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Intoxication
Under osiers with ivy ingrown
We are trying to hide from bad weather.
I am clasping your arms in my own,
In one cloak we are huddled together.
I was wrong. Not with ivy-leaves bound,
But with hops overgrown is the willow.
Well then, let us spread out on the ground
This our cloak as a sheet and a pillow.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Renouveau. (From The French)
Now Time throws off his cloak again
Of ermined frost, and cold and rain,
And clothes him in the embroidery
Of glittering son and clear blue sky.
With beast and bird the forest rings,
Each in his jargon cries or sings;
And Time throws off his cloak again
Of ermined frost, and cold and rain.
River, and fount, and tinkling brook
Wear in their dainty livery
Drops of silver jewelry;
In new-made suit they merry look;
And Time throws off his cloak again
Of ermined frost, and cold and rain.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Love Is All Is Alright
(chorus)
Love is all is alright
But you left it a little to late
Love is all is alright
But you've got to find a little more hate.
Take the man in the white cloak
A pointed mask to hide his face
Murders in the name of religion
If you're not the right colour or race.
Take the man in the black cloak
He's holding justice in his hands,
Lets the man in the white cloak go,
Calls it the law of the land.
(chorus)
Love is all is alright.......etc
Take the man in the brown shirt
A burning hatred in his eyes
Fired by ignorant reaction,
Fanned by political lies
Take the man in the blue cap
His back's against the wall
Links arms with the man in the brown shirt
He's trying to break his own fall.
(chorus)
Love is all is alright.....etc
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Metamorphose
There are days in everybody’s life,
days when turmoil strikes every mortal fibre
and drives us down into a seemingly bottomless pit.
It is up to us to struggle out of it
and when we see the sunlight
a metamorphose takes place
and we chuck away that cloak of darkness,
replacing it with a cloak of light.
Our smile is returned
and again we faced the world
with a smile on our face.
22 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Old Cloak
THIS winter's weather it waxeth cold,
And frost it freezeth on every hill,
And Boreas blows his blast so bold
That all our cattle are like to spill.
Bell, my wife, she loves no strife;
She said unto me quietlye,
Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life!
Man, put thine old cloak about thee!
He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?
Thou kens my cloak is very thin:
It is so bare and over worn,
A cricke thereon cannot renn.
Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend;
For once I'll new apparell'd be;
To-morrow I'll to town and spend;
For I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. Cow Crumbock is a very good cow:
She has been always true to the pail;
She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow,
And other things she will not fail.
I would be loth to see her pine.
Good husband, counsel take of me:
It is not for us to go so fine--
Man, take thine old cloak about thee!
He. My cloak it was a very good cloak,
It hath been always true to the wear;
But now it is not worth a groat:
I have had it four and forty year'.
Sometime it was of cloth in grain:
'Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may see:
It will neither hold out wind nor rain;
And I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. It is four and forty years ago
Sine the one of us the other did ken;
And we have had, betwixt us two,
Of children either nine or ten:
We have brought them up to women and men:
In the fear of God I trow they be.
And why wilt thou thyself misken?
Man, take thine old cloak about thee!
He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?
Now is now, and then was then:
Seek now all the world throughout,
Thou kens not clowns from gentlemen:
They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue,
So far above their own degree.
Once in my life I'll take a view;
For I'll have a new cloak about me.
She. King Stephen was a worthy peer;
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
Therefore he called the tailor 'lown.'
He was a king and wore the crown,
And thou'se but of a low degree:
It 's pride that puts this country down:
Man, take thy old cloak about thee!
He. Bell my wife, she loves not strife,
Yet she will lead me, if she can;
And to maintain an easy life
I oft must yield, though I'm good-man.
It 's not for a man with a woman to threap,
Unless he first give o'er the plea:
As we began, so will we keep,
And I'll take my old cloak about me.
Scarlet Cloak
The scarlet cloak of loneliness
covers my sorrowed soul
and my gentle heart is benign
to any chosen fact.
Each day I gather straws
I reach out to cling to
but each one snaps within my grasp
and I wonder what I’ll do.
The hollow world I live in
echoes my vacant thoughts.
Even the hues of colours that
surround me everyday
cannot remove this scarlet cloak
that wants to smother me away.
25 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Cloak to Gloat
I am not inspired by those who conspire,
To undo what the good ones do.
I am so tired by the backstabbing done...
By those who cloak to gloat and run.
I am not pleased by any of this.
And wish this evilness dismissed.
But this is how we live today and breathe!
It's got to flee!
Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace to feed we'll greed.
I am not pleased by any of this.
And wish this evilness dismissed.
But this is how we live today and breathe!
It's got to flee!
Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace to feed we'll greed.
I am not inspired by those who conspire,
To undo what the good ones do.
I am so tired by the backstabbing done...
By those who cloak to gloat and run.
Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace will feed our needs.
Hopefully Barack will stop it!
Blocking ignorance that mocks it.
To undo what the good ones do we see.
And those who cloak to gloat will leave.
Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
To redo all the good deeds done we need.
And those who cloak to gloat will leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Coping Up With The Realities Of This Earth...
it will be
another lie, it will be another justification for
the preciousness of life
and its survival,
it will be another excuse
for having to follow rules,
it will be another saying
that because
i am here, so i must be like you,
and the rest of
the residents
it will be another sacrifice of
my authenticity
in favor of conformity
it will be from one cloak to another cloak
in order to keep this body warm
and then one cold wind
follows another cold wind
to make me colder all over
again
my hands shall then
by the passage of time
have mastered the techniques
of folding
to protect what i am
and what i have.
it will be another pain,
to another pain, ... i do not really know
when will this end
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cloak
Thou keep'st thy rose-leaf
Till the rose-time will be over,
Think'st thou that Death will kiss thee?
Think'st thou that the Dark House
Will find thee such a lover
As I? Will the new roses miss thee?
Prefer my cloak unto the cloak of dust
'Neath which the last year lies,
For thou shouldst more mistrust
Time than my eyes.
poem by Ezra Pound
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October
Beauty has a tarnished dress,
And a patchwork cloak of cloth
Dipped deep in mournfulness,
Striped like a moth.
Wet grass where it trails
Dyes it green along the hem;
She has seven silver veils
With cracked bells on them.
She is tired of all these--
Grey gauze, translucent lawn;
The broad cloak of Herakles.
Is tangled flame and fawn.
Water and light are wearing thin:
She has drawn above her head
The warm enormous lion skin
Rough red and gold.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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The Cloak, The Boat, And The Shoes
'WHAT do you make so fair and bright?'
'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'
'What do you build with sails for flight?'
'I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.'
What do you weave with wool so white?'
'I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men's ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Cloak, The Boat And The Shoes
'What do you make so fair and bright?'
'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'
'What do you build with sails for flight?'
'I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.'
What do you weave with wool so white?'
'I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men's ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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To William Theodore Peters On His Renaissance Cloak
The cherry-coloured velvet of your cloak
Time hath not soiled: its fair embroideries
Gleam as when centuries ago they spoke
To what bright gallant of Her Daintiness,
Whose slender fingers, long since dust and dead,
For love or courtesy embroidered
The cherry-coloured velvet of this cloak.
Ah! cunning flowers of silk and silver thread,
That mock mortality? the broidering dame,
The page they decked, the kings and courts are dead:
Gone the age beautiful; Lorenzo's name,
The Borgia's pride are but an empty sound;
But lustrous still upon their velvet ground,
Time spares these flowers of silk and silver thread.
Gone is that age of pageant and of pride:
Yet don your cloak, and haply it shall seem,
The curtain of old time is set aside;
As through the sadder coloured throng you gleam;
We see once more fair dame and gallant gay,
The glamour and the grace of yesterday:
The elder, brighter age of pomp and pride.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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A Day in the Life of Paddy Murphy, Broker
Riding home on the train, Paddy's aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
He'll fear nothing then
till noon the next day when
the question will rise all over again.
If his luck holds, he'll survive
the ride home on the train, aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Desert Spirit
I roamed in the desert
The sand is before me
I continue on my path,
Then a castle rises in front of me.
I see a prince in the garden
His hair is gold like the sun
His eyes the color of the sky
His cloak the color of midnight
And upon his head is a crown of silver stars.
He looks up from a wounded animal and he sees me.
I can see the sadness in his eyes.
I ask him if the animal is dead
He says no, and I offer to help
His eyes start to sparkle
I go to the wounded animal and pray
The wound is healed
The prince then looks at me
And I can see the love in his eyes
He asks if I would like a tour of the castle,
I say yes
We talk for hours about different subjects.
As we go into the garden that night
I felt I was in love with this prince
He asks if I would like to stay with him
My answer is yes.
He then takes a cloak and puts it around me
The cloak is the color of the sky.
He also takes a crown of gold stars
And puts it on my head
I have fallen in love with a spirit
Who has in return loved me
He is known as Desert Spirit
He is Jesus Christ
The Lord God Almighty.
poem by Natasha Norville
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The Scarlet Cloak
ONE may go a-many leagues a-questing yon and hither;
One may look on queens and kings, and think the vision bliss;
But he who has the wholesome heart, as lightsome as a feather,
Can find a joy in everything, no matter what it is.
Golden Miles to Burrawang, when the morn was tender! —
How your memory rises up, how it haunts and smiles!
Back again, and back it comes — all the early splendour —
All your length made beautiful, O you Golden Miles!
You that wore the scarlet cloak in the pearly morning,
When the sun came up the East, and through the heavens strode
Like a prince of great account, cloud and mist-wreath scorning —
What was in the heart of you, waiting by the road?
Birds of all the bush around were at their greeting matins,
Some with little twitterings, and some with loud acclaim;
Cloth-of-gold is fine wear, and fine are silks and satins —
Finer was the scarlet cloak that wrapped you like a flame.
You that wore the scarlet cloak in the early morning,
When the leaves were dancing all, and the dewdrops glowed,
Like a flower — a flower of flowers, the dewy way adorning —
Love was in the heart of you, waiting by the road!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Woman In White
As I look out the window
from where I work
at the car park
about fifty yards away.
Near the fence that borders it
is a tree stump about five feet tall.
Bleached white by the sun
it resembles a woman in a cloak.
It seems to change daily
though I don’t know why.
One day it seems she is praying,
the next day she has what looks like
a basket in her hand.
When it rains, she changes colour
from white to grey.
Now the summers here
and the greenery surrounds her,
she looks like she is walking through a garden.
It is strange how my imagination
changes her from day to day
and I wonder what more
this tree stump figure will give my imagination.
Now this woman in white
has me puzzled as to who she really is.
I can give her many names
of precious people from the past
who may have worn a cloak and gown.
However, for me she is
just my woman in white.
15 August 2011
poem by David Harris
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Desert Spirit
I roamed in the desert
The sand is before me
I continue on my path,
Then a castle rises in front of me.
I see a prince in the garden
His hair is gold like the sun
His eyes the color of the sky
His cloak the color of midnight
And upon his head is a crown of silver stars.
He looks up from a wounded animal and he sees me.
I can see the sadness in his eyes.
I ask him if the animal is dead
He says no, and I offer to help
His eyes start to sparkle
I go to the wounded animal and pray
The wound is healed
The prince then looks at me
And I can see the love in his eyes
He asks if I would like a tour of the castle,
I say yes
We talk for hours about different subjects
As we go into the garden that night
I felt I was in love with this prince
He asks if I would like to stay with him
My answer is yes.
He then takes a cloak and puts it around me
The cloak is the color of the sky.
He also takes a crown of gold stars
And puts it on my head
I have fallen in love with a spirit
Who has in return loved me
He is known as Desert Spirit
He is Jesus Christ
The Lord God Almighty.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Summer nights delights.
The sable cloak of night is sown
With a beauty which is shown
By a myriad points of light.
Which show against the dark of night
A background certain to enhance
Selena mistress of romance
As she observes young lovers dreams
She blesses them with soft moon beams.
Although the moon is permanent
Young love is often transient
But for tonight the moon will do.
Her best to make your dreams come true.
The sable cloak of night conceals
What the morning sun reveals
Feelings engendered by the moon
Can fade away alas too soon.
Thursday,19 January 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers/
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Lydia Is Gone This Many A Year
Lydia is gone this many a year,
Yet when the lilacs stir,
In the old gardens far or near,
The house is full of her.
They climb the twisted chamber stair;
Her picture haunts the room;
On the carved shelf beneath it there,
They heap the purple bloom.
A ghost so long has Lydia been,
Her cloak upon the wall,
Broidered, and gilt, and faded green,
Seems not her cloak at all.
The book, the box on mantel laid,
The shells in a pale row,
Are those of some dim little maid,
A thousand years ago.
And yet the house is full of her;
She goes and comes again;
And longings thrill, and memories stir,
Like lilacs in the rain.
Out in their yards the neighbors walk,
Among the blossoms tall;
Of Anne, of Phyllis, do they talk,
Of Lydia not at all.
poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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