Sunbeam
I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent,
And my heart - is split.
The copper on my washstand
Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it
So charmingly.
How innocent it is, and simple,
In the evening calm,
But to me in this deserted temple
It's like a golden celebration,
And a consolation.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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The Birth Of The Opal
The Sunbeam loved the Moonbeam,
And followed her low and high,
But Moonbeam fled and hid her head,
She was so shy – so shy.
The Sunbeam wooed with passion;
Ah, he was a lover bold!
And his heart was afire with mad desire
For the moonbeam pale and cold.
She fled like a dream before him,
Her hair was a shining sheen,
And oh, that Fate would annihilate
The space that lay between!
Just as the day lay panting
In the arms of the twilight dim,
The Sunbeam caught the one he sought
And drew her close to him.
But out of his warm arms, startled
And stirred by Love’s first shock,
She sprang afraid, like a trembling maid,
And hid in the niche of a rock.
And the Sunbeam followed and found her
And led her to Love’s own feast;
And they were wed on that rocky bed,
And the dying day was priest.
And lo! the beautiful Opal –
That rare and wondrous gem –
Where the moon and the sun blend into one,
Is the child that was born to them.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Golden Earth Girl
Golden earth girl, female animal
Sings to the wind, resting at sunset
In a mossy nest
Sensing moonlight in the air
(moonlight in the air)
Good clear water friend of wilderness
Sees in the pool her own reflection.
In another woeld
Someone over there is counting.
Fish in a sunbeam,
In eggshell seas.
Fish in a sunbeam.
Eggshell finish.
Natures lover climbs the primrose hill,
Smiles at the sky watching the sunset
From a mossy nest.
As she falls asleep shes counting ...
Fosh in a sunbeam,
In eggshell seas.
Fish in a sunbeam.
Eggshell finish.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tea Plucking Girl
While morning sunbeam
Evaporated my dreams
Journey through green
Tea gardens and serene scene
A cup of green tea should be a rejoinder
Romantic morning reminder
I kissed fervently hot
Little tea plucking girl with her sun burnt face
Appeared in window sill
Looking at my steam struck eyes
“Dear poet
Wish you were not kissing on my blood and sweat”
(Copyright reserved by the author)
poem by Abhinav Baruah
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The Rape Of The Mist
High o’er the clouds a Sunbeam shone,
And far down under him,
With a subtle grace that was all her own,
The Mist gleamed, fair and dim.
He looked at her with burning eyes
And longed to fall at her feet;
Of all sweet things there under the skies,
He thought her the thing most sweet.
He had wooed oft, as a Sunbeam may,
Wave, and blossom, and flower;
But never before had he felt the sway
Of a great love’s mighty power.
Tall cloud-mountains and vast space-seas,
Wind, and tempest, and fire –
What obstacles such as these
To a heart that is filled with desire?
Boldly he trod over cloud and star,
Boldly he swam through space,
She caught the glow of his eyes afar
And veiled her delicate face.
He was so strong and he was so bright,
And his breath was a breath of flame;
The Mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright,
As fond, yet fierce, he came.
Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed;
She swooned in love’s alarms,
And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced Mist
In the Sunbeam’s passionate arms.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Come to Me, Sunbeam! I'm Dying
Come to me, Sunbeam! I'm dying
Uncared for, distress'd and alone.
Even now the pale angel with icy hand seizes
The heart that throbb'd along with your own.
Darling! delay not; for enginewheel stay not;
But wing'd by love, fly to my side:
Swift as the morning-beams fly, or I may not
Your coming abide.
Bring the calm joy of your presence--
To a chill'd heart the warmth of your love;
With a glance of these dear eyes this darkness illumine,
Until there comes light from above.
Eyes that shine clearest, with language sincerest,
Come speak me forgiven and bless'd:
Would you refuse me, my chosen! my dearest!
This dying request?
Still for your footsteps I listen;
Each momemt I listen and long
For the voice that might break this dead silence with music
As sweet as an angelic song.
Can you not hear me? Oh will you not cheer me,
At least with one loving adieu?
Yield me how can I when you are not near me?
I'm dying for you.
One in this world, and one only,
Could soothe me, could comfort me now;
Charm'd away were my anguish and you here beside me,
Your gentle hand laid on my brow.
Come, I entrust you! If once I might meet you--
Sweet Sunbeam! what doubts you dispel!
Clasp my hand; kiss me, love! so will I greet you
In Heaven ... Farewell!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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A Fleeting Glimpse Of A Village
How graceful the picture! the life, the repose!
The sunbeam that plays on the porchstone wide;
And the shadow that fleets o'er the stream that flows,
And the soft blue sky with the hill's green side.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Man and Woman
[ According to Maori mythology, the god Tiki created Man by taking a piece of clay and moistening it with his own blood. Woman was the offspring of a sunbeam and a sylvan echo .]
THUS God made Man to cope with destiny:
Taking the common clay, God moistened it
With His red blood; and so for ever lit
That sombre grossness with divinity.
So Man for ever finds him in the mesh
Of clogging earth; and though divine hopes thrill
And flush his leaping heart, it faints, for still
His dreams are pinioned in the gyves of flesh.
Yet ever God's blood in him courses free,
And, penetrated with eternal hope,
Up Evolution's long, uneven slope
Man lifts him from his sodden ancestry!
And though his eyes the far goal cannot see,
And half the terrors of the dark he knows,
Yet with an inward fire his courage glows;
He bears the torch of immortality.
But Woman from a memory had birth,
Into the forest's dignity of shade
A sudden sunbeam groped—a soft hand laid
In silent benediction on the earth.
Then filtered through the green a song forlorn
Of some forgotten bird. Lo! in a mist
Of love the sunbeam and the echo kissed,
And Woman—sunlit memory—was born.
So light and melody to her belong—
The sunlight in the dying echo blurred!
So Woman came—a vision and a word
From the unknown—a sunbeam and a song!
So ever through the forest of the years
Shall Man pursue and still pursue the gleam
That wavers and is gone; and through his dream
The fainting echo of a song he hears.
And when at last his weary feet are led
Into the sacred glade, and she stands there,
He takes her close—all song and sunlit hair:
The gleam has faded and the song has fled!
And though with blinded eyes he cannot see,
She haunts him like a word that he knows not—
That is not quite remembered, nor forgot—
Some thought that hovers near a memory.
As out from Heaven she leans, on earth there falls
The sunbeam of her hair, golden and fine;
And drops an echo of a voice divine—
A voice that ever vainly calls and calls!
And though she spill a splendour and a fire
Upon the dark, her glory is unknown;
Behind the screen of self she dwells alone
She cannot come as close as her desire.
So ever like a pale moon drowned in mist
Her face is vague—a barrier intervenes;
And ever from her loneliness she leans,
With waiting eyes, all-wistful to be kissed!
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The battle had passed from the height
The battle has passed from the height,
And still did evening fall;
While heaven with its restful night
Gloriously canopied all.
The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey,
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day.
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How golden bright from earth and heaven
The summer day declines!
How gloriously o'er land and sea
The parting sunbeam shines!
There is a voice in the wind that waves
Those bright rejoicing trees.
Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue,
Not a cloud had dimmed the sun,
From the time of morning's earliest dew
Till the summer day was done.
And all as pure and all as bright
The sun of evening died,
And purer still its parting light
Shone on Lake Elnor's tide.
Waveless and calm lies that silent deep
In its wilderness of moors,
Solemn and soft the moonbeams sleep
Upon its heathy shores.
The deer are gathered to their rest,
The wild sheep seek the fold.
Only some spires of bright green grass
Transparently in sunshine quivering.
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old grey stone,
In some warm nook a couc hto find.
In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Comes sighing o'er the healthy sea.
Lady, in thy palace hall,
Once perchance thy face was seen;
Can no memory now recall
Thought again to what has been?
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love Alive
The Sky was dark this morning
When I raised my head
I stood at the window -
Darkness was my bane
Suddenly a sunbeam arch
Thrilled me to my weary heart
It was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen
I knew I had to keep my Love
Keep my Love alive
Keep my Love - Keep my Love live
Baby I want you to roll me
Hold me in your love
No more habits
song performed by by Heart from Little Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farewell
For the last time, maybe, upon the knoll
I stand. The eve is golden, languid, sad.
Day like a tragic actor plays his role
To the last whispered word and falls gold-clad.
I, too, take leave of all I ever had.
They shall not say I went with heavy heart:
Heavy I am, but soon I shall be free,
I love them all, but oh I now depart
A little sadly, strangely, fearfully,
As one who goes to try a mystery.
The bell is sounding down in Dedham vale:
Be still, O bell: too often standing here
When all the air was tremulous, fine and pale,
Thy golden note so calm, so still, so clear,
Out of my stony heart has struck a tear.
And now tears are not mine. I have release
From all the former and the later pain,
Like the mid sea I rock in boundless peace
Soothed by the charity of the deep-sea rain….
Calm rain! Calm sea! Calm found, long sought in vain!
O bronzen pines, evening of gold and blue,
Steep mellow slope, brimmed twilit pools below,
Hushed trees, still vale dissolving in the dew,
Farewell. Farewell. There is no more to do.
We have been happy. Happy now I go.
poem by Robert Nichols
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I'll rest on this sunbeam
I'll rest on this sunbeam for as long as I can
For it's the sunbeam made of human eyes
To see through the specters the truth seekers guides
Down the dust of centuries beauty stolen time
Bestowed in ashes sunbathed moved so far beyond
Fragile motes of wisdom knights and princess prisons
I need a single sky two wings some wind some blue
To feed these hungry eyes that look up there at you
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Going Out There Is No Other
Going out there is no other
coming back there is no trace
though one journey on forever
still the mind is its own place.
Still erecting fences facing
(still incorporating doors)
still vast nothingness embracing
(and declining ‘mine’ and ‘yours’) .
Still the sun in silent splendour
smiles its message through the Void
that each and every golden sunbeam
suffers where it has enjoyed.
poem by Brian Taylor
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One for Sorrow; Two for Joy
Good morning Mr Magpie
alone again, like me
I greet you then I bless myself
and hope that I shall see
your lady busy in the trees
up here in Jagger Green.
The wind is soft and urgent
on the pale green Yorkshire hills
rooks fuss in high bare branches
looking down on silent mills
and the magpie is a single bird
up here in Jagger Green.
I watched him as he rested
in the Mayday morning light
then hard and low and straight there came
another flash of black and white
and the sun is like a woman's kiss
up here in Jagger Green.
poem by Hugh Mitchell
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Gold Clouds
As the wind goes on to its own stream
In the gold clouds of tomorrow rising
Like a summer of flowers gold sunbeam
Those from a fantasy world are actualizing
With flow in the evening rays
As the wind goes on to its own stream
And everything is in its twilight’s dream
When glow of the evening plays
With every agleam that as arisen your mind
In the flickering clouds dancing high
When those moments of days are left behind
In the night falling beyond starry sky
And the night fills with dark allays
*(lyric from 1 of my trance songs)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The House of Clay
THERE was a house, a house of clay,
Wherein the inmate sat all day,
Merry and poor;
For Hope sat with her, heart to heart,
Fond and kind, fond and kind,
Vowing he never would depart, --
Till all at once he changed his mind:
"Sweetheart, good by!" He slipped away
And shut the door.
But Love came past, and, looking in,
With smile that pierced like sunbeam thin
Through wall, roof, floor,
Stood in the midst of that poor room,
Grand and fair, grand and fair,
Making a glory out of gloom: --
Till at the window mocked cruel Care:
Love sighed; "All lose, and nothing win?" --
He shut the door.
Then o'er the close-barred house of clay
Kind clematis and woodbine gay
Crept more and more;
And bees hummed merrily outside,
Loud and strong, loud and strong,
The inner silentness to hide,
The patient silence all day long;
Till evening touched with finger gray
The bolted door.
Most like, the next step passing by
Will be the Angel's, whose calm eye
Marks rich, marks poor:
Who, fearing not, at any gate
Stands and calls, stands and calls;
At which the inmate opens straight, --
Whom, ere the crumbling clay-house falls,
He takes in kind arms silently,
And shuts the door.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Silence Is Golden
If I am silent
I am not real
If I speak up then
No one will hear
If I wear a mask there's
Somewhere to hide
Silence is golden
I have been broken
Safe in my own skin
So nobody wins
If I raise my voice
Will someone get hurt?
If I can feel it
But I can't get touched
If no truce was spoken
Then don't ask me why
Silence is golden
I have been broken
Safe in my own skin
So nobody wins
Won't someone listen
I have been broken
Safe in my own skin
So nobody wins
Did you hear me speak
Do you understand
Did you hear my voice
Did you take my hand
Did you understand me
Won't someone listen?
I have been broken
My body's a temple
But nothing is simple
Won't someone listen?
Something was stolen
Silence is golden
So nobody listen
Won't someone listen?
I have been broken
My body's a temple
But nothing is simple
Won't someone listen?
I have been broken
My body's a temple
But nothing is simple
Won't someone listen?
I have been broken
The silence is golden
I'm safe in my own skin
Won't someone listen?
I have been broken
My body's a temple
But nothing is simple
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking On A Thin Line
Sometimes in my bed at night
I curse the dark and a pray for light
And sometimes, the lights no consolation
Blinded by a memory
Afraid of what it might do to me
And the tears and the sweat only mock my desperation
Dont you know me Im the boy next door
The one you find so easy to ignore
Is that what I was fighting for?
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Take a look at my face, see what its doing to me
Taught me how to shoot to kill
A specialist with a deadly skill
A skill I needed to have to be a survivor
Its over now or so they say
Well, sometimes, it dont turn out that way
Cause your never the same when youve been under fire
Dont you know me Im the boy next door
The one you find so easy to ignore
Is that what I was fighting for?
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Take a look at my face, see what its doing to me
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XI
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Pray To God He Understands
Pray, pray when things go wrong
and fears around you
the love you have god will hear in your voice
look up to him
he always near
pray, pray go with your troubles straight to him
pray, pray for god understands
have faith
leaving all in his dear hands.
Pray, pray be calm and still
whatever comes must be his will
his promises like buds unfold
naught that is good will he with hold
pray, pray go with your troubles straight to him
pray, pray for god understands
have faith
leaving all in his dear hands.
Pray, pray till faith grows strong
and in your hart rings heaven's song
the loving god your voice will hear
look up to him he's always near
pray, pray go with your troubles straight to him
pray, pray for god understands
have faith
leaving all in his dear hands.
poem by Djean Whitney
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I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Translated by Stephen Tapscott
poem by Pablo Neruda
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