A Desolaltion
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.
Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Related quotes
I Saw An Old Image In My Mind - Noah's Ark
I saw an old image of my mind Noah's Ark
Fading in the wilderness of the sky
I touched the land with my dreams
And nothing I knew said it was real-
I heard the sounds of songs of delight
And remembered the Creator in the days of my youth-
I listened to the poems long in the hearing time of my mind
And I waited as I wondered why and we are all destinies not struggling to be free-
I thought I lived
They were branches of other trees
An old man’s folly can never capture -
The first wonder of an infant eyeing through branches the lips of the sky -
We are wonders and dreamings and seemings and always being beyond what we are not-
And when our lives are done in this last world
God who made branches and trees and Noah’s ark and the leaves of the first land
Will remember to make us see again,
As if we were always Light and more Light and Still more Light
Heading out again through another lost wilderness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Father Image 11
Every time I ponder in solitude
re-evaluates my innermost attitude
no reason I can give to rationalize
every bit of me is sort personalize
surely a replica of my father dear
the genes all his and image I bear
of his physical attributes so clear
Care and love that my father shares
abound in me also through which I dare
bring joy to family of which father is good
really diligent he provides us staple food
every meal at the table he buys our family
rare the time when we have nothing to eat
all that my father do is work hard to get it
Best times I like to spend with my family
resting together at home and watching TV
and though my father is now old yet I try
to contact him every weekends to ask
on a date with mother becomes a task
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An image so sublime
A room of peculiar imagery,
Sexually flushed to central perfection
Strobe light at instant still,
When dancing eyes glimmer at cursory glance,
To all standing walls that glaze,
An image of all time,
I am no curator with minds ablaze,
An image so sublime,
Crowned in cloudless clime.
An image that sparkles by lifeless glee,
That the dusk room and my wandering eyes might see,
Her dangling breast in motionless inhuman form,
Supple finger on damp blank palette,
Weary, idle mind to throb over incessant sensual call.
What an image so ordinary,
Like roses of sharp spine,
Royal in smell and hue,
An image more bright,
Less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazet.
A maelstrom in perfection,
Her mouth so bear,
With fluidity sorting my thoughts,
A sour smell at grieve harbinger,
An imagery of pouring dainties smell
Yet most quaint.
A vermilion odor at her hair pour
Passaged through floating breeze.
What an image,
An image long over-due for admiration,
A century of adulation to her beauteous whole.
Her sultry eyes,
Her naked primrose lips,
Her elegant face,
Her cereal face of laughter,
Her lanky legs,
Her larger than life breasts,
Her curvaceous bosom,
Her petal royal smell of skin,
To the gallery stand,
All to ashes now embraced,
That all eyes might again lust.
poem by Folayemi Akande
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Song. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,
For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble and full of care;
To stay at home is best.
Weary and homesick and distressed,
They wander east, they wander west,
And are baffled and beaten and blown about
By the winds of the wilderness of doubt;
To stay at home is best.
Then stay at home, my heart, and rest;
The bird is safest in its nest;
O'er all that flutter their wings and fly
A hawk is hovering in the sky;
To stay at home is best.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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New Mexico Welcome
New
to this Land of Enchantment state of mind?
Well, welcome home,
weary traveler, welcome home!
Here’s to feeling strange and wonderful –
Welcome home!
Here’s to feeling bewildered and happy –
Welcome home!
Here’s to feeling unlike you’ve ever felt before
Welcome home, welcome home, welcome home!
& here’s to nothing but beauty
Welcome home, I say, welcome home!
& here’s to surrounded by nature
Welcome home, yes, again, welcome home!
For New Mexico is my most
welcome home,
the one I have sought all my life
And now that YOU’RE here,
you’ll understand in a heartbeat -
Welcome home,
Welcome home,
Dear traveler
welcome home!
(2006, Taos Valley, New Mexico)
poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
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Its About Time
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the its about time album, and has also been released on the country classics album.
Theres a full moon over india and gandhi lives again
Whos to say you have to lose for someone else to win
In the eyes of all the people the look is much the same
For the first is just the last one when you play a deadly game
Its about time we realize it were all in this together
Its about time we find out its all of us or none
Its about time we recognize it these changes in the weather
Its about time, its about changes and its about time
Theres a light in the vatican window for all the world to see
And a voice cries in the wilderness and sometimes he speaks for me
I suppose I love him most of all when he kneels to kiss the land
With his lips upon our mothers breast he makes his strongest stand
Its about time we start to see it the earth is our only home
Its about time we start to face it we cant make it here all alone
Its about time we start to listen to the voices in the wind
Its about time, its about changes and its about time
Theres a man who is my brother, I just dont know his name
But I know his home and family because I know we feel the same
And it hurts me when hes hungry and when his children cry
I too am a father and that little one is mine
Its about time we begin to turn the world around
Its about time we start to make it the dream weve always known
Its about time we start to live the family of man
Its about time, its about changes and its about time
Its about peace and its about plenty and its about time
Its about you and me together and its about time
Words by john denver, music by john denver and glen d hardin
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let's Build Our Friendship
Imagine! An old oak tree stood solely
In the fall of wilderness
Under the cloudless sky in its darkness
And the wind whistling but in forceless thread
You, the son of red robin,
Learnt to fly for that first worm
Fear not from the violent tide
But a cloud to a great storm
I envy your wings to my arms
To reach your highest flights
For mine is to toil this ground
Deep to my nails to seed mine
Not yours! Neither should I share
But If my destroyers make you live
You're my best friend to be around
Here you sing, while my fingers dance
On these pebbles, scab of my soil,
Make them two fingers your beak
To nip each one to my side
Until this house is your home
Truly! Two strangers take time to build their friendship - with patience to know each other, to give and take of what must be shared, to define their differences without insults, and to remain faithful whatever the distance, the height, the fame have their fortune laid on their hands.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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It Is Nice To Be Back Home
we cross the seas wanting to see the bigger waves
the other islands
we sail the rivers to hear the beauty of its songs
we go uphill we want to see the world from another eyes
we want to change some views
we plan to make changes of our lives
we want to trim some trees to desired shapes
we want to be familiar with other paths
we compare we make arrangements for new ways
we spend so much time
talking and partaking their drinks and food
seeking new combinations of tastes
then we stop and decide to come home at last
we make some notes
we bring dirty clothes and some new pictures
new memories
nothing compares still
to this home
to be back and make this conclusion
we live better because we smell this smell that we still love
this old home these old selves still wanting be be nothing
but just these old selves
at home and still lovers and friends
you are home at last and you check if your plants in the garden did not die
i go to my room and hold the blanket to my nose
this is the smell of home
this old self this sweetness of who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unicorn 5
To graze forever in the poet’s heart; how could this,
they asked, be possible? An image, yes;
a memory; but could it really live its life within the mind,
graze undisturbed, at ease, at home,
and glance the grave, sweet meaning in its eyes,
when there’s so much of else that fills the world, the mind, outside?
Those who first saw it first, were content to be, just gaze,
attention focussed as its heavenly horn marks head and mind,
drinking in that other which themselves would be;
but as its sightings grew, so various,
the theorists sought to build an image
around that which they had not seen,
worshipping a space in which it was not yet;
it must be questioned, says the ordered mind.
Others who had not seen it wished
to have some part, share in reflected glory; maybe learn.
It’s understandable. That, too, the creature understands.
But those who’d met it, in a forest glade,
or, mane tossed by the wind, among the high clear hills,
or proud-necked, white-toothed like a smile, clear-eyed,
among the white-foamed waves – they in whose minds
a space already was; a space, a peace, a stillness -
knew, gracefully, that it grazed in its forever, lived
within themselves;
self-moved; self-stilled.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Wild Montana Skies
This song appears on nine albums, and was first released on the its about time album, and has also been released on the greatest hits vol 3, changes, the very best of john denver (double cd),
Ry classics, the country roads collection and the rocky mountain collection albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert and the best of john denver live albums.
He was born in the bitterroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water headin north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south
Bringin the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
On the eve of his 21st birthday he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an aching in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told a story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was somethin in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
And there was somethin in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Now some say he was crazy and theyre glad that he is gone
But some of us miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Montana Skies
(john denver)
He was born in the bitteroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south, bringin
The first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an achin in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad hes gone
But some of us will miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Montana Skies (feat. John Denver)
(John Denver)
He was born in the Bitteroot Valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin'
the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin' when he found his way back home
Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad he's gone
But some of us will miss him and we'll try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Home
I have a home,
It is a safe haven,
Lay a house on the beach.
From far distant I stand,
Sweet memory I recall close…
Stillness of time,
Now as dust, they lay.
A homesick heart I bear.
I softening loneliness I make.
As all loneliness You heal,
My home I shall first return.
Within Your embrace…
My Home.
The longing ever stronger.
To just remain at home.
My stains are too many,
My being untrue,
But truth my home knows,
That home is only with You and Me.
My shelter, My home
My house, My heaven,
A comfort resting place,
Call Home.
A place call Home,
When we stay in,
Live our whole life in this homeland,
That’s my home.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring It On Home To Mama
She knows all about me
She knows all my felonies
She got the moves to-a-make me tremble
She's got me on my knees
She's got life-time guarantees
'Ain't got no time for my innuendos
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
She say I'm to blame
She say men are all the same
She got the signed, sealed, testimony
She knows a woman's place
She knows where to rest her case
She got her mind on alimony
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
Hey, baby, bring it on home to mama
Hey, hay-makin' baby, bring it on home to mama
She wears a heart of gold
Says her needs are many fold
I got no reason or need to doubt it
She knows she leads the dance
She knows how t'wear those pants
She got the full metal matching outfit
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
I don't mind if you make a dime baby
Bring it on home to mama
Bump 'n' grind in your own time baby
Bring it on home to mama
You can go blind, gimme what's mine
If y'wanna keep this love alive, (keep this love alive)
Bring it on home to mama
Don't talk back, just get another kick-back
This ain't no jive, (this ain't no jive!)
Bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home
Bring it on home, bring it on home to mama
Bring it on home!
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zapolya
Song
(Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80)
A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted :
And poised therein a bird so bold--
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted !
He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled
Within that shaft of sunny mist ;
His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
All else of amethyst !
And thus he sang : `Adieu ! adieu !
Love's dreams prove seldom true.
The blossoms they make no delay :
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
Sweet month of May,
[Image] We must away ;
[Image][Image] Far, far away !
[Image][Image][Image] To-day ! to-day !'
----------------------------
Hun ting Song
(Act IV, Scene II, lines 56-71)
Up, up ! ye dames, ye lasses gay !
To the meadows trip away.
'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
And scare the small birds from the corn.
Not a soul at home may stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
Leave the hearth and leave the house
To the cricket and the mouse :
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home must stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Initiate
Initiate
The time has come for me to seek
the advice of my ancestors.
To take to heart the words they speak
which will reveal my future course.
I have my knife I have my bow
and that is all I am allowed
The time is now I have to go
Until my totem is endowed.
I have to learn to recognise
my totem by his qualities.
Though he conceals them from mens eyes..
True understanding is the prize.
A lot depends on what he sees.
The part of him that dwells in me.
Subjects me to deep scrutinies
Which I must face I cannot flee..
I walk the wilderness alone
I catch and kill the food I need
and for each life I must atone.
As I was taught this is my creed.
I do not fear the solitude
Although I miss my family
I have the correct attitude
I know enough to wait and see.
The first night passes quietly
I rise at dawn salute the sun.
I watch and wait respectfully
but wonder in my heart which one.
Which creature will decide to be
the totem that I’m here to find.
The spirit creatures are quite free
to read the thoughts I have in mind.
The second night I cannot sleep
I pass the dark hours listening
to the night predators who creep
about my shelter foraging.
Again I rise up with the sun.
Then suddenly I see a bear
I have no doubt he is the one
whos taken me into his care.
I look at him he looks at me
He seems to be well satisfied
and off he trundles clumsily.
A totem I accept with pride.
The bear has freely chosen me.
I had no say it was his choice
I return home triumphantly
and with my family rejoice.
I must give up my boyhood name.
Now that I have become a man.
The Shaman plays his sacred game
The spirits tell him that he can.
Leave the choice of name to me.
The elders of the tribe confer
But they accept eventually.
I choose the name of Little Bear.
I am a full fledged warrior now.
No longer just a little boy
I freely let the teardrops flow
an outward sign of my great joy.
I am a man and take my place
amongst the older wiser men.
I passed the test without disgrace
A test I need not take again.
In due course I will earn respect
But I must act respectfully.
Towards my elders who expect
that I will listen carefully.
As I am taught the tribal lore
they have stored in their memory.
The things they could not teach before
my totem bear had chosen me..
4-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gullible, The Bear
A Dachshund who was long of hair
met in the forest an old bear.
The bear was sitting on a log
and held in his huge paws a frog.
The hound adored all frogs and toads
and always scanned the fields and roads
for something green that blended in,
it gave him a contented grin.
'What did you have in mind, Big Bear? '
Hound asked, his voice now full of flair.
'Frog legs', the bear said, 'are for me,
my snack to have with the green tea.'
'How could you eat the spark of life? !
He may have children and a wife!
Do you not know, you big bad mug
that I could make from you a rug? '
He spoke, as Dachshunds are so prone
as if the subject were a bone,
then showed his teeth, let out a growl
which then alerted Mrs. Owl.
'Oh, yes', said Mrs.Owl, 'it's true,
a hound can really finish you.
So let the frog go home I say,
that way, your hide will be okay! '
The bear looked at the frog and then
down to the dog and counted ten.
He did not need a bad surprise
and knew that owls are very wise.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Charity Starters
Charity starts at home don't we say?
Be kind to kith and kin come what may.
A family's not only your safe haven
Tis pals, your very own roots
Water those shoots with love devoid of hate
so they bear you sweeter fruits.
Maybe you'd say that's not so easy
but perhaps that's coz you're just too busy
Or your clock just don't chime
for quality family time.
For if you can't make time for a letter or a hug
then let my poem give your conscience a gentle tug.
And if this may sound like a preachy homily
deserves much more mention and affection the family!
If you can make time for so many things
some of them not even worthwhile
Try discover the happiness family brings
A lil modifying that routine of lifestyle
My words in crystal clear clarity
sing compassion's likewise a charity
Charity need not be for strangers only
Find out who needs help in kindred and family
Ties of kinship severe not
Value the relations you've got
Your father, brothers, sisters from your family tree
and all else that you call family.
poem by S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do You Cry, Mirror at Narita?
Is it that you cannot bear to
hear the heartbeats of Elena so young,
so pretty, so dear, waiting for the yakuza,
that you cry?
Or is it that you cannot bear to see ravaged Mom
combing her lifeless hair waiting for the ride home,
that you cry?
I cannot understand,
for what is there in crying
when home is a terrifying dream,
when home is want so mind-boggling,
when home is an endless scream?
poem by Elmer Sayre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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