King’s Cross Station
This circled cosmos whereof man is god
Has suns and stars of green and gold and red,
And cloudlands of great smoke, that range o'er range
Far floating, hide its iron heavens o'erhead.
God! shall we ever honour what we are,
And see one moment ere the age expire,
The vision of man shouting and erect,
Whirled by the shrieking steeds of flood and fire?
Or must Fate act the same grey farce again,
And wait, till one, amid Time's wrecks and scars,
Speaks to a ruin here, 'What poet-race
Shot such cyclopean arches at the stars?'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXVI: Ruin
Do not ruin a good story
Do not ruin a perfect plan
Do not ruin a flawless lie
Do not ruin a great sacrifice
Do not ruin a hard work
Do not ruin a long trust
Do not ruin a magical moment
Do not ruin a golden opportunity
Do not ruin the current mood
Do not ruin an innocent dream
Do not ruin a sweet memory
Do not ruin a fair game
Do not ruin a mutual agreement
Do not ruin a smiling face
Do not ruin the flowing river
Do not ruin the sequence order
Do not ruin the standard procedure
Do not ruin the prepared show
Do not ruin a complete circle
Do not ruin a final ending
Do not ruin the leisure time
Do not ruin the aiming shot
Do not ruin the hidden purpose
Do not ruin a genius idea
Do not ruin the dead price
Do not ruin a determined mind
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Verordnet Diesem Geschlecht Keinen Glauben
Do not decree faith on this race,
stars, ships and smoke are enough;
it is concerned with things, determines
stars and mathematical infinity,
and a trait, call it trait of love,
emerges more purely from it all.
The heavens hang limp, and stars come loose
from the juncture with moon and night.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Wild West: Dead Gone
old west is time dead gone
rustlers free range modern
well executed wars oiled
Saddham entrapment lead
attacks rich oil wells Kuwait
plan Bush deceived brilliant
Iraq Afghanistan Libya start
cruel foreign oil range wars
modern politicians hands clean
land cattle baron range rustlers
reside at plush 1600 Pennsylvania
Avenue NW stateless Washington
living immunity from range hits
octopus arms free range world
survival horseless you were left
for dead without your livelihood
there was a time
in American history
when horse thieves
were shot or hung
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paniolo Country
Places I have been,
cities I have seen,
with concrete caverns rising from the ground.
Miles and miles of asphalt trail,
stretch across a land,
stampeding meadow ponies leaving smoke along the way...
I'm going back to paniolo county,
stars at night
no city lights.
Paniolo country, my home on the range.
I made up my mind, won't waste any time
I'm going back to where the clouds ride high.
take my word its pretty, not like the great big city
the winds still bring cool clear mountian air.
I'm going back to paniolo country
rain drops fall, the grass grows tall
paniolo county, my home on the range.
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Enniskillen
Oh my heart beat high with joy elate,
When Danny rode in the Hunters’ Plate
On Enniskillen, the raking grey-
A mighty jumper, with power to stay!
Velvet muzzled, with eye of fire,
Clean-legged, slant –shouldered, and tough as wire,
Oh, the joy that can fill a colleen’s breast,
When her man and horse are dong their best!
The summer skies were without a cloud
O’er the heads of the frantic, cheering crowd,
As he led the field right into the straight,
And his eyes met mine, at the five-barred gate.
Then they thundered by, like a roaring flood,
And oh, good luck to the Irish blood!
The Irish blood that in horse or man
Has never ‘caved in’ since the world began.
He took the last leap, like a bird in the air,
Clearing the hurdle, straight and fair,
And Enniskillen won!
We’d been married for one long blissful year
Of hope and struggle, of joy and fear;
Our hearts were young, and our hopes were high,
And the star of love shone bright in our sky.
And I felt like a queen as I hushed to rest
The little bright head that lay on my breast;
But the air was stifling close and strange
With a scent of smoke from the burning range,
And I prayed for Danny, riding away
On a cattle hunt, on the gallant grey—
The smoke came down like a cloud of night,
And ranges and trees were blotted from sight,
When Enniskillen came galloping home,
His grey coat mottled and flecked with foam,
And Danny’s face was rigid and white,
“Come Sweetheart, we ride for our lives to-night;
Wrap this cloak around you, hold Baby fast,
And pray, till the danger be overpassed,
For the wind has arisen with whirling force,
And our lives depend on the dear, grey horse.
And on God’s good mercy.” – A streak of light,
Enniskillen went racing into the night
The dim stars peered from a reeling sky,
And wild bush creatures came rushing by;
As crash on crash the timber fell,
And the burning wind was a blast of hell.
But Danny held me with steady arm,
And the Babe, between us, slept safe from harm.
We were nearly through, and the battle won,
When Danny drew rein with “Ah God! – We’re done!”
For before us the flames met roaring wide,
Though safety lay on the other side,
One moment, a tremble, the grey horse stood,
Then oh, thank God for the Irish blood,
The Irish blood that in horse and man
Has never ‘ caved in’ since the world began!
With a snort of defiance to smoke and flame,
Through the raging furnace the grey horse came,
Though laboured sobs shook his trembling side,
And falling cinders scorched his hide,
And Enniskillen won!
The grass is waving on hill and plain,
And peace and plenty are here again;
Our little home rebuilt once more,
And the lean struggling year are o’er.
There’s a paddock green on the river flat,
Where a dear grey horse roams strong ans fat,
Though on his back the scars still show,
Deep scars where never a hair can grow.
But still he holds his head with pride,
And treads the earth with a kingly stride,
Proud of his Irish blood!
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sydney Cove, 1788
SHE sat on the rocks, her fireless eyes
Teased and tired with the thoughts of yore;
And paining her sense were alien skies,
An alien sea and an alien shore.
In gold-green dusks she glimpsed new flowers
And the glittering wings of gleaming birds —
But haunting her still were English bowers
And the clinging sweetness of old love-words.
A soft breeze murmured of unknown shores
And laughed as it touched her with fingers light,
But she mourned the more for the wind that roars
Down sullen coasts on a northern night.
Like topaz gems on a sable dome
The stranger stars stole shyly forth;
She saw no stars like the stars of home
That burned, white-fired, in the frosty north.
A restless sea was at her feet,
A restless sea of darkest blue;
The lights burned dimly on The Fleet,
And these were all the ships it knew.
She watched the dark tides rise and fall,
The lion-tides that, night and noon,
Range round the world, and moan and call
In sad sea-voices to the moon.
Thus while she watched they ebbed and flowed;
Till last with sudden splendour Day
Lit all the scene with gold, and showed
An arrow black on a garb of grey.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Time
If you want it
Dont look at my face
Its the last time
Its not forever
The dust in the wind
Its the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
The scars are made by man
Heaven cant help you now
In this madness
Take it while you can
Its the last time
This holy water
Running away
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
All these fields, that once were green
Have turned to smoke and steel
The sun will fall, and the last moon rise
Dont turn this tide away
If you want it
So start it again
Its the last time
(the scars were made by man)
Its not forever
The dust is the wind
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainbow Country "A Place of Love"
I'm riding the range in the rainbow country.
Where the skies are always filled with glistening stars.
Where the air is always pure and comforting to the heart.
Where my mind can ride the range in search of eternal peace.
Where dreams turn out so wonderful and freely.
I'm riding the range in the rainbow country.
Where love is fair and free.
Where love never dies.
Were love can be nurtured and always stay high.
Where the heart always remains serene and peaceful.
In the rainbow country:
A place fo love.
A place of peace.
Hence, I'll continue to ride the range in the rainbow country.
So my soul can remain free.
poem by Nora Belle Bynum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cabinessence
Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
Lost and found, you still remain there.
Youll find a meadow filled with grain there.
Ill give you a home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing.
Folks sing a song of the grange.
Nestle in a kiss below there.
The constellations ebb and flow there.
And witness our home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
(truck driving man do what you can)
Who ran the iron horse?
(high-tail your load off the road)
Who ran the iron horse?
(out of night-life-its a gas man)
Who ran the iron horse?
(I dont believe I gotta grieve)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in and out of luck)
Who ran the iron horse?
(with a buck and a booth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catchin on to the truth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the vast past, the last gasp)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the land, in the dust, trust that you must)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catch as catch can)
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Marvel at Creation
When I gaze upon the stars,
when I look up at the heavens,
I feel The Light hiding my scars,
I rest in Your silent presence.
There's a song beyond the stars,
Graceful, cosmic melodies,
Poured to us from golden jars,
Natural, holy remedies.
Greatest poem written on skies,
The love story of redemption,
Tears of joy flood my eyes,
I can see heaven's reflection.
Azure celestial tapestry,
Colors, millions, never seen,
Divine painting, majesty,
How radiant, how peaceful, how serene!
When I marvel at Creation,
Me, a humble spectator,
My faith defies explanation,
I can see the Great Creator!
poem by Marius Alexandru (January 2022)
Submitted by anonym
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Time Table
A carved oak table,
Tells a tale
Of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold,
And the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room
To arbours cool.
A time of valour, and legends born
A time when honour meant much more to a man than life
And the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong
Through lance and sword.
Why, why can we never be sure till we die
Or have killed for an answer,
Why, why do we suffer each race to believe
That no race has been grander
It seems because through time and space
Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore.
A dusty table
Musty smells
Tarnished silver lies discarded upon the floor
Only feeble light descends through a film of grey
That scars the panes.
Gone the carving,
And those who left their mark,
Gone the kings and queens now only the rats hold sway
And the weak must die according to natures law
As old as they.
Why, why can we never be sure till we die
Or have killed for an answer,
Why, why do we suffer each race to believe
That no race has been grander
It seems because through time and space
Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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February Stars
I'm hanging on
Here until I'm gone
I'm right where I belong
Just hanging on
Even though
I watched you come and go
How was I to know
You'd steal the show?
One day I'll have enough to gamble
I'll wait to hear your final call
And bet it all
I'm hanging on
Here until I'm gone
I'm right where I belong
Just hanging on
Even though
I pass this time alone
Somewhere so unknown
It heals the soul
You ask for walls
I'll build them higher
We'll lie in shadows of them all
I'd stand but they're much too tall
And I fall
CHORUS
February stars
Floating in the dark
Temporary scars
February stars
REPEAT CHORUS (2X)
song performed by by Foo Fighters from The Colour And The Shape
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over The Range
Little bush maiden, wondering-eyed,
Playing alone in the creek-bed dry,
In the small green flat on every side
Walled in by the Moonbi ranges high;
Tell me the tale of your lonely life
'Mid the great grey forests that know no change.
"I never have left my home," she said,
"I have never been over the Moonbi Range.
"Father and mother are long since dead,
And I live with granny in yon wee place."
"Where are your father and mother?" I said.
She puzzled awhile with thoughtful face,
Then a light came into the shy brown face,
And she smiled, for she thought the question strange
On a thing so certain -- "When people die
They go to the country over the range."
"And what is this country like, my lass?"
"There are blossoming trees and pretty flowers
And shining creeks where the golden grass
Is fresh and sweet from the summer showers.
They never need work, nor want, nor weep;
No troubles can come their hearts to estrange.
Some summer night I shall fall asleep,
And wake in the country over the range."
Child, you are wise in your simple trust,
For the wisest man knows no more than you.
Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust:
Our views by a range are bounded too;
But we know that God hath this gift in store,
That, when we come to the final change,
We shall meet with our loved ones gone before
To the beautiful country over the range.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing less then you do…
I lost you behind invisible walls of thinking
Why you move and don't move
The galactic of your brain reads and
Speaks unsounded words
Come back,
And I will give my life for free
Disserve or not
You must be myself, are we?
Break the wall and give me a break
The same destination. Let it be our fate
shouting deep in the darkest sky
No stars to number, no suns to count, or cry
And nobody listening
We the voices of unvoiced
Going against the river of humans or not,
Showing courage to say the truth
The truth of my poems
So invisible
So transparent
Like our free life
Till the end of the word
Still Alone
You and me
In one…
Moving against or throw…
Making short shades
Under the sun
Nothing less then you do…
Vasil Marku 2012
poem by Vasil Marku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A panorama with arches…
Arches, arches, arches
Arches of lips, palates, eyes, eyebrows
Arches of hearts, minds, kisses,
Indignities, obedience’s,
Arches of dreams, skies, stars, waters
Arched bridges that make me easier to reach you
More quickly than one single arc
Arched of words, that goes so smoothly
When they fly in arch style between us
Arches under sustained bridges of our love
And, I get thirsty oftentimes for them…
Vasil Marku 2012
poem by Vasil Marku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Night Like This
See the Milky-way, a great bowl of wonder
Filling the sky amidst the crisp magic air
You are in the stars and the stars in you
The camp fire crackles, the breeze is easy
The night is old and sleepy
I watch the heavens in silent wonder
You are my star child, laying in my arms
Comfort me in your serene universe
An owl hoots, the loons are calling
Everything else is in peaceful bliss
I am justified and cleansed
Only God could make a night like this
A shooting star flickers
The lake is like a dream
The fire brings pine tree shadows
The crickets are playing their music
Your face dances with fire light
Time is a drama from the heavens
The north star is bright tonight
There's nothing I miss on a night like this
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Retreat From Moscow
Sad Moscow, thy fate do I see,
Fire! fire! in the city all cry;
Like quails from the eagle all flee,
Escape in a moment or die.
It looks like the battle of Troy,
The storm rises higher and higher;
The scene of destruction all hearts must annoy,
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
The dread conflagration rolls forth,
Augmenting the rage of the wind,
Which blows it from south unto north,
And leaves but the embers behind.
It looks like Gomorrah; the flame
Is moving still nigher and nigher,
Aloud from all quarters the people proclaim,
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
A dead fumigation now swells,
A blue circle darkens the air,
With tones as the pealing of bells,
Farewell to the brave and the fair.
O Moscow, thou city of grace,
Consign'd to a dread burning pyre,
From morning to ev'ning with sorrow I trace
The wild winds, the smoke, and the fire.
The dogs in the kennel all howl,
The wether takes flight with the ox,
Appal'd on the wing is the fowl,
The pigeon deserting her box.
With a heart full of pain, in the night
Mid hillocks and bogs I retire,
Through lone, deadly vallies I steer by its light,
The wild storm, the smoke, and the fire.
Though far the crash breaks on my ear,
The stars glimmer dull in the sky,
The shrieks of the women I hear,
The fall of the kingdom is nigh.
heaven, when earth is no more,
And all things in nature expire,
May I thus, with safety, keep distant before
The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.
poem by George Moses Horton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Bigot
Here am I sent a wanderer like to thee,
And here a moment ere the night I stand.
The twin eternities—Has Been, Shall Be—
Gird me on either hand.
My joy or grief—the flicker of a wing
Of some brief insect in the blinding glow!
One moment down the wind my voice shall ring.
This, and no more, I know.
My soul went out amid the ways of men,
By land and sea, and to the stars o’erhead.
I deemed it lost when it came back again.
“Is there a God?” I said.
“Thou fool,” it answered, “all are truly kin.
God is the Soul of all—no power apart.
God is the spark Divine that glows within
The Temple of the Heart.”
poem by George Essex Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Genteel
Strange, range!
Elsewhere,
Genteel;
But please, let me know.
Range, strange!
But please, let me know when you are ready.
Tiles, gentiles!
Drunken birds,
Seen everywhere;
Trait, portrait!
Created after its kind;
Where, elsewhere!
To protect them;
Tile, gentile!
Don't you know that you're so beautiful? !
Like the muse of love.
Cord, record!
But, Yahweh is the Creator of all things;
Wells, dwells!
As numerous as the stars of the sky;
Steel, genteel!
But, i have now taught you how to do it;
So, you can now live alone.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Kiss I Left
i love you.....
words seem hollow
after so much time...
time lived together,
two souls wrapped in one spirit...
two hearts that cannot beat
without the other...
train wrecks, stars collide,
and yet the light remains...
and the dust of worlds destroyed
forms the beginning again and again...
who are you without me?
who am i without you?
night cannot be without day....
this fire returns from ashes....
the simple brush of hands,
eyes meeting whisper
the secrets of cosmos......
wind softly blowing the shutter closed,
yet the window is always open!
the kiss i left on your eyelids
as you slept.... the smile
your dreaming left on my longing....
small indentions in the pillow....
the first fire in the ancient cave
that remains after time has gone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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