Quotes about leaf, page 27
A Maiden To Her Mirror
He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow,
My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new snow;
And swore my round, full throat would bring despair
To Venus or to Psyche.
Time and care
Will fade these locks; the merry god, I know,
Uses no grizzled cords upon his bow.
How will it be when I, no longer fair,
Plead for his kiss with cheeks, whence long ago
The early snowflakes melted quite away,
The rose leaf died – and in whose sallow clay
Lie the deep sunken tracks of life’s gaunt crow?
When this full throat shall wattle fold on fold,
Like some ripe peach left drying on a wall,
Or like a spent accordion, when all
Its music has exhaled – will love grow cold?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Chanson Sans Paroles
I the deep violet air,
Not a leaf is stirred;
There is no sound heard,
But afar, the rare
Trilled voice of a bird.
Is the wood's dim heart,
And the fragrant pine,
Incense, and a shrine
Of her coming. Apart,
I wait for a sign.
What the sudden hush said,
She will hear, and forsake,
Swift, for my sake,
Her green, grassy bed:
She will hear and awake!
She will hearken and glide,
From her place of deep rest,
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poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Alankar (Decor) -18
Oh Bare, How Dare She Stands....
(A Tribute To The Tree Golden Shower)
Oh bare, how dare she stands sole in her space
Shedding one by one all her green, lo, nude
Bearing pain over pain leaf by leaf crude
Oh there, why pares but fate this way her grace
But friends wait and watch just where goes her race
cited march pregnant her ilk to allude
Just trends trait straight golden showers so prude
Lighted torchlike blossoms to bloom her space
Sooner sunny racemes golden flower
Haloed circle enriched enshrine our hearts
Lordess shelters us herds in blest shower
Silent diction in praise of godly arts
Succumb we in 'Sarakondrai's'power
Tributes line up, what else then from our hearts
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Hast Thou A Song For A Flower.
I.
HAST thou a song for a flower,
Such as, if breathed in its ear,
Would waken in beauty's own bower
The spirit most fit to be there?
Then, minstrel, I challenge thy power--
Such song, if thou hast, sing it here!--
Here, where the breeze o'erwearied,
With his travel o'er ocean creeps,
And on the green leaf by her lattice,
Sinks languidly down and sleeps.
II.
For her the sweet music thou bringest
Must in a true spirit be wrought,
And the passion of mine thou singest
Must be pure as the child's first thought.
If none such within thee springest,
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poem by William Gilmore Simms
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Bloody banana leaf, confirmation!
They had brought her here, would sing and dance
Her peers would add wood to fire
A night so divine, a wedding of time
A wedding mark in space bound for
White linen sheets spread, the banana leaves ready
She timid and anxious, womanhood journey begins
In his closet
Warrior in him, anxiety concealed
Outside they would sing
He would grab her, a beauty so delicate, a virgin so pretty
They would sing and drums beat, a night in hearts would stick
She would submit to him, her world, where none had walked
In crescendo blood would get away, she would moan
In delight she would pull and wrap blood in the banana leaf
Her trophy, the bloody banana leaf
Confirmation stamp, virginity preserved for show!
Happily after they would count moons and sunsets.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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A Mumble....
how i wish to be just everything
a tree full of leaves where some stars hang out tonight
or just fireflies if there be no stars
that will suffice or if there are no fireflies at all
perhaps a candlelight
a lonely candle put upon one of its roots
or if there be none at all
no tree or leaf or ground
or worm
i still just wish that i be everything in that nothing
a space
an echo a dust a wind
i just want to dissipate in everything that comes my way
a memory of you in a minute
or just a crumpled paper
a dew that dries up in air
a mark on the leaf
a scratch of the stone
a left over moss
i just want to have an image of myself
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Red Ant And The Dead Leaf...
all i did was to protect
rights, i tackled the corresponding obligations.
I am a model citizen.
I teach laws.
a group of giants laugh at me
there is no trampling still, i wait.
their feet are heavy and one foot
one stamp is enough
to wipe me out. I am an ant.
I have not anthill to live.
it never saddens me
and i got enthralled by one of you.
ready to offer
everything i have.
i know how to climb trees
i challenge on of those ivory gods.
the tree gods wait and become curious.
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Last Rose Of Autumn
Upon the leaf litter that covers the ground
The faded rose petals lay scattered around
The last rose of Autumn has answered the call
Of the cold grim reaper and so too must we all.
The last rose of Autumn she too had her day
She bloomed bright and lovely through June from late May
But the beautiful pink flower the last on her tree
Has returned to Nature and so too must we.
And now on the rose tree the tiny buds show
The green baby buds that to pink roses will grow
And in the green parkland the birds chirp and sing
And the magpies stick gathering at the coming of Spring.
Upon the leaf litter now faded and gray
The last rose of Autumn has gone to decay
And the mother who bore her has new baby flowers
And the fate of the rose it will also be ours.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Better Ressurection
I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.
My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall--the sap of spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.
My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
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poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Those We Encounter!
there is only one race
of people, the human race!
the leaf that's green
in the springtime,
that turns to red and gold,
then to brown, and falls...
is always a leaf!
the human heart,
regardless of skin color,
language, or faith,
is the same in each of us.
when we fight and kill each other,
we are killing ourselves.
what we take from those less fortunate,
we take from ourselves.
what we hate, and fear,
and dont understand,
is the darkness inside of us all.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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