A man gets to the land of spirits when he passes seven rivers, seven forests and seven hills.
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Ionian
Just because we've torn their statues down,
and cast them from their temples,
doesn't for a moment mean the gods are dead.
Land of Ionia, they love you yet,
their spirits still remember you.
When an August morning breaks upon you
a vigour from their lives stabs through your air;
and sometimes an ethereal and youthful form
in swiftest passage, indistinct,
passes up above your hills.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Mountain Peak
We came together on the highest mountain on this earth.
As years went by we separated into rivers
from the tears this mountain cried.
We all fell into different rivers flowing though
forests, rocks, and waterfalls.
No matter what season we came across
we continued flowing.
We are rivers that started in the mountains,
and rivers that separated as we went through
many waterfalls.
Sometimes we travel together,
and other times we travel alone.
Always remember that these same rivers
that travel many miles through the earth
are once again together when it reaches its final destination
the “Ocean”
So, rivers that started up high in the mountains
and then separated are united
again as a family.
poem by Felix Lugo
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Let There Be Light/ Spirits Dancing In The Flesh
Chorus:
Let there be light
Let there be joy
Let there be love
And understanding
Let there be peace
Throughout the land.
Verse:
Lets work together
In harmony
Lets build a better world
No suffering
And in times of darkness
Just reach out
cause there is a promise
It wont be denied
Repeat chorus six times
Narration:
This is truly paradise
Being here in this celestial garden
With all the ones you love
Where nothing dies or ever grows old
And to be bathed in light
That cast no shadow
Yes
This is the kingdom within
Still you know
Sometimes I miss seeing and feeling
The spirits dancing in the flesh
Spirits dancing in the flesh
Intro:
Cant you see them all around
Theyre all around us
Spirits, spirits dancing all around us
Chorus - chant:
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
All over, all over, all over
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Urban Cry
human settlements
extend into forests and hills
cemeteries
intrude into urban habitats
o, man's greed for land and roof
alive or dead!
09aug2010
14.12hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Man has been endowed with reason, with the power to create, so that he can add to what he's been given. But up to now he hasn't been a creator, only a destroyer. Forests keep disappearing, rivers dry up, wild life's become extinct, and the climate's ruined and the land grows poorer and uglier every day.
quote by Anton Chekhov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passes away
Passes away
Everything passes away
The night the star
The day the fire
Everything everything.
I remained as it is
Where it is
Here as a fairy tale.
Death passes away
Birth passes away
And passes away
Everything passes away.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Road To Sergio Osmena...
beside the long and winding road
the rivers flow, the hills all green,
the forests crown,
thick fogs hang
on the shoulders of mountains,
birds are migrating
and showers of rain pass from time
to time... and then sunshine
and glossy are the leaves
and sunflowers are
blooming on the
countryside.
'this is still a very beautiful world'
i am telling myself again about this conclusion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Come Home My Son, Come Home
As I travel across this country
the land that I love best
with its snowy peaked mountains
that lay out of reach in the west.
The rivers and the lakes
where nature grows at its best.
The forests and the plains
that each has their part
in the land I love the best.
I write from a distant shore
with dreams of coming home again
ever always on my mind.
Seeing once again friends
from a long, long time ago.
The land that I live in is not to my desire.
My home is ten thousand miles away,
and each time I see it,
it’s like the birth of a new day.
The cities are filled with people
and in the countryside; you can breathe in the fresh air.
The more I dream about it,
the more I wish to be there.
It is not the land of my birth,
but the place that I call home.
That distant country keeps calling to me
come home my son, come home.
31 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Song Of A Dream
ONCE in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Lone in the light of that magical grove,
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my delicate youth,
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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The Shadows Of The Hills
the shadows of the hills
cast themselves upon the body of the running rivers
they hope to run with them
they wish to escape to the boundless sea
the hills are unmoved
they are all silent and numb
the sun comes angrily at noon and
then decides to annihilate the unwanted
someone so fat and ugly under the tree shows
with all glee about the death of the hills' shadows
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Railroads And Riverboats
The railroads, and the riverboats, that bred the mighty man
That we read about, and we dream about
The men who built this land
And the farmers and the lumbermen and the men who worked the mills
And the poor hard working miners
Who died inside the hills
While the rivers that flow
Are the blood of our land
And the trucks they keep rumbling
On the great concrete band
And the railroads keep pushing
To be all they once were
And nature is calling
No one's listening to her
And the immigrants, by the boat load, in a dozen different tones
Sang of freedom, in the new land
Climbed the ladder rung by rung
Some to Boston, some to Pittsburg, Philidelphia and St. Paul
And the old ways, led to new days
They were welcome one and all.
While the rivers that flow
Are the blood of our land
And the trucks they keep rumbling
On the great concrete band
And the railroads keep pushing
To be all they once were
And nature is calling
No one's listening to her
With the railroads, and the riverboats, and the bread lines far behind
And the days we sang together
Long gone but still in mind
And the men who, came before us, men who brought us to today
And the story, still unravels, from the dreams of yesterday
While the rivers that flow
Are the blood of our land
And the trucks they keep rumbling
On the great concrete band
And the railroads keep pushing
To be all they once were
And nature is calling
No one's listening to her
And nature is calling,
No one's listening to her
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let us be like rivers, Love
The Table shall never meet the Fuji again
Let us be like rivers, Love
Great rivers, not mountains!
On their epic journey to grace
The Land of the gods with much needed hope
Where an arid desert is the ‘mirror of heaven’
Great rivers run from a Great Lake
Ignorant of borders, boundaries or nationalities
They run
But no matter how long or how apart they grow
Great rivers are sure to become one sometime
At the edge of some distant sea
poem by LLM Mbatha
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Death Of The Trees
My town is a place where
The rich tourists come,
With mountains and rivers
That glint in the sun!
Luxuriant beaches
Of ivory sand,
But all the jade forests
Now no longer stand!
There once were lush jungles
That grew dense and tall,
But woodcutters came when
The town was still small...
They hacked all the trees down
And shipped them away,
In huge merchant vessels
That sailed to the bay!
They went back to Europe
With precious hard woods,
Sold it as furniture
And other fine goods...
I wish I could travel
In time to the day
Before people cleared all
The forests away!
I wish I had seen them
Before settlers came,
The mountains and rivers
May still be the same...
Iron, Yellow, Black Wood
And most of all trees,
Don't sway any more in
The fresh coastal breeze...
This poetry is an adapted poem for
Lisa La Grange, her copyright,2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Lake of the Thousand Isles
(For Music.)
Though Missouri'stide may majestic glide,
There's a curse on the soil it laves;
The Ohio, too, may be fair, but who
Would sojourn in the land of slaves?
Be my prouder lot a Canadian cot
And the bread of a freeman's toils;
Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand,
And the Lake of the Thousand Isles!
I would seek no wealth, at the cost of health,
'Mid the city's din and strife;
More I love the grace of fair nature's face,
And the calm of a woodland life;
I would shun the road by ambition trod,
And the lore which the heart defiles;--
Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand,
And the Lake of the Thousand Isles!
O away, away! I would gladly stray
Where the freedom I love is found;
Where the pine and oak by the woodman's stroke
Are disturbed in their ancient bound;
Where the gladsome swain reaps the golden grain,
And the trout from the stream beguiles;
Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand,
And the Lake of the Thousand Isles.
poem by Evan MacColl
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Beautiful Nation
Cradle of man, cradle of life
Your waters flow far and beyond
Rivers of life, rivers of peace.
Along the shores, beyoond the planes
Sweet melodious voices and Smiling faces
Childhood inocence, Pride of a people
Pride beyond pride.
Land of beauty, Pearl of the motherland
Beyond the skies, mountains arise
I see the Elgon, I see the Ruwenzori
The dark fertile soils, dark prideful roast.
A city of seven hills
Mother of one hundred tribes
Sons and daughters of many sheds all together as one.
poem by Macwolls Kay
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Always
(graham russell/guy allison/michael sherwood)
I can see hills touch the sky
Heaven and earth, you and i
A world we will always be
Here in the silence we lie
Shadows we cast, you and i
Speak for eternity
(chorus)
Pressed between pages
Flowers will die
Stories may end as time passes by
You and I will always be
With every word that I hear
Whenever whispers are near
I can believe in fate
Promises made, only one
Yesterday fades from the sun
And falls to a new embrace
Years overflow
As rivers run dry
Here in a moment of time passing by
You and I will always be, will always be
(chorus)
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Water
And water-wound, this mud of circle
Bound by aquatic link of land global
Of storm and cyclone and hurricane all evil
Imprecated albeit with hydrasphere ever in espousal
And fraction of land in that copious, spheric well
Saturated for the submerged, submarined to dwell
And terrafirma for men and mammals to swell
Seesawing in streams of erythro-pool
And water is life, useful
By cycles of vapour, cloud, rains and icicle
Flora, fauna, forests to flourish, thrive so radical
Wells, pools, ponds, lakes all rational
Rivers and oceans in pollution- why not solutional?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Feed On The Weak
Spirits call, spirits rise.
Desolate sky, spirits die!
Haunting for the silence
As the sickness falls within.
You've got your strays,
The mice are killed.
It stems between the sick.
Spirits call, spirits rise.
Desolate sky, spirits die!
Haunting for behind them
Finds us meaning on the way.
The words fill, the chapters come.
It dissipates, it stays.
Spirits call, spirits rise.
Desolate skies, spirits die!
Falling hard, arriving fear.
Feeding on the weakest core.
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)
Passing through a long stretch of woodlands
and fields above the hills,
we saw a terrain with knolls in circles,
where the mountain-rat Shivaji held sway,
with a drawn sword when the Moghuls ruled India.
When we were going up, the shining bunds of lights
one above the other on the slopes of the hills,
made our jaunt fascinating!
A fine morning drizzle fell to make the hills smile
and the spreading mists tried in vain to veil the hills
from our ravening looks.
The mists were wreathing upwards
while our eyes were scaling down the slopes.
And it was a vertiginous dropp to the vales below!
Sparkling sparks of teachers, my friends were,
taking neck or nothing risks
and travelling in routes unheard of
to retreat into hills and forests,
not as jungle bandits with prize catches
or as bogus ascetics with all delicacies
but with passions unbridled
to get wet in the breeze of the hills
and be shrouded in the all pervading mists.
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Oh To Be Back Home In Ireland (To Jo)
Oh to be back home in Ireland now that April winds are blowing
And the weather getting milder and the green grass is a growing
And the breath of Spring is in the air and daylight hours grow long
And the skylark o'er the heather sings his merry April song.
Oh to be back home in Ireland the Country of my birth
The Land where I was bred and raised the greenest Land on Earth,
Land of the grassy valleys and scenic heather hills
Of murmuring brooks and rivers and rippling mountain rills.
I have travelled thousands of miles from my home in County Cork
I have been to London City and westward to New York,
I have seen the lights of Paris and the seven hills of Rome
But my heart is always yearning for my Country and my home.
And it's oh to be in Ireland now that April days are here
And the wildborn birds are singing in the Springtime of the year
And the wildflowers are a blooming and new leaves grow on the trees
In the Country I was raised in way beyond Atlantic seas.
poem by Francis Duggan
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