After The Rain [for W. D. Snodgrass]
The barbed-wire fences rust
As their cedar uprights blacken
After a night of rain.
Some early, innocent lust
Gets me outdoors to smell
The teasle, the pelted bracken,
The cold, mossed-over well,
Rank with its iron chain,
And takes me off for a stroll.
Wetness has taken over.
From drain and creeper twine
It’s runnelled and trenched and edged
A pebbled serpentine
Secretly, as though pledged
To attain a difficult goal
And join some important river.
The air is a smear of ashes
With a cool taste of coins.
Stiff among misty washes,
The trees are as black as wicks,
Silent, detached and old.
A pallor undermines
Some damp and swollen sticks.
The woods are rich with mould.
How even and pure this light!
All things stand on their own,
Equal and shadowless,
In a world gone pale and neuter,
Yet riddled with fresh delight.
The heart of every stone
Conceals a toad, and the grass
Shines with a douse of pewter.
Somewhere a branch rustles
With the life of squirrels or birds,
Some life that is quick and right.
This queer, delicious bareness,
This plain, uniform light,
In which both elms and thistles,
Grass, boulders, even words,
Speak for a Spartan fairness,
Might, as I think it over,
Speak in a form of signs,
If only one could know
All of its hidden tricks,
Saying that I must go
With a cool taste of coins
To join some important river,
Some damp and swollen Styx.
Yet what puzzles me the most
Is my unwavering taste
For these dim, weathery ghosts,
And how, from the very first,
An early, innocent lust
Delighted in such wastes,
Sought with a reckless thirst
A light so pure and just.
poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
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Related quotes
How He Saw Angus, The God
I heard the swallow sing in the eaves and rose
All in a strange delight while others slept,
And down the creaking stair, alone, tip-toes,
So carefully I crept.
The house was dark with silly blinds yet drawn,
But outside the clean air was filled with light,
And underneath my feet the cold, wet lawn
With dew was twinkling bright.
The cobwebs hung from every branch and spray
Gleaming with pearly strands of laden thread,
And long and still the morning shadows lay
Across the meadows spread.
At that pure hour when yet no sound of man,
Stirs in the whiteness of the wakening earth,
Alone through innocent solitudes I ran
Singing aloud for mirth.
Till I had found the open mountain heath
Yellow with gorse, and rested there and stood
To gaze upon the misty sea beneath,
Or on the neighbouring wood,
—That little wood of hazel and tall pine
And youngling fir, where oft we have loved to see
The level beams of early morning shine
Freshly from tree to tree.
Through the denser wood there's many a pool
Of deep and night-born shadow lingers yet
Where the new-wakened flowers are damp and cool
And the long grass is wet.
In the sweet heather long I rested there
Looking upon the dappled, early sky,
When suddenly, from out the shining air
A god came flashing by.
Swift, naked, eager, pitilessly fair,
With a live crown of birds about his head,
Singing and fluttering, and his fiery hair,
Far out behind him spread,
Streamed like a rippling torch upon the breeze
Of his own glorious swiftness: in the grass
He bruised no feathery stalk, and through the trees
I saw his whiteness pass.
But when I followed him beyond the wood,
Lo! He was changed into a solemn bull
That there upon the open pasture stood
And browsed his lazy full.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Lust, Lust, Lust
He lusts for her
Her apple breasts
Beneath her vest
Taste the best
Lust, Lust, Lust
Three women on the go
Yet happiness does not flow
It is only
Lust, Lust, Lust
Her apple breasts
Beneath her vest
Taste the best
The natural flow of wetness
He hopes to taste once more
Maybe its vanilla flavor
Will be one better than before
Lust, Lust, Lust
Lost in focus
Lost in defense
Can’t do his job
Till he scores once more
Now humble, no longer hardcore
Only suffering from lust hangover
Her apple breast
Beneath her vest
Has just put him to the test
The sweet fluid of sex
Displaying something complex
Lust, Lust, Lust
Save him
He is an emotional wreck
For he still lusts after his Ex!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Light
Light that can be kind. Light that can smell sweet. Light that can be soft.
Light that can be porcelain. Light that can be silent. Light that can speak.
Light that can hold many colors. Light that can be romantic. Light that can be harsh.
Light that can be cold. Light that can be warm. Light that can be dry.
Light that can be loud. Light that can be love. Light that can be faith.
Light that can be full of strength. Light that can be pure. Light that can be dark.
Light that can be fragile. Light that can be crazy. Light that can be weird.
Light that can be old. Light that can be new. Light that can be inbetween.
Light that can be swift. Light that can be sharp. Light that can wonder.
Light that can be insane. Light that can be smooth. Light that can dream.
Light that can be free. Light that can be everlasting. Light that can be wild.
Light that is the lord. Light that is Jesus. Light that is holy.
Light that is the trinity. Light that can belong. Light that can be fast.
Light that can sing. Light that is the holy ghost. Light that is the Bible.
Light that can be a mith. Light that can be still. Light that can be different.
Light that can be hole. Light that can be true. Light that can be whimsical.
Light that can be bright. Light that can be formed. Light that is blessed.
Light that can be full of presence. Light that can tell a story. Light that can be intelligent.
Light that is like no other!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Lingers
The rain is gone,
It's pitter patter silent,
It's accompaniment of thunder quiet,
It's ensemble of lightning dark,
but the smell still lingers.
The soft breeze carries the scent,
A cool night with damp grass,
The animals hide in dry brush,
The people tucked away at home,
The air thick with the weight of silence,
The thunder once so loud and startling,
Now distant and still moving further,
The lightening once so bright and threatening,
Now a distant glow that illuminates the horizon,
The storm has passed.
And like the rain,
you are gone for now,
Too far from my grasp,
For now my arms are empty,
But your smell still lingers.
The breeze from the open window carries your scent,
A cool night with warm sheets,
The restless hearts calmed,
The racing thoughts slowed,
The air thick with new memories and feelings.
The sounds once so crisp and real,
Now the silent rise and fall of chests,
The light in our eyes once so bright and alluring,
Now hidden behind closed lids,
The storm has passed.
The rain now as calm as our dreams,
And the storm as silent as our breathing,
Until once again the lightning will strike,
And our eyes light up again,
But for now, the smell still lingers.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Really, I Am In A Bad Time Of My Life
but i am used to these bad times
you see
these happen most of the time, we get used to these
bad times
and after a while we are no longer
affected,
no longer ruled by these bad times
and we become numb like we are prepared for an operation
like the way how my gallbladder
was removed four years ago
and people
call me sweet and women taste me and say i am
sweet and i like it
the bitterness is gone now
and i am ready for something new something sweeter
come what may
i have open arms and interesting eyes that speak the language
of
yucks! lust.
do you want to taste this chunk of lust?
or a slice of happiness? they call it love,
endearment, but i like it
when it is simply called by its plain name
no euphemisms
lust, lust, lust, just lust, no heart
i want a heartless love affair
one that does not
hurt
let me share it with you, but first tell me
were you once bitter too?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The glory of lust
‘Lust, Lust. It’s worst’
Many burst.
Lust is not a ghost,
Nor a devil, nor a peril.
The tender grass on a rocky patch
Is tender to taste for the toothless
Cow, old enough to die.
It is lust. Who can hate.
‘Lust, Lust, It’s the best’
All murmur in secret.
01.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gasping For Light
1
i built a fire in the yard.
slowly walked back into the house.
gathering everything of value.
my books, my clothes, my boots,
old photographs, letters, pictures,
everything i've ever written.
every memory.
took them outside,
and fed them to the fire!
and walked off barefoot
into the night.
2
lover, dance with me!
we call unto each other
from distances, through barriers,
breaking down walls of seperation;
through tears and angry silence,
echoing through the night.
i kiss your eyes, your lips,
the arch of your neck.
your fingertips, your feet,
the inside of your thighs.
your wetness.
you open your eyes,
and the shadow disappears!
3
spirits dance in the moonlight!
a soft wind rustles
through the trees.
the howl of a dog,
car lights on a forgotten road;
a screen door closes softly.
old house wrapped in stillness.
only a faint sound.
the footsteps of God
walking in your heart!
4
i can smell your perfume,
or maybe the scent of rain coming.
i can taste you in the
cool damp earth,
in the blood of a small animal
killed by a passing car,
in the cry of the baby
waking up hungry,
in the web of the spider.
in the hollow of my soul.
5
two moths lost in the darkness,
gasping for light.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The bright blessed day with joy we see
The bright blessed day with joy we see
Rise out of the sea at dawning;
It lightens the sky unceasingly,
Our gain and delight adorning!
As children of light we sense that soon
Dark night will give way to morning!
Our Lord chose the blessed midnight hour
To come down without our knowing,
Then clear in the east in dawn’s pale bower
The sun’s hues in strength were growing:
Then light filled the sky, in which the earth
Shall shimmer with inner glowing!
Were each forest tree to come alive,
And each leaf a voice be granted,
The law of God’s mercy they’d contrive
In vain in words to have chanted;
Since Life’s Light now shines for ever more,
In old and young firmly planted!
Yea, though every blade of grass could speak,
In meadow or field or clearing,
A thanksgiving hymn they could not seek
To sing for our human hearing,
Befitting the day, for light and life,
While eons their course are steering.
In vain would the weak man try who chose
To conquer the mountain summit,
The eagle is wily, though, and knows
The wind will not let it plummet,
And even the small blithe lark can brave
The sky and yet overcome it.
The river so brash with thund’rous noise
From crag-face comes downwards crashing
The streams down below have no such voice,
Though murmur with gentle plashing,
So gently they wind through grassy lea
Up under the lime trees splashing!
So thank we our God, our father good,
As larks in their dawn-time chorus,
For each day he gave, as so we should
For life he from death won for us,
For all that has nurtured human souls
For thousands of years before us!
As long as we see the golden day,
And woods are the Danes’ own bowers,
We’ll deck every pew with sprigs of may
And forefathers’ graves with flowers
A wonderful feast of life and joy,
A Whitsuntide gift that’s ours!
And then from our eyes will start to flow
Mild tears like a stream now thriving,
And streams join and to a river grow
That fain for Life’s Source is striving
It secretly gains, like some deep sigh,
So early yet late arriving!
And no day can have so long a growth
That evening cannot be sighted,
Its light and its setting sun are both
What God in his church has lighted;
But ever again it dawns anew
For hearts who in morn delighted!
Let day gently glide this Whitsuntide,
With haloing rays full-flashing!
The hours pleasing God as past they slide,
As meadowland stream soft-plashing,
So joyously now the last one winds,
Up under the lime trees splashing!
Like gold is the dawn just moments old,
When day from its death is rising,
Yet we too are kissed with lips of gold
By sunset so sweet-enticing,
Then every dull gaze will glint afresh,
Pale cheeks with new blush surprising!
We’ll journey then to our fatherland,
Where no day lies still thereafter,
Where stands a strong castle, proud and grand,
Whose halls all resound with laughter,
And there we will talk till time is done
In light with our friends hereafter!
poem by Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig
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Love Is Taste Than Lust
Love is taste than lust,
I think love,
Heart is saying it all,
Love is taste than lust,
Believe it,
Iam a lover of Humanity,
Whilst this heart revealed it's content,
Hold on this soul more and more,
Pleasure of lust and immaturity is not excellence,
My covetousness of composing is deeper,
Understand that term,
We are needing things New,
New life,
New style.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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A River Dies
a river dies choked to gills
expiring upon industrial waste
sadly as the river dies the fish die also
oxygen starved extinguished
life was a web of light upon the water
life web torn broken discarded
water breathed life into river flowing
man breathed in death river choking
oxygen rich river was flush with fish
smell taste drink putrid pollution
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Elegy For Jane
(My student, thrown by a horse)
I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once started into talk, the light syllables leaped for her.
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.
Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw,
Stirring the clearest water.
My sparrow, you are not here,
Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.
If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
I, with no rights in this matter,
Neither father nor lover.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Dark As A Dungeon
Come and listen you fellows
So young and do fine
And seek not your fortune
In the dark, dreary mines
It will form as a habit
Seep in your soul
til the blood in your veins
Runs as black as the coal
Theres many a man
That Ive known in my day
Who lived just to labor
His whole life away
Like a fiend with his dope
And a drunkard his wine
A man will have lust for
The lure of the mine
Its dark as a dungeon
Damp as the dew
The danger is double
And the pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
I hope when Im gone
And the ages shall roll
My body will blacken
And turn into coal
Then Ill look out the door
Of my heavenly home
And Ill pity the miners
A-diggin my bones
Its dark as a dungeon
Damp as the dew
The danger is double
And the pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River and Ocean
The ocean said to the river
Come join august company
Of those trying to be bigger
I am happy with my being
The river replied promptly
The ocean laughed out loud
My dear river you beware
Doesn’t matter who you are
When you join me anyways
Your identity also gets lost
Your sweet water loses taste
Only I remain here for sure
I’m not sweet yet get bigger
That’s what you believe
But deep inside me around
There is a whole ecosystem
With beautiful colors of life
Together we shall nurture it
Join me and be part of it all!
poem by Udaya Pant
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The Choice of Lust
Thou shall meet the limitation of Lust
For it curse the sinister in the past…
Thou create an image of immortality,
And forever live in the reality…
Make the most sense of pleasure
And buried it like a treasure,
For life is so unpleasant with what you do;
Thus the world is glad that you do…
Thy feel the same lust with in the world…
Make enough time and grow old,
For the hours may not like before;
Passing by like it is gone more over….
If life isn't better the way you see,
It will be like a free bird flee,
And today you may taste the difficulty
Now other tomorrow lust will be easy…
Shake your head to the end,
Lay down with knees bend…
Take every chance to taste Lust,
It is always been a good contrast…
And if death comes with in lust
You'll realize it is the last….
Living your whole life with no regrets,
But dying in lust and debts...
poem by Jinnuljr Mukarram
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Carnivell of rust
D' you breathe the name of your saviour in
your hour of need,
And taste the blame if the flavor should
remind you of greed?
Of implication, insinuation and ill will, 'til
you cannot lie still,
In all this turmoil, before red cape and foil
come closing in for a kill
Come feed the rain
'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing
underneath the skies of lust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause without your love my life ain't
nothing but this carnival of rust
It's all a game, avoiding failure, when true
colors will bleed
All in the name of misbehavior and the
things we don't need
I lust for after no disaster can touch, touch
us anymore
And more than ever, I hope to never fall,
where enough is not the same it was
before
Come feed the rain...
'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing
underneath the skies of lust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause without your love my life ain't
nothing but this carnival of rust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing
underneath the skies of lust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause without your love my life ain't
nothing but this carnival of rust
Don't walk away, don't walk away, oh,
when the world is burning
Don't walk away, don't walk away, oh,
when the heart is yearning
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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The Fifteen Acres
I
I cling and swing
On a branch, or sing
Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O!
Or fling my wing
On the air, and bring
To sleepier birds a warning, O!
That the night's in flight,
And the sun's in sight,
And the dew is the grass adorning, O!
And the green leaves swing
As I sing, sing, sing,
Up by the river,
Down the dell,
To the little wee nest,
Where the big tree fell,
So early in the morning, O!
II
I flit and twit
In the sun for a bit
When his light so bright is shining, O!
Or sit and fit
My plumes, or knit
Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O!
And she with glee
Shows unto me
Underneath her wings reclining, O!
And I sing that Peg
Has an egg, egg, egg,
Up by the oat-field,
Round by the mill,
Past the meadow,
Down the hill,
So early in the morning, O!
III
I stoop and swoop
On the air, or loop
Through the trees, and then go soaring, O!
To group with a troop
On the gusty poop
While the wind behind is roaring, O!
I skim and swim
By a cloud's red rim
And up to the azure flooring, O!
And my wide wings drip
As I slip, slip, slip,
Down through the rain-drops,
Back where Peg
Broods in the nest
On the little white egg,
So early in the morning, O!
poem by James Stephens
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The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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My Grand ma's advice and wishes!
May you delight in light of life,
Dancing with joy may be playing
Lightly With Life
Or may be feeling every burden light,
Light you will be when you are full of light,
Feeling light seeing light within!
May you soar high like eagle,
Having spirit on wings,
high above the ignorance,
Above the average life,
Never minding the madness of the
world.
Yet you should have an eye on ground,
Someday have to land on own legs,
Finding food and nest of own,
Where in you can rest a while
Feeling safe!
For safety of kiths and kins!
May you always sing Melody in the Symphony of Your Life.
Yet listen to the symphony of nature,
Where you can learn various tunes,
And what music is!
May you taste good things,
smell good perfumes and deodour fowl smells,
and touch new heights,
Plan and put effort to bring
your dreams of a beautiful
tomorrow true
Be ready to face shattered dreams,
Your castles well built may only prove to be built in air, proving itself of sand!
May your sun always shine during day,
May moon and star shine during night, and
your sky be need not forever blue,
Let it be blackened sometimes bring cool rains to support all green and colorful flowers and delicious fruits,
You like to enjoy!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Lust...
Lust destroyed my love
Lust pushed away my one
Lust made me weak
Lust took the one love
Lust killed my happiness
Lust is a sin I committed
Lust, I shouldn't had done
Lust got my suffocating
Lust made light turn into darkness
Lust made me miss my wife
Lust, my innocent girl is hurt
Lust I hurt myself too
Lust I miss my family I built
Lust, you were my biggest mistake....
poem by Joy O'Pateng
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