A Song of Derivations
I come from nothing; but from where
Come the undying thoughts I bear?
Down, through the long links of death and birth,
From the past poets of the earth,
My immortality is there.
I am like the blossom of an hour.
But long, long vanished sun and shower
Awoke my breath i' the young world's air;
I track the past back everywhere
Through seed and flower and seed and flower.
Or I am like a stream that flows
Full of the cold springs that arose
In morning lands, in distant hills;
And down the plain my channel fills
With melting of forgotten snows.
Voices, I have not heard, possessed
My own fresh songs; my thoughts are blessed
With relics of the far unknown.
And mixed with memories not my own
The sweet streams throng in my breast.
Before this life began to be,
The happy songs that wake in me
Woke long ago and far apart.
Heavily on this little heart
Presses this immortality.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Morning Glow
Morning glow morning glow
Starts to glimmer when you know
Winds of change are set to blow
And sweep this whole land through
Morning glow is long past due
Morning glow fill the earth
Come on shine far all youre worth
Well be present at the birth
Of all faith looking new
Morning glow is long past due
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
You should have started long ago
Morning glow all days long
For we sing tomorrows song
Never knew we could be so strong
But now its very clear
Morning glow is almost here
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
We should have started long ago
Morning glow all your life
We can make the new day right
All the bad songs of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of The Violet
A humble flower long time I pined
Upon the solitary plain,
And trembled at the angry wind,
And shrunk before the bitter rain.
And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour
A passing wanderer chanced to see,
And, pitying the lonely flower,
To stoop and gather me.
I fear no more the tempest rude,
On dreary heath no more I pine,
But left my cheerless solitude,
To deck the breast of Caroline.
Alas our days are brief at best,
Nor long I fear will mine endure,
Though shelter'd here upon a breast
So gentle and so pure.
It draws the fragrance from my leaves,
It robs me of my sweetest breath,
And every time it falls and heaves,
It warns me of my coming death.
But one I know would glad forego
All joys of life to be as I;
An hour to rest on that sweet breast,
And then, contented, die!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Ploughman Singing
Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met
Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky,
And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet,
Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her bye.
Woke early, I arose and thought that first
In winter time of all the world was I.
The old owls might have hallooed if they durst,
But joy just then was up and whistled bye
A merry tune which I had known full long,
But could not to my memory wake it back,
Until the ploughman changed it to the song.
O happiness, how simple is thy track.
--Tinged like the willow shoots, the east's young brow
Glows red and finds thee singing at the plough.
poem by John Clare
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The Name
THY name was once the magic spell, by which my thoughts were bound,
And burning dreams of light and love were wakened by that sound;
My heart beat quick when stranger tongues, with idle praise or blame,
Awoke its deepest thrill of life, to tremble at that name.
Long years--long years have passed away, and altered is thy brow;
And we who met so gladly once, must meet as strangers now:
The friends of yore come round me still, but talk no more of thee;
'Tis idle ev'n to wish it now--for what art thou to me?
Yet still thy name, thy blessed name, my lonely bosom fills,
Like an echo that hath lost itself among the distant hills,
Which still, with melancholy note, keeps faintly lingering on,
When the jocund sound that woke it first is gone--for ever gone.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Dulcis Memoria
Long, long ago I heard a little song,
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So lowly, slowly wound the tune along,
That far into my heart it found the way:
A melody consoling and endearing;
And still, in silent hours, I'm often hearing
The small, sweet song that does not die away.
Long, long ago I saw a little flower,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So fair of face and fragrant for an hour,
That something dear to me it seemed to say:
A thought of joy that blossomed into being
Without a word; and now I'm often seeing
The friendly flower that does not fade away.
Long, long ago we had a little child,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled
Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay.
An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him;
Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him--
Our little child who does not go away.
Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear--
(It was not long ago, but yesterday,)
So little and so helpless and so dear
Let not the song be lost, the flower decay!
His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping:
The smallest things are safest in thy keeping.
Sweet memory, keep our child with us always.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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World Falls
Im coming home with a stone
Strapped onto my back
Im coming home with a burning hope
Turning all my blues to black
Im looking for a sacred hand
To carve into my stone
A ghost of comfort
Angels breath
To keep this life inside my chest
This world falls on me
Hopes of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Now I woke up in the middle of a dream
Scared the world was too much for me
Sejarez said, dont let go
Just plant the seeds and watch them grow
Ive slept in rainy canyon lands
Cold drenched to my skin
I always wake to find a face
To calm these troubled lands
Ah this world falls on me
With dreams of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Now Im running
To the end of the earth
And Im swimming
To the edge of the sea
And Im laughing
Im under a starry sky
This world was meant for me
Dont bury me
Carry me
I wish I was a nomad
An indian or a saint
The edge of death would disappear
Leave me nothing left to taint
I wish I was a nomad
An indian or a saint
Give me walking shoes
Feathered arms
And a key to heavens gate
Ah this world falls on me
Dreams of immortality
Everywhere I turn
All the beauty just keeps shaking me
Im running
(this world falls on me)
To the end of the earth
(with hopes of immortality)
Im swimming
(everywhere I turn)
To the edge of the sea
(the beauty keeps on shaking me)
And Im laughing
(this world falls on me)
Cause Im under a starry sky
(hopes of immortality)
This world was meant for me
(everywhere I turn)
Ive got hopes of immortality
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blissful Thought Of Heaven!
Heaven of transparent clouds cover full Moon tonight
Drowning me in dreaming thoughts of glossy white!
Fragrance of choicest flowers and melodious music
Make me dance among freshly blossoming flowers
Like the butter fly flies from flower to flower tasting
Nectar to disseminate love everywhere to enjoy bliss!
Without the dance of heavenly damsels it is incomplete;
The Stars of heaven are the dancing queens of Universe
Entertaining the lonesome poets and philosophers ever!
The spiraling nebula of Milky Way provides spiral stairs
To go down the heaven to the misty snow mountains of
World of paradise full of hills and valleys with water falls
Growing into streams and rivers to mingle with the ocean!
Life and love can be seen romantically flourishing here only
For birds, animals and humans to survive eternally long!
The map of heaven down to the Earth the soul travels
And returns after becoming perfect to the abode of heaven!
Until then how many troubles and tribulations all face
To get a clean chit and a ticket to the heaven all long, long!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Down To Earth
Well, I wake up
And Im slowly
A-comin down.
Im just tryin
To get my feet back
On the ground.
I got more
Of an idea
Just exactly
What Im worth.
Baby, baby, I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth.
Yeah, baby, baby, I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth.
Was i
Ever wrong
About so much?
Thats all you get,
Get completely
Out of touch.
And its a very, very, very, very painful thing
When you witness your
Death and your birth.
Baby, baby, baby, I wake up,
I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth.
Yeah,
Baby, baby, baby, I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth,
Yeah.
Back here,
Back here
On the planet,
A-been a long, long, long fall,
But thats
Always just a problem
When you think you know it all.
And its a very, very, very, very, very painful thing
When you witness your own
Death and your birth.
Baby, baby, I wake up, I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I wake up
And Im comin
Down to earth.
Yeah,
Yeah,
Yeah, I wake up
And Im comin,
Babe, I wake up, I wake up.
Ow!, woke up this mornin,
I walked out, walked out the door,
Got in my car and I drove
Down the road,
Down the road.
I woke up,
I woke up,
And I woke up,
Yeah, yeah, yeah i,
Babe, I wake up,
I wake up,
I wake up.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recollections
DO you remember all the sunny places,
Where in bright days, long past, we played together?
Do you remember all the old home faces
That gathered round the hearth in wintry weather?
Do you remember all the happy meetings,
In Summer evenings round the open door--
Kind looks, kind hearts, kind words and tender greetings,
And clasping hands whose pulses beat no more?
Do you remember them?
Do you remember all the merry laughter;
The voices round the swing in our old garden:
The dog that, when we ran, still followed after;
The teasing frolic sure of speedy pardon:
We were but children then, young happy creatures,
And hardly knew how much we had to lose--
But now the dreamlike memory of those features
Comes back, and bids my darkened spirit muse.
Do you remember them?
Do you remember when we first departed
From all the old companions who were round us,
How very soon again we grew light-hearted,
And talked with smiles of all the links which bound us?
And after, when our footsteps were returning,
With unfelt weariness, o'er hill and plain;
How our young hearts kept boiling up, and burning,
To think how soon we'd be at home again.
Do you remember this?
Do you remember how the dreams of glory
Kept fading from us like a fairy treasure;
How we thought less of being fam'd in story,
And more of those to whom our fame gave pleasure.
Do you remember in far countries, weeping,
When a light breeze, a flower, hath brought to mind
Old happy thoughts, which till that hour were sleeping,
And made us yearn for those we left behind?
Do you remember this?
Do you remember when no sound 'woke gladly,
But desolate echoes through our home were ringing,
How for a while we talked--then paused full sadly,
Because our voices bitter thoughts were bringing?
Ah me! those days--those days! my friend, my brother,
Sit down and let us talk of all our woe,
For we have nothing left but one another;
Yet where they went, old playmate, we shall go--
Let us remember this.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Sonnet: On Youth
An unblossomed flower-like, I stay;
In youth, to spend each sleepless night till Dawn;
Opens my petals, heralding a day;
Perfuming air with dew-drops, I cry by morn.
How long I add on to the beauteous land?
Or will I turn a drooping flower soon?
Will I be plucked off by an unknown band?
Or stay to form the fruit with seed by Moon?
Or will I be a fallen flower young?
Or will my lover bee visit my home?
Or will the scorching sun, make me unsung?
Or will I be prey to some ghastly worm?
Each youth is like the unblossomed flower;
If blessed by God, It will be in His bower.
poem by John Celes
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Her
The mountains
The rivers
The streams
All show us beauty
Yet she is more beautiful than
Anything on earth
As I ride past them all I began to think
About how lucky I am to have her
In my life
She is more precious then treasure to me
My own life isn’t even worth
A second of hers
She tells me that she love’s me
Does she really ever
Mean it
She will always hold my heart
In her hand
Each time she says
I love him
She crushes my heart a little more
I would go to otter space
And
Capture each and every single star out there
I would travel at speed of light
I would go to the end of the world
I would end my own life
If she asked me too
I would do anything for one more kiss
Just one more kiss
But yet again
I’d still be wishing
She’ll be mine
And
He would not exist
Cause I love her
Isn’t she supposed to love me back
Every breath I take is full of love for her
And as long as my heart is beating I will still love her
Cause as long as I love her, my heart will still beet
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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The Flower
When unknown Gods
Planted the seed,
To blossom
In breathtaking colour and scent.
Such beauty we would always need.
But the flower of love
Always came and went.
Don't crush it in your hand
Don't rush it,
Understand.
Every second, every hour
Cherish.
But perish
Will your flower.
Now dried.
And dead in Winter field.
For others
Spring time will be revealed.
As fate does wait
The seeds are cast.
We agonise of Summers past.
To dwell and bathe in sunlit dew.
Where once
Our fragile flower grew.
poem by Kevin East
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In Winter
It will be long ere 'neath the sunlight dimpling,
The mountain snows melt back to earth's still breast,
Ere swallows build, and wayward brooklets wimpling
O'er pebbly beds, wind by the pewee's nest,
Ere swells the lily's cup, ere transport strong
Thrills in the bluebird's lay,—it will be long!
It will be long ere dews and fresh'ning showers
Descend where latticed roses languid burn,
Ere, pale from exile, nodding wayside flowers
And timid woodland darlings home return,
Ere vesper-sparrows chant their Delphian song,
And larks at sunrise sing,—it will be long!
But though fierce blow the winds through forests shrouded,
Where snows, for leafy verdure, cheerless cling,
Though seas moan wild, and skies are darkly clouded,—
Within the heart that loves 't is always spring!
There memories and hopes, fresh-budding, throng,
And faith forgets that Winter lingers long.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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White Flower
White Flower
By: Adam M. Snow
Let bloom my lil white flower;
for you, my love will shower.
You're still but a seed;
I can see you're full of creed
You are also young;
there's nothing left unsung.
You are my lil white flower;
you shine this very hour.
You are gentle to the touch;
you mean so much.
You're the reason why;
I refuse to die.
You are my lil white flower;
for you, my love will shower.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Erin, Oh Erin
Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare's holy fane,
And burn'd through long ages of darkness and storm,
Is the heart that sorrows have frown'd on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm.
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright through the tears
Of a long night of bondage, thy spirit appears.
The nations have fallen, and thou still art young,
Thy sun is but rising, when others are set;
And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung,
The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet.
Erin, oh Erin, though long in the shade,
Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade.
Unchill'd by the rain, and unwaked by the wind,
The lily lies sleeping through winter's cold hour,
Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower.
Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past,
And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last.
poem by Thomas Moore
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A Spell For Creation
Within the flower there lies a seed,
Within the seed there springs a tree,
Within the tree there spreads a wood.
In the wood there burns a fire,
And in the fire there melts a stone,
Within the stone a ring of iron.
Within the ring there lies an O,
Within the O there looks an eye,
In the eye there swims a sea,
And in the sea reflected sky,
And in the sky there shines the sun,
Within the sun a bird of gold.
Within the bird there beats a heart,
And from the heart there flows a song,
And in the song there sings a word.
In the word there speaks a world,
A world of joy, a world of grief,
From joy and grief there springs my love.
Oh love, my love, there springs a world,
And on the world there shines a sun,
And in the sun there burns a fire,
Within the fire consumes my heart,
And in my heart there beats a bird,
And in the bird there wakes an eye,
Within the eye, earth, sea and sky,
Earth, sky and sea within an O
Lie like the seed within the flower.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Elegy on the Death of a Child
Fair was thy blossom, tender flower,
That open'd like the rose in May,
Though nursed beneath the chilly shower
Of fell regret, for love's decay.
How oft thy mother heaved the sigh
O'er wreaths of honour early shorn,
Before thy sweet and guiltless eye
Had open'd on the dawn of morn!
How oft, above thy lowly bed,
When all in silence slumber'd low,
The fond and filial tear was shed,
Thou child of love, of shame, and woe!
Her wrong'd but gentle bosom burn'd
With joy thy opening bloom to see;
The only breast that o'er thee yearn'd;
The only heart that cared for thee.
Oft her young eye, with tear-drops bright,
Pleaded with Heaven for her sweet child,
When faded dreams of past delight
O'er recollection wander'd wild.
Fair was thy blossom, bonnie flower,
Fair as the softest wreaths of spring,
When late I saw thee seek the bower
In peace thy morning hymn to sing.
Thy little foot across the lawn
Scarce from the primrose press'd the dew;
I thought the spirit of the dawn
Before me to the greenwood flew.
E'en then the shaft was on the wing,
Thy spotless soul from earth to sever,
A tear of pity wet the string
That twang'd, and seal'd thy doom for ever.
I saw thee late, the emblem fair
Of beauty, innocence, and truth,
Start tiptoe on the verge of air,
'Twixt childhood and unstable youth;
But now I see thee stretch'd at rest:
To break that rest shall wake no morrow -
Pale as the grave-flower on thy breast!
Poor child of love, of shame, and sorrow!
May thy long sleep be sound and sweet;
Thy visions fraught with bliss to be;
And long the daisy, emblem meet,
Shall shed its earliest tear o'er thee!
poem by James Hogg
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Let it be Forgotten
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Flower.
I.
The flower in its own scent breathes till it dies
As if the scent its very birth-breath were
(As love is life's) which, while it occupies
Like a mesmeric light the living air,
Feeds every portion of the tender hue
In which it manifests so subtly fair
The faery form, which as in a dream grew
Out of the dark earth with ethereal power
Quickening its limbs, as those of a babe who
Draws from its mother's life a vital dower
Of warmth and beauty, thrilling breast and brain
Till it too comes to birth — a perfect flower
With its own aura, like a subtle strain
Which must vibrate to every joy and pain.
II.
The seeing eye and hearing ear are fed
With nature's nurture, and the mind imbues
Earth and all things within it, even the dead,
With its own sap that with thought's mystic hues
Bourgeons in every waking hour, and e'en
When sleep does all the inner life transfuse
With its own radiance, and the unseen
Becomes a part of us too, as we were
Back in some other sphere where we had been
Before the new thought breathed in the old air,
And the new body budded into birth,
Making us all that we are now who bear
The signs in us of all the woe and mirth
That came and has gone on with man on earth.
III.
Far back in the unstoried past, whose rune
No sage has ciphered and no bard has sung,
In the beginning of the sun and moon
When e'en the oldest hill was very young —
Ah! then perchance the seed that was us first
Took root in th' mystic soil whence we have (Unclear
Under the very hand of God, and burst
Into the secret being it has had,
All through the enchanted aeons strangely nursed
From death to life between the good and bad;
E'en as it were a spirit-germ that grew
By some mysterious process, and was clad
E'en like the flowers with varying form and hue,
Till it ends in what all may end in too!
poem by Robert Crawford
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