A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Proud Man
The humble man receives praise the way a clean window takes
the light of the sun.' Thomas Merton
-
The proud man
is like a dirty window.
He cannot permit to pass
the morning's glory;
whereas the humble man
dissolves in the light
of the rising sun
like a freshly scrubbed window.
poem by Steven Federle
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Morning’s Glory
Dawn breaks the stranglehold
of a sleepy dusky night.
The sun peers above the eastern horizon
as morning begins to break into full glory.
Flowers open their petals wide
to allow the warmth inside;
birds leave their roosts
to wander the sky.
The morning’s glory soars
on delicate golden wings
as the early birds begin to sing.
Morning’s glory looks down on all
awakening with sleepy eyes,
preparing them to go
through a brand new day
that starts with the morning’s glory
and the sun shining bright.
9 December 2009
poem by David Harris
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Hazey Jane Ii
And what will happen in the morning when the world it gets
So crowded that you cant look out the window in the morning.
And what will happen in the evening in the forest with the weasel
With the teeth that bite so sharp when youre not looking in the evening.
And all the friends that you once knew are left behind they kept you safe
And so secure amongst the books and all the records of your lifetime.
What will happen
In the morning
When the world it gets so crowded that you cant look out the window
In the morning.
Hey, take a little while to grow your brothers hair
And now, take a little while to make your sister fair.
And now that the family
Is part of a chain
Take off your eyeshade
Start over again.
Now take a little while to find your way in here
Now take a little while to make your story clear.
Now that youre lifting
Your feet from the ground
Weigh up your anchor
And never look round.
Lets sing a song
For hazey jane
Shes back again in my mind.
If songs were lines
In a conversation
The situation would be fine.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Glory
Pretty faces everywhere
A few hard cases stop and stare
Theyve got charm that is not right
Pretty faces late at nightmorning glory whats the story
Will it ever end
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
And all the way back again
All the way back again
I remember our old rendezvous
The key was kept inside a shoe
Those moments will remain frozen in time
Morning glorys on my mind
Whats the story morning glory
Will it ever end
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
And all the way back again
All the way back again
It seems like only yesterday
She married me and carried me away
I found out what life was all about
Morning glory threw me out
Hey morning glory whats the story
Will it ever end
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
And all the way back again
Alimony, palimony
Puts a dent in me
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
For a dip in the shining sea
A dip in the shining sea
Pretty faces everywhere
A few hard cases stop and stare
Even when I know it aint my day
A lot of good faces anyway
Morning glory whats the story
What is it to be
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
For a dip in the shining sea
A dip in the shining sea
Whats the story morning glory
Will it ever end
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
And all the way back again
All the way back again
Hey morning glory whats the story
Will it ever end
Ive been all the way to biscayne bay
And all the way back again
All the way back again
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Glory Is Not The Glory of God
MY GLORY IS NOT THE GLORY OF G-D
My glory is not the glory of G-d
I do not know what the glory of God is-
I do not know my own glory.
Glory glory glory
What’s glory?
We are small lost souls in a space and time so far beyond us
It is difficult to imagine
Even God knows how to deal with it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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American Trilogy
Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old things they are not forgotten
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland
Oh I wish I was in Dixie, away, away
In Dixieland I take my stand to live and die in Dixie
Cause Dixieland, that's where I was born
Early Lord one frosty morning
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
You know your daddy's bound to die
But all my trials, Lord will soon be over
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on
His truth is marching on
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Light Through The Morning Window
THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW
The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
The pale sky waiting behind everything
The night which is gone now.
All these failures one after the other,
Other names other destinies, greater than mine
The single singing I cannot hear
The great prophecies I will not realize.
Others who are more to me
Even than I am to myself.
The morning
The morning again
Words again
Trying to live again
A poem again perhaps.
In a life of many days
In which each small day
Its own struggle
And each night
A night which ends
With morning light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Morning
Morning creeps into the window
Its golden fingers touch the sheets where we lay
Morning wraps its arms around me
And whispers in my ear it was all yesterday
Morning you're lying here beside me
But somehow now the night feels
So many years away
And it's morning
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We are motivated by a keen desire for praise, and the better a man is the more he is inspired by glory. The very philosophers themselves, even in those books which they write in contempt of glory, inscribe their names.
quote by Marcus Tullius Cicero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An American Trilogy
(words & music by newbury)
Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old things they are not forgotten
Look away, look away, look away dixieland
Oh I wish I was in dixie, away, away
In dixieland I take my stand to live and die in dixie
Cause dixieland, thats where I was born
Early lord one frosty morning
Look away, look away, look away dixieland
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on
So hush little baby
Dont you cry
You know your daddys bound to die
But all my trials, lord will soon be over
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Test Week
Here comes test week one
There is less time for fun.
Boys are studying hard all day
For them to top in some way.
Some have english first than chemistry
Then physics, maths and history.
They stay up late till twelve 'o' clock
The studying never seems to stop.
For maths, boys practice many sums
And do so well that 'hundred' comes.
Books in the morning, books at night
Books, books, books all the time.
Then comes the end of 'test week one'
Now its time for all the fun.
Nest week inter-house soccer begins
The competitions tough....
....Never know who's going to win!
poem by Varun Pais
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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I get up in the morning, do my e-mail, I check my e-mails all day. I'll go online and I'll buy my books at Amazon.com, but I don't want to buy all of them because I want to go to Duttons and I want to buy books from another human being.
quote by Joseph Bologna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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Picture-Books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Window
She looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world
she leans out of the window
and this is what she sees
a wet rose singing to the sun
with a chorus of red bees
she leans out of the window
and laughs for the window is high
she is in it like a bird on a perch
and they scoop the blue sky
she and the window scooping
the morning as if it were air
scooping a green wave of leaves
above a stone stair
and an urn hung with leaden garlands
and girls holding hands in a ring
and raindrops on an iron railing
shining like a harp string
an old man draws with his ferrule
in wet sand a map of Spain
the marble soldier on his pedestal
draws a stiff diagram of pain
but the walls around her tremble
with the speed of the earth the floor
curves to the terrestrial center
and behind her the door
opens darkly down to the beginning
far down to the first simple cry
and the animal waking in water
and the opening of the eye
she looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Joe Harper Saturday Morning
Well you thought I was a stranger when you looked upon me, when I came by
But to take you from disaster I cannot master, (the four winds...shy ? ? ? )
And the roamin in the gloamin you have brought, and set before me
And I think that its an omen, Im just not what so many people see.
And you shine your glory all around
Do not disguise what we did
I asked you for half a pound, and you said -
Go see joe harper, saturday morning, kid
Go see joe harper, saturday morning, kid.
And the child held a ball in the garden, with the old queen
And you kissed the lips and heart in all the (stranger? ), you know what I mean
And you walked on in the streets all lonely, in your own childish way
And you thought that you would only - do it for today.
And you shine your glory all around
Do not disguise what we did
I asked you for half a pound, and you said -
Go see joe harper, saturday morning, kid
Go see joe harper, saturday morning, kid.
And just went outside the club and the rain came down on his head and it got all soaking wet.
He said go for yourself, I said I know, sure joe, I aint conquered yet
And I walked away from the backstreets and the rain, and the (song? ), how many times have I died?
And we turned on outside of the bus shelter and I jumped on and said goodbye.
And I shine my glory all around
Do not disguise what I did
Tried to keep it underground and they said -
Go see joe harper, saturday morning, kid
You gotta, go see joe harper, saturday morning, saturday morning...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My window is no blank surface
My window is no blank surface
but is a bright reflection
of Your light that trickles through to me
as Your interest
from morning twilight
where day and night
penetrate deeper into my life
while I wait upon thoughts coming from You
where every facet of my life now is getting meaning
as Your sharpening, Your forming into a new existence
free from my conceit, my weakness,
where your light, truth and love are going right through me
I know that You bring consciousness
and Your glory, Your splendour is circling out brighter.
[Reference: My venster is ‘n blanke vlak (My window is a blank surface) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Outbreak of Peace
I awakened this morning...
So early I was shakened!
Did I hear someone say...
'There's been an outbreak of peace!
A recipe of peace is in all ovens baking? ! '
Did I hear this correctly?
So I went to the window to see!
And sure enough...
I saw Morning Doves!
Morning Doves at the base of a tree!
I opened the window,
And they chirped and moved on!
Leaving me with a 'song'...
To carry with me all day long!
Something perhaps I reflect,
And can be detected by others...
Who will take and pass it on!
I know something felt different...
Within me.
Yet in my heart it kept singing
Stronger until it longed
To belong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Somebody Touched Me
(first release, live version portsmouth, england, september 24, 2000traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!
Would you please welcome columbia recording artist bob dylan.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Well, it was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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