En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Chaplin

The sun, a heavy spider, spins in the thirsty sky.
The wind hides under cactus leaves, in doorway corners. Only the wry

Small shadow accompanies Hamlet-Petrouchka's march - the slight
Wry sniggering shadow in front of the morning, turning at noon, behind towards night.

The plumed cavalcade has passed to tomorrow, is lost again;
But the wisecrack-mask, the quick-flick-fanfare of the cane remain.

Diminuendo of footsteps even is done:
Only remain, Don Quixote, hat, cane, smile and sun.

Goliaths fall to our sling, but craftier fates than these
Lie ambushed - malice of open manholes, strings in the dark and falling trees.

God kicks our backsides, scatters peel on the smoothest stair;
And towering centaurs steal the tulip lips, the aureoled hair,

While we, craned from the gallery, throw our cardboard flowers
And our feet jerk to tunes not played for ours.

Submitted by Stephen Fryer

poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A crown of flowers

A crown of flowers
~
I don a crown of flowers
To mask the sorrow inside
Eyes which fall upon its beauty
Do not see the tears I cry
While the flowers bud to blossom
I wilt to almost nothing
In a garden colour filled with life
There is also a shadow found
In the sun the flower buds open
In the dark a heart is closed
The flowers shall be woven together
To hide something left unseen
The rose, the tulip and the bluebell rise
I am envious of their beautiful life
So I don I crown of flowers
To mask my sorrow inside

poem by Matthew Holloway
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One summer when the wind was strong

This is the place, now we are here again

I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,

The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling

Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away

It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell

Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling

We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves

Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply

Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting

There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope

We can find some more, something beyond us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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June to July

For Junealice Pardo-Vela passed July 4th 2010**

Without the turning of a month I remained a beautiful flower
My vase of narrow glass of narrow food and narrow light
This-too-shall-passing under a sun with slight movement
Slight lines slight light through an open shudder fell
Across a counter until I was only bright in places
And in others cast in shadow where my blossom’s edge began to fall away

But by the light of your window I held myself as straight as tall hiding petals as they fell within the glass
I was bright and smiled and you passed me
While I only hoped you were not afraid

But days do pass and inevitable seeds that flower in inevitable spring are picked and taken away to sit in windows in June
Even before July they start to set like the sun and by July the heat pushes down on them so hard that all they wilt can no longer be hidden

And it is then that you do see me
As sure as you see where I once was
For it is July and I have come to fall away

In the light of your window you see the space where I should be
Keep finding each little petal that I had hid in the glass
I was bright and I smiled as you passed me
In July I am brighter and I smile as I pass away

June has come and she has gone
Within the turning of a month I remain a flower
A beautiful flower without vase or narrow glass or food or narrow light or shuddering or pain or falling down to hide
I pass with the sun
Bright light now shining through a larger window
And I only hope that you are not afraid

poem by Alizon Kiel
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The Chanpa Flower

Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders,
you walked through the shadow of the champ tree to the little court
where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the
flower, but not know that it cane from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading
ramayana, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your lap,
I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book,
just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your
little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow shed with the lighted
lamp in your hand I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and
be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say
then.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Tube Station

The tube lift mounts,
sap in a stem,
And blossoms its load,
a black, untidy rose.

The fountain of the escalator
curls at the crest,
breaks and scatters
A winnow of men,
a sickle of dark spray.

Submitted by Stephen Fryer

poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spider web

There’s a spider web
of which parts got on your hair
and you are alarmed by it
and I take fine silk from your hair
while you look big eyed at me
and your lips are open
as if you are gasping for breath.

The wind blows a branch
whipping up and down,
but it’s unnoticed
by us both.

Your eyes are caught by the spider web
on which two spiders
are rocking in the wind
and I am caught,
with the look in your golden eyes
and your open lips that are inviting
and a small leave hanging on your cheek.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Me And My Shadow

Sometimes, my shadow appears really short and small;
Whilst, at others, it stretches ahead of me, thin and tall.
Sometimes, my shadow is behind me; sometimes it’s in front.
Quite often, for my shadow, I find myself having to hunt.

Depending on how the street lamps shine their light,
My shadow may be hidden, or may be within my sight.
Sometimes, I have two shadows, plus me;
Then I appear in triplicate: one, two, three.

Sometimes, when I take my time, my shadow seems to rush;
My shadow dances round me, amid the dark night’s hush.
When I wander through an unlit patch, my shadow disappears;
Although I cannot see it for a moment, I know that it is still near.

As I emerge back into the light, I’m rejoined by my shadow.
My best buddy and I are very firmly attached, down at the toe.
My shadow is featureless; of me, it’s just a darkened outline.
During my night-time journey, it’s an ever changing design.

To my shadowy friend, I do feel really very attached.
We are two of a kind, and, I think, very well matched.
My shadow and I, travel everywhere together;
From each other, we will never ever be severed.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Shadow Falls

When I see a shadow fall
pale against my bedroom wall
I always look around to see
if that shadow was just me?
If there's no one else in sight
I silently give way to the night
and sleep.

When I see a shadow fall
dark against my bedroom wall,
I'm afraid to look at its dark sight
for if that shadow isn't me
I fear just what that shadow might be.
And so I cannot
fall asleep.

When I see a shadow fall
white against my bedroom wall
I will not look upon that scene
fearing what that shadow might mean.
Maybe a ghost is visiting me
bringing a haunting memory
if I fall asleep.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Shadow March

All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.

Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,
With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;
And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,
And go marching along up the stair.

The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Polyphony In A Cathedral

Music curls
In the stone shells
Of the arches, and rings
Their stone bells.

Music lips
Each cold groove
Of parabolas' laced
Warp and woof,
And lingers round nodes
Of the ribbed roof

Chords open
Their flowers among
The stone flowers; blossom;
Stalkless hang.

Submitted by Stephen Fryer

poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonlight Shadow

The last that ever she saw him
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
He passed on worried and warning
Carried away by a moonlight shadow.
Lost in a riddle last saturday night
Far away on the other side.
He was caught in the middle of a desperate fight
And she couldn't find how to push through

The trees that whisper in the evening
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
Sing a song of sorrow and grieving
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
All she saw was a silhouette of a gun
Far away on the other side.
He was shot six times by a man on the run
And she couldn't find how to push through

I stay
I pray
I see you in heaven far away

I stay
I pray
I see you in heaven one day

Four AM in the morning
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
I watched your vision forming
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
Stars move slowly in the silvery night
Far away on the other side
"Will you come to talk to me this night?"
But she couldn't find how to push through

I stay
I pray
I see you in heaven far away

I stay
I pray
I see you in heaven one day

Far away on the other side.

Caught in the middle of a hundred and five
The night was heavy but the air was alive
But she couldn't find how to push through

Carried away by a moonlight shadow
Carried away by a moonlight shadow
Far away on the other side.

song performed by by Mike Oldfield from Crises
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith

Faith is in you whenever you look
At a dewdropp or a floating leaf
And know that they are because they have to be.
Even if you close your eyes and dream up things
The world will remain as it has always been
And the leaf will be carried by the waters of the river.

You have faith also when you hurt your foot
Against a sharp rock and you know
That rocks are there to hurt our feet.
See the long shadow that is cast by the tree?
We and trees throw shadows on the earth.
What has not shadow has no strength to live.

poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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5: 10 P.m. Along A Narrow Path

late afternoon at 5: 10 i look at my watch.
darkness is coming like a grey blanket to the mountain.
i walk on this narrow path.
Grassy.
It means no one passes here as often.
Secluded path.
Less entered.
Or maybe forgotten.
Or maybe avoided.
Dangerous perhaps.
I walk on it for a time now.
No sound of birds.
Just darkness trying to steal every light of day.

And then i meet you.
My eyes are poor to sight now.
I see a shadow meeting me,
and when we are too near
i see your smile. It is met with my smile too,
like lovers.
I like them.
these smiles to be lovers anyhow.
I am thirsty.
I am hungry, for love.
Or even lust.
I am very hungry.Indeed i am very thirsty.

Then you pass by my shoulder on this narrow path.
You smell like a big basket of flowers,
the champaca that i grow
right in my own backyard that i always smell at night
in my place.Alone.

The cold air carries your perfume inside my nostrils.
It rebounds within the corners of my mind.
It seeps in my soul.It is absorbed like urine to a pamper.
It stays in my heart.
I am reborn.
My heart is restless again.
IT is you that i meet.
It is your perfume pervading on that narrow path
deep down into the bonemarrow of my soul.

I like the dark clouds to rain.Hard, unstopping.
I like to run.
Anywhere.
I like to bathe
under the rain. I like to get wet all over.
I like to play a game under
the rain. I like to be a child again. Hardheaded. Sick.
The ground where i stand is dry. My chest is empty and my
body is fuming with hot lava like a volcano.
I like to erupt.

I like to undress and be naked.
I like to throw my hat to the trees.
Myjacket to the wind.
My shoes to the forest.
My socks to the creeks.
My watch to the farthest skies.

I like to throw away this book of poetry that i keep inside my armpit.
I like to burn it even. I like its pages to be blown like leaves
anywhere. Anywhere. I like them lost forever.

I like to jump into the river. I like to drown. I like to be lost
at the bottom.I like to close my eyes. I like to be carried away.

i do not like to go back to the narrow path.
I do not like to meet you
again and pass me by.
It is always like that.
Meeting. Opposite ways.
Leaving. Departure. Regrets. Silence.
Perfumes that do not leave me.

Where does love live? what is her name?
I do not know you, Love.
Why is it always like that?
Opposite ways. Repulsion. I never felt
what true love is. Obstructed. I don't know.
I was never embraced with the warmth of
its armpits.
I am the air gushing, going and going, arriving at nothing.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loosen Up My Strings

No ones gonna jerk me around
One I get my feet on the ground
Im gonna hit it runnin
Gonna call it a day
See, a little bit of tension
Goes a long, long way
The boss man has got mine in a sling
But Ill be swingin when I loosen up my strings
Every night when the sun goes down
You wont find me hangin around
Im in loco-motion like a rock out on roll
Im nobodys puppet
Im out of control
The boss man has got mine in a sling
But Ill be swingin when I loosen up my...
Now, when it comes to getting down
And Im always keepin track
I dont need some yo-yo takin up my slack
The boss man has got mine in a sling
But Ill be swingin when I loosen up my strings
Yeah, hell have a line on me til my fat lady sings
But Ill be swingin while I loosen up my strings
Yeah, well all be swingin while I loosen up my strings
Hey, well all be swingin when I loosen up my strings

song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow Me

Shadow me oh my
Dark emotion.
Shadow me all the way!

Shadow me to rock
In cradle heart,
To sway and just to sway!

Shadow me as a
Shady love tree,
In my hot, scorching day!

Shadow me must in,
Middle of night,
Like a gleaming pure ray!

Shadow me, shadow,
My foggy love,
Shadow wild me to tame.

Shadow to follow
My every step,
Shadow me in each poem!

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Wet City Night

Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.

Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.

The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.

Submitted by Stephen Fryer

poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cinema Screen

Light's patterns freeze:
Frost on our faces.
Light's pollen sifts
Through the lids of our eyes ...

Light sinks and rusts
In water; is broken
By glass ... rests
On deserted dust.

Light lies like torn
Paper in corners:
A rock-pool's pledge
Of the sea's return.

Light, wrenched at the edges
By wind, looks down
At itself in wrinkled
Mirrors from bridges.

Light thinly unweaves
Itself through darkness
Like foam's unknotting
Strings in waves ...

Now light is again
Accumulated
Swords against us ...
Now it is gone.

Submitted by Stephen Fryer

poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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World Start Turning

I was born in the southern land
Yeah, a million miles from america
And whatever we wanted was just a matter of choosing
And I was raised in the great white way
Just like all those kids in america
And the t.v. taught us to win with no thought of losing (then I woke up)
This is the real world, the real town without pity
This is the real world, in the shadow of the city
This is the real wheel,
You dont get too many spins
This is the real deal, not everybody wins
Just another soul lost in america
I was so frustrated and I got so lonely
It almost took a miracle to open my eyes
World start turning (turn into the wind)
World start turning (some things were never meant to be)
Ive been standing on the beach
Crying to the raging sea
I was falling, falling
Heart start beating (turn into the wind)
Heart start beating (some things were never meant to be)
Made a promise to myself
Ill never get that low again
We were taught if man believes in
What he wants in america
Its only a matter of time, just a matter of seasons
But I walk through the houses of dreams that died
I see the ones still trapped there the ones that tried
But spent the rest of their lives wondering why
And searching for reasons (and they never wake up)
This is the real world, youve got to know just when to bend
Here in the world, precious little matters in the end
This is the real world, the real town without pity
This is the real world, in the shadow of the city
Just another soul lost in america
I was so frustrated and I got so lonely
It almost took a miracle to open up my eyes
World start turning (turn into the wind)
World start turning (some things were never meant to be)
Ive been standing on the beach
Crying to the raging sea
I was falling, falling
Heart start beating (turn into the wind)
Heart start beating (some things were never meant to be)
Made a promise to myself
Ill never get that low again
You cant stop the world, cant stop the world
Never could settle for where I was
Too many places I was trying to be
The times I succeeded and the times I failed
You know that no one will remember but me
World start turning, world start turning
Ive been standing on the beach
Crying to the raging sea
I was falling, falling
Heart start beating (turn into the wind)
Heart start beating (some things were never meant to be)
Made a promise to myself
Ill never get that low again

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stars Remain

When our lives are over
and our mortal being
has withered to dust.
When our remains are scattered
amongst the prevailing wind,
the stars will remain
to guide those who follow
in our footsteps through time.

The stars will remain
embedded in the velvet night.
Millions and millions of them
up where we perceive
heaven somewhere lies.

We are told all of us have one,
a star that will always remain to shine bright.
A star to guide the lost
on a cold and lonely night,
a star to look down
on all creation
for as long as it survives.
The stars will remain
no matter what we do.
They remain there forever
embedded in the velvet night.

9 December 2011

poem by David Harris
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