A cloud is made of billows upon billows upon billows that look like clouds. As you come closer to a cloud you don't get something smooth, but irregularities at a smaller scale.
quote by Benoit Mandelbrot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Broken Oar
Once upon Iceland's solitary strand
A poet wandered with his book and pen,
Seeking some final word, some sweet Amen,
Wherewith to close the volume in his hand.
The billows rolled and plunged upon the sand,
The circling sea-gulls swept beyond his ken,
And from the parting cloud-rack now and then
Flashed the red sunset over sea and land.
Then by the billows at his feet was tossed
A broken oar; and carved thereon he read,
'Oft was I weary, when I toiled at thee';
And like a man, who findeth what was lost,
He wrote the words, then lifted up his head,
And flung his useless pen into the sea.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Dodo
Once upon a time
When the world was just a pancake
Fears would arise
That if you went too far, you'd fall
But with the
Passage of time
It all became more of a ball
We're as sure of that
As we all once were when the world was flat
So I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game
Where nothing is sure
Why would you play by the rules?
Who did, you did, you
Who did, you did, you
When was it killed
The very last dodo bird
And was she aware
She was the very last one
So I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game
Where nothing is sure
Why would play by the rules?
Who did, you did, you
Who did, you did, you
You say who did, you did, you
If all the things that you are saying now
Were true enough but still what is all the worrying about
We can work it out
We can work it out
Oh I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game
Where nothing is sure
Why would you play the rules?
Who did, you did, you
Who did, you did, you
You say who did, you did, you
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiss, Kiss
Driving down the highway,
In her brand new Porsche,
Big sunglasses on,
Her silk scarf blowing in the wind.
A bag of money,
In the back seat,
The zip is down,
She leaves a cloud of money.
Her jewelled hands,
Clutch the leather wheel,
Her big white teeth,
Grin through her big red lips.
The brakes malfunction,
And the car flips,
A cloud of dust and dollars,
Her silk blood stained scarf billows in the wind.
© Michael Moorcroft October 18th 2009
poem by Michael Moorcroft
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Spirit Song Over The Waters
THE soul of man
Resembleth water:
From heaven it cometh,
To heaven it soareth.
And then again
To earth descendeth,
Changing ever.
Down from the lofty
Rocky wall
Streams the bright flood,
Then spreadeth gently
In cloudy billows
O'er the smooth rock,
And welcomed kindly,
Veiling, on roams it,
Soft murmuring,
Tow'rd the abyss.
Cliffs projecting
Oppose its progress,--
Angrily foams it
Down to the bottom,
Step by step.
Now, in flat channel,
Through the meadowland steals it,
And in the polish'd lake
Each constellation
Joyously peepeth.
Wind is the loving
Wooer of waters;
Wind blends together
Billows all-foaming.
Spirit of man,
Thou art like unto water!
Fortune of man,
Thou art like unto wind!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
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sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Wreck of the Thomas Dryden
As I stood upon the sandy beach
One morn near Pentland Ferry,
I saw a beautiful brigantine,
And all her crew seem'd merry.
When lo! the wind began to howl,
And the clouds began to frown,
And in the twinkling of an eye
The rain came pouring down.
Then the sea began to swell,
And seem'd like mountains high,
And the sailors on board that brigantine
To God for help did loudly cry.
Oh! it was an awful sight
To see them struggling with all their might,
And Imploring God their lives to save
From a merciless watery grave.
Their cargo consisted of window-glass,
Also coal and linseed-oil,
Which helped to calm the raging sea
That loud and angry did boil.
Because when the bottoms of the barrels
Were with the raging billows stove in,
The oil spread o'er the water,
And smoothed the stormy billows' din!
Then she began to duck in the trough of the sea,
Which was fearful to behold;
And her crossyards dipped in the big billows
As from side to side she rolled.
She was tossed about on the merciless sea,
And received some terrible shocks,
Until at last she ran against
A jagged reef of rocks.
'Twas then she was rent asunder,
And the water did rush in --
It was most dreadful to hear it,
It made such a terrific din.
Then the crew jumped into the small boats
While the Storm-fiend did roar,
And were very near being drowned
Before they got ashore.
Then the coal-dust blackened the water
Around her where she lay,
And the barrels of linseed-oil
They floated far away.
And when the crew did get ashore,
They were shaking with cold and fright,
And they went away to Huna inn,
And got lodgings for the night!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Rudder
A smoking cloud of thoughts
blots out the sun;
swirls in ever-changing
imaginative shapes.
Vast and pervasive
it billows throughout space.
What is this phantasmagoria?
Tiny specks of soot.
While this is still our daily bread
from the ovens
of our senses,
we have not yet
gone beyond.
Stumbling
in this darkness;
fuelled
by earthly fires.
What rudder?
In whose hand?
Put out the fire;
and then
put out the fire
that burns
beneath this funeral pyre.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Cumoulous
On the sun-deck I saw two big clouds a man one
and a female, they met kissed and the man cloud
was transformed into a plucked chicken.
Not that the female cloud fared better for behind
her came huge troll cloud that absorbed her up its
nostrils. In the world of clouds you never see
the same formation twice, in this immaterial ever
changing world; it is as the saying goes: You can´t
cross the same river twice. Now a massive dark cloud
erased the picture, and as I didn´t want a drab cloud
hanging over me, I got up walked into the galley and
had a mug of coffee, while the cook fried pork chops.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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The Haunted Beach
Upon a lonely desart Beach
Where the white foam was scatter'd,
A little shed uprear'd its head
Though lofty Barks were shatter'd.
The Sea-weeds gath'ring near the door,
A sombre path display'd;
And, all around, the deaf'ning roar,
Re-echo'd on the chalky shore,
By the green billows made.
Above, a jutting cliff was seen
Where Sea Birds hover'd, craving;
And all around, the craggs were bound
With weeds--for ever waving.
And here and there, a cavern wide
Its shad'wy jaws display'd;
And near the sands, at ebb of tide,
A shiver'd mast was seen to ride
Where the green billows stray'd.
And often, while the moaning wind
Stole o'er the Summer Ocean;
The moonlight scene, was all serene,
The waters scarce in motion:
Then, while the smoothly slanting sand
The tall cliff wrapp'd in shade,
The Fisherman beheld a band
Of Spectres, gliding hand in hand--
Where the green billows play'd.
And pale their faces were, as snow,
And sullenly they wander'd:
And to the skies with hollow eyes
They look'd as though they ponder'd.
And sometimes, from their hammock shroud,
They dismal howlings made,
And while the blast blew strong and loud
The clear moon mark'd the ghastly croud,
Where the green billows play'd!
And then, above the haunted hut
The Curlews screaming hover'd;
And the low door with furious roar
The frothy breakers cover'd.
For, in the Fisherman's lone shed
A MURDER'D MAN was laid,
With ten wide gashes in his head
And deep was made his sandy bed
Where the green billows play'd.
A Shipwreck'd Mariner was he,
Doom'd from his home to sever;
Who swore to be thro' wind and sea
Firm and undaunted ever!
And when the wave resistless roll'd,
About his arm he made
A packet rich of Spanish gold,
And, like a British sailor, bold,
Plung'd, where the billows play'd!
The Spectre band, his messmates brave
Sunk in the yawning ocean,
While to the mast he lash'd him fast
And brav'd the storm's commotion.
The winter moon, upon the sand
A silv'ry carpet made,
And mark'd the Sailor reach the land,
And mark'd his murd'rer wash his hand
Where the green billows play'd.
And since that hour the Fisherman
Has toil'd and toil'd in vain!
For all the night, the moony light
Gleams on the specter'd main!
And when the skies are veil'd in gloom,
The Murd'rer's liquid way
Bounds o'er the deeply yawning tomb,
And flashing fires the sands illume,
Where the green billows play!
Full thirty years his task has been,
Day after day more weary;
For Heav'n design'd, his guilty mind
Should dwell on prospects dreary.
Bound by a strong and mystic chain,
He has not pow'r to stray;
But, destin'd mis'ry to sustain,
He wastes, in Solitude and Pain--
A loathsome life away.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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The Boundaries Of Humanity
WHEN the primeval
All-holy Father
Sows with a tranquil hand
From clouds, as they roll,
Bliss-spreading lightnings
Over the earth,
Then do I kiss the last
Hem of his garment,
While by a childlike awe
Fill'd is my breast.
For with immortals
Ne'er may a mortal
Measure himself.
If he soar upwards
And if he touch
With his forehead the stars,
Nowhere will rest then
His insecure feet,
And with him sport
Tempest and cloud.
Though with firm sinewy
Limbs he may stand
On the enduring
Well-grounded earth,
All he is ever
Able to do,
Is to resemble
The oak or the vine.
Wherein do gods
Differ from mortals?
In that the former
See endless billows
Heaving before them;
Us doth the billow
Lift up and swallow,
So that we perish.
Small is the ring
Enclosing our life,
And whole generations
Link themselves firmly
On to existence's
Chain never-ending.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Clouds By Number
Cloud Nine lived a life of fantasy,
Barely conceding the existence of Cloud Eight,
Who felt jealousy for Cloud Seven's
Silver lining,
Although it was saturnine.
Cloud Six lived a life in a daze,
Dozing in the sun's rays;
While Cloud Five held a bellyful of rain
That it wept onto
The arid plain.
Cloud Four came out of nowhere,
Hugging Cloud Three,
Making way, hurriedly, for Cloud Two,
Who shot lightning and thunder,
And like a magic trick
Became Cloud One.
The Great Funnel Cloud,
Who left nothing after its short reign
But a painful memory and a swollen path to be filled with regrets.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Kaare's song
KAARE
What wakens the billows, while sleeps the wind?
What looms in the west released?
What kindles the stars, ere day's declined,
Like fires for death's dark feast?
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
KAARE
What drives the fierce dragon to ride the foam,
While billows with blood are red?
The sea-fowl are shrieking, they seek their home,
And hover around my head.
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
KAARE
What maiden so strange to the strand draws nigh,
In light with soft music nears?
What is it that makes all the flowers die,
What fills all your eyes with tears?
ALL
God aid thee here, our earl,
God aid thee here, our earl,
It is Helga, who comes unto Orkney.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Puffy Cloud
Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Float away on a cotton ball
We write songs about the clouds
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puffy Cloud
Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Float away on a cotton ball
We write songs about the clouds
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Drift away on a puffy cloud
Go away on a puffy cloud
My brain is dead from too much pot
'cause (gene) (dean) and i smoke too much pot
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloudy cloudy cloud
Cloudy cloud cloudy cloud
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Character is formed in the stormy billows of the world.
quote by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Verse Passages From A Prose Meditation
On verdurd trees ye silver blossoms grow
Whose leaves atop their perfect whiteness show
& faintly streak with stains of red below
The western breeze steales ore ye shady grove
to sigh near roses as insnard by love.
The waves pushed on by waves in mountains ly
Mixd with ye clouds ye Parent waters fly
& the cross'd winds roar hideous in ye sky
The east & west the south & north contend
While the vexd sea beneath is neithers friend
Above ye winds below the billows Jarr
& nature is become the seat of warr
Look how ye silent waters stealing by
With such smooth motions as deceive our eye
Returns ye pleasing pictures of ye sky
There shines ye sun with imitated rayes
her borrowd light ye paler moon displays
& ye cleare heavens wear an azure face
So lett thy temper due composure find
By all the modest rules that bound ye mind
That Whether fortune with a storm assails
Or Courts thy wishes with indulgent gales
No passion interpose a cloud between
But on thy bosome undisturbd within
May natures God & natures form [be seen]
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Talents are best nurtured in solitude character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world.
Talents are best nurtured in solitude; but character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world.
Silver swans by sea
Swimming on billows so free
For a song I plea
haiku by Peter S. Quinn
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