The Caucas
The Caucas lies before my feet! I stand where
Glaciers gleam, beside a precipice rock-ribbed;
An eagle that has soared from off some distant cliff,
Lawless as I, sweeps through the radiant air!
Here I see streams at their sources up-welling,
The grim avalanches unrolling and swelling!
The soft cloudy convoys are stretched forth below,
Tattered by thronging mad torrents descending;
Beneath them the naked rocks downward are bending,
Still deeper, the wild shrubs and sparse herbage grow;
But yonder the forests stand verdant in flora
And birds are a'twitter in choiring chorus.
Yonder, cliff-nested-are dwellings of mortals,
There pasture the lambs in sweet blossoming meadows--
There couch the herds in the cool deepening shadows--
There roar the Aragua's blue sparkling waters,
And lurketh the bandit safe hid in lone caverns,
Where Terek, wild sporting, is cutting the azure!
It leaps and it howls like some ravening beast
At first sight of feeding, through grating of iron--
It roars on the shore with a furious purring,
It licks on the pebbles with eagerest greed.
Vain struggle and rancor and hatred, alas!
'Tis enchained and subdued by the unheeding mass.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wild Blue Yonder
If you need a prison break
I will be the file in the cake
We will make a great escape
Into the wild blue yonder
If you need to chase the blues
I will be your running shoes
Well double back and leave no clues
Into the wild blue yonder
Chorus
Into the wild blue yonder
Where we can be free
Into the wild blue yonder
Im takin you with me
If you need to fight for love
I will be your boxing gloves
Cheering crowds will lift us up
Into the wild blue yonder
Chorus
If you need someone to care
If life is treating you unfair
Take my love Ill lead you there
Into the wild blue yonder
Into the wild blue yonder
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Awakening storm
I stand on a cliff and the below the sea roars like thunder
and water foams with sweeping fingers
and a storm wind from the sea swishes in.
I stand on a cliff and the below the sea roars like thunder,
waves crash with a mighty roar
supported by shattering force.
I stand on a cliff and the below the sea roars like thunder
and water foams with sweeping fingers.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feelin Blue
Hey, look over yonder out in the rain,
Soakin wet fever in my brain.
Now, I aint certain which way to go,
But I got to move, sure.
Chorus:
Feelin blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.
Feelin blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.
Feelin blue, blue, blue, blue, blue.
Im feelin blue. Im feelin blue.
Hey, look over yonder behind the wall,
Theyre closin in Im about to fall.
Now Im no coward, but I aint no cool
Feel it in my bones, my book is due.
Chorus
Hey, look over yonder, up in the tree,
Theres a rope hangin just for me.
Without a warnin, without a warnin,
Things are pilin up to break me down.
Chorus
Hey, look over yonder, out in the street,
People laughin by, walkin easy.
Now, Im no sinner, but I aint no saint.
If its happy, you can say I aint.
Chorus
Im feelin blue (x6)
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Evening Darkens Over
The evening darkens over
After a day so bright,
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
There's sound of distant thunder.
The latest sea-birds hover
Along the cliff's sheer height;
As in the memory wander
Last flutterings of delight,
White wings lost on the white.
There's not a ship in sight;
And as the sun goes under,
Thick clouds conspire to cover
The moon that should rise yonder.
Thou art alone, fond lover.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orara
THE STRONG sob of the chafing stream
That seaward fights its way
Down crags of glitter, dells of gleam,
Is in the hills to-day.
But far and faint, a grey-winged form
Hangs where the wild lights wane—
The phantom of a bygone storm,
A ghost of wind and rain.
The soft white feet of afternoon
Are on the shining meads,
The breeze is as a pleasant tune
Amongst the happy reeds.
The fierce, disastrous, flying fire,
That made the great caves ring,
And scarred the slope, and broke the spire,
Is a forgotten thing.
The air is full of mellow sounds,
The wet hill-heads are bright,
And down the fall of fragrant grounds
The deep ways flame with light.
A rose-red space of stream I see,
Past banks of tender fern;
A radiant brook, unknown to me
Beyond its upper turn:
The singing silver life I hear,
Whose home is in the green,
Far-folded woods of fountains clear,
Where I have never been.
Ah, brook above the upper bend,
I often long to stand
Where you in soft, cool shades descend
From the untrodden land!
Ah, folded woods, that hide the grace
Of moss and torrents strong,
I often wish to know the face
Of that which sings your song!
But I may linger, long, and look
Till night is over all:
My eyes will never see the brook,
Or sweet, strange waterfall.
The world is round me with its heat,
And toil, and cares that tire;
I cannot with my feeble feet
Climb after my desire.
But, on the lap of lands unseen,
Within a secret zone,
There shine diviner gold and green
Than man has ever known.
And where the silver waters sing
Down hushed and holy dells,
The flower of a celestial Spring,
A tenfold splendour, dwells.
Yea, in my dream of fall and brook
By far sweet forests furled,
I see that light for which I look
In vain through all the world—
The glory of a larger sky
On slopes of hills sublime,
That speak with God and morning, high
Above the ways of Time!
Ah! haply, in this sphere of change
Where shadows spoil the beam,
It would not do to climb that range
And test my radiant Dream.
The slightest glimpse of yonder place,
Untrodden and alone,
Might wholly kill that nameless grace
The charm of the unknown.
And therefore, though I look and long,
Perhaps the lot is bright
Which keeps the river of the song
A beauty out of sight
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feet On The Rock
(Spoken)
Well, I wanna talk to you for a minute,
About an old man I met,
He said, Boy, you look in trouble,
And I bet your life's a mess,
He said, I used to have the same problem too,
I was way out of control,
You know the only thing that set it right for me,
Was a little good old rock and roll,
Chorus: (Sang)
I put my feet on the rock,
And my name on the roll,
When it's called up yonder,
I won't worry 'bout my soul,
I know my home is waiting,
And it's something to behold,
I put my feet on the rock,
And my name on the roll,
I'd never heard the gosple,
Spread like that before,
I guess the message comes in many ways,
Those simple words of wisdom,
Can open heaven's door,
So every time I get the chance I say,
Chorus:
Come on, put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll,
When it's called up yonder,
You won't worry 'bout your soul,
You know your home is waiting,
And it's something to behold,
So put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll
--- Instrumental ---
Chorus:
Come on, put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll,
When it's called up yonder,
You won't worry 'bout your soul,
Well, You know your home is waiting,
And it's something to behold,
So put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll
Chorus:
Come on, put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll,
When it's called up yonder,
You won't worry 'bout your soul,
You know your home is waiting,
And it's something to behold,
So put your feet on the rock,
And your name on the roll
Now, put your feet on the rock,-ac
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dreamer on the Sea-shore
What are the dreams of him who may sleep
Where the solemn voice of the troubled deep
Steals on the wind with a sullen roar,
And the waters foam along the shore?
Who shelter'd lies in some calm retreat,
And hears the music of waves at his feet?
He sees not the sail that passes on
O'er the sunny fields of the sea, alone,
The farthest point that gleams on the sight,
A vanishing speck of glittering light.
He sees not the spray that, spreading wide,
Throws its lines of snow on the dark green tide;
Or the billows rushing with crests of foam
As they strove which first should reach their home—
Their home! What home has the restless main,
Which only arrives to return again,
Like the wand'rer she bears on her stormy breast,
Who seeks in vain for a place of rest.
Lo! His visions bear him along
To rocks that have heard the mermaid's song:
Or, borne on the surface of some dark surge,
Unharm'd he lies, while they onward urge
Their rapid course, and waft him away
To islands half hid 'midst the shadowy spray,
Where trees wave their boughs in the perfum'd gale,
And bid the wave-borne stranger hail;
Where birds are flitting like gems in the sun,
And streams over emerald meadows run,
That whisper in melody as they glide
To the flowers that blush along their side.
Sorrow ne'er came to that blissful shore,
For no mortal has entered that isle before:
There the Halcyon waits on the sparkling strand
Till the bark of her lover the Nautilus land;
She spreads her purple wings to the air,
And she sees his fragile vessel there—
She sees him float on the summer sea,
Where no breath but the sigh of his love may be.
The dreamer leaps towards that smiling shore—
When, lo! the vision is there no more!
Its trees, its flowers, its birds are gone—
A waste of waters is spread alone.
Plunged in the tide, he struggles amain—
High they pour, and he strives in vain:
He sinks—the billows close over his head,
He shrieks—'tis over—the dream is fled;
Secure he lies in his calm retreat,
And the idle waters still rave at his feet.
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only Love
I have sailed a boat or two
Out on the wild blue
Yonder to dreams that rarely come true
As far as I can see
From the island of green
I can put my trust in just one thing
(chorus)
And only love sails straight from the harbor
And only love will lead us to the other shore
Out of all the flags Ive flown
One flies high and stands alone
Only love
Peaceful waters, raging sea
Its all the same to me
I can close my eyes and still be free
When the waves come crashing down
And the thunder rolls around
I can feel my feet on solid ground
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High waving heather'neath stormy blasts bending
High waving heather'neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Each rising to heaven and heaven descending;
Man's spirit away from the drear dungeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.
All down the mountain-sides wild forests lending
The mighty voice to the life-giving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee bending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wilder and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.
Shining and lowering, and swelling and dying,
Changing for ever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying;
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.
Woods, you nedd not frown on me;
Spectral trees, that so dolefully
Shake your heads in the dreary sky,
You need not mock so bitterly.
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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High waving heather 'neath stormy blasts bending
High waving heather 'neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars,
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man's spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.
All down the mountain sides wild forests lending
One mighty voice to the life-giving wind,
Rivers their banks in their jubilee rending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.
Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
Changing forever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lighning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An English Spring Ramble
Spring is here in every new budding leaf
that flourishes beneath
this vast expansive sky of baby blue.
Wild pink cherry in blossom by the road
covers soft yellow daffodils on show,
fav'rite colours in a nursery hue.
Push'd into this expectant painted world
first lambs, tails unfurled
wobble under udders in fields of green.
Along hedgerows where I slowly amble,
deep within the ancient knotted bramble
Tree Sparrows flitter and twitter unseen.
Walking with my eyes and heart wide open
silent words unspoken,
the wayside has its own story to tell.
The wild birds' spring symphony holds me
standing here beneath the sunlit cherry
looking through branches at a clear blue sky.
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A willow in the wind
To sing you one last song
sad and lonely as a lost widow
as a willow crying on a cliff
bitter, bitter goes the song
as a silky snake sneaking down
on the banks of a cold stream
sneaking silently down the cliff
slower, slower runs the song
deeper deeper round the wood
of the darkest spots of the ego
wild, wild, sneaky, sneaky ends the song
poem by Jabberm Alessawy
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The Poem In My Mind
you cannot steal my poem
it is in my mind
you cannot put an end to my poem
it is alive
it has the wings of an eagle
flying high
nesting on a cliff
a very high cliff
beyond the grasp of my hands
it is wild
as wild as the cobra in the forest
but when i recall it back
in my memory
it becomes gentle as a dove
as tamed as
my dog
wagging its tail behind my
back
it becomes a tamed horse
waiting for my
ride.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Beloved
Where beauty lays in waiting...
Amongst the Lilys of the Valley in bloom--
You can find the deer and the antelope scampering...
Through the wild growing fields of sweet perfume;
The streams and the brooks are without number...
Crystal clear to a soft azure blue---
Running untamed 'cross pebbles of time--
Flowing in the direction of: YOU! ;
My beloved, you are my darling---
Sure as your shining armor is of Gold---
Wearing your banner of sweet love---
In the valley where true love n'er grows old;
Total bliss we two have found...
In the meadows and valleys of our time...
Given freely-our devotion to one another---
Overjoyed-now knowing-at last-you are mine;
The Essence
September,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under canvas
IN MUSKOKA
Lichens of green and grey on every side;
And green and grey the rocks beneath our feet;
Above our heads the canvas stretching wide;
And over all, enchantment rare and sweet.
Fair Rosseau slumbers in an atmosphere
That kisses her to passionless soft dreams.
O! joy of living we have found thee here,
And life lacks nothing, so complete it seems.
The velvet air, stirred by some elfin wings,
Comes swinging up the waters and then stills
Its voice so low that floating by it sings
Like distant harps among the distant hills.
Across the lake the rugged islands lie,
Fir-crowned and grim; and further in the view
Some shadows seeming swung 'twixt cloud and sky,
Are countless shores, a symphony of blue.
Some northern sorceress, when day is done,
Hovers where cliffs uplift their gaunt grey steeps,
Bewitching to vermilion Rosseau's sun,
That in a liquid mass of rubies sleeps.
The scent of burning leaves, the camp-fire's blaze,
The great logs cracking in the brilliant flame,
The groups grotesque, on which the firelight plays,
Are pictures which Muskoka twilights frame.
And Night, star-crested, wanders up the mere
With opiates for idleness to quaff,
And while she ministers, far off I hear
The owl's uncanny cry, the wild loon's laugh.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Alpine Hunter
Wilt thou not the lambkins guard?
Oh, how soft and meek they look,
Feeding on the grassy sward,
Sporting round the silvery brook!
"Mother, mother, let me go
On yon heights to chase the roe!"
Wilt thou not the flock compel
With the horn's inspiring notes?
Sweet the echo of yon bell,
As across the wood it floats!
"Mother, mother, let me go
On yon heights to hunt the roe!"
Wilt thou not the flow'rets bind,
Smiling gently in their bed?
For no garden thou wilt find
On yon heights so wild and dread.
"Leave the flow'rets,--let them blow!
Mother, mother, let me go!"
And the youth then sought the chase,
Onward pressed with headlong speed
To the mountain's gloomiest place,--
Naught his progress could impede;
And before him, like the wind,
Swiftly flies the trembling hind!
Up the naked precipice
Clambers she, with footsteps light,
O'er the chasm's dark abyss
Leaps with spring of daring might;
But behind, unweariedly,
With his death-bow follows he.
Now upon the rugged top
Stands she,--on the loftiest height,
Where the cliffs abruptly stop,
And the path is lost to sight.
There she views the steeps below,--
Close behind, her mortal foe.
She, with silent, woeful gaze,
Seeks the cruel boy to move;
But, alas! in vain she prays--
To the string he fits the groove.
When from out the clefts, behold!
Steps the Mountain Genius old.
With his hand the Deity
Shields the beast that trembling sighs;
"Must thou, even up to me,
Death and anguish send?" he cries,--
Earth has room for all to dwell,--
"Why pursue my loved gazelle?"
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Gentle Annie
Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie,
Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
Chorus
Shall we nevermore behold thee;
Never hear thy winning voice again --
When the Springtime comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?
We have roamed and loved mid the bowers
When thy downy cheeks were in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomb.
Chorus
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.
Chorus
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barcoo
From the runs of the Narran, wide-dotted with sheep,
And loud with the lowing of cattle,
We speed for a land where the strange forests sleep
And the hidden creeks bubble and brattle!
Now call on the horses, and leave the blind courses
And sources of rivers that all of us know;
For, crossing the ridges, and passing the ledges,
And running up gorges, we'll come to the verges
Of gullies where waters eternally flow.
Oh! the herds they will rush down the spurs of the hill
To feed on the grasses so cool and so sweet;
And I think that my life with delight will stand still
When we halt with the pleasant Barcoo at our feet.
Good-bye to the Barwon, and brigalow scrubs,
Adieu to the Culgoa ranges,
But look for the mulga and salt-bitten shrubs,
Though the face of the forest-land changes.
The leagues we may travel down beds of hot gravel,
And clay-crusted reaches where moisture hath been,
While searching for waters, may vex us and thwart us,
Yet who would be quailing, or fainting, or failing?
Not you, who are men of the Narran, I ween!
When we leave the dry channels away to the south,
And reach the far plains we are journeying to,
We will cry, though our lips may be glued with the drouth,
Hip, hip, and hurrah for the pleasant Barcoo!
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Life Is Like a River
The surface is calm, smooth and glassy,
Beauty reflected therein
An occasional ripple, or eddy,
Betrays the stillness and calm
Follow the river a while, for the eddies
Enlarge further on;
Twisting & turning, now restless,
They leap over log, fern and stone
The valley is wider, and deeper,
The river is roaring in pain
Currents confused and pulsating,
Thrashing and foaming in vain.
The cliff face is yawning & threatening,
The river is wild in its' rage;
And now, in reckless abandon,
It hurtles as it's done for an age
Right over the cliff, and onto the rocks
Where it knocks itself senseless to pain;
Now the river is curled in a pool far below,
Relieved and released from the strain
'Lord I'm ignoring the boundaries
As a river, I'm bursting my banks;
My currents are frothing and foaming
I don't want to stay in the ranks.
I need You to help me, Lord Jesus,
For You calmed the wild, raging sea
I need You to heal me, and bless me
To pour oil on the storms inside me.
poem by Jinge Norvall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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