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IS THE
GREASS GREENER
-FOR YOU?
OR GREENER,
-FOR ME?
OR GREENER,
ON THE
OTHER SIDE?
THAT IS,
-UNKNOWN?


I MAY THINK,
IT’S GREENER,
-FOR YOU,
YOU MAY THINK,
IT’S GREENER,
-FOR ME,

WHAT IS THE,
GREEN GRASS?
THAT I
YET
NOT KNOW?


BEHIND THOSE
DOORS,
WHO KNOWS,
HOW IT IS,
-FOR YOU,
OR
-FOR ME,
OR
WHAT’S,
IN STORE,
-ON THE,
OTHER SIDE,
OF THAT,
GREENER GRASS,
-THAT YOU,
THINK,
YOU SEE.


WHAT’S GREEN,
-FOR YOU,
I’SNT
GREEN,
-FOR ME,
AND
SOMETHING,
GREENER,
THAT IS,
-STILL,
-UNFORESEEN.


THAT GREEN GRASS,
-FOR YOU,
WILL BE,
DIFFERENT,
-FOR ME,
AS,
IT IS,
ON THE,
OTHERSIDE,
--UNTOUCHED.


WHO KNOWS,
IF,
IT’S BETTER,
-FOR YOU,
THAN,
IT IS,
-FOR ME,

OR
STILL,
YET,
TO COME,
GREEN,
-ONE DAY,
FROM THAT,
OTHER SIDE,
OF THE,
-UNKNOWN.


UNTIL,
THEN,
ONLY YOU,
CAN KEEP,
TO,
YOUR SIDE,
OF THAT,
GREEN GRASS.


UNTIL,
YOU,
MAKE THAT,
CHOICE,
TO SHIFT/CHANGE,
YOURSELF,
TO THE,
OTHER SIDE,
OF,
THAT,
-UNKNOWN,
GREEN GRASS,


AND,
JUST KNOW STILL,
THAT IT MAY,
-NOT BE,
THAT SAME,
GREEN GRASS,
THAT YOU,
ONCE SAW,
FROM,
YOUR SIDE,
WHERE YOU WERE,
BEFORE,
YOU,
MADE,
-THAT CHANGE.


MAYBE
IT COULD BE,
BETTER,
TO STAY,
ON THAT,
-SAME SIDE,


AND,
CONTINE,
TO BUILD,
ON,
THAT SAME,
‘FAMILIAR’
-GREEN GRASS,
THAT YOU,
ALREADY KNOW.


UNLESS,
YOU FEEL,
-IT’S THAT,
TIME.
TO TAKE,
-THAT RISK,
AND,
GIVE IT,
A GO.


TO TRY AGAIN,
AND,
REBUILD,
A
-NEW GREEN GRASS,
ONCE AGAIN,


OF,
THAT IDEA,
THAT YOU,
THOUGHT THAT,
YOU HAD,
WHEN,
YOU,
WERE ONCE,
-ON THE OTHER SIDE,
OF THAT,
GREEN GRASS.

-GREEN GRASS
© By HF-Whisper
7/2/2021 21:55PM-22:21-28PM
Quote:
‘THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE.’
Bijan Nowain Feb 2015
Grass is Greener*

Someone with one foot in, one foot out,
These days what relationships are about.
Find something meaningful, magical and rare,
Stick with that person, don't go anywhere.
The skies the same color wherever you go,
Fall for one person, dance to and fro.
Make it count, you only get one life,
Don't fill it with heartache, difficult love, and strife.
See happiness in one person and be true,
Stay together, do the work, see it through.
A lover, a best friend, someone in to confide,
The grass is not always greener on the other side.
Victoria Apr 2014
Some are jealous of my life
because it is the single strife

   No kids to  to clean up after    
No roles for the actor

    No husband to answer to
No nightly deja vu

   No cooking and cleaning that must be done
No filled minivans, on the run

   No soccer practice, no paintings to hang
No afternoon quarrels of who should pick up the 'tang'

   The grass is always greener
I always say
For my nights and days are filled with gray

   I cook and clean for myself
For these are the cards I've been dealt

   No one to answer to
No quarrels or games

This life alone is such a shame

   The pictures I hang are of my travels
But all I want are crayonned marvels

   A family of which to call my own
More than a dog to fill my home

   I pray on my knees
to give me all of these
That which is greener over sees
Jason Leimer Dec 2010
The hills over this rocky strech of road are greener,
that contain the things I want in life.
Success, a happy family, you name it.
I am wanting greener pastures. But it is going to take some time like a press conference for Obama
announcing his latest economic plan. Yes the greener pastures are coming its just tough right now to wait for it.
juliet Nov 2018
the grass is always greener
on the other side of the fence
these are the rules
i don’t make them
somebody is always going to be better than me
should i look up or down?
to the glowing sun
or the deep blue sea?
this is the blood, sweat, tears
of thirteen years
of hate and love for myself
this is the breaking
this is the growing
this is the healing
this is the faking of my feelings
against who i am inside
the grass is always greener
on the other side of the fence
in their ocean eyes i see the
future and in mine i see the past
in their hands i see pure bravery and
in mine i see brute strength and no control
and on their face i see and angel
on mine i see a spectre in
a twisted mask
that chips off
with every single one
of my tears
the grass is always greener
on the other side of the fence
from this side of paradise
all you see is my broken heart
and your hands quickly sew it back
as another stitch rips.
the grass is always greener
when you are on the other side
because no flowers would ever grow
if never washed with rain
the moon is always brighter
when the sun is there to shine
on its beautiful, silver face
that would be hidden by our
shadows till it melted into
space. this is the breaking
this is the growing
this is the healing
this is the alpha
this is the omega
this is the end.
Nomad Jul 2014
The Grass is Greener,
when you see the world
just a little bit clearer.

There it is, sitting out the window,
past the barbed wires,
and picket fences,
penny for your thoughts,
or even six pences?

The grass is green,
while it lives in the garden or out of bed,
out there and in here,
in the lawn or in your head.

Aye indeed,
The Grass is Greener
they say, on the other side instead.

Aye the Grass is so much Greener
while it blankets the dead.
Kody dibble Mar 2015
Time is whatever you manage to make,
Day in day out, we learn from that which takes it,

To silence the fears that make us,
Feel the hatred that takes us,

Continue, in vain,
Like gestures and coins,
Tossed in the great beyond,

Dimes and platelets of greener days,
Rendered the vision of maximum guilt,
Fortrusions for gone the desert a piece
Peace
I have had to learn
A few lessons to get here.
Suffered beyond my means
At the hands of people
Who never deserved to hold
My light in their hands.

And in the aftermath when
My Dark comes knocking,
I try to remember that
Greener grass is just ahead.

Had I known that greener
Meant the color of your eyes
When you smiled,
I would have run barefoot
Over broken glass to get here quicker.

Not that I know where here is,
Or if this is the final destination;
But you pick the words
From the tip of my tongue
And make them sound like music.

You are a warrior.
I saw it in the way you sized me up
While we talked away sunsets.
You wear your battle scars like
The beautiful banners they are.

Darling,
You leave me star eyed.

Every facet of your personality
A gentle reminder that
I am not alone.
That the Dark isn't a deity
Capable of swallowing me whole.
But something I can over come
With your words.

The grass looks greener
Where we are headed.
Even if we wander through a mine field
And end up walking away
Missing pieces ourselves
In each other,

I won't give up till we can touch
Every single blade of grass
With the tips of our toes
As we dance to each others war songs.
Jack  May 2014
Greener Pastures
Jack May 2014
What if life
was filled with greener pastures
and their fragrance
came rolling down like summer breeze
Would you smile
and lie right here beside me,
hold me close,
make true my wildest dreams

In these fields
of vibrant greener pastures
close your eyes
and hear the trees upon the hill
Sunny skies
and everything that matters,
here I lie with you
and I always will
I.

Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost
with quivering continual thighs invite
the thrilling rain the slender paramour
to toy with thy extraordinary lust,
(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed
steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour
wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)
—immortally whence are the high gods fled?

Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod
significant to the ecstatic earth
in token of his coming whom her soul
burns to embrace—and didst thou know the god
from but the imprint of whose cloven feet
the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,
at the mere echo of whose shining mirth
the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

Wind beautifully who wanderest
over smooth pages of forgotten joy
proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers
—didst e’er depart upon more exquisite quest?
and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell
(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)
among the curves of that delicious boy
whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian
sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul
whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm
Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,
whose lilied robe the sun’s white hands emboss,
betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm
of intent stars circling the acerb pole
poises,smiling,the diadumenos

in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw
their once again victorious Pantarkes
(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold
to imitate between the feet of awe),
thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers
its curls of unendured eternal gold
over the infinite breast in bright degrees,
whose pillow is the graces and the hours,

father of gods and men whose subtle throne
twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth
caught to her brazen *******,whose foot-stool tells
how fought the looser of the warlike zone
of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,
lord on whose pedestal the deep expels
(over Selene’s car closing uncouth)
of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous—

are there no kings in Argos,that the song
is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower
within whose brightening strictness Danae
saw the night severed and the glowing throng
descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain
of gradual hands and yielding to that fee
her eager body’s unimmortal flower
knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

                    2.

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring
assembles beauty from forgetfulness
with the wild trump of April:witchery
of sound and odour drives the wingless thing
man forth in the bright air,for now the red
leaps in the maple’s cheek,and suddenly
by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress
ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun
with hooded day preening upon his hand
followed by gay untimid final flowers
(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun
the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)
while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,
seeing green armies steadily expand
hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

A silver sudden parody of snow
tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!
the flicker’s laughing yet,while on the hills
the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw
backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright
sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills
the unimaginable upward lark
and drowns the earth and passes into light

(slowly in life’s serene perpetual round
a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,
hope richly scattered by the abundant sun
invades the new mosaic of the ground
—let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn
surpassing nets are sedulously spun
to snare the brutal dew,—the authentic scroll
of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

Spring,that omits no mention of desire
in every curved and curling thing,yet holds
continuous *******—through skies and trees
the lilac’s smoke the poppy’s pompous fire
the *****’s purple patience and the grave
frailty of daises—by what rare unease
revealed of teasingly transparent folds—
with man’s poor soul superlatively brave.

Surely from robes of particoloured peace
with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes
and dim slow perfect body amorous
(whiter than lilies which are born and cease
for being whiter than this world)exhales
the hovering high perfume curious
of that one month for whom the whole years dies,
risen at length from palpitating veils.

O still miraculous May!O shining girl
of time untarnished!O small intimate
gently primeval hands,frivolous feet
divine!O singular and breathless pearl!
O indefinable frail ultimate pose!
O visible beatitude sweet sweet
intolerable!silence immaculate
of god’s evasive audible great rose!

                    3.

Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed
prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,
curtained with wordless worship absolute,
unto the certain altar at whose head
stands that clear candle whose expecting breath
exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,
(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears
complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

Now is the time when all occasional things
close into silence,only one tree,one
svelte translation of eternity
unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,
(whose million leaves in winsome indolence
simmer upon thinking twilight momently)
as down the oblivious west’s numerous dun
magnificence conquers magnificence.

In heaven’s intolerable athanor
inimitably tortured the base day
utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,
and from those tenuous fires which more and more
sink and are lost the divine alchemist,
the magus of creation,lifts a flower—
whence is the world’s insufferable clay
clothed with incognizable amethyst.

Lady at whose imperishable smile
the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings
as if in terror of eternity,
(or seeming that they would mistrust a while
the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout
that very proud transparent company
of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings
drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),

queen in the inconceivable embrace
of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands
whereof is most desire,yet less than those
twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,
goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom
or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,—
having Discordia’s apple in thy hands,
which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom—

O thou within the chancel of whose charms
the tall boy god of everlasting war
received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,
betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms
impaled upon delicious mystery,
with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,
deliberate groping ocean fondled o’er
the warm long flower of unchastity,

imperial Cytherea,from frail foam
sprung with irrevocable nakedness
to strike the young world into smoking song—
as the first star perfects the sensual dome
of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird
transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong
th ehearts of lovers!—I beseech thee bless
thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.

— The End —