Travelling Early to Shangshan
In the morning, he starts to move at the journey bell,
He travels, thinking sorrowfully of his home.
A cock crows; a thatched cottage; the moon;
On the planks of the bridge, his footsteps mark the frost.
Mongolian oak leaves fall on the mountain road,
Citron blossom's bright by the post house wall.
Still his thoughts are of his dream of Duling,
The pond full of geese and wild ducks.
poem by Wen Tingjun
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Ducks On The Wall
After dinner norman becomes depressed.
Star:
Normans office got on my nerves to-day.
Wife:
What do you mean? you are norman!
Star:
(shouts) I am a star!
Wife:
Youre not a star norman. youre
Just a plain ordinary little bloke and
Even if you walked down the street in
A silver suit people still wouldnt
Recognise you. youre dull, ordinary
And uninteresting! youre a drag!
Star rises from his chair and smashes
The dinner plates to the floor.
Star:
I hate this house and I hate you, but
More than anything else I hate those
Ducks!
Wife:
Dont you touch those ducks norman!
They were a present from my mother.
Look, norman, Ive had enough of you
And your ridiculous fantasies. first of
All you wanted to be a painter, then
You wanted to be an astronaut, then
A footballer and now youre playing at
Being a rock singer. if you touch those
Ducks Im leaving!
Ducks on the wall
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
My ladys got a sort of strange fascination,
An obsessive fixation
For cheap decorations
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I love her so but if she doesnt move the ducks,
I think my mind is gonna go.
Ducks ducks on the wall.
Ducks ducks, hanging on the wall.
I leave the office and I want to relax.
Dont want to stare at a wall
And look at a duck that cant quack.
I love you baby but I cant fall
For those ducks on the wall.
I start to snuggle up and squeeze her so tight.
Then out of the corner of my eye
I see those ducks in flight.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I can sit through your gossip and your soap opera shows,
But those ducks have got to go.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
And when I went to a cocktail party
With the bores next door,
What was the first thing that I saw?
Ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
Ill sit and look at all the soap operas with her
Ill play all the panel games and watch all the quiz shows,
But those ducks theyve got to go,
Those ducks are getting up my nose.
If those ducks can fly, well so can i.
And if those ducks have got to stay
Then Im going to fly away.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Oh those ducks on the wall are beginning to move
Theyre talking to me
Ive got to get away from those ducks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Realization
A pleasing fragrance from an altar
the mountain top temple.
The old priest incense is burned in worship.
His chant of Sutra floating in the wind
like an old mother's lullaby.
The saffron robe waves over the thatched house
and the bell tolls with the moon set.
I thought the time has come
and I take his place when he leaves.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home, Sweet Home
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
poem by John Howard Payne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning and Memories
She had managed to get out
and met you by the pond
where you had been waiting
and the morning air was fresh
and the birds were in song
and the flowers around the pond
were colourful
and she sat beside you
and said
Had to sneak out
the back way
before my mother
gave me chores
and anyway
it's too nice a day
to be stuck indoors
and she looked at you
and smiled her bright smile
and you said
Glad you came
don't like being here
unless you're with me
it reminds me of you
this place
us being here together
and she said
Remember that time
we were here
and the rain came down
and we got drenched
and had to run to the barn
and shelter
and we were warm
and looked at each other
and then she stopped
and looked at the pond
and at the ducks there
and the bright morning sky
and you said
Yes that was a time to remember
and do you remember
that mouse that ran over your leg
and you screamed
and it echoed
around the barn
as if you were being murdered
and she laughed
and put her head
on your shoulder
and said
I can't help it
if mice frighten me
and you sensed her head
against you
and wanted that moment
like all moments with her
never to end
but some how
to always to be there
memories and moments
and feelings
and the ducks
and the smell
of the morning air
always to be in my mind
and always to be there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ducks Are Such Fun
Ducks on the pond a delightful sight,
Pretty and beautiful,
this warm summer night.
Moonbeams dancing and playing,
watch the ducks' antics too.
Swimming and diving and
splashing to the beautiful
Full moon in view.
As the morning breaks
breakfast will be served.
They heed my call and
answer, Quack, Quack, Quack.
poem by Florence Weaver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Journey to the unknown
A journey takes a few students to a small dorp called Clanwilliam.
From campus we assemble in the dead of the night
We catch the first rays of sun
Streaming in the car
We gather in the parking lot outside UWC
In the dead of the night
Mist gathers with icy wind piercing through me
As our journey takes us away from the Cape’s sea
I observe the nature that springs up from the earth.
Beautiful daffodils, roses, lilies and dandelions
Flay out with magnificent might
Songs pop up “ Uptown girl”, “ Queen of My heart”, “ I have a Dream”.
Along the river we see some ducks and swans that are rare in winter
Riaan takes out his camera and starts filming some footage
While Neely and Merrington discuss to us what to look out for.
The blue skies echo from above
The rough ground growls and babbles under the heavy weight of the tyres
We came home after a long journey to the unknown
A journey full of mystique and beauty that leaves me eerie at the end of the day
poem by Lee John Siebritz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feelings on Watching the Moon
Time hard year famine life land empty
Brothers live abroad each east west
Fields gardens few fall shield spear after
Bone flesh flow apart road road on
Hang shadow separate like 10,000 li goose
Leave root apart rise 9 autumn dishevelled
Together look bright moon should fall tear
One night home heart 5 place alike The times are hard: a year of famine has emptied the fields,
My brothers live abroad- scattered west and east.
Now fields and gardens are scarcely seen after the fighting,
Family members wander, scattered on the road.
Attached to shadows, like geese ten thousand li apart,
Or roots uplifted into September's autumn air.
We look together at the bright moon, and then the tears should fall,
This night, our wish for home can make five places one.
God Will Judge
I came upon a fork in the road
And I didn't know which path to take
Should I take the path most traveled upon
As that decision I just have to make.
So I ponder the decision for a while
Till an outcome came to my mind
I would take the one that was less traveled
And truthfully I still know not why.
I started my journey down that path
As down that road I began to walk
I then began to think the thoughts to myself
And also to myself I began to talk.
I came upon two men and a woman arguing
Screaming back and forth about hate and love
I bowed my head and then I walked away
And I said to them, one day GOD he will judge.
I walked down the road a little bit further
Then I noticed water upon the path
It formed a pond which became my mirror
Then I saw myself looking in, so I had to laugh.
I looked so sad and I look so confused
As at first I didn't think that it was me
But they say with age comes wisdom and sadness
So maybe that really was myself looking back at me.
I continued my journey down the path
Just seeing were it was going to take me next
Or will the road just end like how it began
So later in the day I might sit back and reflect.
I then came across some people stealing and fighting
While an innocent man was screaming that's enough
Then like cowards I saw them all just run away
Then I said to the innocent, one day GOD he will judge.
So I continued my journey down that path
Out of curiosity to see where It would take me then
But it took me back to that same fork in the road
My ending was also where my journey did begin.
Then suddenly I had awaken from that dream
My journey was really a dream that I just had
And was it a dream about my very own circle of life
Especially my pain and suffering and what made me sad.
So I sat up in my bed and started reflecting back
Into my soul which is full of sadness of love
I think the dream was telling me do not ever forget
And that also in time to all, GOD He will judge.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A journey through an interminable poetic landscape
In the midst of the dense thicket
of the poet-milky wood, just beyond the gas pumps
standing as lonely as a trio of crows
waiting for a poet’s metaphor, and just beyond
where the pavement ends,
the road divided:
I took the road less travelled,
- unlike, say, a wise purveyor of ice-cream;
pausing only to think, as the evening
fell like sadness from my cigarette, that
the other road will be for me
for ever, the road I did not take
into the landscape which I did not see,
in the time that will not return;
but the road I took, led past
plum-trees, showering Spring’s wild daffodils
as with a late Spring snow, falling quietly
like the sighs of young slant-eyed girls thinking of love;
I’m glad I took that road; for later, when Autumn
with its mists and mellow plumful fruitiness,
came silently, so silently,
I took that road again; although I’m told
the other road was much the same;
but now, as the brown leaves fell and swirled,
the small, hard plums had fallen;
I took some home, put them in the ice-box;
were they juicy, cold on my morning lips?
No. They’d gone; along with the girl
I’d brought home, and the crate of beer;
just a note on the ice-box door:
‘I used to worship your poetry; now
I know that you’ve sold out… loser…’
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moon Tonight
The turn my car took on Bandra flyover
Helped me see the part of sky with Moon.
And she looked round-faced – full Moon?
Chauffeur had steadied the car, I was not sure.
Mind went back a few years to my Delhi home
I had counted the full moons to my retirement:
Tried to go up on my terrace in Lodhi Garden
On every bright moon-lit night, alas, alone.
Now I wonder how many full moons before death?
But I don’t know how to time the interval between
Now and Death’s arrival for me: why not every one?
Perhaps there can be no better addition of riches to life.
From home, I put off TV, wore shoes, closed door,
And went down to walk under the Moon: she was
On the East at an angle: only if I walk East I see her.
Now I pass the lane between FDA and Artek Nagar.
I see the bits of broken Moon through the dark foliage
Of the trees, sometimes branches, some leaves in pairs
Asleep, while palm leaves swaying a lullaby gently,
Brushing on, without ever touching, the distant moon.
As I went on the main BKC road, I could see the full
Moon on this clear November sky in broad gaps
Where there were no cassia or queen’s tree, and
No star near, or even far, to distract my attention.
I enjoyed seeing the moon, rather self-consciously,
Keeping track of whether anyone passing by
Is watching me watch the Moon, to think “Is he
A poet or just lunatic, about to fall into a pot-hole? '
Before I turned homewards, I felt sad, very sad
To think that the full Moon is absolutely lost
In the lit streets with headlights and neon-lamps
That one has to search for the moon to see her.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Light
Morning Light.
In the morning breeze petals fall off the rhododendron bush. The terrace is
a magic carpet and on the wall sunlight and shadows enact an ancient play.
Dogs still asleep, the cock has not crewed, only the old man across the road
who fears his own death, is up; even for him there is solace in the glory of
an August morning. A plane crosses the sky leaves, behind exhausted dreams;
tired tourists going home. Alfredo is up starting his noisy tractor he will collect
carob beans before it gets too hot. He used to have two of stubborn mules
harvesting took longer then, but the beasts made the landscape more pretty.
I have been here a long time, this tranquil bay away from North Atlantic storms,
so let me soak up the peace of this morning before I set sail for another voyage
across the seas of reveries.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Sex
I work so hard trying to make a few buck
I pass the hours in a dream
The sweat keeps rolling off the tip of my nose
There's only one thing keeps me on my feet
Bridge
I may be greasing the wheels in a noisy factory
I may be hunched over metal machines
Watching the gears as they move
Just reminds me
Of bodies in motion
The sweat and the sound
Chorus
Wild sex in the working class
After five it's a gas
Wild sex in the working class
Counting minutes gonna get home fast
Thinking of your warm skin
While i touch cold steel
The days go by to the pounding beat
My back is aching so bad
But i'm grinning inside
Thinking of you keeps me on my feet
Bridge
Chorus
I work so hard i'm thinking of you
I work so hard but i'm thinking of you
I work so hard
Chorus
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Sex (In The Working Class)
I work so hard trying to make a few buck
I pass the hours in a dream
The sweat keeps rolling off the tip of my nose
Theres only one thing keeps me on my feet
Bridge
I may be greasing the wheels in a noisy factory
I may be hunched over metal machines
Watching the gears as they move
Just reminds me
Of bodies in motion
The sweat and the sound
Chorus
Wild sex in the working class
After five its a gas
Wild sex in the working class
Counting minutes gonna get home fast
Thinking of your warm skin
While I touch cold steel
The days go by to the pounding beat
My back is aching so bad
But Im grinning inside
Thinking of you keeps me on my feet
Bridge
Chorus
I work so hard Im thinking of you
I work so hard but Im thinking of you
I work so hard
Chorus
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar
On the vermont transit bus I leaned my arm into alittle chink of sun,
Going somewhere older than I was,
Strapped into something tight, keeping me small.
I dug into you like rock climbing;
Too scared of coming down,
Too scared of going up,
Too scared of rockface.
I shouldve split my sides or spilled my guts or hit you or something,
But I was good, and your fathers little pancakes
So round and perfect and me sitting up too straight,
Laughing in wrong places, kissing you,
Kissing up, kissing too soon.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?
And when you got me pregnant I stopped the party and
I stopped the typewriter and I stopped your dumb ball game in the red barn and i
Stopped your father and bled instead.
And I felt the lie - something sticky on the inside,
A bitter wind in my throat,
Stopping me wanting,
In my stomach, in my head and you said
Sugar sugar, you couldnt come come
Sugar sugar, without your mother
Sugar sugar, you couldnt taste it
Sugar sugar, in my throat.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Independent Woman....
we are in this house
that from our sweat built
there are only two of us
in this house
which we have not really
called as home,
something's missing
you give me a hint
not the glass window or
the ceiling fan,
i know it but how can i
tell you?
i won't tell, it will hurt you,
we continue living
somehow
just the two of us in this house
we have our own careers
and every morning we rush to go on our different ways
the night is the only place
of our tryst
we manage to spend time for love
we sleep together and share
what we can
there will be a time when this house shall fall
because it is not a home for us all
there will be one morning when you will finally leave
and take away everything from me
and then i will write it on the wall
this house is never a home,
she never wanted a child to bear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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October
O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; one from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if the were all, Whose elaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-- For the grapes' sake along the all.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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River
Here is the river
And I am searching it
In the map that is
On the wall of my house
That is not there.
I do not know
The mountain is in between
The river and my house
That dressedup geography
And taking me from
Place to place.
I am on my own journey
While the sky is breaking
And I with the night dream
Passing passing and passing
The hard days with
Fire of the mountain
And water of the river.
Where is the river
That I am searching
To driveout troubles
Where I am
Here is the river
Wash your face eyes
Somebody is kind enough
To tell in my house.
I am not in my house
See.
And Where am I
And the sea is here
No river no mountain
Here is the river
If you find again
Inform me please
I am grateful then.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still You
There's a stream through a glen
Where wild apples grow
It runs down to old cliffs
Where foxes and deer
Watch the wild waters foam
White upon winter shores
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
On the braes by that stream
In cool morning dew
There's a world fresh and free
and still time to dream
of the old and the new
to remember what's true
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
Now the stream calls me home
And in its wild song
There's a lost harmony
And here in this glen
By the moon's rise and fall
I know where I belong
And it's with you, still with you
By the waves on the shore
By the stream through the glen
With you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
where I'm with you, still with you
The Mirage Beyond
what is in your mind?
a house to build,
a path to make
that which brings you
to a home
a clear pond
where you soon must bathe
and cool your skin
a tree full of leaves
sturdy barks and
strong trunks
a place for you to
rest
perhaps you are thinking
about death
and all of those who find
you still useful
shall knock the wood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Full Moon
Havent you noticed a kind of madness in my eyes?
Its only me, dear, in my midnight disguise.
Pay no attention if I crawl across the room.
Its just another full moon.
Dont be afraid of me when Im walking in my sleep.
Dont get alarmed, dear, when I start to crawl and creep.
Try not to listen when I mumble like a loon.
Its just another full moon.
Its just another full moon.
You see before you a truly broken man.
cause when it gets to midnight, I dont know who I am.
Full moons a-callin, and its put a curse on me,
And it will never set me free.
The full moons still up there,
Like a great white balloon.
The owls are a-callin,
And theyre singin my tune.
The night keeps a-callin.
I wish the day would come soon,
To get away from another full moon.
Here comes another full moon.
If your hands start shakin
When night starts to fall,
If youre scared of the moonlight
And the shadows on the wall,
If the face in the mirror
Isnt you at all,
Its just another full moon.
Its just another full moon.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
La la la la la la.
Its just another full moon.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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