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Sourabh2

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softly the evening came the sun from the western horizon like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape trinkling vapors arose and sky and water and forest seemed all on fire at the touch and melted and mingled together

moments determined in repetative wax holy light of arson or hypnotic passing of hours in pools that dwindle our love our children of vision on a ridged plexiglass plate where the colors touch the light become wisps of black

if nature were not beautiful it would not be worth knowing and if nature were not worth knowing life would not be worth living

sunshine in my eyes can make me cry sunshine on the water looks so lovely sunshine almost always makes me high

long way from my home sometimes i wish i could fly like a bird up in the sky oh sometimes i wish i could fly fly like a bird up in the sky closer to my home motherless children have a hard time motherless children have such a hard time motherless children have such a really hard time a long way from home

woven from words buttoned the longing holds fast and now i inspect the times of day i turn the morning over so as to look into your open eyes good morning i tell the eyes bending over a sleep that is taking its leave with fingertips i touch the eyelids

this night - for you and in the furry melon of the night cut open the inside is sweet and juicy if my body does not shine the sandy trail of stars was made in vain meandering through the not important sky and in vain the bent moon peers at the earth's insides

nature rarer uses yellow than another hue saves she all of that for sunsets prodigal of blue spending scarlet like a woman yellow she affords only scantly and selectly like a lover's words

children born of fairy stock never need for shirt or frock never want for food or fire always get their hearts desire jingle pockets full of gold marry when they're seven years old every fairy child may keep two ponies and ten sheep all have houses each his own built of brick or granite stone

she bears the name of a tall sunflower which very much in love turns away its sky-bound head of a thousand aurous pupils into the broad leaves the sun falls in a swarm of bees and so the sunflower cast into the blue buzzes

deep in fear and in suspicions with troubled mind and frightened eyes we sweat away and scheme at what we do in order to avoid the certain danger that so frightfully threatens us and yet we err- that danger is not in our path false were the portents

retreating to the shade i observed another perspective on a now broken panes giving jagged dimension to broken promises while proud flags flap flap the virtues purchased with shattered lives laying in shards unseen at his feet

fair daffodils we weep to see you haste away so soon as yet the early-rising sun has not attain'd his noon stay stay until the hasting day has run but to the even-song and having pray'd together we will go with you along

loveliest of trees the cherry now is hung with bloom along the bough

i heard a thousand blended notes while in a grove i sate reclined in that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind to her fair works did nature link the human soul that through me ran and much it grieved my heart to think what man has made of man through primrose tufts in that green bower the periwinkle trailed its wreaths

forests lakes and rivers clouds and winds stars and flowers stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes every form of animate or inanimate existence leaves its impress upon the soul of man

in serener bright in a more golden light i see each little doubt and fear each little discord here removed

life is no brief candle to me it is a sort of splendid torch which i have got a hold of for the moment and i want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it onto future generations

the pleasant air and wind with sacred thoughts do feed my serious mind

the fountains mingle with the river and the rivers with the ocean the winds of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion nothing in the world is single all things by a law divine in one spirit meet and mingle why not i with thine see the mountains kiss high heaven and the waves clasp one another

deep in the soul below all the distractions of life is a silence vast and grand an infinite ocean of calm which nothing can disturb nature's own exceeding peace which 'passes understanding that which we seek with passionate longing here and there upward and outward we find at last within ourselves

the spring wind scattering blossoms i saw it in a dream but when i awoke the sound was still rustling in my breast

golden snake of the forest janus- faced phenomenon at the base of that old tree i watched you shed your skin my sons and i used to climb the old tree's limbs we named it grandfather your skin is blowing in the wind and you are glistening i too have shed some skin died

down by the river and through the woods around the corner there it stood dressed all in red this precious homestead

i never cared much for moonlit skies i never wink back at fireflies but now that the stars are in your eyes i'm beginning to see the light i never went in for afterglow or candlelight on the mistletoe but now when you turn the lamp down low i'm beginning to see the light used to ramble through the park shadowboxing in the dark

snow lands on hemlocks gentle as falling feathers turning needles white

she wants to get to know the sound of your voice hear your whispers know every line of your features learn to read the unspoken messages expressed on your face how you pull your mouth the corners of your smile see the funny faces you pull she wants to get to know your laugh

to the little red house he goes just down the road from us is a beautiful nature sanctuary went looking for a snowy owl but all i found was a man in a red jacket the soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone

kisses will go on sale until breathlessness hugs for dime a dozen and the waiting day in day out and the waiting day in day out for the night for the dawn for the bread for the pain for the hunger

beneath tall pines i built a hut windows open on all four sides i sit all day facing mountains nothing else comes to mind

o thou with dewy locks who lookest down through the clear windows of the morning turn thine angel eyes upon our western isle which in full choir hails thy approach o spring the hills tell one another and the listening valleys hear all our longing eyes are turn'd up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth and let thy holy feet visit our clime come o'er the eastern hills and let our winds kiss thy perfumed garments let us taste

tango with shadows each on its own axis spins dialogue of light

after the rain the wind was up and kept rippling the puddle surface so i'm especially happy that this one turned out well

the ceremony of innocence is drowned the best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity

the flower is about the size of a quarter this was a very small butterfly every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks

clootie tree fluttering rags hang on the tree overlooking the spring glittering tinsel ribbons a single glove remembrance of someone flittering prayers requests answered or refused fading in sunlight

my lover is not at all good-looking and his personality is rather difficult but who will paint the sky for me dark purple in the afternoon if i let him go to not come back my lover has a hot mouth and a row of sharp teeth when he answers smiling to the world's challenge my lover has a mouth which waxes in a halfmoon over each of my nights

we came to standing waters in our walk that morning when we woke your breath and lips against my ear - remember dear - the clock had stopped at one that night - i know it slips your mind when we recall that morning how we left with breakfast in our hands and ate it late there in the meadow where the plow unused for eons rusted down the weight of passing taking what it ever was and changing it we chose to sit within

old vs new rough vs smooth

it seems a little climbing makes us out of breath your shoe turns sideways and you fall you tumble down along with me in doubt well ever keep our footing placing all our hope in filling pails with water up this easy slope it knocks us down as if it rose an everest well never cup our hands and drink our dreams on top this cliff well never reach that well together one immobile hand constrains another held

but maybe prayer is a road to rise a mountain path leading toward the skies to assist the spirit who truly tries

now came still evening on and twilight gray had in her sober livery all things clad silence accompanied for beast and bird they to they grassy couch these to their nests were slunk all but the wakeful nightingale

i never told you but i always fancied your teeth it's the only part of you each day that's unexposed hidden from view until you choose to open up so i can share those moods wide laughing teeth subtle teasing teeth

as everywhere of silver with ropes of sand to keep it from effacing the track called land

and on the morrow i went down to the sea and stood for a long time for the waters to calm me i let my feet root among the shingle and seaweed and my mind bobbed on the cove's waves absorbing their rhythms what i had come for i found looking for me - and the green world conceiving inside me smashed through my skin

sometimes the mountain is hidden from me in veils of cloud sometimes i am hidden from the mountain in veils of inattention apathy fatigue when i forget or refuse to go down to the shore or a few yards up the road on a clear day to reconfirm that witnessing presence

forming and breaking in the sky i fancy all shapes are there temple mountain monument spire ships rigged out with sails of fire and blown by the evening air

the old house tucked away in time seemed to be trying to hide i did not invade her space this day maybe it was nervous thoughts of snakes and mice and things not so nice

if i could i would take up the sea join hands with the sky i`d melt with the shore they`re part of all i adore and all the love we will share one moment more the sea goes on forever the sky goes on forever it`s something no-one can deny if they go on forever

the vast wild the house alone the little house in the wild the wild in the house both forgotten no nature both together one big empty house

come to the window look out and see the valley turning green in remembrance of all springs past and to come the woods perfecting with immortal patience the leaves that are the work of all of time the sycamore whose white limbs shed the history of a man's life with their old bark the river quivering under the morning's breath like the touched skin of a horse and you will see also the shadow cast upon it by fire the war

bring me the sunset in a cup reckon the morning's flagons up and say how many dew tell me how far the morning leaps tell me what time the weaver sleeps who spun the breadth of blue write me how many notes there be in the new robin's ecstasy among astonsihed boughs how many trips the tortoise makes

come away o human child to the waters and the wild with a faery hand in hand for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

you do not have to be good you do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves tell me about despair yours and i will tell you mine meanwhile the world goes on meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes over the prairies and the deep trees

the fields breathe sweet the daisies kiss our feet young lovers meet old wives a-sunning sit in every street these tunes our ears do greet cuckoo jug-jug pu-we to-witta-woo spring the sweet spring

in the spring of the year in the spring of the year i walked the road beside my dear the trees were black where the bark was wet i see them yet in the spring of the year he broke me a bough of the blossoming peach that was out of the way and hard to reach in the fall of the year in the fall of the year i walked the road beside my dear the rooks went up with a raucous trill i hear them still in the fall of the year

as a pale phantom with a lamp ascends some ruin's haunted stair so glides the moon along the damp mysterious chambers of the air now hidden in cloud and now revealed as if this phantom full of pain were by the crumbling walls concealed and at the windows seen again until at last serene and proud in all the splendor of her light

smitten petunia bitten by a big bunny into pink pinwheel

in the sky an infinitude of hope a canvas of glory all possibilities mine

forever at his side to walk the smaller of the two brain of his brain blood of his blood two lives one being now

she lies motionless suspended in silk of her own devising threads slung in ordered geometry from scarlet twig to scarlet twig she is still watchful embellished with jewels sparkling gleaming in the dim light of this autumn morning the seasonal mist highlights her domain repeated reflections of me of my camera are strung in luminescent pearly drops

a frog leaps out from bordering grass startling the timid as they pass do you observe him and endeavour to take the intruder into favour learning from him to find a reason for a light heart in a dull season and you may love him in the pool that is for him a happy school in which he swims as taught by nature fit pattern for a human creature

the words will never show the you i've come to know if a face could launch a thousand ships then where am i to go there's no one home but you you're all that's left me to and when my love for life is running dry you come and pour yourself on me if i could be two places at one time i'd be with you tomorrow and today beside you all the way if the world should stop revolving spinning slowly down to die i'd spend the end with you and when the world was through then one by one the stars would all go out

can you see fall hey summers going down it isn't in the tress but please look closer to the ground she's springing up from below autumn is her given name she's hot then cold it's like she plays a sexy game i was looking out the windows of a tiny church so old

o yellow eye let me be sick with your heat let me be feverish and frowning

here i come home: in this expected country they know my name and speak it with delight i am the dream and you my gates of entry the means by which i waken into light

we'd met precisely once before my friend is quite precise we exchange given names gladys tells me her nickname bunny bunny bolt she says with a giggle do you see

some leaves hang late some fall before the first frost so goes the tale of winter branches and old bones

a wounded deer leaps highest i've heard the hunter tell 'tis but the ecstasy of death and then the brake is still the smitten rock that gushes the trampled steel that springs a cheek is always redder just where the hectic stings mirth is the mail of anguish in which it cautious arm

but is there for the night a resting-place a roof for when the slow dark hours begin may not the darkness hide it from my face you cannot miss that inn shall i meet other wayfarers at night those who have gone before then must i knock or call when just in sight they will not keep you waiting at that door shall i find comfort travel-sore and weak of labour you shall find the sum

now the heart sings with all its thousand voices to hear this city of cells my body sing the tree through the stiff clay at long last forces its thin strong roots and taps the secret spring

soft clatter of ice white pellets on patio long storm's upon us freezing rain returns after brief intermission ice will grow on trees

every tear is answered by a blossom every sigh with songs and laughter april-blooms upon the breezes toss them april knows her own and is content

all the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players they have their exits and their entrances and one man in his time plays many parts his acts being seven ages at first the infant mewling and puking in the nurse's arms and then the whining school-boy with his satchel and shining morning face creeping like snail unwillingly to school

you are fair a child of the moon not of the sun the glory of other flowers would be death to you your pure body all bloom and scent feeds on celestially cool air sweet as balsam

four strong winds that blow lonely seven seas that run high all these things that dont change come what may

rose thou art the sweetest flower that ever drank the amber shower even the gods who walk the sky are amourous of thy scented sigh

love is real real is love love is feeling feeling love love is wanting to be loved love is touch touch is love love is reaching reaching love love is asking to be loved love is you you and me love is knowing we can be

of cloudless climes and starry skies and all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes

who lay against the sea and fled who lightly loved the wave shall never know when he is dead a cool and murmurous grave but in a shallow pit shall rest for all eternity and bear the earth upon the breast that once had worn the sea

all night the sound had come back again and again falls this quite persistent rain what am i to myself that must be remembered insisted upon so often is it that never the ease even the hardness

but the raven sitting lonely on the placid bust spoke only that one word as if his soul in that one word he did outpour nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered till i scarcely more than muttered other friends have flown before on the morrow will he leave me as my hopes have flown before then the bird said nevermore

i think dogs are the most amazing creatures they give unconditional love for me they are the role model for being alive

a moment in summer belongs to me and one particular honey bee a moment in summer shimmering clear making the sky seem very near a moment in summer belongs to me

deep into that darkness peering long i stood there wondering fearing doubting dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

both light and shadow are the dance of love love has no cause it is the astrolabe of god's secrets lover and loving are inseparable and timeless although i may try to describe love when i experience it i am speechless although i may try to write about love i am rendered helpless

back of every creation supporting it like an arch is faith enthusiasm is nothing it comes and goes but if one believes then miracles occur

welsh gold silver-golden sand squeaky-clean whistling underfoot along the shore the cold landing in summers setting sun porth oer yellow-gold of gorse with purple heath

they were the leaves the murmuring leaves the freshness the countless glowing they were the green leaves the living cell the imperishable instant of the landscape the green leaves that bring near in their murmuring the sonorous distances like rigging the fine the naked oscillating leaves the leaves and the wind leaves that waved with marine rhythm leaves with pure voices

i am a rock i am an island and a rock feels no pain and an island never cries

the night is a net and the day is a net there are as many traps as there are moments

yesterday i was a dog today i'm a dog tomorrow i'll probably still be a dog sigh there's so little hope for advancement

full many a glorious morning have i seen flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye kissing with golden face the meadows green gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy anon permit the basest clouds to ride with ugly rack on his celestial face and from the forlorn world his visage hide stealing unseen to west with this disgrace even so my sun one early morn did shine with all triumphant splendor on my brow

with every song with every breath that you take i'll give you the moon and the sun with every beat of my heart i will love you

when you take a flower in your hand and really look at it it's your world for the moment i want to give that world to someone else

tiger tiger burning bright in the forests of the night what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry in what distant deeps or skies burnt the fire of thine eyes on what wings dare he aspire what the hand dare seize the fire and what shoulder and what art could twist the sinews of thy heart

here standing with the unvoyageable sky in faint reflection of infinitude stretched overhead

at dusk the window panes grew grey the wet world vanished in the gloom the dim and silver end of day scarce glimmered through the little room

shadows on the hills sketch the trees and the daffodils catch the breeze and the winter chills in colors on the snowy linen land

home is a place outside of town where early morning fog creeps up from the fields and the world seems to end just beyound the fence there a woman named daisy lives in a yellow house surrounded by fields of farmland