world around us, no skies of evening hue;
Kiss me under heaven and let the stars see light. Teach angels to envy; let them gaze on greater heights. Your love makes a blasphemer of my heart with each sweet kiss;
You’ve come too late, my love, to shine; an antique pearl in an age of swine. Man’s lost all love for things divine. You are the sun but men are blind.
A fox and vixen, I have seen, make love amidst the evergreens. Two brazen flames that brightly glowed from wick of shadow and wax of snow. And honeybees, or so I’m told,
First, bright flaxen lashes, then the opened eye of sun, like loud cymbal crashes, flashes o’er the horizon. Bright as inspiration, it touches blank winter snow, then out pours creation;
An army marches in the snow; each man carries a sword of sound but, with that sound, they strike a blow that can knock titans to the ground. Bound by meaning, they forward go
On December 31st and at the midnight hour; fireworks go boom and burst into a big, bright shower. When Big Ben begins to chime, to let everyone know the time,
The sun shall ever find wherever sorrow hides my heart; my heart, the hilt her bright blade gleams upon and side by side, the sun and I, split hopelessness apart
King, keep St Crispian’s and I’ll have St Valentine’s; For the glory of life is in loving, not in war; In the booming of our passions and the marching of our hearts;
Snowdrops growing; new hope flowing; pretty, milk white petals dripping from the blessed breast of Spring.
Buried in boundless, sacred plains of azure; the turning key of time unveils your treasure; tipping a pot of gold of endless measure; kindling in all childkind, bright flames of pleasure.
Between the gold and diamond hours, a rose called sunset blooms; a flower for all lonely hearts to rouse them from their gloom; for while they wait to gaze on bright inner vistas of love
My heart, that looked upon your love, now dare not close its eyes for fear it shall not see again flowers rain from the skies or rainbows wrap themselves around a never setting sun.
Little did I know that love had changed my heart; that love had come creeping, quietly as time, to plant new heart and make new man of me. Love, like a tempest but soft as breezes blow;
I am the dandelion; purse your rosebud lips and blow, then watch my seeds go flying; spreading my sun golden glow. I am the tall tree pushing up to branching stars above;
Pretty, pink phalaenopsis blooms; I bury my nose deep in you, till, tickled by your sweet perfumes, my nose always goes “Atishoo!”.
I must reach out in all directions; travel every avenue, like branching branches; stars and snowflakes, rivers and raindrops that split in two. I must reach out in all directions,
My seedling soul magnifies your shining body. I long to touch your smooth, lustrous, dark skin; look deep into your eyes that shine with knowledge and know the multitudes of worlds within.
With her laughter, light as lacy foam and her spritely eyes, bright as pearls; across the seashore, she shall roam; my pretty, precious, seashell girl. Wet sand sugaring her fingers
“Your noble majesty”, said he, “I’ll be your clown no more for I am bound to sail around this earth to golden shores. A new world is awaiting; uncharted, unexplored, where men like me
Alas for alas and woe for woe! My grief, atlast, has gone below. I weep and weep sweet tears of joy; love struck a blow and grief’s destroyed. My gloom has gone to endless night;
Kneeling down, as if to pray, the little piper softly plays, upon the pipe, a melody of Spring that sings inside of me. Oh, how the gentle rosebud ripens; slowly opening its lips.
I dare not say I love you, for they hurt me when I do. They tear the wings from Angel love, so it no longer soars above. They torture me till I’m in tears; I am afraid of all my fears.
The face of my lover is Love’s own face; her arms; love’s warm, golden embrace; her smile, as bright as rapture’s gleam; her voice, like heart made music, seems;
I love your lightning flash; your precious gems of hail the passion of your thunder the music of your wail. You’re pretty when your angry, you’re pretty when your sad
Here grows a rose that will not die, not in the harshest winter snows nor deserts cracked, barren and dry. Through endless night, it still would glow. It is the love between you and I.
Like the fishes at play in the water or birds that sing and dance through the skies; my heart lives in your love and laughter; in the air of your breath and the light from your eyes.
I send my love a Sunflower for the brightness her love brings; and daffodils and blue bells for the bells her bright love rings; the reddest of all roses for the passion her love starts
Wherever there is love, there will be hope; a fountain of hope that pours within our hearts and, bound together, we are bound to cope; each person, moved by love, to play their part.
When love lets me speak again then perhaps I may sing love songs; when my heart comes home again from higher realms; when its golden wings grow tired of circling love’s bright sun
What is it that seduces men to war? Why choose the hail and thunder to adore? Why not the snow white dove or crimson rose? Why can’t man be content with such as those?
Thunder gods grow older; their lightning bolts grow dim. My father towered over me; now I’m taller than him. Now time has turned him from a god into a wizened elf
Let me cheer for you and sing your praise for the many wondrous things you’ve done. Let me pour upon you golden rays for being my constant rising sun.
Into a masterpiece, I walked for miles; put my hand deep and brushed against the brushstrokes; closed my eyes and felt the colours; a silken soft and fragrant rainbow;
Two bright stars lost within the land of dreaming; they will not shine again till you awake. A pretty rose that bursts with laughter gleaming will stay a rosebud until next you speak.
How many times must I assure you that my love for you is without end? Infinity’s a teeny-tiny thing beside my love for you, my friend. Long beyond the beating of my heart;
Look at our hearts together; how they wander happily over sunlit hills of heather; free in love’s captivity. Look at our hearts together; like two wings upon love’s bird.
I hear the happy chaffinch chirping like a laughing child; see the yellow daffodils that bob like belfries in the wild but does the Summer hear, within my heart, that booming dove
He spies on her as she takes her bath, so beautiful and serene, but then she notices him watching and, spreading her
Life long, unto life, I am betrothed; contented with this flesh in which I’m clothed; wearing this golden ring of days with pride; happily sleeping by the Springtime’s side.
Enter wanton Summer sun; Winter’s buttons all undone. Enter the exotic queen; luscious luxury of green and gem hued; pearl dewed satin petals; lakes like polished, precious metals
Love’s sleeping giant has awoken. I hear its thunderous feet within my heart; feel enormous hands with grip that can’t be broken and power to raise me up or tear me apart.
Tonight I was awoken by a funny sort of feeling and, opening my eyes, I saw my heart high overhead. Like a helium balloon, it bobbed about upon the ceiling
Every rose is a colossus, towering overhead. Every rose is like a lighthouse with an eye of blazing red. Every petal more impressive than all the pyramids and tombs
Remember this bright Summer when all the Autumn sky is grey. Remember blossoms on the trees when Autumn leaves are tossed away. Remember her you loved; how she was young and bright and gay.
To all the seasons, I am thankful, for their beauty, wisdom, hope and joy; my four noble, trusted companions without whom my heart would be destroyed. To the child of spring; the ever hopeful
Go and bathe your deepest troubles in the ocean that an enormous, sinking sun has set ablaze; bury the mountain of your sorrows in a flowering field on the bluest and brightest of Summer days
She asked me for roses; I gave her rose hips and said, “Here are roses as red as your lips with perfume more sweeter than any you’ll smell in expensive bottles brewed up by Chanel”.
Sweet, gentle spirit of the Summer breeze who whispers words of love in leaves of trees. It’s joy to feel the soft touch of your hand; your cooling breath, like being gently fanned.
The booming thunder like a starting gun, a torrent pours, a shining marathon; muscular clouds hurl javelins that flash whilst whistling winds begin a wrestling match.
Let the lines grow deep upon our love and let the hair of our friendship turn grey, for the love that grows wiser is a love forever strong;
Riding on the rock and roll bus that shakes and rolls and rattles us; pastoral symphonies flash past. Driver, why must we go so fast? Too fast to see the countryside;
She is beaming out a gleaming signal to anyone at all whose heart will hear, in wavelengths of golden solar splendour which she hopes you are receiving loud and clear.
Sad eyes see willows weeping but they never weep to me. A lovely, long haired maiden is the tree I always see or a tall, melting green candle that sustains the flame of life
There are pearls, deep at the bottom of the ocean and there are stars up in the endless night above; peaceful Summer days amid life’s restless motion
Oh, I love yew and elm trees too. Elms overwhelm my heart with bliss. I love to stroke a sturdy oak or clasp an aspen close to kiss. Some, mocking, say Psychiatry is a tree
My favourite theory is silken winged faeries with dust made from moonbeams and glitter of stars that come, late at night, with pass keys of light and sprinkle, on my dreams,
Whirling, like a rose in a tornado; struck by the bright lightning of love; my heart's a hundred rumbling thunderstorms; my body, a tree in the high winds of passion
http://www.greenpeace.org.uk/arctic/ Blessed virgin of the Arctic; rarest, most flawless, most precious diamond of this world; my eyes melt and my heart cracks with aching;
The Summer sets as does the sun; sky turns to crimson; leaves to gold but time, round in a circle, runs; all will be young that now grows old. Fear not the darkness or the cold;
Oh, thank Nature, we grow older and too tired to run and play; tired enough to sit and contemplate a splendid August day. Little kids are far too busy flying to watch a bird in flight
Look eastward, heart of sorrow. See that the darkness cannot hold back that brave phalanx of the light that brandishes bright spears of gold. See how the fearsome foe of winter
Drip by drip and drop by drop, rain starts to fall then will not stop. It glimmers and glistens and shimmers and shines, it rattles and clatters and splashes and…
How gentle and how blissful does the sleepy Autumn seem, like a child whose auburn hair spills on soft pillows of the earth; leaves like heavy eyelids drift off as if into dreams;
The alchemy of Autumn is so awesome to behold, transforming elm and sycamore from emerald to gold; the weeping willows crying stops as tear drops turn to flames; the oak trees become lions
Every day, I am reborn; every dawn’s the dawn of light; yesterday, the world seemed worn; now it seems new and shining bright. Every day, I am reborn; every morn, the world’s remade.
The star upon the swan shone beautifully bright; my eyes began to open as the nova was eclipsed, that’s when I took my first long look upon the light and when life laid its first
Little golden Dormouse, gently huddled; curled up, like the world’s most warmest cuddle; comfortably tucked in beds you weave from honeysuckle bark and grass and leaves.
That’s it! I think I’ve worked it out. I know who dunnit, without a doubt. Who it was that shot Lady Bloom and how they entered her locked room.
I love a lady called the Autumn; her eyes are Perseus and the Plough; her dark hair, dancing clouds of starlings; her kisses fall from maple boughs. With burning lips of amber, gold
Look at the amber Autumn leaves. Look at the scarlet sunset hues. Why not take time to sit and wait; relax and contemplate the view. The Spring and Dawn will soon be here
The last words of the Autumn, at the dying of the year, are the oratory of beauty; ennobling to hear. With the sighing of the Autumn wind and tongues of blazing leaves,
I try to make the writing small; try to mix sugar with my ink. The ants take no notice at all. I cannot think the way they think. Sometimes it puts me in a rage
Oh, little flame of Autumn, never fear the winter snow for now you’ll go to where the Fall colours forever glow and silver moon that so adorns this blissful Autumn night,
An angel once loved a mermaid. She’d bring her stars down from the sky and invite her up to heaven but the poor mermaid couldn’t fly. Then the mermaid would say, “Hey, let’s
If seeds and sand grains make the fields and hills and oceans are, by tiny raindrops, filled; if starling flocks start from a single egg and * BANG! * one spark explodes a powder keg,
Beyond distance is (Kiss) a happy place (Kiss) called Us (Kiss )
I hear a bird who’s singing all alone and the song it sings seems oh so monotone but then it’s joined by other happy birds and, suddenly, a melody is heard.
A suitor loved a woman and he wanted her to know so he gave her songbirds in a cage but she just let them go. Then he bought her gold and diamonds but she gave them to the poor
Pure as angels, we both shall become when, our two hands joined like an angel’s wings and the halo of friendship round our hearts, we enter that Heaven of true love;
Wish I had special powers; that I could strettttch ouuut tiiiime; make minutes into hours. Wouldn’t that be sublime? Or I could sdrawkcab emit nrut; make yesterday today.
and when I hold your hand, I know, we have only higher to climb. Our love's like an oracle that shows my heart glittering visions
evated. soul el- Your to inspire. written Words, from the dead. growing Life, flying higher. soaring; Bird overhead. rising Sun, into fire. bursting Spark,
I’ll whistle it to the birds and I’ll buzz it to the bees. I’ll whisper it, like the wind does, to the grass and flowers and trees. “I love you!”. I’ll climb up a high mountain;
Wherever a red leaf of Autumn falls, gently leaving a kiss upon the earth, there a pretty red rose of April blooms and wherever white snowflakes cover all,
My heart only knew how to beat. You taught it so much more. You gave it nimble, dancing feet and wings on which to soar. You opened new eyes in my heart; made bright new worlds to see
Love, cherish and do not take for granted that most generous of gifts from god to man, the truly sacred mystery of love; the secret of lighting love’s eternal flame.
Some have spreading, sensuous limbs that flow like rivers to the sky or twist like the roots of new growth in long, languid shapes that recline on blue satin of evening
Oh, Barack Obama; black knight in bright armour with the sword of the light in your hand. Romney comes to joust you, hoping that he’ll oust you and bring back a dark age to the land.
There is a pretty place I know; a place where crystal waters flow and flowers, of all colours, bloom filling the air with sweet perfumes; where birds that have bright rainbow wings
A Bear Behind There is a bear who follows me everywhere I go. He hides when I turn round because he thinks I do not know but wherever I wander, near and far, I always find
Love makes everything righter; love gives a new shine to the moon; love paints the rainbow brighter and adds new notes to every tune. Love makes the rose more rosier
Remember wicked lies were told; remember lives were bought and sold; that young men, who now won’t grow old, died to fill rich men’s hands with gold. Remember now the slaughtered youth
I’m riding on a train; on a train through the rain; through the rain falling down; falling down to the ground. And little silver drops fall again and again and again without stop
That beams so bright above me; reflecting on you, I feel blessed. I think Heaven must truly love me, to feed me milk from her own breast
Gentlemen of the jury. Please, listen to my petition. There is no cause for such fury against this happy repetition. To rhyme is not a crime. Some rhymes can be sublime; poetry in its prime
Love sees springtime blossoms in the Autumn and leaves of green while branches are all bare; love still feels the golden kiss of Summer with winter winds nipping its nose and ear;
Upon the twinkling of the stars, I make this wish; that every dog shall have his bone; each cat, her fish; each little mouse his cheese and all the birds, their crumbs
Saturn’s rings rotating; a record begins to play; then pulsars start pulsating with a beat that’s bright and gay. Then Angel’s straight and queer dressed in golden, glittering wings
Pretty pansies in the snow; happy faces all aglow. Winter's when they show the mettle of their brightly mottled petals. I should be as bright as they on this chilly winter day.
We bring to you, these gifts in trouble and in storm; a shelter for your head; blankets to keep you warm. Together we will weather this storm until it ends; an unbreakable circle,
I’d like to be an Eskimo, live in a little house of snow; a little igloo just for two that I would build for me and you. We would live the Eskimo way; go riding about in our sleigh
Some have hair like the midnight; some like blazing fire or sun but all have eyes that shine bright and I desire them, every one. Some have skin of burnished bronze
They call you la Lune De L’Amour. How many love scenes you must have lit. Your crescent bow and beams have hit more than poor Cupid's arrows ever hit and yet you look so lonely to me;
I am not home till I come home to you; till I see your face, beaming, at the door. In your arms is the only home that’s true and, without you, I’d be homeless forevermore.
Sun that shines in through my window, scattering your precious rays, can you see me sitting, trying to write this poem in your praise? In your divine golden image
If Summer is golden, then Winter is diamond and pearl; a shimmering sequin of frost that swathes all of the world; there is a crystal star etched in each little snowflake of white
Deep under the bare breast of winter snow are little seeds like stirrings of new love. From them, sweet blooms like pouting lips shall flow, blowing kisses to the bright sun above.
The elegant sunbird’s a painting in oils with feathers as glossy as glistening foil. When it spreads its wings it also spreads delight ‘cause the Elegant Sunbird’s a rainbow in flight.
While I am merely a man, let me admire that splendour I shall become part of, when I am dressed in the leaves and the flowers; when I am married to the Earth for all time;
Oh, passionate Poinsettia; when nature paints her lips with red and gives us all a festive kiss. Like a winter sunset your broad leaves of blazing scarlet spread
1st Verse: Over the snow-capped mountains spill silken shades of gold and pink; a thousand stars peek out and trees turn into fountains of ink. The sky is dyed like denim;
Happy Christmas, heart of mine; one dozen kisses sweet as wine and a great big smile for you, my face; wrapped up within her warm embrace.
Flowers for the New Year; flowers for the Spring; for bright hope; for good cheer and new life awakening. Ring in the year with bluebells and sing the Sun King’s praises
Fear not what may or may not come; those shadows of the unforeseen; think only of the rising sun, blue skies, bright blooms and fields of green. Ask not what trials or sorrows may
We are shooting stars falling through the cosmos; let us look at universes great and small; the way that rain shines gold upon the window pane or the stars seem to surround a person’s head;
Like the magic stroke of Midnight was our kiss; filled with golden bells and fireworks of bliss and the love that, in our hearts, began to sing
and your lips, kissing. All the stars are out tonight; each one bold, beautiful and bright. The moon's gigantic, full and round, pouring its gold upon the ground.
Freedom causes suspicion when looked on with jealous eyes; most people look unfaithful merely trying to loosen ties. I never loved any but you but love ties bound too tightly
She strides the Earth in her green gown and where she strides new life is sown. Living, growing, spreading, flowing; flowers thrusting free from seedlings;
The truth is a geek. It doesn’t look chic; has spots on its face and specs on its eyes. The truth is a nerd; socially awkwerd and so shy you might miss it in a room full of lies.
Mother Heaven help me to endure and I shall be a carrier of your cure. Mother Heaven help me win my fight and I will be a bearer of your light. Let your sacred milk of mercy flow.
Though your old eyes may be wrinkled, they’re as blue as periwinkles and they sparkle and they twinkle like the welkin* when its sprinkled with a trillion brilliant stars.
Gentle as the hummingbird that hovers round the flowers; her tongue a beating-wing like blur as my nectar, she devours.
My eyes may not be wide enough to take this world inside; my heart too soft and gentle for life’s rough and rocky ride but Nature cannot hear me cry, “I’m too young to be born”.
Surrendering, the setting sun goes down but dawn will raise its golden sunray crown. Out of the deepest darkness climbs the day. And blazing green fire grows from the grey
The Bees Oh, we plunder cotton thistle and we liberate the rose for wherever nectar glistens, there we honey makers go. God save our United Queendom;
Virgin of Winter, pale and pure; untouched by sunlight’s golden hand; time’s made a match for you, I’m sure. That beaming sun’s a handsome man and, within you, he will ignite
Love, let us be wedded in the Spring. That’s when the Earth lifts up its bridal veil of white and the sun is like big, brass church bells that ring;
Silently the lichen grows on words engraved in grey; WOPDS THAT ARF WPITTFN IN STONF WILL NFVEP FADL AV AY
On bright yellow, telephone like daffodils the spring is ringing; yelling hello and from swallow filled tree hollows, Spring is singing. April petals open like the envelopes of scented letters
Breath is my bread; breast of the Earth; thread that binds me to you from birth; air I share with each beast and bird; lungs swelling with language and song.
Yet real Springtime will be here soon; tattooed wings shattering cocoons part of the reawakened Spring; then my heart will beat bright red wings.
I am Lily of the Valley. Forth, from the green Earth, I sally and, from my shoot, proud and tall; showers of snow white flowers fall. I am snowdrops in the Spring time;
Hail to thee, Gladiolus, brave, bright lily of the sword; with your bold colours, you console us more than a thousand pleasing words. Sword of the springtime; sword of joy
There is no god more mighty than gentle Aphrodite; Jupiter’s bolts may pound but our hearts make more sound; Diana has her snares but none, to love, compare and brighter than Apollo
The weather man predicts there’s going to be a chill. I hope that he is right and that, indeed, there will ‘cause then I can get cosy snuggling up to you
Me within your gaze like lake waters in the brightly shining moonlight. Moonlight, shining brightly in the lake waters like your gaze within me.
Stars glow like little pieces of the sun waiting to be assembled into day; in the night is the day that has not yet begun; like my heart, it must escape darkness some way.
The hand that scattered gold across the night placed, in her eyes, two gemstones shining bright and, taking tincture from the setting sun, made her lips glow that same flaming crimson;
Oh,flaming Flamingos; when you bow your heads, you’re the sun set that scatters soft feathers of red and against its light ballet you are musical notes in an appassionata
Our ship has no crew except me and you; no hull and no keel but the way that we feel; no billowing sails but our hearts that prevail; nothing in the hold except memories of gold.
kiss me and and me kiss again and and again I’ll love you and and you love I’ll forever and and forever
Little eyelids drooping she drifts deeply into sleep; then the creamy sky grows pink and the setting sun sinks deep. Then her head goes roaming far off to that distant land of dreaming
Press your ear up to the snow and you will hear the seedlings grow; embryos beneath the earth preparing for the Spring’s rebirth. Soon you’ll see their shoots of green
Now March begins; first kiss of Spring; wings beat like hearts as birds take flight; buds open like hearts opening to new love’s glory and delight. And this is only the first kiss.
Intolerant winter, when all is black or white is starting to disinter- grate and vanish out of sight. Now all the many colours of the spectrum get to shine
How I would like to be a hare and run about without a care and, in the spring, go toe to toe in boxing bouts with buxom does; have lots of little leverets. I don’t think I would ever get
A blue rose, is the ocean; all its shark-fins are its thorns; all its waves, its bright blue petals that turn crimson in the dawn.
February’s waiting; she’s waiting for the spring; for a blue sky in the heavens and the flowers opening. She’s waiting like a Helen for her bright Ulysses sun
She gave me hands that I may write sweet poems in her praise and eyes to see her glorious light spreading its golden rays; a feeling heart to fill with joys as I behold each spring
I tried writing in the wind. The wind blew my pad away. I tried writing in the rain. The paper just got soggy. I tried writing in a storm. Lightning struck my ball-point pen.
Time, the hours, like tall towers, piled; Time that makes a mother from a child; Time that files the mountain to a plain; Time that finds the cause and heals the pain;
Do not doubt that right is might; that there is fire in the light. Do not doubt kind hearts prevail; that courage wins while cowards fail. Do not doubt that truth will win;
Little spider listen while I pluck on my guitar; my fingers weaving patterns from its strings. Your tiny web glistens like a galaxy of stars; strummed upon by the rain and sun of spring
The willow, by the wind’s forever hassled. He’s always tugging at her pretty tassels. Outside my window, I can hear the rustle as the willow and the wind wrestle and tussle
Amazing daisy; composite flower*; shining example of collective power; your petals, White knights round a table of gold; “All for one, one for all”, the bright creed they uphold.
When the Springtime sun appears, it is as if a school bell rings, from here and there and everywhere, out come the young school maids of Spring. They are the Spring flowers that spurt
I could compare it to a flower but a flower’s sure to wilt or compare it to the sweetest wine but wine can be spoilt and spilt. I could compare it to a Summer but a Summer always ends
V for the Violets that, in your eyes, bloom. V for the plush, red Velvet of your kiss. V for when passions Volcano goes BOOM! V for love’s Visions of heavenly bliss.
March is on the march. I hear its tiny boots. I hear them in the rain that feeds new roots and shoots. Soon you will see the bugle call of golden daffodils then Springtime will come marching
As the magician conjures up a ring Behind his silken, snow white handkerchief; Rising, the golden sun unveils the Spring And vanishes the snow it hid beneath. Caterpillars turn into butterflies
It started with a cosmic kiss; the heavens filled with stars of bliss; the planets, drops of joyful tears; the sun, the smile between god’s ears; that is the story told above,
When prim white winter melts away then carefree Spring comes out to play; each peach tree the Winter undresses she covers with her soft pink kisses and stroking willows makes them gush;
Standing beside the tall sycamore tree, I am reminded of when I was three and standing by my mother’s tree trunk legs gazing up at her face high overhead;
Rain droplets drip on poplars as their green fingers grip the sky. Reflected, they are fingers probing deep between the rivers thighs.
First he unfolds his golden peacock feathers, then sun and earth, in love, are joined together; the butterflies make love beds on the thistle and little lovebirds woo with songs and whistles;
One day, as I was gazing at the branches of a tree, I had the most amazing and profound epiphany. In that shimmering fragment of an instant, did I see the body of the living universe
When will our finest hour be, when we fight to defend from those who poison land and sea and sky, the Earth our friend.
Oh, precious sphere of sapphire,jade and gold set in the dazzling diamond seas of night; your beauties and your wonders many fold; it’s a joy to behold their splendid sight.
I climb upon your first kiss, roof top high; then your mighty second kiss sends me to the sky; I bounce off of your third kiss high as the Himalayas
Man was made in the image of the sun; his fingers like its beams for spreading light; his smile, the sun rise when new day’s begun; his mind, a lamp to make the whole world bright.
Tyrannosaurus; like old Tyrants you have gone. Did you hear the Greek chorus of raptors and Pteradons? Once king of the carnivores now a big jigsaw of bone; like mighty thunder was your roar
Like the bee upon the clover, you, my lover, will always be until the white cliffs of dover wash away into the sea. Like the booming of the bittern is this love that swells my heart.
Bar-headed geese near the star-studded sky, what can it feel like to fly so high? O’er cloud capped Himalayas you’ve trod; high as a prayer reaching out to god.
The many-legged millipede is an impressive sight, indeed; a one man, miniature stampede, past slugs and other bugs, he speeds; trampling through the tall grass and weeds.
The Spring is in her dressing room; she’s still getting prepared; picking the dress of grass and blooms that she is going to wear. Fixing her hair and make-up;
When March makes up her mind to burst into the spring; bright blooms, from seeds, unwind and all the birds unfold their wings to embrace the broad blue skies and the sun that seems so shy
Oh, march; why are you so coy? Why not open yourself to joy? The passion of green fire blazing. The Springtime can be so amazing. Oh, march; why are you so shy?
Emerald Shamrock whose three hearts of green help lift my one heavy heart.
Mr Robins always brightly dressed; a red waistcoat wrapped round his portly breast and, over that, a long tail coat of brown; his tails forever flapping up and down.
Her only words, the song of birds yet I’m convinced the Spring is right. She does not preach but strives to teach and civilize my heart with light. Her gentle flowers have greater power
The springtime is like a new birth held in the loving arms of Earth, with rosebuds for her pouting lips; pink flowered boughs, her fingertips; bluebells her eyes so bright and clear
Desire is a creature that lives underground; in its long, dark tunnels it crawls all around. Some say it's a monster; some claim it’s not real and ignore that deep, gnawing desire they feel
Like an amphitheatre are your petals red and round; like the mouth of a spectator going ‘Wow!’; opening your curtain of bright petals you astound;
What a heavenly bliss is the sweet beauty of a rose; just like kisses within kisses are its petals row on row; beautiful concentric circles of curling, silken, scarlet flame;
Lantern of Lantana; I love how you glow; like joy bursting inside when love first starts to grow; like a big-bang beginning when a universe starts; an explosion of colours
They have taken the name of Eos in vain. The true golden dawn is a time of great peace. It’s a loving touch that brings warmth and not pain and smiles upon immigrant faces in Greece.
She is the fox with its fiery tail; the whirl in a shell worn by a garden snail; the red in the rosebud; the blue in bluebells; the little black dots on a ladybirds shell.
The bluebell’s slender, curling cloches pour down just like water that sploshes, as over woodland floors it washes in pools deep enough for galoshes. Even bark covered trunks of trees
Sage birds enjoy their singing and I enjoy to hear their voices brightly ringing, bringing sweetness to my ear. Wise flowers enjoy the sunshine; their round faces beam with smiles
Cheep by cheep, the chirping birds chip away at my gloom. And sunlight keeps, in golden shards, slipping into my room. The Spring time like a faithful friend tries hard to cheer me up.
A mask is like a mark upon the face; honesty like the suns own shining grace. A lie is poison poured upon the ear while honest words are water pure and clear.
The rain slips through my fingers; and dark soil and grains of sand. It makes me wonder what else could. The grass and trees? This bright green land? This moment in this hour
In her mother’s lap the little girl sat and in her little hands she hugged a nesting doll. I stepped back from the painting that was called the ‘Nesting Doll’
Love sheds light upon the sun; love makes the worlds beauty clear; sorrow makes all dark and dun but love sees flowers everywhere.
How loud it is, love’s music; it’s deafening to our ears; how strange then that it’s music only we two can hear. And oh how bright love’s lustre; like a star in the sky
When East and West winds are entwined; their bodies, a great whirlwind make. When Earth’s in ecstasy, divine; that’s when we feel the planet shake. When oceans are, with passions, wracked
Let me be your rainbow; the sunlight in your blue skies just to see the bright glow of happiness in your eyes. Let me be the bright song that fills up your heart with cheer,
Oh where do hairs go when they’re shed, when they grow thin upon my head? To some Hair heaven high above where angels tousle them with love? Is there a paradise where they,
Vervain, trefoil, roses and rue, under my pillow, I did place and dreamed a happy dream of you; of your beautiful, shining face. We danced beneath the solstice sun;
And, suddenly, the rain fell down. In its coolness, I wanted to drown. Against my skin, it tasted sweet as it quenched away the summer heat. Like silver was each precious drop
We saw her when we gazed on her with Neolithic eyes and felt that close connection to the stars in deepest skies but the closer that we come to her, the more we drift apart;
The hunter’s eyes are sharp eyes and yet they fail to see how beautiful the bird is that he aims at with such glee. The hunter’s ears are good ears yet never seem to hear
I salute the tricolor of the sky and earth and sea; the lion rampant of the rising Sun king’s livery; those are the only banners that mean liberty to me, a native of the world.
Swallows, swifts and martens fly; like a feathery, lightning flash, go by in the blink of an old birdwatchers eye, across the broad, blue summer sky. A glimpse of wing and a two pronged tail
From a seed comes a tree; a tree in a field; a field in a village; a village in a region; a region in a country; a country in a continent; a continent upon a planet
Summery memories of green and blue and gold; the world so bright and trouble free and I, just five years old; waist deep in the unmown grass, up to my heart in joy.
My soul already, through the heavens, sails; wanders amidst the countless, shimmering stars. It catches hold of comets by their tails; visits all the bright planets that there are;
Some people think it looks quite odd; our orb shaped, storm survival pod; our neighbours think we’re oddballs too. They wouldn’t think that if they knew how many storms we have survived;
Within the blink (Too fast to think; the cheetah, prince of wildcats sprints with engine grrr; its coat, a blur of spotted fur, it’s here then there, so fast it flies)
Life gave me a flower; I wanted a gold ring. I threw away the flower now I don’t have anything. Life gave me an hour to gaze upon the sun; I spent my time complaining
The lazy lizard; he slowly slithers; he's as slow as a snail. But he’s a wizard, ‘cause when its withered he can regrow his tail.
The thistle is sweet Nature’s kiss; epistle of electric bliss. When life feels like a hammer fist; her lips shine like an amethyst. The thistle will, from morn to moon
There’s Bach in the bark covered limbs of the trees and Beethoven in the hummed hymns of the bees and the little birds sitting on telephone wires
Who owns the stars, I wonder? Are they private property? May my weary eyes still wander round them aimlessly and free? Somehow, the Earth got given to the rich men, kings and Tsars
First the sky has a blues attack then Nature slips on shades of black. Night draws up like a Cadillac while mellow trees sway forth and back.
It was sweltering Summer; so hot I could melt and the sun was a gold deck of cards being dealt and I felt the green field and it feeled just like felt;
These wild angel’s wings, out of Summer’s heaven, spring; branching outwards, they take flight; flower feathers, soft and white. Bursting out like light each bloom is a halo, bright
Which among us never wearies? Who has a smile that never dims? Though the day be bleak and bleary, at least the sun still strives to glim. And when the sun is in its glory;
When I see a girl in a bridal gown and she’s arm in arm with some idle clown or a man who is mean or rude or dim then I wonder what can she see in him. When I see a girl with a band of gold
I praise the royal rays of Sol; the boldly blazing golden gaze of solar rays that raise my soul. Arise tomorrow; erase my sorrow; as your azure skies are my merry eyes.
Slender silver sliver; little hair of shining grey; age comes to deliver more and more of you each day. You resemble blades of grass that winters frost turns white
There’s a feathery grass that’s as soft as a sigh that I oft like to stroke as I am walking by. Common Bent it is called and as it shakes its head
Is that bagpipes and bells I hear? Is there a wedding somewhere near; coloured confetti being thrown on groom and girl in long, white gown
Tenderly, she gazes, with blue skies upon us all and from soft bosom of the clouds milk of silver raindrops falls. With gentlest Summer breezes softly, does she stroke our hair
The sun is setting; the sky is dressed in splendour and my soul is here. Summer birds chirp-chirp but just for a brief moment they were all talking...
He took my hand. She took my hand. He twirled me round. I whirled around. He danced. She danced. We danced together. She danced. He danced. We danced...
Traveller, take care try some other road instead; traveller beware, for grave danger lies ahead; a horrid monsters lair and the monsters not been fed...
This poem will go on as long as our love; the next line is below; the next line is above.
This is a diving board. Dive tluasremoS and SpLaSh deep below the surface of the blue green ocean; shattering reflections of the sun; rds blowing...
There once was a mad general named Octavius McGee who led ten thousand men, all just as brave as men can be. And he said to them “Keep marching and...
Emerald is the little leaf that hangs upon the tree and happy is my heart, whenever I am near to thee but then September comes and that poor leaf...
I sing a song of crimson and of gold. I sing a blazing song as bright as fire. I sing a song against darkness and cold; a song to raise our sunlorn...
On this page a poem’s hidden: Can you see where it is written? Then I’ll reveal it to you So that you can see it too. Heaven is a bit like this. You...
Black and white badger babies snore, tucked up in beds of leaves and straw; huddled up snugly in their setts; mud-cuddled like the Earth’s own pets;...
At first two chinks of light amidst the gloom become my eyes and then fill with my room and then the smiling sun is there to meet me and birds, with...
Where have all the Summers of yesterday gone? They live in my heart and their light lustres on. From my heart, as from Earth, all their bright...
But our love shall fly [THEY] [BUILD] [WALLS] [BETWEEN][US] [HIGH][WALLS] [TO] [DIVIDE] [US] [UP] [WALLS][OF][HATE][AND][IGNO][RANCE] [WALLS][TO][...
A foul disease it is, this Flu. I cough add sdeeze. Atchoo! Atchoo! By dose is blocked. I caddot sbell. A rose from rocks, I could dot tell. Add by...
By nature, the vulture was built and designed to clear up the clutter lions leave behind. They may not be cultured and they may eat like slobs but...
Red roses and the setting sun, just for a moment, became one; of solid form, petals were purged and with the scarlet sky, they merged and in that...
I'm Wilson’s Bird of Paradise, behold these stunning plumes of scarlet, blue and gold; the whirling, swirling scroll-work of my tail; this fair fowls...
Suddenly, the balloon flower’s swelling bud bursts open and open mouthed, the young girl gasps as purple stars unfold.
The Robin in the Autumn sings a different kind of song; different from the Summer and Spring when days were bright and long. Its tune becomes a...
What was that? That rustling sound? A brown leaf tumbling to the ground; nothing but old times gentle tread. Young rabbits lower long ears and heads...
Roses don’t make promises and birds won’t tell me lies; the sweetness that’s in Nature’s kiss has nothing to disguise. And when I look up at the...
It lifts my heart and soul to see the Rainbow Eucalyptus Tree; bright colours dripped upon its bark; a rainbow shining in the dark, reminding me,...
Sleep well, gentle Earth, under your gold leaf blanket; lay down your weary head of fire and dream of emerald days. Soon enough you shall awaken and...
Into the world the Sandman, Autumn, creeps and lulls the gentle child of Earth to sleep, blowing his twinkling stardust in her eyes; making her dream...
A September day; leaves still green and sky still blue; Summer holding on. The Autumn is here when Maple leaves spread wings and become birds of fire...
The blazing Autumn tells her children, that their suffering, she knows but that a season lies before them from whence milk and flowers flow that she...
How sad t’would be to see the sun no more; never again feel its warm rays against my face and all those blooms that, out of spring and summer, pour...
Tightly, to life, the holly leaf is tethered; ‘twill not wither even in wintry weather. When blazing leaves have blown away like feathers, the holly...
I watched a web a spider spinned and, by spinned, I mean span or spun, toing and froing in the wind; its silk threads glistening in the sun. Though...
Silver is the Autumn moon; stars, scattered diamonds, many fold; luxurious, the carpet strewn of leaves like bright and burnished gold. Silken are...
To some, the Autumn season may seem duller; to me, it’s misty, magical and mellow; trees blazing with the most amazing colours; a rhapsody in red,...
Drink a dram of autumn; of her whisky coloured leaves that drip like drops from branches and floors, with goldenness, flood. Though the days grow...
Look at the stars, Narcissus; they shine brighter than your eyes and each blooming rose is redder than your lips. Can’t you see their sweet kisses;...
Autumn Leaves Red Autumn leaves whirl round and leap like dancing flames of wild desire or hearts of those who’ve fallen deep in love. They fail and...
Thistledown, soft as a kiss, went drifting through the Autumn air; bristling clouds, as light as bliss, blew here and there without a care. Like...
The Universe is made from love; I’ve seen it with my heart; each speck of dust; each star above; there’s love in every part. Some people might see...
All through the Winter bleak and dreary, the Sun seems like an absent friend but he will come home bright and cheery and, with green Springtime, make...
A golden sun king sleeps beneath the veil of Autumn gloom and under every fallen leaf spring flowers wait to bloom. Now all the world grows bitter...
Let us, a crimson sunset, be or wheeling starlings in the sky; try to live life more gloriously; blaze blindingly before we die. With music, let our...
Once more, the dawn's triumphant; once more birds sing its praise and, over fields and hills of green, the bright sun spreads its rays. Once more the...
Oh rare and precious bright November day; I cherish each small inch of your blue sky; each sunbeam that you kindly throw my way means as much as all...
Just like a pair of matching gloves you wear in wintry weather or like a pair of snow white doves; two bright birds of a feather, I believe, in my...
A flower grows, right here, within my heart; rainbow-like; a true miracle of joy but now, were you and I to ever part, I know love’s wondrous bloom...
Oh, why make war? Make love instead; share not cold trenches but warm beds; wear lipstick kisses, not red wounds; scream, not in pain, but rapturous...
She gives me all the stars within the night; one hundred, billion lanterns glimmering bright; the happy birds and pretty songs they sing; all the...
Too soon shall come the break of day; too soon the glistering sun shall rise when all the world awakes and they begin to yawn and rub their eyes. But...
November wind, don’t blow too hard; the Autumn leaves are bright and gay; like golden stars and amber shards but you will blow them all away...
Dressed in motley costumes of their many Autumn colours; pretty peach trees do ragdoll like dances in the wind; making me feel gay when Autumn days...
What is this thing called happiness? Nobody knows. Some find it in a lover’s kiss; some in a rose. Some seek it all their lives yet don’t find it at...
Gentle moon, I see you gazing; silver fire, blithely blazing for all humankind to see, yet you seem to look just at me. Why me, out of all the world...
The world of man, though on and on it goes, sometimes completely disappears from sight and there is nothing else except a rose; nothing beyond its...
I dreamt last night of your sweet kiss and a bright sunset filled my heart; a pink and golden haze; a mist that poured into my every part. With honey...
Whichever way I turn within this world, the most astounding beauty meets my eye; whether green velvet fields and hills unfurled or the majestic view...
Winter is a shell of snow from which the Springtime hatches. When Spring comes, green leaves shall glow as bright as flames of matches. When Spring...
I cannot read the words that heaven writes, in twinkling ink of stars across the night and yet their startling beauty speaks to me more than one...
Do all see the same beauty who have looked at natures face? Does she move all men to tears or do some think her commonplace? Do all men see the value...
Oh, the peach tree has now shed its leaves, it’s true. Ahh, but what beautiful leaves, upon her, grew and what bright and cheery Spring blossoms of...
Candle flame; humble fire; spraying forth your fine gold wire, your pointed flame’s a spire, do you see? Do you aspire to be a star in heaven’s high...
but daylight never breaks, it only can repair; repair my shattered heart with golden bandages of beams; repair me with a tender smile from its blue...