Great men are rarely isolated mountain peaks; they are the summits of ranges.
quote by Thomas W. Higginson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great men are rarely isolated mountain-peaks; they are the summits of ranges.
quote by Thomas Wentworth Higginson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Gray Fog Covers The Great Gums
When the gray fog covers the great gums and the pied currawongs they do call
You know heavy rain is approaching to Kalorama in late Fall
Across the high woodlands of Yarra Ranges the cool winds of early May blow
The mountain ash have seen many Seasons and with each Season taller they grow
The people who live near the high woods feel proud of their place of tall trees
The laughter of the kookaburras the mountain ash soughing in the breeze
When the gray fog covers the great gums you know that the Winter is near
The mountain air is a bit chilly in the Yarra Ranges in the Fall of the year,
The white cockatoos they are squawking their grating calls not a pleasant sound
Though quite pretty birds for to look at in the high woods their numbers abound
The king parrots and crimson rosellas quite beautiful birds to behold
In tree cavities they are born and 'tis said they live to be old
And the pied currawongs the big dark birds in the fog hidden woodland do call
And the rain clouds beginning to drizzle in Kalorama in the late Fall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Makarora
Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.
These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.
Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.
Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around
Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away
poem by Francis Duggan
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The traces of upheavals become more impressive when one moves a little higher, when one gets even closer to the foot of the great mountain ranges. There are still plenty of shell layers. We notice them, even thicker and more solid ones.
quote by George Cuvier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Works - Far Beyond
Far beyond I see a sky of blue,
still further beyond I see
mountain peaks covered in mist.
Just beyond the sky of blue
and mountain, peaks covered in mist
lies a sun setting peacefully.
As the sun sets
it colours the sky
lighting the mountains
like a roman candle
and far beyond these burning mountains
the sun rests its head peacefully
as the day come to a close.
Date unknown
poem by David Harris
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Champa Valley in Himachal State.
O my friends! Come and plunge
into the depths of Champa Valley.
The peaks of the Dhaulador do not gleam
and the glen below seems a gulf.
The looming winter lies in wait
for the welcoming flakes of snow to fall
and so we need no sweaters to quell the cold.
The gullies on the slopes are bereft of streams
and the pines in cols do not greet the guests!
The unstirred leaves and the brooding grass
And the absence of the whooping birds
mean the end of the Spring.
But see! The upcoming Dhonis
hit sixes in the Chaugan sward.
Trek to the Chamunda Devi Temple
and shout to hear your echoes from the hills
and the sounds die away
rattling far amid the lofty ranges.
Have sometime to stroll on the salubrious Dalhousie
and have a gaze and be lost in the haze
over the snowy summits or the soaring rivers.
Meek you need to be to roam in the sylvan glades
and seek solace for your restless souls.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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New Hampshire
GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks
Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks.
The long-bound vassal of the exulting South
For very shame her self-forged chain has broken;
Turn the black seal of slavery from her mouth,
And in the clear tones of her old time spoken!
Oh, all undreamed-of, all unhoped for changes!
The tyrants's ally proves his sternest foe;
To all his biddings, from her mountain ranges,
New Hampshire thunders an indignant No!
Who is it now despairs? Oh, faint of heart,
Look upward to those Northern mountain cold,
Flouted by Freedom's victor-flag unrolled
And gather strength to bear a manlier part!
All is not lost. The angel of God's blessing
Encamps with Freedom on the field of fight;
Still to her banner, day by day, are pressing,
Unlooked-for allies, striking for the right!
Courage, then, Northern hearts! Be firm, be true:
What one brave State hath done, can ye not also do?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Joy
Though joy is better than sorrow joy is not great;
Peace is great, strength is great.
Not for joy the stars burn, not for joy the vulture
Spreads her gray sails on the air
Over the mountain; not for joy the worn mountain
Stands, while years like water
Trench his long sides. 'I am neither mountain nor bird
Nor star; and I seek joy.'
The weakness of your breed: yet at length quietness
Will cover those wistful eyes.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Mountain Like A Lion
Windsor Seep was dry and covered
with pine cones and dirt; on hands and knees
I could never have extracted water
there for my barren tongue to lap.
The saddle, with deer plentiful
as pests, huddles my tent and me;
where I saw the spinning stars
against the towering twin peaks.
My boots were wired to my feet,
kicked by rocks and prickly pear,
whose fruit I'd had to eat
for the juice bound by a thousand neddles there.
Then, another night.
The winds of autumn howled down the peaks
like javelinas,
yet the mountain itself was a lion,
Looking me between the eyes,
then pouncing.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Belgrave Town
Oh sing me the ballad of old Belgrave Town
The roads that lead to it they wind up and down
By huge mountain ash that dwarf all other trees
The giants on the high ground that sough in the breeze.
Belgrave east of Melbourne of Puffing Billy fame
The old Puffing steam engine who lives up to his name
From Belgrave to Gembrook and back at least twice a day
With his load of passengers he puffs all the way.
I lived in old Belgrave for a number of years
Knew happy and sad times there laughter and tears
The laughter of the kookaburra sounded so shrill
At dawn on a gum tree up by Terrys Hill.
In Belgrave and the Dandenong Ranges I still have friends there
Their great love of Nature a bond with them I share
The gateway to Sherbrooke the high wooded Countryside
The Dandenong Ranges National Park it is known Worldwide.
The squawk of the white cockies and the familiar song
Of those birds of the high woods the pied currawong
And the crimson rosellas sing as they fly up and down
Through the high wood that overlooks old Belgrave Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A good artist should be isolated. If he isn't isolated, something is wrong.
quote by Orson Welles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unruffled Saints
High mountain peaks
above stormcloud weather rise
The depths of the sea
below whirlpool waves lie
poem by Saiom Shriver
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We’ll go to the mountain, you and I
We’ll go to the mountain
that overlooks the sea
climb up one of its peaks
and from high
where it almost
touches the clouds
on Helderberg Mountain view
the dark blue sea,
see trees lined in rows.
I’ll spread a blanket
from where you’ll face
into the breeze
which will play
with your auburn hair
and maybe we’ll catch
some wild doves in the trees
up there
and see them frolic and
count the houses
along the golden shore
and wait for some time
and then some more.
We’ll have a picnic
and eat some roasted chicken
and potato salad
if you want,
and drink some fresh water
from a mountain spring
and have some apple pie
if we brought some along
and later have some champagne
and you’ll be mine
and I will be yours
and when we are done
we will go home again
while we watch the beach,
the ocean and the sky
and down we’ll walk
just you and I.
poem by Gert Strydom
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More Peaks to Find
I've seen those peaks pass,
As I climbed.
Looking back and feeling fantastic.
To breathe deep the fresh air.
And being aware of accomplishments,
Wished.
'I have done this! '
I can now say it.
I have dreamt that I could.
And did.
What has been desired in my heart...
Has been done.
But I can not rest.
I know my best,
Has not yet come.
I take a deeper breath.
Wasting no time to take more steps.
Continuing to climb I do.
With achieving on my mind!
And knowing there would be more peaks to climb!
More peaks to find and leave behind.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mystery Mountain
Mountain of mystery,
Rising high above the clouds.
Mountain of magic,
Standing tall and proud,
Your magical veins
Flowing silver and gold,
Your cumulus cloud glows misty red,
As apollo sets beyond your head.
Releasing the pressure built over the years
The mountain is crying hot lava tears
Molten rock created under vibrations of
Sub-terranean thunder
Ejecting boulders like pieces of sand
The mountain is
Giving birth to the land.
Under your feet you feel a rumble
As thousands of rocks are starting to tumble
Above the trees where the buzzard flies
Swirling vapors begin to rise
Beneath those misty peaks you hide
A tremendous force boiling deep inside.
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance In Silver Moonlight
I would dance with thee
among mountain peaks
beneath soft star lit night
under silver moonlight
sound of whisper creeks
to lovers hearts speaks
among moonlit silver rays
lover bound heart slaves
dance in silver moonlight
dance throughout night
sliver shadow love peaks
as this soul is lost in thee
two hearts moonlight free
never more parted can be
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Great Heart
Great heart
By: johnny clegg
1987
Travelling always increases the appetite for new music and I found johnny clegg tapes in the south of france and was immediately hooked on them. Im glad there are still younger artists who writ
Play their own songs that I wish I had written. this is one of them.
(chant)
The world is full of strange behavior
Every man has to be his own savior
I know I can make it on my own if I try
But Im searchin for a great heart to stand me by
Underneath the african sky
A great heart to stand me by
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
Theres a highway of stars across the heavens
Theres a whispering song of the wind in the grass
Theres a rolling thunder across the savannah
And a hope and a dream at the edge of the sky
And your life is the story of the wind
Your life is a story like the wind
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
(chant)
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and stand me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (ah... sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (ay yai... sometime)
Coda:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In America, people rarely stay in the town where they grew up, rarely stay in close proximity to their parents throughout their lives. You rarely find parents in their old age being taken care of by their children.
quote by Robert Benton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of A Mountain Man
I come from Land of bracken hills and green meads fringed by hedges
And I am still a mountain man and rough around the edges
And now I live in Sherbrooke Shire in the Dandenong Ranges
From Bracken hills to gum tree hills the scenery so changes.
I've never cared for city life and I feel only pity
For those who have to live and work in the smoky inner city
Pollution clogs the city skies, the traffic noise and rattle
Down in the smoky concrete World life's like a constant battle.
The mountain man a healthy man the air he breathe is cleaner
And he's living in a Natural World a World that's quiet and greener
He's living in a Natural World his life span ought be longer
The mountain man a healthier man than city man far stronger.
I love the hills the quiet hills, the woods where birds are singing
And every time I leave the hills back to the hills my thoughts go winging
For I don't like the Concrete World the World of man's endeavour
And I'll always be a mountain man a mountain man forever.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Movies are so rarely great art that if we cannot appreciate great trash we have very little reason to be interested in them.
quote by Pauline Kael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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