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Serenade from “The Spanish Student”
STARS of the summer night!
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Moon of the summer night!
Far down yon western steeps,
Sink, sink in silver light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Wind of the summer night!
Where yonder woodbine creeps,
Fold, fold thy pinions light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Dreams of the summer night!
Tell her, her lover keeps
Watch! while in slumbers light
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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While The City Sleeps
What goes on behind closed doors, private wounds, open sores
Youre your own worst enemy and cheap thrills bring you to your knees
Its thumbs down for someone you know, and its easy come and easy go
Chorus:
Burn your bridges, take what you can get
Go for the throat cause you paid your debt
Livin well is the best revenge, so give em hell
While the city sleeps - its all there in black and white
While the city sleeps - through the eye of the needle, gotta thread your life
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
Its a hit or miss, an eye for an eye, live for today, and dont ask why
For better or worse, you bought and sold
They love you while youre hot and leave you when youre cold
Chorus
While the city sleeps - yeah, better run for your life
Take your troubles to the night
While the city sleeps - yeah, beggars, thieves and losers, theres no relief
While the city sleeps - theres no relief, while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah
Chorus
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - while the city sleeps
While the city sleeps - yeah, theres no relief
While the city sleeps
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chattahoochee River
The Chattahoochee River is muddy and deep,
Rolls restless in her bed, and never sleeps.
She churns, whirls, and sometimes creeps,
But the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She cascades, crashes, her falls are steep,
So the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
A child, in innocence, in her water leaps,
Unaware, the Chattahoochee never sleeps.
She snatches him down, his little body to keep,
Cause the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
He struggles for his life, so tender and meek.
Oh! the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She steals his breath, while caressing his cheeks.
Careless Chattahoochee River just never sleeps.
poem by Willie Wilburn Walker
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Man only indulges at night
Tigers sleep, deer sleep,
Cats sleep, rats sleep,
The water sleeps, the earth sleeps,
Everything sleeps when the sun sleeps.
But human beings are awake,
Only at night, in bed, thinking of sex.
12.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sorrow is better than insomnia.
Neither a sister, nor a daughter,
Nor any one by blood you are.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous,
Nor an innuendo, you granted.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Glamour, splendor, or pretext,
You never played to gravitate.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Formidable and forbidden you were.
Sojourn was so short.
Parting was abrupt and aborting.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Every beginning has an end.
An episode should, however, end.
But abortion and usurpation?
May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon.
That can retrieve our past monsoon.
But the crop is already gone.
So my sorrow never sleeps.
Time was over before I could score.
No more game is set up in the court.
That is why my sorrow never sleeps.
With your parting, came to an end
All my springs and monsoons.
Let my sorrow never sleep.
It is better than insomnia.
08.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My Baby Sleeps
The wind is loud in the west to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The wild wind blows with all its might,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, and he does not hear
The noise of the storm in the pine trees near.
The snow is drifting high to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The bitter world is cold and white,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, so fast, so fast,
That he does not heed the wintry blast.
The cold snows drift, and the wild winds rave,
But Baby sleeps;
And a white cross stands by his little grave,
While Baby sleeps;
And the storm is loud in the rocking pine,
But its moan is not so deep as mine.
poem by George A. Mackenzie
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Sleeps With Angels
She wasnt perfect
She had some trips of her own
He wasnt worried
At least he wasnt alone (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mind
He sleeps with angels (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
She was a teen queen
She saw the dark side of life
She made things happen
But when he did it that night
She ran up phone bills
She moved around from town to town (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mindhe sleeps with angels
He sleeps with angels
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arch
one longs
to be at the middle of
the arch
door,
arch hands falling
on the side of the
hips,
gaze maps out
the other leg of the
arch
door, and finds ultimately
the source
of restlessness
the air is the
suspect
why the room is
confused
it thinks that it is
a boat at sea and there is
a storm
that causes its
vertigo
the nauseous philosophy
of the lost
existentialist
embracing pain hoping to
find the window
a frame of reference
a space between
where the jump has to
be made
at last...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pillared Arch and Sculptured Tower
Pillared arch and sculptured tower
Of Ilium have had their hour;
The dust of many a king is blown
On the winds from zone to zone;
Many a warrior sleeps unknown.
Time and Death each hold in thrall,
Yet is Love the lord of all;
Still does Helen's beauty stir
Because a poet sang of her!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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City sleeps
I love the night
Because when the city sleeps
It's never more awake
It's like a whole new world comes to life
When the city sleeps I lay awake
Looking toward the light
When the city sleeps it is reborn
When the city sleeps it's never more awake
poem by Zack Dozier
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Among The Tombs
She is a lady fair and wise,
Her heart her counsel keeps,
And well she knows of time that flies
And tide that onward sweeps;
But still she sits with restless eyes
Where Memory sleeps---
Where Memory sleeps.
Ye that have heard the whispering dead
In every wind that creeps,
Or felt the stir that strains the lead
Beneath the mounded heaps,
Tread softly, ah! more softly tread
Where Memory sleeps---
Where Memory sleeps.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Below Her Window
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines
No pale beam unbidden creeps.
Darkest shade the place enshrines
Where she sleeps.
Like a diamond in the deeps
Of the rich unopened mines
There her lovely rest she keeps.
Though the jealous dark confines
All her beauty, Love's heart leaps.
His unerring thought divines
Where she sleeps.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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She sleeps
She sleeps
~
She sleeps
her heart, soul at peace
she is as beautiful
as any painting by any artist
no brush has born such beauty
silence fills the walls
and the day is calm
my thoughts like trees
take deep roots
into the earth of my soul
unmoveable
mountains, stars and the sky
rise into an endless expanse
I wonder on her dreams
what places she sees
the weather and colours
the faces and events
unfolding
she sleeps
and I
I am moved
by her quiet beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Lambs
He sleeps as a lamb sleeps,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in yon blue deeps
His tender brother
Sleeps like a lamb and leaps.
He feeds as a lamb might,
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in fields of light
A lamb, his brother,
Feeds, and is clothed in white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Voyageur
LIKE the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps, with his olive bosom bared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
Like a tawny tiger whom hot hours bore,
When all night long he has growled and glared
At the swarthy son of some tropic shore,
Like a fierce-eyed blossom with heart of gore
That too long in the sun-flushed fields has flared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore,
And his scarlet sash that he gaily wore
To tempt Madelon–who his heart has snared,
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore.
That dusky form might a queen adore–
Prenez garde, Madelon, for a season spared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
For a season only. What may be in store
For Madelon? She who has never cared! . . .
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
poem by Susie Frances Harrison
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The Voyageur
LIKE the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps, with his olive bosom bared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
Like a tawny tiger whom hot hours bore,
When all night long he has growled and glared
At the swarthy son of some tropic shore,
Like a fierce-eyed blossom with heart of gore
That too long in the sun-flushed fields has flared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore,
And his scarlet sash that he gaily wore
To tempt Madelon–who his heart has snared,
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore.
That dusky form might a queen adore–
Prenez garde, Madelon, for a season spared,
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
For a season only. What may be in store
For Madelon? She who has never cared! . . .
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps–in his earrings of brassy ore.
poem by Susan Frances Harrison
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Only Peace Thrives
Only peace thrives
Innocence sleeps
on the dreaming eye lids
of a toddling child
so nascent so fresh
as the drooling dews
on a quivering grass blade
as the first morning
of cool winter
smiles innocuously.
Only peace thrives
Innocence sleeps
no war no war-cry
only peace and peace thrives
a cow boy sings the song of joy
in a remote yet not far grass land
the innocence sleeps
nestling on the bed of roses
the frisky fragrance of love
the garland of motley hopes
touches his chin tenderly
he could see his God
the divine possibilities
with the dancing tune of nature
so close to his imbued heart
that is filled with
only joy and happiness.
Innocence sleeps
no war no war cry
and only peace thrives.
poem by Tarapada Mohapatra
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Taking On The Arch Angel, Dark Angel, The Exiled Angel(Orginal Now Viewable)
I say to the arch angel,
I say to dark angel,
I say to the exiled angel,
I falter not, you can try all you want.
Still I shall sing my silhouette.
Of that which makes me love, me care,
I will never fall into despair.
No matter the poison in the air.
Use the confused as weapons to
attack my unwillingness to surrender.
I defy you in every way.
Even when I worn out my stay.
I will not lash out, I will sit back and take it.
For my sins can be forgiven.
My prejudice can not.
So I will not say what could be said with no regret.
So I say arch angel, I say dark angel,
I say exiled angel I falter not, no matter
what you got hanging over my head,
my soul is not dead,
my ultimate pledge has not been broken.
So come on hit me from every direction.
Its only my life at risk.
No one else, shall be punished for my mistakes.
Yes they have caused great heart break.
But in the end its for the better.
I shall do this alone in the cold and dark.
Still my insides burn.
On fire till the day I die.
So i say to the arch angel,
i say to the dark angel,
i say to the exiled angel.
I falter not, never ask why,
and look to the sky.
For my purpose is unknown
till he decides it should be shown.
Blind faith, is something you cant touch or taste.
Its deep with in under the skin.
Locked within, waiting to be released like a genetic disease.
It doesn't try to please.
It has but only one need, to believe, in that which cant be seen.
So I say to the arch angel,
i say to the dark angel,
i say to the exiled angel,
i falter not, not matter the cost.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Animals awaken, first facially, then bodily. Men's bodies wake before their faces do. The animal sleeps within its body, man sleeps with his body in his mind.
quote by Malcolm De Chazal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Episcopal Harvest Home
To dinner table all do march
Through evergreen triumphal arch ;
On top the Union Jack it floats
On each side sheaves of wheat and oats.
Great pumpkins and big ears of corn
They do this rural arch adorn ;
We are reminded now 'tis fall,
And boys enjoy game of foot-ball.
With joy at night each one did gaze At the mighty bonfires blaze ;
The tree leaves shone like silver bright,
The lanterns, too, were pleasing sight.
poem by James McIntyre
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