There are two kinds of climbers, those who climb because their heart sings when they're in the mountains, and all the rest.
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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New Mountains
Each day I climb new mountains
in the struggle for life.
Sometimes my limbs get weary
and I want to give, but I have to go on.
Giving up would mean losing
everything my life was meant for.
Therefore, I must struggle
never giving my body a rest.
I must climb these new mountains
or I am doomed forever more.
There is no turning back once started,
as it doesn’t work that way.
Each day there is a new mountains
that gets bigger with each day
and we must reach the summit by nightfall
or get stuck on the mountain going nowhere.
The harder we climb,
the higher we get
until we reach
the pinnacle of our dreams.
8 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Today to me, tomorrow to you [Azi mie, mâine ţie]
In me
And in you,
And in him
The heart sings the same
And weeps and it's grim.
It sings and it cries
Stuck deep in our chest.
It sings in the moment we open our eyes
And cries when our soul goes to rest.
When it sings and wind raves
We shut our sad graves.
When sings full of gloom
We shut our small room.
There is just one whim
In me
And in you
And in him.
poem by Ion Minulescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Molehills
Sometimes we make molehills
that trouble us
into mountains
that are not easy to climb.
The more we try to climb them,
the taller the mountains get.
Soon our strength
will give out
and we will be buried
under regret.
14 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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From the highest mountains in the world, Men seek for higher places to climb, When in their heart, It is where the climb always continues.
quote by Jason Berg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Climb, We Must
Climb we must, each step in life every day;
Climb we must, each rung in life, one by one;
Climb we must, with care slowly all the way;
Climb but steadily, it isn’t merely fun.
Haste could make a waste: fatal could be fall;
Tougher’s the climb when on the steeper side;
Time is short but still we obey His call;
God is our Master in whom we abide.
We ought to rest but when we find the time;
Climb we must, all day and rest during night;
Though success may not come, our duty’s prime;
God is our guide always: Beacon of light.
We ought to reach the place earmarked by God,
Although unshod and though we are from clod.
poem by John Celes
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All Kinds Of Time
The clocks running down
the teams losing ground
to the opposing defense
the young quarterback
waits for the snap
when suddenly it all starts to make sense
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he takes a step back
he's under attack
but he knows that no one can touch him now
he seems so at ease
a strange inner peace
its all that he's feeling somehow
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he thinks of his mother
he thinks of his bride to be
he thinks of his father
his two younger brothers
gathered around the wide screen t.v.
he looks to the left
he looks to the right
and there in a golden ray of light
and there his open man
just like he planned
the world is his tonight
he's got all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
he's got all kinds of time
all kinds of time
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Mountain To Climb
this day
we climb another mountain
this summer
when the grasses are brown
when the earth cracks
we shall climb more mountains
we do not mind
if we get so tired along the way
the joy is
when at the top we see
clouds covering
mountains
sunset in orange
unfolding and then fading
we sleep on the grass
under the stars
so near us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Takes
She takes one step back
And falls to the ground
Can not seem to stop laughing
Joking they say to all she has done
Not nearly what she sees tonight
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
Drinking with despair they take her down
Throwing it all around
She has no money to spare
As she ask for help from her friends
All kinds of time he says
All kinds of time
He has all kinds of time
Writing it all for him to see
The way he use to be
No father around as she passes out
From not sleeping she's been wishing
All kinds of time they say
All kinds of time
All kinds of time to break her down
Nothing around as she picks herself up
In a place that has no name
Came on a bus with a bottle
She's been drinking
She settles down with no help
Can't remember the last night she felt sound
All kinds of time she says
All kinds of time
She has all kinds of time
poem by Sara Pounds
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Our Mountains
Everyone has their mountains
that they want to climb,
mountains whose summits
reach up and touch the sky.
We go through our lives
climbing our mountains
and at times, we stumble
and slip a little behind.
Picking ourselves up
then start our trek again
never losing sight
of what lays a head.
One day we will reach the summit
and stand there breathing in
the clear cool air
when we finally get there.
Our achievement is recorded
along with all the other
mountains we’ve had to climb.
Our testament of determination.
It’s our dreams that seem elusive
until we make them come true
through our struggles and modifications
to taste the clear cool air.
(22 May 2011)
poem by David Harris
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When the Forest Turns Gold
During the nights,
The forest turns gold.
Animals are knights,
And the children are told,
That once they set foot on the floor,
They will be pull.
When the forest turns gold.
This is not lore.
Climbers will be cold,
And the children’s heart would tore.
The children will be told,
That they will never reach the shore,
Until an eclipse peers,
Then the children would be unfold.
When the forest turns gold.
Years after years,
Climbers will be old.
The children will be swamps with fears,
That they will never be old,
Because of the magic that the forest hold.
The climbers hold the children tight.
They would always be hold,
When the forest turns gold.
Rest Awhile
Verse 1:
I got rid of my jackets and coats
I threw out all of my pants
I got sick of my stinkin' clothes
I had to get rid of them
Climb:
I'm knot yet considering replacing them
I'm only glad to be rid of them
Chorus:
Rest awhile
Rest awhile
Verse 2:
I lay out in the sun too long
And burned off all of my skin
I felt so dizzy I got into the car
And got into an accident
Climb:
Out of the burning wreckage I fell
Wanting only to lay where I fell
Chorus:
Rest awhile
Rest awhile
Rest awhile!
Verse 3:
I became friendly with Ruy Lopez
The author of works on chess
Ruy said you're incorrect
He cut me off and acted mad
Climb:
He won't even talk to me now
But I don't care 'cause I'm sick of that guy
Chorus:
And I need to rest a while
Rest a while
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Firmament Arch Earth Allure
attempting to climb
to impossible heights
to touch elusive sky
this is inherent
blood birthright
for brave souls
to climb the highest
mountains is always
to risk sting death
but brave climb
must be attempted
eventually made
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In the old days
I run fast
Faster than a tortoise.
I dive in the sea
Close to the shore.
I climb mountains
Like an ant.
Now I am old
Older than a Museum.
But I run fast
Faster than a run away horse.
I dive in the sea
Somewhere in the bottomless.
I climb the mountains
Like a Mountaineer.
Oh! This old age like a Ghost
And I know the fruitless journey is short
Yes, shorter than a dwarf.
* To my poor dearest Mom! Please send me your domicile.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I would like to explore and see this country. I have had so many opportunities to see it from the air! I would like to climb the mountains that I wished I could climb at the time but had to get back to Washington.
quote by Janet Reno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A garden
Shall I rest my
beaten body,
my weary soul in a
garden not yet grown,
In the mountains
where no one goes
or in valleys
where I pray to the lord.
I have said my
wish for the
day I'm gone,
I have climb
the mountains where
the point is cold
and in search for a land
where peace may flow.
I gather pieces like a
mosaic frame and I
figure out my resting place;
I do not want
a sarcophagus in
a cemetery.
I want to be buried
where there is no noise,
where the wind
blows freely,
where is against the law
forbidden in the
highest point.
Where there's just a
small area to fit my ashes
burned and poured in
a starbucks coffee can.
And where growing
roses, violets, daisies,
lilies and orchids,
make a little garden where
I'll rest my bones.
This is my wish this
is my end,
my immortality
and my farewell on earth.
It is not my time yet,
but this is,
I am sure how
I want to be left.
Copyright�ElenaToledo2009
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Same Weapons
The same weapons have been taught
To me and everybody that learns of war;
The ropes of tragedy are cut to the death,
Forcing climbers to admit defeat.
Jostling around the gym, a fool has deserved
Fame for what he did.
The warlike friend is a man of humans,
The gnomes are not armed, yet are fair.
How did the men of fairness achieve alacrity?
A rope has been mounting on the conscience,
One to climb and attribute to God.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In Summer
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air's soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.
I envy the farmer's boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.
He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another's ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.
He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art;
'T is a song of the merriest.
O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.
Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,--
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.
So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Mountains That We Climb
As we grow older,
the mountains we climb
get harder everyday
than when we were young.
Still we climb them,
as our work is never done.
Our bones may be brittle,
our bodies almost worn out,
but our brain is still active,
so we carry on.
15 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow.
quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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