Daffodils by William Wordsworth

Poetry is a wonderful way to lighten a mood and lift spirits. On this soon to be sunny Sunday morning here at Green Leaf Reviewer I thought it would be nice to share a sweet poem that describes just how nature can make us feel happy no matter what our prior mood.

“Daffodils”
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

What kind of nature makes you happy? Whatever it is I hope you are able to go out and enjoy it on this wonderful day! ♥love♥

Little Moments of Inspiration

Whether it is a wonderful quote, a photo or a short movie I am inspired daily by the little things that people put out on our great web of internetworking. Here are a few of those very things for everyone to relish and enjoy. I hope your day is sunshiny even if it is raining outside your door!

This soft and delicate rhododendron was photographed beautifully by my favorite photographer Judi FitzPatrick as is called, appropriately, Rhodi. No I am not at all biased just because she is my Mom, she is a kickin’ artist! It can be purchased in her online shop and gazed upon with a smile forever as it hangs gracefully on your wall.

One of my favorite styles of poetry is the limerick. There is an interesting structure to a limerick and the rhyming is in the 1, 2, 5 / 3, 4 (a-a-b-b-a). The syllables dictate the timing, or beat, of the poem and there is always a set rhythm to each. It is a style I have never been able to master, as five lines is far too short for me to tell a story that includes a punch line, but they are so much fun to read because they are almost always humorous. Well at the least a little tongue in cheek. Here is an anonymous limerick to give you a chuckle!

There once was a fly on the wall
I wonder why didn't it fall
Because its feet stuck
Or was it just luck
Or does gravity miss things so small?

It is no secret I am a fan of Jason Mraz. Many know of his music but not as many read his blog. He is an inspiring writer and I greatly look forward to diving right in when I see a new post pop up over at the Freshness Factor Five Thousand space. Lately he has been on a super kick for happiness and gratitude, practicing it and preaching it alike. Here is a wonderful quote from a recent post:

“If everybody’s mama hugged him or her when they were young, this world might be a big musical breaking out in song more often. But that ain’t always the case. So let’s start hugging some folks and give love and hope to those that need it.”

Disco Jakes video will blow you away with his astounding ukulele skills. I was mesmerized the entire five and a half minutes; I have never seen someone’s hand move quite that fast across strings.

Sharing Is Caring

Yesterday I was desperately trying to contribute to the novel I am currently working on and I must have opened it fifteen times but could not conceive of a single sentence that would add to it so I closed it just as many times. It frustrated me that there was nothing inspired coming to mind with regard to the story or character development so instead of typing I picked up my journal and pen. This is one of my favorite exercises as it tends to free the blockage because I am just frantically writing whatever comes to mind no matter how insane it may read later.

At one point while scribbling away I happened to sprawl out lengthwise on my sofa and glanced out the window at the treetops that are visible out back. I stared at them for quite some time and was instantly inspired by their naked beauty so I threw down a little bit of prose.

Generally when I write poetry it is about me, dreams I have had, feelings I need to purge and for the most part I tend to use words that no one but me understands the true meaning of, although many people can relate to the feeling or tone. Prose in my world tends not to be literal and never about nature but for some reason yesterday was different. I posted this over at my personal blog but got to thinking about it this morning and wanted to share my view of yesterday’s nature with all of you as well. Hope you enjoy it.

Just Outside
The wind blows through the branches
And they sway effortlessly,
Elegantly
Against a backdrop of cloudy sky.
A tree can bow in the
Strongest storm
As long as the trunk is sturdy
And the roots are deep.
A shaft of light bursts through
Illuminating the brown bark
Creating shadows for birds
To hide from my eyes.
The light begins to fade
But the tiny tips of the branches
Protrude proudly.
The wind picks up
Branches thrash wildly,
Waving at me inside my home
As if to say ‘pick me for the team’.
Trees do not show emotion
All they do is hold firm.
Years go by,
Centuries.
They see everything
But remember nothing
Except how to flower in the spring.
The monochromatic brown
Suddenly turns to green
Still a singular color palate
Nothing more than the same waving tree,
The same swaying limbs,
Now against a blue sky.
But the branches are hidden
And the leaves show the spirit
That swelled up from deep within the trunk.
The trees may not know how to show joy
But I do.

Nature and Poetry Make Lovely Bedfellows

While searching for poetry this afternoon for another project I came across a website called Poetry in Nature and I must confess I spent a fair amount of time reading through many poems. The site seems to be chock full of more modern poets and so many were beautifully written but when I came across this one I knew it must be shared here at Green Leaf. I hope everyone has a few minutes to get over to the site and check out many of these promising poets.

As the Sun Sets

© Kenneth G. Howard

The wind blows softly against my face,
The shade cast by the tree cools my heart.
The ocean waves relax the tension within,
That would otherwise tear me apart.

Alone on a calm hill for hours I lie,
Waiting only for the golden sun to set,
Prepared to see a moment of true beauty,
One that which I could never forget.

The warm glow of the sun begins to fade,
The ambient noise of the beautiful birds dies down,
The air around me cools ever so much,
But not even to that do I ever frown.

There it hits; my big moment of peace,
I move not a muscle; not even a bit.
I breathe deeply gazing at it's beauty,
Until the skies have become truly starlit.

The moon shines now; the warm glow is gone.
The owls have taken over the birds place.
I still move not, as I continue to breathe the air.
And I continue to feel the soft breeze on my face...