The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
quote by Edmund Waller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Age
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er;
So calm are we when passions are no more.
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries.
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made:
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
poem by Edmund Waller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of the Last Verses in the Book
When we for age could neither read nor write,
The subject made us able to indite.
The soul, with nobler resolutions deckt,
The body stooping, does herself erect:
No mortal parts are requisite to raise
Her, that unbodied can her Maker praise.
The seas are quiet, when the winds give o'er,
So calm are we, when passions are no more:
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness, which age descries.
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home:
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
poem by Edmund Waller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calm Is Who I Am Now
CALM IS WHO I AM NOW
Calm is who I am now
Calm and quiet-
I have done
What I could do-
The rest is repetition-
Slowly slowly
Time is taking me away-
How long I do not know-
How much pain I do not know-
Calm is who I am now -
Quiet quiet
Before the fears return again
And the anxiety over what I have not done-
Calm is who I am now
In these moments at this hour
Four in the morning
A small part of the long day to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Winds of Fate
One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.
Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through the life:
Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox from World Voices
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This House Is Not For Sale
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We're still livin' here, how come nobody can tell
They're takin' all the furniture, movin' our things
Come on little honey, put your head on my knee
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Do you remember when we even bought this thing?
I danced you across the wooden floor and you signed the lease
What happened in the car that night?
What happened in the car that night?
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We could grab a couple sheets, yeah, give 'em quite a scare
I remember lyin' on the bedroom floor
You were holding me, little honey, kissin' my soul
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Calm down
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love the word 'calm
I love the word ‘calm’
‘The sea lies calm tonight’
‘Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
‘And calm of mind, all passion spent’
I love the word ‘calm’
And the feeling of peace,
And the joy in quiet,
And the sense of all things well,
It gives.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Calm In The Pain
I AM CALM IN THE PAIN
I am calm in the pain,
And calm in the rejection,
And calm through the insult,
And calm through the anger,
And calm calm calm,
Though I feel so deeply
How I have failed
I am calm
Very calm
So calm
Until suddenly
In the middle of the morning prayer
I begin to cry to God
Cry with a terrible crying
And then when the prayer done
Calm calm calm calm calm.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Quiet Life
Somethings happenin but Im just gonna turn a blind eye.
If I see no evil, ask no questions, and I hear no lies.
Cant communicate with minds that are small,
With some people its like talkin to the wall
And a fellow who walks away,
Lives to battle another day.
And Ive really got no appetite
For a fight,
Not tonight.
All I want is a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
No ambition to rock the boat
When I can just stay afloat.
Be content with a quiet life
All I want is a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil at all.
Confidentially, between these walls,
Im on top of it all.
Id rather have em think Im deaf, dumb, and blind
Than aggravation every time I speak my mind
Keep _________ at a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
I could easily blow my top,
Start a row,
But why start now?
Give your daddy a quiet life.
Give your mother a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
[instrumental section]
Give your daddy a quiet life.
Give your mother a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
Confidentially, between these walls,
Im on top of it all.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
And on these dews that drench the furze.
And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain
That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:
Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
These leaves that redden to the fall;
And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:
Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
And waves that sway themselves in rest,
And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Where I Belong
Float me out on the evening tide,
And I will sail the ocean blue,
Give me a boat and I will glide,
Across seas, to adventures new.
Give me a craft, strong and nimble,
That will chase the waves so free,
One that will be like a symbol,
Of the adventurer, that is me.
Let me face the thundering storms,
That range o'er this ocean vast,
And as each menacing cyclone forms,
I'll oppose every powerful blast.
I shall ride the winds that wildly blow,
That will take me journeying on,
And whether they travel fast or slow,
These seas are where I belong.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Nature Of The Storm
Glare at the cloud
Guarded by fog and shroud
And see the storm will be here
Soon it will be quite near
Brace yourself my dear
And yet before
We have to be torn at the core
Torn to and fro, there will be a calm before a calm
A time where there shall be no qualm
And yet the calm is terrifying
The silence before war is maddening
It is not the nor consoling calm of peace
But a maddening roar of quiet
I fear the calm more than the storm because sometimes 'Not Knowing'
That's the worst
poem by David Knox
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The Shepherd And The Calm
Soothing his Passions with a warb'ling Sound,
A Shepherd-Swain lay stretch'd upon the Ground;
Whilst all were mov'd, who their Attention lent,
Or with the Harmony in Chorus went,
To something less than Joy, yet more than dull Content.
(Between which two Extreams true Pleasure lies,
O'er-run by Fools, unreach'd-at by the Wise )
But yet, a fatal Prospect to the Sea
Wou'd often draw his greedy Sight away.
He saw the Barques unlading on the Shore,
And guess'd their Wealth, then scorn'd his little Store.
Then wou'd that Little lose, or else wou'd make it more.
To Merchandize converted is the Fold,
The Bag, the Bottle, and the Hurdles sold;
The Dog was chang'd away, the pretty Skell
Whom he had fed, and taught, and lov'd so well.
In vain the Phillis wept, which heretofore
Receiv'd his Presents, and his Garlands wore.
False and upbraided, he forsakes the Downs,
Nor courts her Smiles, nor fears the Ocean's Frowns.
For smooth it lay, as if one single Wave
Made all the Sea, nor Winds that Sea cou'd heave;
Which blew no more than might his Sails supply:
Clear was the Air below, and Phoebus laugh'd on high.
With this Advent'rer ev'ry thing combines,
And Gold to Gold his happy Voyage joins;
But not so prosp'rous was the next Essay,
For rugged Blasts encounter'd on the way,
Scarce cou'd the Men escape, the Deep had all their Prey.
Our broken Merchant in the Wreck was thrown
Upon those Lands, which once had been his own;
Where other Flocks now pastur'd on the Grass,
And other Corydons had woo'd his Lass.
A Servant, for small Profits, there he turns,
Yet thrives again, and less and less he mourns;
Re-purchases in time th'abandon'd Sheep,
Which sad Experience taught him now to keep.
When from that very Bank, one Halcyon Day,
On which he lean'd, when tempted to the Sea,
He notes a Calm; the Winds and Waves were still,
And promis'd what the Winds nor Waves fulfill,
A settl'd Quiet, and Conveyance sure,
To him that Wealth, by Traffick, wou'd procure.
But the rough part the Shepherd now performs,
Reviles the Cheat, and at the Flatt'ry storms.
Ev'n thus (quoth he) you seem'd all Rest and Ease,
You sleeping Tempests, you untroubl'd Seas,
That ne'er to be forgot, that luckless Hour,
In which I put my Fortunes in your Pow'r;
Quitting my slender, but secure Estate,
My undisturb'd Repose, my sweet Retreat,
For Treasures which you ravish'd in a Day,
But swept my Folly, with my Goods, away.
Then smile no more, nor these false Shews employ,
Thou momentary Calm, thou fleeting Joy;
No more on me shall these fair Signs prevail,
Some other Novice may be won to Sail,
Give me a certain Fate in the obscurest Vale.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Maid Quiet
WHERE has Maid Quiet gone to,
Nodding her russet hood?
The winds that awakened the stars
Are blowing through my blood.
O how could I be so calm
When she rose up to depart?
Now words that called up the lightning
Are hurtling through my heart.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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How Will It End For All Of Us?
IN MY OLD AGE/ MY HAPPINESS
In my old age
My happiness
Suddenly
Overwhelms me.
Why?
The light towards twilight?
The quiet?
The thought of my children
Who love and honor their father?
A peace in the cool air?
Just being here all the years
In Yerushalayim?
A quiet gratitude to God
The light and the peace and the calm?
HOW WILL IT END FOR ALL OF US?
How will it end for all of us?
Will we wait until the sun’s expansion
Or will the seas boil us before this?
Perhaps an asteroid?
Volcanic coldness and darkness?
Or by ourselves?
A self- manufactured virus?
Or the indescribable horrors of nuclear war?
How will it end for all of us?
Perhaps in minds we make to improve our own?
Or perhaps in a meeting we sought
With a higher civilization?
Oh God Only You are God
And Only You can save us.
Do You Truly Care?
Are You listening to me now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I dread the calm
I dread the calm in the morning of a mourn without a sound
It is a calm that comes to foster a greater grief
It is a calm light of dusk before ever dew was falling from leaves
It is a calm sinking in calm pattering to the ground
I fear the calm and scudding winds in the high wold
And on the dews the drench the gorse
And all the silvery gossamer
Shaken into gilded gold
Is it calm and still in the dusky light over great plains
That sweeps late and swiftly in autumn bowers
Of secluded farms and solitary towers
To merge with the bounding and the saint
Is it calm on the vast sea under the spangled silver sleep
The waves that sway in colossus to lull themselves to rest
And the dead calm in the deepening breast
Which heaves with the heaving deep
Yet calm is the mute peace in the meadow’s air
The forest gloom with loom of leaves that redden to fall
And in my chest if calm can ever dwell at all
If any calm is there, it is the calm of despair
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Jetty
Like a jagged boney finger,
a rampart creating tranquility.
Extending from land’s end,
isolating calm from tossing sea.
Times, from Nature grown
others from arduous labor, created.
A welcome sight in long glass eye,
answer to petition, mariners often prayed.
Within its boundaries, stillness abides.
Winds fall away to soft breeze.
Unruly swell shall be calmed,
seafarer secured from tempestuous seas.
Licking and healing its wounds,
in quiet lagoon spent ship will rest.
Safe from the tossing and tumult,
suffering from angry sea’s worst.
Like a jagged finger,
extending from land’s end.
The long lonely jetty,
offers solace and respite to mend.
14/JUN/06
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Directed Through Adverse Winds
There is nothing like the feeling,
Of being vindicated...
After spending YEARS of one's life,
Doing those things felt right...
For reasons one could not explain,
But knew to do.
As if directed through adverse winds.
And stormy seas.
There is nothing like the welcoming of light.
Or a calm feeling existing from within,
That validates the path one has taken...
On a journey,
And most times alone...
One has known,
Has always been the only route to secure...
The meaning of one's happiness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Music
Music, like an ocean, often carries me away!
Through the ether far,
or under a canopy of mist, I set sail
for my pale star.
Breasting the waves, my lungs swollen
like a ship’s canvas,
night veils from me the long rollers,
I ride their backs:
I sense all a suffering vessel’s passions
vibrating within me:
while fair winds or the storm’s convulsions
on the immense deep
cradle me. Or else flat calm, vast mirror there
of my despair!
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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There Is No Pain In Me Now
THERE IS NO PAIN IN ME NOW
There is no pain in me now-
I am quiet and calm
The pains have gone.
I sit and wait and rest-
I am calm.
But I want something else,
And I do not know what it is.
Calm and old,
But not sad and not in pain,
I want something else-
But do not know what it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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