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Shade

‘What does a certain woman know of the hour of her death?’ - Mandelstam

Tallest, suavest of us, why Memory,
forcing you to appear from the past, pass
down a train, swaying, to find me
clear profiled through the window-glass?
Angel or bird? How we debated!
The poet thought you like translucent straw.
Through dark lashes, your eyes, Georgian,
looking, with gentleness, on it all.
Shade, forgive. Blue skies, Flaubert,
Insomnia, late-blooming lilac flower,
bring you, and the magnificence of the year,
nineteen-thirteen, to mind, and your
unclouded temperate afternoon, memory
difficult for me now – Oh, shade!

poem by Anna Akhmatova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory Of Me As A Poet,

memory of me as a poet,
My doleful soul need's the great memory of me as a poet,
The pure memory taught me of the spontaneous event's of life,
How creation gave me authority to reveal such a strong poetic verse,
I recited the poem in my mind only to realise the great motor memory,
But pure memory revealed all my past writing,
I can relive my past only by the memory of the great history,
Global memory took my mind to think of the great poet.

poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Skies Bring Tears

Unleash the armageddon
So all the children go to heaven
I sit by quiet still
With their pictures on my eyes
You'll draw the guns your given
Write down the words as written
And never disturb the presense
Of resurrection touch

And it's about time
It's about drawing near
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears

Descend the darkened stairway
Make hate with plastic playmates
And fire out remaining traces
Of your self esteem
Mainline the deepest secrets
Lick clean the dirty fingers
I am a stranger to you
As you are to yourself

And it's about time
It's about fear
Blue skies bring tears
Don't you want me (don't want you)
Cause I await cityside
We'll watch the seas start to die

Blue skies bring tears
Take me inside your body
Blue skies bring tears
Cover me with your soul
Blue skies bring tears
To the darkest reasons
Blue skies bring tears
Is where I wish to go
Blue skies bring tears
You are the sweetest flower
Blue skies bring tears
That I have ever devoured
Blue skies bring tears
I ask for nothing given
Blue skies bring tears
For nothing in return
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears

Blue skies bring tears

song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Machina: The Machines Of God
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Cars

Under the cover of night
She crawls into sight
Her skin is cold china white
Shes a dark angel wearing dark glasses
Dark shadows under long false lashes
The night exposes the cracks
She wears her makeup like wax
To hide every scratch
cause she a dark angel riding dark horses
Sitting pretty in her dim lit covers ... I say
Black cars look better in the shade
She smears her lipstick on right before she sleeps
For all those phantom lovers in her dreams
She smokes them french cigarettes
In cocktail gloves and a strapless dress
She cuts a perfect silhouette
But shes a dark angel wearing dark glasses
A fading beauty as the night time passes ... I say
Black cars look better in the shade
Black cars look better in the shade

song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Returning June & Pen

Both eyes have abandoned their color
shedding along with it the reflection of her face
and in its rebellion I have lost my clarity
again, faith has bid farewell
and in this dark hour it is the shade that warms
without the melodies in mind and sight
letters and stain have blurred into the same
lifting the very fragrance of tomorrow
how delicate is it now to speak
to whisper the broken language that heals
faithfully touching the ear as a kiss of wind
on a May afternoon with the sky close above
painting the memory fresh and romantic.....

poem by KarlRomeo PierreLouis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes An Old Memory Gets In My Eye

Like someone drowning I reach for a straw
Grasping for love where there's no love at all
Slowly I'm sinking as time drags by and sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
I struggle for strenght to face the dawn
And I'm freezing to death without you to keep me warm
I hold an arm full of nothing close to my side
And sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
Sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
And when it's ours it's hard to keep my eyes dry
Don't think you see tears for I never cry
But sometimes an old memory gets in my eye
Yes sometimes an old memory gets in my eye

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Memory-Picture

Laugh, my Friends, and without blame
Lightly quit what lightly came:
Rich to-morrow as to-day
Spend as madly as you may.
I, with little land to stir,
Am the exacter labourer.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

But my Youth reminds me—‘Thou
Hast liv’d light as these live now:
As these are, thou too wert such:
Much hast had, hast squander’d much.’
Fortune’s now less frequent heir,
Ah! I husband what’s grown rare.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

Young, I said: ‘A face is gone
If too hotly mus’d upon:
And our best impressions are
Those that do themselves repair.’
Many a face I then let by,
Ah! is faded utterly.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

Marguerite says: ‘As last year went,
So the coming year’ll be spent:
Some day next year, I shall be,
Entering heedless, kiss’d by thee.’
Ah! I hope—yet, once away,
What may chain us, who can say?
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

Paint that lilac kerchief, bound
Her soft face, her hair around:
Tied under the archest chin
Mockery ever ambush’d in.
Let the fluttering fringes streak
All her pale, sweet-rounded cheek.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

Paint that figure’s pliant grace
As she towards me lean’d her face,
Half refus’d and half resign’d,
Murmuring, ‘Art thou still unkind?’
Many a broken promise then
Was new made—to break again.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

Paint those eyes, so blue, so kind,
Eager tell-tales of her mind
Paint, with their impetuous stress
Of inquiring tenderness,
Those frank eyes, where deep doth lie
An angelic gravity.
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

What, my Friends, these feeble lines
Show, you say, my love declines?
To paint ill as I have done,
Proves forgetfulness begun?
Time’s gay minions, pleas’d you see,
Time, your master, governs me.
Pleas’d, you mock the fruitless cry
‘Quick, thy tablets, Memory! ‘

Ah! too true. Time’s current strong
Leaves us true to nothing long.
Yet, if little stays with man,
Ah! retain we all we can
If the clear impression dies,
Ah! the dim remembrance prize
Ere the parting hour go by,
Quick, thy tablets, Memory!

poem by Matthew Arnold (1849)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Train Of Gold

I saw her there from across the street, she was dressed in black
And when she moved she moved to a beat, like a cadillac
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
She was a woman of suspicious ways, never saw daylight
And in her room she sat and passed the days
And shed creep out at night
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Chorus: train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Looked through a window saw a velvet sky, a shade of green
A violin was playing soft and sweet, like it was a dream
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Train of gold, train of gold
I dont believe her, it just couldnt be her
I cant get it out of my mind

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Colour My World

Within the colours of this day--
I find myself recounting the days gone by...
Cherishing every blessed memory...
While gazing at the sky upon high;

I colour myself a warm shade of pink...
As i reminisce over past glorious time...
I colour myself red-with a love memory-in my head-
All collected together and written in rhyme;

I colour myself various shades of blue...
In remembering the loss and sorrows of my past...
That took a large part-of my heart...
These memories ever-engrained to last;

I colour my memories a bright yellow...
As i bask in reminders of my days 'neath the sun...
Happiness back then-and the where and the when...
All-a multi-shade of ONE!

I colour myself a rainbow...
A full spectrum of the shades of yore...
I am embraced in their true brillance--
From this day to the days of long before! ;

June 3,2010
The Essence

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep Well Angel Sweetness

Sleep well angel sweetness
Find your place in dreams
Keep well within your mind
That nothing's as it seams.

This night angel sweetness
You have opened up my eyes
You have changed in form
Beyond the storm and opened up the skies.

Sleep well angel princes
In your kingdom's shade
Keep well within your boundaries
The time allowed to fade.

Sleep well angel dearest
Moon beam maiden of this realm
Keep steady in your hand the dreams
Which keep you steady at the helm.

Sleep well angel sweetness
Find your place within the clouds
Beyond the reach of savage men
Beyond the gathered crowds.

Let us dance beyond the moon
Allow us time to sing
Let us dance upon the moon
Allow us love to bring.

Let us swim the ocean sky
Allow us love to know
Let us fly and never sigh
Above worlds of porcelain snow.

My love for you sweet angel
Knows no boundaries in its kiss
Sleep well angel dearest
Upon a cloud of heavens bliss

Rest your head a moment
Just one moment in descent
Allow us time to kiss the moon
The future, past and present.

Let us swim the ocean sky
See angels dreaming there
Let us swim and never sigh
Run fingers through their hair.

Sleep well angel dearest
Below the clear moon sky
Embrace all it is you fear
Could bring tears to your eyes.

Embrace the day that beckons you
For it is as each moment the birth
And death of all creation.

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under The Blue Skies...

Under the blue skies of her native land
She languished and began to fade...
Until surely there flew without a sound
Above me, her young shade;

But there stretches between us an uncrossable line.
In vain my feelings I tried to awaken.
The lips that brought the news were made of stone,
And I listened like a stone, unshaken.

So this is she for whom my soul once burned
In the tense and heavy fire,
Obsessed, exhausted, driven out of my mind
By tenderness and desire!

Where are the torments? Where is love? Alas!
For the unreturning days'
Sweet memory, and for the poor credulous
Shade, I find no lament, no tears.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Melody For A Memory

(words & music by john oates)
One for the money
One song Im writing for you
And if you cant take me with you girl
Take this melody for a memory
Love in the morning
Love in the late afternoon
Therell be no words when I leave you girl
Just a melody for a memory
And if you cant take me with you
Take this melody for a memory
She cried when he left her
Her eyes went black with the blue
The infrequent letters
The sooner the better
The cold distant phone calls
Will have to do
And if you cant take me with you
Take this melody for a memory
Take part of me, take part of me
Take this melody for a memory

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stanzas

If thou be in a lonely place,
If one hour's calm be thine,
As Evening bends her placid face
O'er this sweet day's decline;
If all the earth and all the heaven
Now look serene to thee,
As o'er them shuts the summer even,
One moment--think of me!

Pause, in the lane, returning home;
'Tis dusk, it will be still:
Pause near the elm, a sacred gloom
Its breezeless boughs will fill.
Look at that soft and golden light,
High in the unclouded sky;
Watch the last bird's belated flight,
As it flits silent by.

Hark! for a sound upon the wind,
A step, a voice, a sigh;
If all be still, then yield thy mind,
Unchecked, to memory.
If thy love were like mine, how blest
That twilight hour would seem,
When, back from the regretted Past,
Returned our early dream!

If thy love were like mine, how wild
Thy longings, even to pain,
For sunset soft, and moonlight mild,
To bring that hour again!
But oft, when in thine arms I lay,
I've seen thy dark eyes shine,
And deeply felt their changeful ray
Spoke other love than mine.

My love is almost anguish now,
It beats so strong and true;
'Twere rapture, could I deem that thou
Such anguish ever knew.
I have been but thy transient flower,
Thou wert my god divine;
Till checked by death's congealing power,
This heart must throb for thine.

And well my dying hour were blest,
If life's expiring breath
Should pass, as thy lips gently prest
My forehead cold in death;
And sound my sleep would be, and sweet,
Beneath the churchyard tree,
If sometimes in thy heart should beat
One pulse, still true to me.

poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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With The Twilight of Evening

With the twilight of evening
An angel slips by and disappears
But is not lost
On the grass of forgetful evenings
Her eyes beckon….

Let her not know
That I the poet am possessed
By the memory
By the perfume of her…
And I swear, by the evening
That all my days are evenings
When at every instant
Come another sunset
And in the same evenings
The same eyes
Take away the memory of her…
Oh Angel! ! ! Oh Evening…
I truly love you, woman!

©All Rights Reserved-2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chasing A Memory

I thought i saw you
In the carriage of a train
I ran the platform
It wasn't you.
Yet I carried on in vain
Chasing a memory.
I thought I heard you
Say, 'Kevin i love you'
As I stood
A dreamer in a supermarket queue
I turned around
To misty visions of you.
And my heart still skipped a beat
Chasing a memory
With crippled feet.
I thought I felt
Your softest kiss upon my cheek
I went to hug you
And heard a lost angel speak.
Then I caught your scent
Duelling with blue moonbeams
For joy that came and went.
Chasing a memory
Of ascending dreams
Already tragically spent.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come As You Are (LP Version)

Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...

song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don’t remember the word I wished to say

I don’t remember the word I wished to say.
The blind swallow returns to the hall of shadow,
on shorn wings, with the translucent ones to play.
The song of night is sung without memory, though.

No birds. No blossoms on the dried flowers.
The manes of night’s horses are translucent.
An empty boat drifts on the naked river.
Lost among grasshoppers the word’s quiescent.

It swells slowly like a shrine, or a canvas sheet,
hurling itself down, mad, like Antigone,
or falls, now, a dead swallow at our feet.
with a twig of greenness, and a Stygian sympathy.

O, to bring back the diffidence of the intuitive caress,
and the full delight of recognition.
I am so fearful of the sobs of The Muses,
the mist, the bell-sounds, perdition.

Mortal creatures can love and recognise: sound may
pour out, for them, through their fingers, and overflow:
I don’t remember the word I wished to say,
and a fleshless thought returns to the house of shadow.

The translucent one speaks in another guise,
always the swallow, dear one, Antigone....
on the lips the burning of black ice,
and Stygian sounds in the memory.

poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sunsetbonnet Blue

Irving kahal / sammy fain
A sunbonnet blue and a yellow straw hat
Shy little he and she
Were declaring love's old story
In the shade of the old apple tree,,
A sunbonnet blue and a yellow straw hat
Decided to say, "i do"
So they rode to june and glory
On a bicycle built for two
Hear the past. the song is old.
The summer days are through
With silver threads among the gold
They still say, "i love you"
A sunbonnet blue and a yellow straw hat
Are true to this very day
For he loves her in december
As he did in may

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lover’s Sacrifice

[HERNANI, Act II.]

DONNA SOL. Together let us fly!

HERNANI. Together? No! the hour is past for flight.
Dearest, when first thy beauty smote my sight,
I offered, for the love that bade me live,
Wretch that I was, what misery had to give:
My wood, my stream, my mountain. Bolder grown,
By thy compassion to an outlaw shown,
The outlaw's meal beneath the forest shade,
The outlaw's couch far in the greenwood glade,
I offered. Though to both that couch be free,
I keep the scaffold block reserved for me.

DONNA SOL. And yet you promised?

HERNANI _(falls on his knee.)_ Angel! in this hour,
Pursued by vengeance and oppressed by power--
Even in this hour when death prepares to close
In shame and pain a destiny of woes--
Yes, I, who from the world proscribed and cast,
Have nursed one dark remembrance of the past,
E'en from my birth in sorrow's garment clad,
Have cause to smile and reason to be glad;
For you have loved the outlaw and have shed
Your whispered blessings on his forfeit head.

DONNA SOL. Let me go with you.

HERNANI. No! I will not rend
From its fair stem the flower as I descend.
Go--I have smelt its perfume. Go--resume
All that this grasp has brushed away of bloom.
Wed the old man,--believe that ne'er we met;
I seek my shade--be happy, and forget!

poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Red Motorcycle With Least Meaning

it is raining.

this is the first rain for the month of June
in Katipunan

i sit facing a screen
i press words

i look through a glass window
much older than my being here,

out there
the mango tree is heavy with its fruits

under its shade is
a red motorcycle beside a hollow block fence
which separates a dilapidated house
from the public market

a woman holds a blue umbrella
walks slowly along the pavement

it is still raining

cats and dogs, and the red motorcycle is wet all over.

it is inanimate and everyone
takes it for granted.

among those that i have enumerated
perhaps it must be the one with the least meaning.

the day is crying
and the woman with the blue umbrella is unaffected.

inside this room
with a glass window as protection
i am sifting
what meaning is there

for this rainy day.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon

Small, shapeless drifts of cloud
Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,
With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,
By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud
All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh
With its own warmth and light.

O'erblown by Southland airs,
The summer landscape basks in utter peace:
In lazy streams the lazy clouds are seen;
Low hills, broad meadows, and large, clear-cut squares
Of ripening corn-fields, rippled by the breeze,
With shifting shade and sheen.

Hark! and you may not hear
A sound less soothing than the rustle cool
Of swaying leaves, the steady wiry drone
Of unseen crickets, sudden chirpings clear
Of happy birds, the tinkle of the pool,
Chafed by a single stone.

What vague, delicious dreams,
Born of this golden hour of afternoon,
And air balm-freighted, fill the soul with bliss,
Transpierced like yonder clouds with lustrous gleams,
Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun
Of gilded nothingness!

All things are well with her.
'T is good to be alive, to see the light
That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh
With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir
Among the garden roses, red and white,
With whiffs of fragrancy.

There is no troublous thought,
No painful memory, no grave regret,
To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour:
The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without,
Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget
The morning's transient shower.

poem by Emma Lazarus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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