The Cyclists
Spread on the roadway,
With open-blown jackets,
Like black, soaring pinions,
They swoop down the hillside,
The Cyclists.
Seeming dark-plumaged
Birds, after carrion,
Careening and circling,
Over the dying
Of England.
She lies with her bosom
Beneath them, no longer
The Dominant Mother,
The Virile -- but rotting
Before time.
The smell of her, tainted,
Has bitten their nostrils.
Exultant they hover,
And shadow the sun with
Foreboding.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Temples Of Carrion
Where PAZUZU yells with pain
Where carrion awaits!!!
Where death's reborn
Are temples of carrion!
It's time of the other time
It's time to remember
It's time for sacrifice!!!
Come sumerian magic
Come from chaos
When nature break the silence!!!
Rise the walls of temples
By KINGU by ABSU!!!
Ancient's temples
Chambers of shells!
Where the smell of filth and carcass
Are the smell of HUMWAWA
-abomination's lords!!!
Where the evil words are strong
And the act are filthy
You'll be inside the dark shine world
In the temples of carrion!
Where PAZUZU yells with pain
Where carrion awaits!!!
Where death's reborn
Are temples of carrion!
When the mother TIAMAT will be
Restless and rejoicing
It's time for sacrifice!!!
Come sumerian magic
Come from chaos
Come the dark shine world
In the temples of carrion
song performed by by Undercroft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oooo...Oooo-Oooo Wee Ow-ouch!
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!
'More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!
She says I'm on a pacifier.
Unreliable with too many needs.
She says I'm heat under the sheets...
But she's the one who buys the food we eat.
She says I'm not dependable at all.
And by herself she does the best she can alone,
To make all ends meet!
When bill collectors call.
And,
She's more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.
More dominant and not the weak one?
More dominant and not the weak one?
Submissive when she comes to the bed.
Prepared to get her needs met!
And I am ever ready.
I've lost my job and the kids are fed.
I do the best I can...
But I'm not making the bread.
And my ego's thinly spread.
When the work I've done is meager.
And the words I hear from her...
Are wrestling in my head.
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
And if I leave my family...
I'll lose my life instead.
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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England, My England
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:--
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mail'd hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There 's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Across The Red Sky
Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice,
Spilling it over the evening sky.
When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes turned to the red sky
And the restlessly seeking birds.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The Beach at Acheron
The ship lay a hundred yards offshore
gently rocking to starboard
in rolling swells
Shining black sand on the beach
shards of mica glittering
in afternoon sun
dark shrubs scattered
on a rockstrewn hillside
trees twisted and gnarled
hover on the ridge
odor of cordite
and a barking dog
just out of range
a single raven
circling overhead
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Fairy Tale (2)
Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers,
And every bloom becomes a bud again,
Shut and sealed up against the golden showers
Of bees that hover in the velvet hours....
Now a strain
Wild and mournful blown from shadow towers,
Echoed from shadow ships upon the foam,
Proclaims the Queen of Night.
From their bowers
The dark Princess fluttering, wing their flight
To their old Mother, in her huge old home.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Shadows (Forgotten Day)
the scrape of the razor
against his shadow dreams;
voices on the tip
of the tongue of his thoughts....
the smell of ashes and sulpher...
the imprint of a rose petal
in his palm.... bare limbed trees,
and it's not even winter.
in the shadow of the mountain
that he couldnt quite climb....
great black birds swoop the skies
that almost touch forever.
scriptures written with sticks
in the soft clay of the creek bank....
spider's webs, dead frogs, and
the whimper water makes
when no one hears....
just a shadow in the shadows,
a dead branch tinged with moss....
a mistake God made on
a forgotten day!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leading You
i am leading you to a place
where you can be yourself
where you can be free
you will see a black crow there
and it will stare at you
do not be frightened
it will soon leave if you look at it in return
with a calm, strong eye
then another shadow will come flying in
through the window of your house
the shadow of the monkey-eating eagle
too it will stare at you with an intimidating claw
but just be gentle
and soon just like the black crow it will leave
and then you must stand tall beside the same window
where the two birds hover temporarity
you shall see the white dove
getting in at the perfect hour
it will hand you a branch with three green leaves
in perfect timing for the sun that we have been waiting for
you wait some more and there may be rain
a little thunder and some lightning
but again do not be frigtened
keep looking with that strong, calm eye
and then the time now comes for the cocoon
to open and from the window where you must stand tall
from the branch that the dove handed you
you will see the birth of a red butterfly
soon it will fly and hover in one branch of your heart
your heart is the flower
and i am that red butterfly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old England
Man looks up on a yellow sky
And the rain turns to rust in his eye
Rumours of his health are lies
Old england is dying
His clothes are dirty shade of blue
And his ancient shoes worn through
He steals from me and he lies to you
Old england is dying
Still he sings an empires song
And he keeps his navy strong
And he sticks his flag where it ill belongs
Old england is dying
Youre asking what makes me sigh now
What it is makes me shudder so
Well
I just freeze in the wind
And Im numb from the pummeling of the snow
That falls from high in yellow skies
Where the time stained of england flies
Where the homes are warm and the mothers sigh
Where comedians laugh and babies cry
Where criminals are televised politicians fraternize
Journalists are dignified and everyone is civilised
And children stare with heroin eyes
Old england!
Evening has fallen
The swans are singing
The last of sundays bells is ringing
The wind in the trees is sighing
And old england is dying
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old England
Man looks up on a yellow sky
And the rain turns to rust in his eye
Rumours of his health are lies
Old england is dying
His clothes are dirty shade of blue
And his ancient shoes worn through
He steals from me and he lies to you
Old england is dying
Still he sings an empires song
And he keeps his navy strong
And he sticks his flag where it ill belongs
Old england is dying
Youre asking what makes me sigh now
What it is makes me shudder so
Well
I just freeze in the wind
And Im numb from the pummeling of the snow
That falls from high in yellow skies
Where the time stained of england flies
Where the homes are warm and the mothers sigh
Where comedians laugh and babies cry
Where criminals are televised politicians fraternize
Journalists are dignified and everyone is civilised
And children stare with heroin eyes
Old england!
Evening has fallen
The swans are singing
The last of sundays bells is ringing
The wind in the trees is sighing
And old england is dying
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Close Would You Open
let the Poseidon
of Greek god’s hover
my day and open my lips to
whisper the sweet embrace of your
smell
let me do
the herculean task to
make the gate of your bosom heart and listen
to my
pleading of stay, rapture the
anger that made you pave with me; since you
come to my life,
find me the way and close my knee to
vow all the luck that bends my open heart
to pray
let me do this again without
the peculiar feeling that take me in the shadow of
weird intense feeling to lie
down my flesh into the fuming fire
of love, please settle my arm in your heart
and die with you in the humid sky
where the beacon of giving taste my lips
to surrender
lead me to rest my dear and open my soul to
die without pain in memory of me
I love you
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hidden Possibility....
imagine
one tranquil day
when you can hear
ants moving
under your feet
you lay your body
on the grass
under the old tree
with many leaves
that look like
small fingers
of a baby
you have emptied
yourself of thoughts
you become one
big empty
basket
you are an open
cave
inviting restless vagabonds
to take
rest
one dark & cold night
at least for a certain
while
the days come
and go
and you feel like a river
passing by
leaves blown by the strong wind
far north
on some normal days
a hundred butterflies flutter
and hover
homing to you
migrant birds perch
upon your hair
imagine that
you are no longer you
but a wide door without a lock
an open window that welcomes the moon
an earth
sky
and infinite space
a universe in itself
stripped of
identity and
greed
now sleep, and inside this
chamber
close your eyes some more
time
you have become
a poem vested
in eternity
some call you an angel
someone will dare
calling you one of the gods
beside the gods
in the temple of heaven
what is important is that
you are at peace, happy,
engrossed in grace
so much blessing
pouring unto your heart
do not think about you
you can no longer do that
there is no you now
do not think of contempt
you have become more than what you are
you have flown above the earth
you have crossed the river of ire
and disbelief
this is
the hidden possibility
the truth that we now see.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Find I Must Clear The Air
Why can I smell your lies?
And each time...
Before you attempt one,
I find I must clear the air.
Before you put one in it!
Why can I smell your lies?
And your mood that arrives with attitude,
Is something that's done...
To announce a lieing done comes.
And you're the one stun I no longer get upset.
That dance you do as a prelude to your tales,
Needs more direct eye contact.
And less shuffling of your feet.
And those lips you lick between nonsense sentences,
Could use more moisterizer.
Since the heat that keeps them cracked,
Comes out of a familiar twisted mouth.
You're the only one that hasn't figured yourself out.
Why can I smell your lies?
And each time...
Before you attempt one,
I find I must clear the air.
Before you put one in it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother of Mercy
Mother of mercy breathe your life into me,
Open my mind let me see everything there is to see,
Mother of mercy, take my hand and guide me to the pearly gates,
Show me the land of make believe,
Put me to somber sleep and make me dream,
Make me dream of the world around me so beautifully surreal,
Take me under your wing and take me away from what’s real,
Mend the broken covenant of morals by stitching the broken seal,
Mother of mercy, take me to the window where the light shines through,
In my dreams, mother of mercy, every night I dream of you,
Spread your wings and hover over my bedside and protect me from all evil,
Mother of mercy, open the window so I can see the light,
Let the light shine through my eyes so bright,
Be alive so I can be protected in the night,
When the light shines through spread your wings,
Only you Mother of Mercy is the most beautiful of beings,
Mother of Mercy, breathe your life into me.
poem by Kurt Kacich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out My Window
Looking out the window to see the world
The many trees, the birds, Squirrels, the cars
Mother nature's beauty just on the other side
Wishing I could go out and breathe the air
Trapped inside, getting the cabin fever
Health will not let me out
To walk on the grass, smell the flowers
Enjoy the sounds around
The outside world moving like I don't exist
Please a few minutes out before the cold gets me
I live for the touch of grass and dirt between my toes
The smell of rain in the air, birds a flying
No me stuck in this big old chair, gazing out
Wishing to be young to run around
My body so old and dying, where did my time go
When young, mom couldn't keep me in
Football, baseball, hide and seek, I will not peek
Bike rides, skateboards, walks so endlessly around the block
How time has changed, when did I get old
The view out this window brings fond memories
I wish I could go thru it, escape to the their world
Older I get the more I want out
Body creaking, aches and pains, use your brains
Enjoy it form inside, someday you'll get out
Window be my friend and open up
To feel the breeze and smell the air
For it makes me young again
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circling Around The Moon
There may come a day when you grow weary
Troubled waters stain the paper cup
From other venues other voices carry
Slipped dreams soaking into thirsty dust
Maybe then and there youll find another
Lover with a blank and empty heart
Filled with breath and old cells to discover
Strenght to push the seas apart
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
There may come a day when you feel anger
China cracked and glued by clumsy hand
Veins of memory touching only hunger
The heart devours what it cannot understand
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Maybe it whas then I saw my future
Saw it as a shadow on the ground
Beneath the earth old nails to discover
Strenght to hold my body down
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
On the day we met
I began to want you, want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unknown Star
I was born of an unknown star, of a mother who did not know herself-
From the very beginning I was a canary that could not sing and who
Would fall to the ground every time I lifted my wings to fly-
Trapped inside a cage of my own delusions,
I was alone looking upward towards that clouded sky, searching for that unknown star,
Where by chance I could find a place where I would belong-
My mother wept a wide stream of tears
Not to be consoled from the deep pain that tore at her heart-
The day I lost myself to another world, she abandoned me as agony wrenched her soul-
A phantasmal canary lying still at the bottom of my cage-
Hiding behind a rainbow looking for rays of hope,
Trying to deafen the voices only I could hear,
Searching for that unknown star,
I would dance in the rain beneath the faint light of the moon at night
Seeking for myself, that person I could not find, however
All I could find was a shadow upon the wall-
A shadow upon the wall I hardly recognized as myself,
A reflection within a pond which was that stream of my mother’s tears-
Dancing in the rain trying to become somebody,
Somebody famous or a perhaps an angel or a saint,
Trapped inside a cage of my own apparition where dense cloud cover barred me from
That unknown star where I might feel at home-
Looking about me at hillsides I might have tried to climb-all I could see was my shadow.
A shadow upon a hillside or inside, a shadow upon the wall,
A vague reflection within a pool of tears- Seemingly eyes of a ghost staring into mine,
Reading the demonic thoughts that raced inside of my mind-
Born of an unknown star, I had never found a home and
Born of an unknown star, I had never found myself-
Searching inside and outside all I could ever see was
A dark shadow of a lost person with no destiny or direction-
That canary that could not sing or fly, or perhaps a being who
Tried to come to life dancing in the rain beneath the faint moonlight- I became
A shadow dancing beneath the light of that unknown star I could not reach-
Hoping someday I would save the souls of those who despair and expectantly
Someday I would become that canary, but lifting my wings to fly and bursting into song,
Joyfully watching the sunrise as the moon would vanish
Behind disappearing dark clouds of despair.
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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