sculptural white ghosts -
sleepy morning swans sail east
over misty lake
haiku by Dan Costinaş (2015)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Swans
Two swans sit alone on a lake
Looking so peaceful,
Poised on the tranquil waters.
The air around them is calm,
A gentle breeze wafting,
Gliding through their white feathers.
They are caressed by the pine scents
And the delicate balance
Of their surroundings.
The sky above is blue,
Almost cloudless and clear,
But a few pillows float overhead.
The trees stand tall beside the lake,
Watching the swans
Swim on the surface.
They swim majestically,
Beautifully,
In the recreational park.
Under their webbed feet,
Abandoned garbage sifts—
The collected lost trinkets of lazy people.
Twenty feet from the lake,
There is a parking lot
Filled with automobiles
With rust crusting on the hood
And near the synthetic rubber tires.
The people that own the cars
Are feeding the geese bleached white Wonder bread.
They leave their Coke bottles
And Doritos bags on the ground,
Ready to be carried away by the wind.
The swans watch the people.
Later, one of them
Will stick its neck
Into the plastic hole
Of a Coke bottle container
And choke
And choke
And choke
And choke.
It will die.
The other swan will watch,
Helpless and screaming,
Unable to do anything.
Some people will watch,
In awe,
Some excited.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky
Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer
I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet
To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Ship Sails up to Bideford
A ship sails up to Bideford;
Upon a western breeze,
Mast by mast, sail over sail,
She rises from the seas,
And sights the hills of Devon
And the misty English trees.
She comes from Eastern islands;
The sun is in her hold;
She bears the fruit of Jaffa,
Dates, oranges and gold;
She brings the silk of China,
And bales of Persian dyes,
And birds with sparkling feathers
And snakes with diamond eyes.
She’s gliding in the starlight
As white as any gull;
The east is gliding with her
In the shadows of her hull.
A ship sails up to Bideford;
Upon a western breeze,
With fruits of Eastern summers
She rises from the seas,
And sights the hills of Devon
And the misty English trees.
poem by Herbert Asquith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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summer lake cruise
gliding through the noon heat too
two white swans
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Sleepy Time Time
By jack bruce and janet godfrey
Im a sleepy time baby, a sleepy time boy.
Work only maybe, life is a joy.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Sleepy time time, sleepy time all the time.
Asleep in the daytime, asleep at night.
Life is all playtime; working aint right.
Chorus
I have my sunday, that aint no lie.
But on monday morning comes my favorite cry.
Chorus
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Swans
There's a big park just close to where we live —
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
The fair yachts sail
In loveliness that makes the water pale.
Last night I went to walk along the road
Beside the park
And feel the kisses of the wintry dark.
It's the best place to watch the evening come
For mists are there
And lights and shadows and the lake is fair
And last night looking up I saw two swans
Fly overhead
With long black necks and their white wings outspread.
Above the houses citywards they went,
An arrowy pair
In secret — white and black and dark and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleepy Time Time
By jack bruce and janet godfrey
Im a sleepy time baby, a sleepy time boy.
Work only maybe, life is a joy.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Sleepy time time, sleepy time all the time.
Asleep in the daytime, asleep at night.
Life is all playtime; working aint right.
Chorus
I have my sunday, that aint no lie.
But oh monday morning aint my favorite cry.
Chorus
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misty Water
By the town of straight and narrow,
Theres a dark and misty place.
Everything is hazy,
So the people are afraid.
All except marias daughters,
Who believe in misty ways.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty morning glaze.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
Though maria is not lovely,
Shes the lady of my dreams.
cause I see my lady,
Through a misty, silky screen.
And seeing is believing,
But I cant believe my eyes.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty paradise.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely brothers
Across the lake I stare
Across through the morning fog
I hear the lonely call of my brother
His black white body
breaches the surface of the calm lake
His red eyes meet the green of mine
The call of our loneliness ring out across the water
To be swallowed by the fog
As my lonely brother dives ounce again
Never again to rise
Across the lake I stare
Across through the morning fog
Now I am truly alone.
poem by Matthew Ladin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonlake Ghosts
There’s a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn’t scared for he couldn’t
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don’t know if he’s lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don’t want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I’ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It’s not like eating at Denny’s
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sail Away
Walk a cold thin line
in the morning
Hold the fear inside
that greets you with the day
I can't go with you now
I can only watch you now
As you sail away
Sail away
I'm going to miss you now
So much more then I realised
There's a heavy stone of empty
where you once lay
I can't go with you now
I can only watch you now
Watch you
As you sail away
Sail away
I know you need your freedom
Sail away
Cause without it you can't survive
Be on your way
disappear into the distance
I smile and say
Sail away
I can't go with you now
I can only watch you now
Watch you
As you sail away
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misty Water Woman
I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts By Moon Lake
There’s a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn’t scared for he couldn’t
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don’t know if he’s lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don’t want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I’ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It’s not like eating at Denny’s
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.21,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts By Moon Lake
There's a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn't scared for he couldn't
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don't know if he's lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don't want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I'ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It's not like eating at Denny's
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Feb.21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts
Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
Not witches, but ghosts
who come, moving their useless arms
like forsaken servants.
Not all ghosts are women,
I have seen others;
fat, white-bellied men,
wearing their genitals like old rags.
Not devils, but ghosts.
This one thumps barefoot, lurching
above my bed.
But that isn't all.
Some ghosts are children.
Not angels, but ghosts;
curling like pink tea cups
on any pillow, or kicking,
showing their innocent bottoms, wailing
for Lucifer.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swans
Night is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are -- your gaze is on my face --
We watch the swans and never a word is said.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Wild East
(ian hunter)
Well its tuesday night
How Id like to be inside at this time
Watchin t.v. is killin me
Its such a drag tonight
I feel like jason
Just found a rusty fleece
And the cyclops all laughin at me
You cant tame wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Now some cynic from the methadone clinic
He keeps on bothering me
He writes all my lyrics backwards on diapers
And hangs em from the local trees
Watch out, white boy
Dont argue with a sawn off piece
Im a crazy son, mama
I love the grease of wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Now jezebel dont feel too well, she talks to jane
bout a one way conversation on a subway train
Hey! they took away her wallet and her valise
Love hate, love hate, love hate, love hate, wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east wild east
Wild east come on crazy wild east
(repeat and fade)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pain In The Neck
too many words,
too many promises,
too many loves
meant to be forgotten,
too many woes
these telling and retelling,
how can i be so submissive
to these literatures of lament, these incantations of madness?
a pain in the neck
a migraine, somehow, i lack sleep and the dogs keep on barking
on the streets of sorrow,
on the boulevard of broken dreams,
lights shutting off slowly like fireflies dissolving in the horizon.
it is morning,
and a yellow bird with a black beak is chirping on a twig
just beside my window.
i breathe the breeze from the sea.
The seagull pass by.
A yacht with a white sail and white banners is approaching the port.
My loneliness like an island
A broken port, a history of a typhoon, a rope, and a fallen coconut.
Someone farther from this house is waiving a hand.
A white handkerchief. A truce.
I am sleepy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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