Green forest at dusk – A poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea

Green forest at dusk

This green forest, I see it
near quiet lake,
when I have steped lightly over
to hear its multi-coloured thrill.

My horse approves of me joyfully
that I have remained on the plain at dusk
water lilies wait to cry
in the high sky, moon appears.

In my hand, an extinguished tinkling
asks the wind about the water
on whose lustre
my dreams and sighs are reflected.

Sweet dreams are born and grow up
a depth sleep assembles in forest,
I walk silently on my way
shading paths with tinkling of branches.

Valentin Gabriel Cristea

My Pretty Rose Tree – A poem by William Blake

My Pretty Rose Tree

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

William Blake

Galoshesless – poem by Sophia White

Galoshesless

I’m gallavanting happily
With nary a smidgen of care
Through rainforest serendipity
And flowers fill the air.

The ground is rather muddy
From all the gobs of rain
E’en so, who could study
When the wild fills the brain?

I’m stomping without reason
Intoxicated with abandon
And, wow, the world is pleasin’
When you see it all as random.

I’m traipsing like a madman
Without galoshes to my name
And let the wild wetness in!
I’ve got the world to tame!

Sophia White

Earth Moments: The Flowers – Poem by Sohia White

Earth Moments: The Flowers

I pluck a daisy from the roadside
Enchanted by the simplicity
Then shamed of my audacity
Place it gently on the ground

The roses tumble down
A thousand to a vine
Almost white –
But not quite
I breathe in very slow.

The wildflowers are bundled
No order, no rhyme
A mad jumble of blossoms
I hold them to myself.

I pass the large blooms
In the garden, in rows,
Colors matched and neatly planted
I run away to where
The wildflowers are spilling.

High on the top of the tree
One lone flower rests
I watch from the ground
Wishing.

Sophia White

I Meant To Do My Work Today – A poem by Richard LeGallienne

I Meant To Do My Work Today

I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do but laugh and go?

Richard LeGallienne

An Angel and a Violet – in the Garden – A poem by Sophia White

An Angel and a Violet – in the Garden

A small garden, lush with flowers
Pinks and whites and lavenders
Specked with candles in colored glass
Strolled two young and handsome lovers.

The moon was half a glass of wine,
The stars were shards of shattered glass.
The water tumbled through its bed
Where the gentleman walked beside his lass.

The grass wrapped around their ankles
As the candlelight dappled the stream
And the stones shone white in the moon
But none outshone the young girl’s beam.

And I sat on my windowsill,
Watching with a smile for the two,
As I picked up my rough wooden flute
And began to play a romantic tune.

Sophia White

Abroad Too Long – A poem by Sophia White

Abroad Too Long

Walking down the cobbled street,
Wondering distantly how old those stone were
And looking with disinterest at the cathedrals,
And the columns and arches that rise
Like a great garden of stone flowers
That I cannot pick.

Hearing the muted strains of a violin
From some unseen corner where some unseen
Frustrated musician is playing for forints,
And I feel the sorrow in each strike of the bow
Reverberate against my tired bones
In a sepulchral strain.

Thoughtlessly tossing pebbles into the river,
Then realizing I am tossing coins,
So I pour out my purse with melancholic abandon
And let the river have its fun,
Because I have had my fill of it,
And want only to go home.

Sophia White

The Rose Family – A poem by Robert Frost

The Rose Family

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only know
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose–
But were always a rose.

Robert Frost

We should not mind so small a flower – Poem by Emily Dickinson

We should not mind so small a flower

We should not mind so small a flower —
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.

So spicy her Carnations nod —
So drunken, reel her Bees —
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees —

That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.

Emily Dickinson

In Hardwood Groves – Poem by Robert Frost

In Hardwood Groves

The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove.

Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is way in ours.

Robert Frost