In Hyde Park
The white mist walks between the trees
In silver gown;
Her mystic floating draperies
The branches drown;
And lurking there with eager leer
And wonder new,
The lamps inquisitively peer
Their fingers through.
The world sighs wearily, with pain
Drawing tired breath;
The stars are like a silver rain;
And down beneath
On Night's smooth garment running o'er
In sullen flood,
The city, like a festering sore,
Oozes warm blood.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Silver
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Summer Song
THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways' shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it's oh! for once to play thro' the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!
There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,
Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps are glow-worms light,
Between the silver aspens and the west's last gold.
And it's oh! to drink delight in the lovely lonely night,
To be young before the heart grows old!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.
They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow-moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another,
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.
Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
She cannot light the city:
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.
I stand in the window and watch the
moon.
She is thin and lustreless,
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama
Mama’s face
is smooth and pale as tea-rose leaves.
That ivory oval of aunt Gem
you sucked the miniature off
had black black hair like mama.
Pit-it-ty-pat,
Mama walks so fast,
street lamps jig
without bending a leg…
lights in the windows
play twinkling tunes
on crimson and blue
bottles like bubbles
big as balloons…
Faster and faster…
and pink light spurts
over cakes doing polkas
in little white shirts,
with cake-princesses
in flounced white skirts.
Pit-pat—
mama walks slower…
slower and… slower…
Eyes… lamps… stars…
acres and acres of stars…
bells… and sleepily
flapping feet….
You’re glad mama walks slow.
It’s nice to be carried along
up high near the stars
that look at you with a grave, great look.
Every night
mama sings you to sleep.
When she sings, O for the light of thine eyes Dolores,
there’s a castle on a cliff
and the sea roars like lions.
It leaps at the castle
and the cliff knocks it down
but always the sea
shakes its flattened head
and gets up again.
The castle has no roof
so the rain spins silvery webs in it,
and Dolores’ face
floats dim and beautiful
the way flowers do when they are drowned.
Step by white step
she goes up the castle stairs,
but the stair goes up into the sky
and the sky keeps going up too,
and none of them ever get there.
When mama sings Ba ba black sheep,
the stars seem to shine through her voice
so everything has to be still,
and when she has finished singing
her song goes up off the earth,
higher and higher…
till it is only as big as a tiny silver bird
with nothing but moonlight around it.
poem by Lola Ridge
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This balde
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I have to hide again,
The tears have fallen,
For another night.
My arm is now covered,
In blood red stains,
I wish i could erase,
All my pain.
The blade was sarrated,
The worst type of all,
Smooth ends are dated,
Just like blades that are small.
This blade was,
Once silver but,
Is now blood red.
What have I done,
I'm falling asleep,
Again
written 19th may 2010
poem by Jess Jayne
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Silver Blue
I got to get a message through, I dont know where were going. I wrap my arms around your naked shoulders, take cover for the night. I see you in the morning rain, oh step inside and lay beside
Tender can you close my eyes and blind me, oh give me just a smile...
Before I fade to silver, silver blue for you. before I fade to silver, silver blue for you.
Ive turned into the broken one who lost the inspiration. I want to give you all my love like water to a blood red rose. the passion - I cant deal with her. the pain - well, I can do without hi
D this is like the milky way, an ocean that only grows and grows.
And babe I fade to silver, silver blue for you. I turn and fade to silver, silver blue for you.
I wrap my arms around your naked shoulders, take cover for the night.
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Serenata
The night soaks itself
along the shore of the river
and in Lolita's breasts
the branches die of love.
The branches die of love.
Naked the night sings
above the bridges of March.
Lolita bathes her body
with salt water and roses.
The branches die of love.
The night of anise and silver
shines over the rooftops.
Silver of streams and mirrors
Anise of your white thighs.
The branches die of love.
poem by Federico García Lorca
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(For Dónall) Arrival
You're waiting
under the Arrivals board
in your flying black mac
(or magician's gown...
it's an academic distinction...)
your silver coils of curls
flowing from your worried frown.
And when the train at last
rocks and rolls me up to Platform Ten,
I'm running then, and running fast,
upstream of tired faces in grey suits
and I'm colliding with your warmth,
meeting your soft mouth
with my own eager kiss
and knowing that all day
we both have longed for this.
poem by Janice Windle
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Silver Bells
City side walks, busy side walks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing
People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And in every corner you'll hear.
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring a ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Strings of street lights
Even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch
See the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all the bustle you'll hear.
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring a ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Soon it will be Christmas day.
Christmas day.
Silver bells.
Silver bells.
Silver bells...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nostalgia in Garden City
A beam of sun peeping through the mist
A perching bird and its chirping song from a treetop nest
Dew drops silver lining against golden ray
Garden city laid back and lazy, natives say
Gulmohar trees silhouetting the sidewalks
Boulevards awaiting swift walks
Long stretched steps engrossed in spectacled mirth
Twilight haven of yester years’ youth
Shades of rainbow at their pleasant might
Pensioners’ paradise someone rightly thought
City of garden and its bygone splendor
Evergreen preciousness in my memoir
(Written on the beautiful city of Bangalore when it was indeed the Garden City prior to gaining fame as the Silicon Valley of India)
poem by Long John Silver
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Where's The Silver?
Colors, colors everywhere
Colors all around
Reds and purples and blues are there
But silver can't be found
I look around, and now I've found some yellows and some greens
I look until my eyes are sore, but silver can't be seen
I look unto the vibrant clouds, but there's no silver lining
Where is all the silver that the miners should be mining?
There are no silver bells a'ringing
The silver songbirds are not singing
The orange sun hangs in the air, but I can't find silver anywhere
I look for hours, look for days, look for silver anyplace
But there always seems to be another color in it's place
I've given up this useless search
There is no silver left to find
I dropp my head and start to cry
When out of my pocket falls a silver dime
poem by Tyler Mason
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Valgovind's Song In The Spring
The Temple bells are ringing,
The young green corn is springing,
And the marriage month is drawing very near.
I lie hidden in the grass,
And I count the moments pass,
For the month of marriages is drawing near.
Soon, ah, soon, the women spread
The appointed bridal bed
With hibiscus buds and crimson marriage flowers,
Where, when all the songs are done,
And the dear dark night begun,
I shall hold her in my happy arms for hours.
She is young and very sweet,
From the silver on her feet
To the silver and the flowers in her hair,
And her beauty makes me swoon,
As the Moghra trees at noon
Intoxicate the hot and quivering air.
Ah, I would the hours were fleet
As her silver circled feet,
I am weary of the daytime and the night;
I am weary unto death,
Oh my rose with jasmin breath,
With this longing for your beauty and your light.
poem by Laurence Hope
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Pain
Pain. Pain in the body.
Pain in the mind.
Pain. Feel the pain.
Go to the centre of it.
In the centre, a flame.
A cool, warm, steady, white, white flame
so white, that
it is more light than white.
Cool as detachment.
Warm as love.
Bright as enlightenment;
burning the unnecessary.
The flame of healing,
as old as the world.
As old as olive trees and oil and sacred lamps,
as old as wisdom.
In the flame, an angel.
That is what the angel said.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In Time Of Silver Rain
In time of silver rain
The earth puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of Life,
Of Life,
Of life!
In time of silver rain
The butterflies lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth new leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain When spring
And life
Are new.
poem by Langston Hughes
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A Moment
She walks through the rain, the pain locked behind her cold eyes
She sees the lights of the houses, those Christmas lights,
She sees her home, no lights, no tree, it is dark and still
The rain falls on her long white hair, her white gown flowing tears stream from her eyes
They are silver and full of sorrow and pain they splash against the wet street
And shine like silver perils against the black cold surface.
A car passes and for a moment she thinks the driver saw her, in her gown
For a moment she thought she was alive
Just for a moment
She sees the road stretch before her, she sees the lights that line each house
It is Christmas eave her mother and father are at church for their first Christmas sermon without her there, her eyes fill with more tears and more perils fall to the road
A bird flew above her, a dove
Her mothers favorite bird is a dove, she always says look to the dove for answers
The girl never understood her mothers words, now she knows
For a moment she smiles
For a moment she feels no pain
Just for a moment
She lifted her hands to the Dove
“Take me with you” she pleads into the sky, into the falling rain
The dove fly’s around her and grasps a small twig in his beak
The twig falls into her outstretched arms and she grasps it
She looks at her palm of her hand and sees the holly
The berries shine red, she knows what it means.
For a moment she sees the light stream from the Dove
For a moment she knew to follow
Just for a moment
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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2010/05/11 Warm Organ Fugues
The strong silver sun of today dazzling bright
changing trees into shimmering green, framing
everything in glittering shafts of explosive light
suddenly subdued, enveloping the world with a
soft golden sheen
The visual beauty becoming tactile, becoming a
song, silver notes of Saint-Saëns, fishes swim-
ming, growing into Bach’s warm organ fugues,
sunbeams dancing to Boccherini’s minuet softly
folding into Peer Gynt…
poem by Margaret Alice
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Abaude: Night into Morning
We lie under high arched windows
awake in the deep winter night
and gaze on the tallest trees
glazed in silver light.
They reach up to the radiant moon,
their fingers spread bare and plain,
raised in silent prayer
after December's cold, hard rain.
Your face is bathed in these holy rays,
and I fight sleep; I cannot turn away
from truth so deep as the moon beaming
through our wintering trees ardently streaming.
But I close my eyes for a moment, then see
dawn drawing azure from night's darkest seed,
and the trees' golden limbs rising on high
to praise morning's vaulting blue sky.
So I arise and turning to you I see
how night flows to dawn eternally
and to the resurgent world restores
the spring of our never-ending joy.
poem by Steven Federle
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I Bleed in Silver
i bleed in silver
metalic color from
the gleam of steel edges
reflected in the moonlight
silver drops
like unicorn's blood
their's filled with magic
mine just with misery
silver blood
from each of us slain
on the tip of razor sharp blades
as a beautiful being
is destroyed and
destroys itself
i bleed in silver
in my world of black
poem by Nick Downer
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