Related quotes: If you're lost for somewhere...

The Local

If you're lost for somewhere to go
When you're walking around llanon
There's a pub up a hill I know
That's simply named the White Swan

You won't find a more friendly crowd
No matter where you may live
Some are quiet but most are loud
But none more so than one named Viv

The landlord likes his horses
And happy to have a bet
No matter what the course is
He never ends up in debt

The drinks on display are diverse
Whether it is spirits or stout
You may want to come to converse
Or to try the food and pig out

So next time you're in transition
And thoughts of where to go are gone
I have a good proposition
And that's to try out the White Swan

poem by Alun Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

The white rose and the red rose

The white rose and the red rose,
So sisters two were named, yes, named.
The white one was so quiet,
The red one laughed and flamed.
But different was their doing, yes,
When came the time of wooing, yes.
The white one turned so red, so red,
The red one turned so white.

For him the red one favored,
Him father would not bless, not bless.
But him the white one favored,
He got at once his 'Yes.'
The red one now was paling, yes,
With sorrow, psalms, and wailing, yes.
The white one turned so red, so red,
The red one turned so white.

Then father grew so fearful
And had to give his 'Yes,' oh, yes!
With songs and music cheerful
The wedding rang, oh, yes!
And soon sprang children rosen, yes,
In shoes and little hosen, yes.
The red one's, they were white,-and oh,
The white one's, they were red.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror

Between the woods the afternoon
Its fallen in a golden swoon,
The sun looks down from quiet skies
To where a quiet water lies,
And silent trees stoop down to the trees.
And there I saw a white swan make
Another white swan in the lake;
And, breast to breast, both motionless,
They waited for the wind's caress. . .
And all the water was at ease.

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle

Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone

Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond

Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone

So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond

She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone

They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone

poem by Sara Fielder
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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
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I therefore named this isolated and remarkable feature Swan Hill.

quote by Thomas Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Swan

kiss the lake at dawn
graceful, divine, majestic
new queen, the white swan

haiku by Marius Alexandru (27 December 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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In the Spirit of Rumi,31-The Swan

How beautiful the white swan,
gliding effortlessly, it seems,
the sunlight shining on those feathers
protecting its skin and body better
than do clothes protect a man!

White as if to proclaim God’s beauty mov ing
on the waters, like the first day of Creation,
it dips its carefully constructed neck so elegantly
to find its invisible food…

while invisibly too, under the surface,
its legs paddle hard and fast…
Who would dare to call the swan
a hypocrite because of this!

In India they call the saints
who seem to glide so effortlessly
through life, glide across our gaze
so that for a moment, we would be them…
call them Paramahansa, great swan..

who knows how hard a swan
finds its life, moving against a fierce current,
lifting its huge body into the air,
knowing direction more clearly than any man…

who knows how hard a saint
works invisibly all the time, has worked,
will work, eternally… for us,
watching on the river-bank of life
the river, itself yearning for the sea,
to lose itself in the vast harbour of the waters…

poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Swan Song(dying sentence)

Remember me, remember my swan song,

I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live it all over again,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live that stain of my plastered smile again,

Let this be the last moment,
Let me say the last good-bye,
It won't count anything now,
So let me lay in silence,

Life has treated me well and I have had enough of it,
Lets end this game,
Enough of milling in and out,
Hear my swan song,

And let this end now,
I need to be away,
away from these thorns,
far far away,

Where you'll only see my memories,
my shadows,
my untold stories buried after me,
and my last swan song,

Hear my swan song,
I feel like a fish out of water,
from pillar to post,
fallen back upon,

Let me be buried under sand,
let me give my final test,
I'll never return, its time to sing,
sing my last swan song,

Hear my swan song,
maybe this moment or the other,
my soul would rest in peace,
before disappearing,
let me sing,
sing my swan song,

I only remember now the memory lived in me,
a perfectly encapsulated morsel,
of a good past,
from piebald brush strokes swaying,
to barren now, that I'd become,

As I'll say my last goodbye,
hear my swan song,
because now you'll never hear my voice again,
for ever and ever and ever...

Written on 5/6/11

poem by Ayesha Riaz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love The Wild Swan

"I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
Hash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Vito And Rocco

Two little white Pugs that are brothers,

hard to tell them apart from each other.

Only Vito is the one that is friendly and plays,

Rocco is reserved and stands by at bay.

Vita Dominica was Geraldine’s mother’s name,

Geraldine told me her name means “Life of Sundays”

So Vito was named after Vita you see,

and Rocco was named after the father of Geraldine.

One of the dogs, I don’t know who,

can say “I Love You”

Yes, these 2 pugs get along quite well,

they are quite happy walking together with no bells.

They are full of energy and never run out of steam,

they know how to be good for their “special treat”.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 22,2011

Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 17,2011

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Swans smile...?

Do Swans smile? ...

Serenity the note of their bodies' flow
Their secret song but none will know

The water's black and moonbeam's white
Become kin with them in the darkened night

Immaculate white, graceful form
Beauty with placid majesty born

To behold the sight of a Swan in waters adrift
Is for a rose to bloom amidst a heart's mists

A sense of quiet joy, warmly does spring
Her presence in the world a smile does bring

She will move with winds and waters in grace
Though no smile may be seen on Her face

And the poem that is She will linger with whom ever the beholder
A Swan brings the smile of sweet lyric though not worn on Her.

poem by Dilshan Boange
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23a, Swan Hill

(ian hunter)
(transcribed by justin purington; corrections by colin ford)
Wrote this poem
Called the floods roll on
He said this aint yours,
Whered you get it from?
You must have stole it from a book,
Oh yeah
You must have stole it from a book.
cause you aint frail
You aint beautiful,
And I dont fancy you
At all.
Youd be a ruin
If looks could kill
23 a, swan hill
Stiff with rage
Screaming at the sky
Innocence breaks
Says she wants to die
Im assuming Im alive
Oh yeah
Im assuming Im alive
She pushes and she pulls
My legs go weak
In fascinating terror
The whole world moves
And Im standing still
In 23a swan hill
And its always raining
And you never ask why
You never give yourself a shot
You just sit and watch your life go by
Kicking stones
At a still life
Want to pull it down
Slash it slash it
There must be some way out here
There must be some way out here
This aint right
There must be more to life
Than breaking and entering
Doing peoples heads in
Alcohol, nicotine
Thinking what I might have been
You would be a ruin
If looks could kill
23 a, swan hill
And the whole world moves
And Im standing still
In 23 a, swan hill
And I will
And I will
And I will
And I will
In 23 a, swan hill
(repeat and fade)

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale

Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come,
O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest,
O Swan, and what do you seek?

Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule:
where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom,
and the fragrant scent 'He is I' is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed,
and desires no other joy.

poem by Kabir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Purple Pony!

I have a purple pony,
and i named her tony.

I gave my purple pony named tony a hat,
and it matches her pretty pink sleeping mat.

My purple pony named tony loves to sing and dance,
she likes to sing about her Friend named lance.

I wrote this to tell you that my purple pony named tony Say's hi,
but no my purple pony named tony has to go so bye bye!

poem by Alyssa Hermosillo
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The Swan And The Fawn

Finely Freckled Fawn called to Suave, Stately Swan,
“Please help me quickly. I need you to come on.
When I took a drink in the pond, what did I see?
But a poor little fawn drowning who looked just like me.”

Sir Swan explained “Be calm my dear and listen here.
It’s only your reflection.” he explained with affection.
“Each time you take a drink just think how you can smile,
As that pretty face looking at you is happy all the while.”

“Oh thank you Sir Swan.” said the grateful Freckled Fawn.
“All my fears and all my tears from now on will be gone.
Suave, Stately Swan and Finely Freckled Fawn are friends
Because of thoughtfulness and gratitude upon which friendship depends.

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everybody Gets The Blues

It don't matter if you're rich
It don't make no differenve if you're poor
Simple things in like can make you mad to the core
It doesn't matter if you're young
Don't make no difference if you're old
You got to stand a little rain
Before you reach your pot of gold
Everybody gets the blues
Everybody got to cry
Take the good with the bad
Take the lows with the highs
Well you work and you worry
Spend your life paying dues
Everybody has a hard time sometime
Everybody gets the blues
Ain't no different for a woman
Than it is for a man
Everybody goes dancing
Everybody pays the band
Everybody got to take
Everybody got to give
Everybody got to live
Don't matter if you're fat
Don't matter if you're thin
Everybody got to lose
Everybody got to win
Don't matter if you're black
Don't matter if you're white
You know you got to get it wrong
To have a chance to make it right

song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be And So On

To Be or…

The swan on the lake doesn’t know it is a swan,
they say. How do they know? A swan may look
at us and say to another swan “Darling humans
don’t who they are.” Quite right my lovely, they
are daft that way” (swans have lot in common
with actors, the lake is their stage and we are
their adoring audience) I know that because Tom,
the only actor I have met in the flesh, called me
darling, well, not only me but everyone he spoke
to. Tom died no one calls me darling anymore.
We only think we know ourselves, if we really did
it would be too scary to know that inside us lurks
a monster.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holding On, Just To Be Alive...

when a boat sinks
you grab everything that your hand can hold,
it does not matter what it is,
whether it is good or bad, legal or illegal,
you simply take hold of it and hold on
to the saving of your life.

similarly, when you are hungry and there is no food to eat
you grab every food that is there, dirty or clean, stolen or gained
you simply take it, and eat it to save yourself from death

they impose their laws upon you, it does not matter anymore
they give you death? what for? it does not matter
you're already dead.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tone

Find me a tone for this poem
I am having a hard time
With putting the proper tone
Though I am pretty sure
Of its form
What form to use
The shape of the swan
A white swan
On a lake
Alone
Give me a tone
That conveys what I
Want to convey
To you
A language
That really means
What it says
Something
Creative
A path
That I must
Follow
Leading me
To you
Give me a tone
Please
A tone from
You
The one
I really love
The one
That must
Love me
Too
Truly,
Tell me
What is the
Tone now
Of this poem

Is it begging?