What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door?
quote by Thomas Malory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In The Wind...
Stranger in the wind...
Beckons at my door.
Stanger in the wind...
Wanting even more.
Stranger in the wind...
Hard to really ignore.
Stranger in the wind..
Making my heart ache, as sore.
Stranger in the wind...
Rapping at my door.
Stanger in the wind...
Who knows i am so poor.
Stranger in the wind...
My time here-has me bore...
Many aches and pains of a thirsting heart...
Can only be quenched by ye, your remembered part.
Stranger in the wind...
My heart, you'll win.
Stranger in the wind...
Yon soul so deep.
Stranger in the wind...
My heart you'll keep.
Stranger in the wind...
my soul you'll reap.
Stranger in the wind...
You make me weep.
poem by Michael Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Landry Is My Nephew
Landry is my first nephew!
So proud I am...
That he has become a great man.
I am familiar with his easy smile.
And I observe him as he disciplines...
Each of his growing six children!
SIX?
That he now has six transfixes me sometimes!
Like a piecing jolt of reality,
Playing tricks on my mind.
Time has passed so fast...
As I think of the responsibility,
And Landry's current tasks!
So many he juggles...
As a 'master' with class!
I tell him all the time,
I am so proud of him!
And when I hear him speak of his children,
I say to myself...
'That's the man I wish I had been! '
He doesn't walk on water...
Like I think 'he' thinks he oughta!
I see a lot of me...
His dad and my sister Mim too I 'see'.
And I can say with much pride...
I am so happy Landry is MY nephew!
As I cherish these thoughts each day inside!
Knowing and loving him as I do.
Dedicated:
To my nephew Landry Marcel Pertillar
'You are the best! Love you...
Uncle Larry'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Holding
Im standing here and hoping for you
Holding my door open for you now
Ask just what you will of me
Ill bend just like a willow tree
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open to the wind
Well seven times she came to me
And each time seemed the same to me
She knows just what to ask me now
And I cant help but wonder how
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open before the wind
I wrote my name upon the sands
With questioningly weary hands
The tide arose and answered me
And washed my name into the sea
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open before the wind
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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West Wind
the wind
that comes from far
through the open door
the wind that carries the fragrance
of the earthy blossoms
the wind that sings the melody
of the nightingale
the wind that cools the hot vapours
i love to sit here
and feel the wind
the gentle caress
of the west wind
poem by Manoj KrishnanSarojam
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I'm Writing to the Wind
I'm writing to the wind
The words drift from my mouth
They dance and mix about
Then lose what they're about
I'm writing to the wind
To say I stand alone
To let the people know
I came and then went home
I'm writing to the wind
Because no one seems to know
We're nearly almost at the door
Where no one want to go
And if the wind says no
I think I'll understand
The wind just comes and goes
And seldom makes a stand
The wind can pass me buy
Or stay awhile to linger
The wind can never die
Or rise to point it's finger
The wind goes on and on
Around the world forever
Unless it comes to find
It's a sad and poor endeavor
For after we are gone
The wind will just be flying
'Ore empty barren plain
We made as we lay dieing
poem by S. Michael Downs
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The Emperor of Germany is the king of kings, the King of Spain king of men, the King of France king of asses, the King of England king of devils.
The Drought King's Trumpeter
Said old Pete, the Pensioner:
'I met him down the road
Where, twixt the shadders of the gums,
The silver moonlight flowed.
His skin was white like shrivelled grass,
His eyes was eyes o' flame.
He was the Drought King's trumpeter,
An' tooted as he came.
He tooted on a holler bone, of some thing dead o' thirst,
Like dry winds a-moanin' low. Then into song he burst:
'Ho! The Drought King's a-comin, as he came to men afore,
Out of his home within the sun. They're flingin' wide the door.
Then shall Folly flee before him an' Destruction spread behind.
He comes to purify the earth an' chasten humankind. . . .,'
I saw the Drought King's trumpeter as plain as I see you.
An' not a dropp inside o' me - save, maybe, one or two.'
Said old Pete, 'I saw him there
Underneath the moon,
He tooted on his holler bone
An' danced a rigadoon.
I took one look into his face
Then fled into the night;
I fell in thro' my old hut door
An' banged an' barred it tight.
But thro' the night I heard him there; the way he keened an' cried,
The callin' of the curlew was sweet melody beside.
'Ho! The Drought King's a-comin' from his home within the sun
To lay his curse upon the earth for sins that men have done.
Grace ye had an' gifts ye had, but gambled 'em away
An' schemed to make a mockery of many a fruitful day. . . .'
I tell yeh, man, 'twas not the wind! I heard him at my door.
An' ne'er a dropp inside o' me - save maybe, three or four.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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King Claudius
My mind now moves to distant places.
I'm walking the streets of Elsinore,
through its squares, and I recall
the very sad story-
that unfortunate king
killed by his nephew
because of some fanciful suspicions.
In all the homes of the poor
he was mourned secretly
(they were afraid of Fortinbras).
A quiet, gentle man,
a man who loved peace
(his country had suffered much
from the wars of his predecessor),
he behaved graciously toward everyone,
humble and great alike.
Never high-handed, he always sought advice
in the kingdom's affairs
from serious, experienced people.
Just why his nephew killed him
was never actually explained.
The prince suspected him of murder,
and the basis of his suspicion was this:
walking one night along an ancient battlement
he thought he saw a ghost
and he had a conversation with this ghost;
what he supposedly heard from the ghost
were certain accusations against the king.
It must have been a fit of fancy,
an optical illusion
(the prince was nervous in the extreme;
while he was studying at Wittenberg,
many of his fellow students thought him a maniac).
A few days later he went
to his mother's room to discuss
certain family affairs. And suddenly,
while he was talking, he lost his self-control,
started shouting, screaming
that the ghost was there in front of him.
But his mother saw nothing at all.
And that same day, for no apparent reason,
he killed an old gentleman of the court.
Since the prince was due to sail for England
in a day or two,
the king hustled him off post-haste
in order to save him.
But the people were so outraged
by the monstrous murder
that rebels rose up
and tried to storm the palace gates,
led by the dead man's son,
the noble lord Laertes
(a brave young man, also ambitious;
in the confusion, some of his friends called out:
'Long live King Laertes!').
Later, once the kingdom had calmed down
and the king was lying in his grave-
he was killed by his nephew, the prince,
who never went to England
but escaped from the ship on his way there-
a certain Horatio came forward
and tried to exonerate the prince
by telling some stories of his own.
He said that the voyage to England
had been a secret plot, and orders
had been given to kill the prince there
(but this was never clearly ascertained).
He also spoke of poisoned wine-
wine poisoned by the king.
It's true that Laertes spoke of this too.
But couldn't he have been lying?
Couldn't he have been mistaken?
And when did he say all this?
While dying of his wounds, his mind reeling,
his talk seemingly delirious.
As for the poisoned weapons,
it was shown later that the poisoning
hadn't been done by the king at all:
Laertes himself had done it.
But Horatio, whenever pressed,
would produce even the ghost as a witness:
the ghost said this and that,
the ghost did this and that!
Because of all this, though letting Horatio talk,
most people in their hearts
pitied the poor king,
who, with all these ghosts and fairy tales,
was unjustly killed and disposed of.
Yet Fortinbras, who profited
by winning the throne so easily,
gave full attention and weight
to every word Horatio said.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Bring Me The Disco King
You promised me the ending would be clear,
You'd let me know when the time was now,
Don't let me know when you are opening the door,
Stab me int he dark let me dissappear.
Memories that flutter like bats out of hell,
Stab you from city spires,
Life wasn't worth the balance,
Or the crumppled paper it was written on.
(Don't let me know we're invisible.)
(Don't let me know we're invisible.)
Hot flashed days that you trailed around,
Cold, cold nights under chrome and glass,
Let me down a river of perfumed legs,
Sent me to the streets with the good time girl.
(Don't let me know we're invisible.)
(Don't let me know we're invisible.)
We can dance, dance, dance to the fire.
Dance, dance, dance to the fire.
Feed me no lies,
(I don't knwo about you, I don't knwo about you)
Breath through the years,
(i don't knwo about you, I don't knwo about you)
Bring me the disco king,
(I don't knwo about you, I don't knwo about you)
Dead or alive,
Feed me no lies.
Bring me the disco king. Bring me the disco king.
Bring me the disco king. Bring me the head of the disco king.
Spin offs with those who slept like corpes,
Damp morning rays in the stiff black pubs,
Killing time in the seventies,
Smelling of blood in the moist wind.
Don't let me know when you're opening the door,
Close me in the dark, let me disappear,
Soon they'll be nothing left of me,
Nothing left to relieve.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Further Up Further In (instrumental)
I dreamed the wind came to my house
these are the words fell from his mouth
"The King you seek you'll find him true
but only if he rides the road with you"
I stepped aboard a ship that flew
it took me to wherever it wanted to
Far above the land, far above the sea
the dreamer and the doer agreed to agree
I was sent to the war, stripped of my power
gagged and imprisoned in a tall dark tower
I must have cried for an age or more
'till I saw through tears and I found the door
High on a cliff, in gorgeous clothes
a madman danced on the balls of his toes
Forgetting myself I fell at the feet
of the greatest Fool I ever did meet
The stars were bright and magic afoot
on the Summer wind rose the sound of a flute
I saw the musician - my heart knew him well
What happens next, no rhyme can tell
We came to the end of the world one day
a dolphin swan in a sheltered bay
I paid to the King what it was I owed,
put my face to the wind and my foot on the road
I find I've wandered far from home
but home is in me wherever I roam
I thought I was an hour or a year behind
but the hours and the years are only time
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Further Up Further In (instrumental)
I dreamed the wind came to my house
these are the words fell from his mouth
"The King you seek you'll find him true
but only if he rides the road with you"
I stepped aboard a ship that flew
it took me to wherever it wanted to
Far above the land, far above the sea
the dreamer and the doer agreed to agree
I was sent to the war, stripped of my power
gagged and imprisoned in a tall dark tower
I must have cried for an age or more
'till I saw through tears and I found the door
High on a cliff, in gorgeous clothes
a madman danced on the balls of his toes
Forgetting myself I fell at the feet
of the greatest Fool I ever did meet
The stars were bright and magic afoot
on the Summer wind rose the sound of a flute
I saw the musician - my heart knew him well
What happens next, no rhyme can tell
We came to the end of the world one day
a dolphin swan in a sheltered bay
I paid to the King what it was I owed,
put my face to the wind and my foot on the road
I find I've wandered far from home
but home is in me wherever I roam
I thought I was an hour or a year behind
but the hours and the years are only time
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Were King
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.
If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.
If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.
I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.
If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.
If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.
If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.
If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dry Leaves Beside My Door
a door half-closed
the wind comes with some dry leaves
coming in
through it
and then
spread on the floor
under my bed
i watch it
feeling that i am junked
even the wind
has mistaken me as
another
garbage
and so i finally closed my
door
tight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Further Up, Further In
I dreamed the wind came to my house
These are the words fell from his mouth
The king you seek youll find him true
But only if he rides the road with you
I stepped aboard a ship that flew
It took me to wherever it wanted to
Far above the land, far above the sea
The dreamer and the doer agreed to agree
I was sent to the war, stripped of my power
Gagged and imprisoned in a tall dark tower
I must have cried for an age or more
till I saw through tears and I found the door
High on a cliff, in gorgeous clothes
A madman danced on the balls of his toes
Forgetting myself I fell at the feet
Of the greatest fool I ever did meet
The stars were bright and magic afoot
On the summer wind rose the sound of a flute
I saw the musician - my heart knew him well
What happens next, no rhyme can tell
We came to the end of the world one day
A dolphin swan in a sheltered bay
I paid to the king what it was I owed,
Put my face to the wind and my foot on the road
I find Ive wandered far from home
But home is in me wherever I roam
I thought I was an hour or a year behind
But the hours and the years are only time
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt (1948)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shame On Humanity
'Pray God that you in next birth you remain childless'
The pain and agony was clearly seen on the villager's face
They had brought one old widow lady from the village
To her nephew's house when fell sick due to old age
The nephew shouted 'I don't know her please take back'
The villagers were shocked and taken a back
It was bolt from the blue and totally inhuman
He was directly descendent and related to old woman
We were all taken by surprise and lamented
He was unmoved and not in any way resented
It was an end of humanity and had lost all the relevance
He did not look back to old lady and left the place at once
I saw the death fear in old lady and just wept
She had given all her property to him and nothing was kept
It with only with one hope that he may take her care in old age
Where as he had inherited everything and now ended the bondage
The villagers were innocent and had brought lady in good faith
Now she was lying in taxi and waiting for last breath and death
I was watched her with so much of helplessness
The betrayal caused by nephew was clearly reflecting on face
The villagers provided her all relief by gracefully saying
'Remember almighty and wish that you have no such son staying away'
All people, who surrounded old woman, silently cursed
That nephew had no mercy at heart and failed to nurse
I came to know later on that old lady died on the way
But she had no remorse for her being pushed away
She had brought up that man when his parent had died
He was brought up with all the care but lastly he lied
What we comment on such behavior?
When person comes down so lower
Lower in thinking and with mean mentality
Certainly we can feel shame on humanity
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Crownless King City
pieces have clashed down
and the pictuers become blur
people's fronts frown
in front of the closed door
of crownless king city
ref:
welcome to my world
Mr lugubrious stress, sadness street, loneliness block, apratment N°1
crownless king city is my adress
i've been guided by the light of darkness
to crownless king city
locked by my obsolute absence of counsciousness
in crownless king city
enjoying my tragic loneliness
with the people of crownless king city
poem by Abdelmajid Seghir
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The King of Erin's Daughter
THE King of Erin's Daughter had wind-blown hair and bright,
The King of Erin's Daughter, her eyes were like the sea;
(O Rose of all the roses, have you forgotten quite
The story of the days of old that once you told to me?)
The King of Erin's Daughter went up the mountain side
And who but she was singing as she went upon her way,
'O somewhere waits a King's Son and I shall be his bride,
And tall he is and fair he is and none shall say him nay.'
The King of Erin's Daughter–O fair was she and sweet–
Went laughing up the mountain without a look behind
Till on the lofty summit that lay beneath her feet
She found a King's Son waiting there, his brows with poppies twined.
O tall was he and fair was he. He looked into her face
And whispered in her ear a word un-named of mortal breath
And very still she rested, clasped close in his embrace,
The King of Erin's Daughter, for the bridegroom's name was Death.
poem by Norah M. Holland
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A man knocked at my door
One morning a man knocked at my door,
Ask me to eat is flesh and drink is blood.
To believe is cross.
A languor reflects in my eyes, like a glowing ray.
I shut the door, repenting of what I sow.
Was him?
Outside my door, piece of rods gold, the wind blowing myrrh
And incense burning slow.
Infirmity which I suffer now, sorrowfully.
Cover me in grave.
That man, come in flash of my descendents.
Reckoning the years, when the people refused to obey.
And always that snake -vicious temptations.
Reason of our pain, misleading our believe with doubt & confusion.
We lost the Eden; we trade our soul, never console our forgive.
Of God love.
He would be the king, a righteous one; I will praise him,
With all my heart,
Please come back at my door step.
Is Easter now, your resurrection is loud heard around,
Prove of courage your word sound, of righteous one.
We all come from God, and to God, we will be back.
With no more sorrow, with not more pain
Waiting until this coming day.
poem by Luca Menin
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