Sparrow Hills
Breasts beneath kisses, as though under a tap!
Summer’s stream won’t run for ever.
We can’t pump out the accordion’s roar
night after night, in a dusty fever.
I’ve heard of age. Terrible prophecies!
No wave will lift its hands to the stars.
They say – who believes? No face in the leaves,
no gods in the air, in the ponds: no hearts.
Rouse your soul! Make the day, foaming.
It’s noon in the world. Where are your eyes?
See there, thoughts in the whiteness seething,
fir-cones, woodpeckers, cloud, heat, pines.
Here, the city’s trolley-lines end.
Beyond there’s no rails, it’s the trees.
Beyond – it’s Sunday, breaking branches,
the glade running off, sliding on leaves.
Scattering noons: Whitsuntide: walking,
‘The world’s always like this’, says the wood.
So the copse planned it, the clearing was told,
So it pours, from the clouds, towards us.
poem by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Through My Eyes
I believe-
I believe my thoughts are being broadcasted
I believe you can see my world through my eyes-
When your eyes are closed, I believe that you can hear my thoughts
My thoughts that speak of persecution and threat
These thoughts, as directed towards the rest of the world.
I place my hands over my eyes so that
What is inside of mind does not become
The literature of other people-
Even though my thoughts are silent
When your eyes make contact with mine,
All that I am thinking screams out to you and
I know you wish to harm me.
I believe-
I believe I am being threatened
Being threatened by those who follow my path,
Walking behind me, and somehow
Knowing my destination-
The leaves upon the trees have fallen in autumn and
Now the trees are barren, and I have no place to hide.
This whole world has become the enemy.
I believe my thoughts are broadcasted as I walk,
Kicking aside stones and the leaves that have fallen-
Snow has fallen upon the edge of time and
I stand upon the edge of time, counting the minutes-
Counting every second before the whole world knows of
The anger, hurt and my thoughts misconstrued,
That are torturing me every day and every night-
All I can do is to keep on walking and hope
That one day this mistrust of the world shall
Heal inside my troubled mind and somebody’s eyes
Will make contact with mine and say
“it doesn’t matter to me what you are thinking because
You are a person with a heart and a soul like everyone else and
I believe we all have faults-“ I look towards the sky searching for an increment of hope A world exists inside of me- a beautiful world I hope someday will not matter
If I let somebody inside to see- to know my destination and
I won’t need to hide anymore- when spring comes flowers shall blossom and
Leaves shall grow in the summer- and in the autumn leaves shall turn colors and fall-
I shall continue my journey towards the day I can learn to trust the world around me,
As I kick aside the stones and the fallen leaves as I walk-
With my eyes open to the world, my spirit, unafraid.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem - I
In the dark caverns of the night,
Loveless and alone,
Friendless as wind that wails across the plains,
I sit, the last man left on earth,
Putting my fear on paper,
Praying that love will flow from my dry pen
And watching the tears make havoc on my page.
And I remember then,
Under the night's still mask,
The gallant geese
Making their way through storms,
The fieldmouse scattering to my door
Away from the black cloud,
And the gay snail
Garnishing the twig before leaves came.
The old ones told me,
'When you grow grey you think on little things ;'
Now these dreams kiss the bruises from my mind
Under the night's still mask,
As loveless and alone
I sit, till dawn the last man left
Who knows the sound of rain on summer leaves,
The graceful swan breasting the blood-red stream,
And heart's incompetence.
poem by Henry Treece
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stars In The Night
Look, look at the stars
How brilliant they are
How can they be shining now?
When hope is so far
Look, look how they shine
These cruelest of stars
What fire inspires them,
What faith is it fires them?
Darkness grows,the world turns cold
And still, there glows the light
Heaven knows what hope they hold tonight
Look,look how they shine
These stars in the night
The darker the night becomes
The brighter their light becomes
Chill winds wail
The tempest blues
and clouds asail the sky
Through the veil,
The stars refuse to die
In this world of darkest night
Where hope is hurled away
There they are
And still, there's light
Oh,so far, but will they
There they lift our hearts
As we lift our eyes
Are we fools to see
The harmony that fills the sky
Look,there's the light
Stars In The Night
The Stars In The Night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ring of Stars
In order to make a star with five branches
Where six would have been the same
A circle must first be drawn
In order to make a star with five branches ...
A ring!
One did not take so many precuations
In order to make a tree from many branches
Trees that hide the stars
Trees!
You, full of nests and song birds
Covered with branches and leaves
That you lift as far as the stars!
poem by Robert Desnos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer In The City
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isnt it a pity
Doesnt seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
Cool town, evening in the city
Dressing so fine and looking so pretty
Cool cat, looking for a kitty
Gonna look in every corner of the city
Till Im wheezing like a bus stop
Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isnt it a pity
Doesnt seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night its a different world
Go out and find a girl
Come-on come-on and dance all night
Despite the heat itll be alright
And babe, dont you know its a pity
That the days cant be like the nights
In the summer, in the city
In the summer, in the city
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside My Picture Window
It has been said that there is a world outside my picture window and
Beyond the trees I see everyday and the sky, sometimes overcast and
Other days, when the sun rises early- I can see the sky and have often wondered if
There exists another world within our universe- I know that
There exists a world inside of my mind and
My pupils are the windows into which
People would look if I were to venture outward?
Beyond the sky, and beyond the sun-
Beyond that world inside my mind,
I would never know where there exists a place for me-
Last night outside of my window
I could see the stars- stars mean different things to different people as
Does the sun, the trees and this whole world outside-
The world inside my mind revolves about
The sun that shines upon my own horizon and
As for this world outside, all I can do is look- and to
See a tree, perhaps a single cloud and the grass that grows-
I have shut my mind to the people who live beyond
The trees, clouds and the grass that I can see-
That window opens to the world inside of my thoughts-
I have just shut and pulled the curtain to discourage all intruders-
I am lying by my window in total darkness now as I place my hand over my eyes,
Shutting out reality and now I can see mountains, flowering trees and
A creek flowing in which I can see my reflection and
I am running upon the grass that grows beneath my feet-
I believe I heard music playing inside the fortress of my mind-
It has been said there is a world outside and I have pulled the curtain
To the window once opened to veracity-
Darkness has never looked as beautiful as I am safe here in my solitude-
Even when the stars are shining and the sky is such a magnificent sight to see-
No place is as exquisite as the creek that runs through my inner space and
The sun inside the world of my thoughts that shines upon my horizon?
The stars are far away and all that is real, though just outside my picture window
I perceive as too far away for me to reach- I would touch the stars and I could be a dove
That can lift my wings and fly away from all that threatens, but only inside my dreams-
Children sing songs and read fairy tales and they believe and I believe that
The sun shines light upon their worlds and
Someday their dreams shall blossom as has mine and shall become their homes-
Home is the safe place inside a person's mind, not within the madding crowd that
Exists outside my picture window- even if the stars are always there- and
That unique and special sun shall just keep on shining upon the world of my dreams….
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Red-Tressed Maiden
RED she is in a robe of sable,
Rosy with pictures and tales to tell:
She is a fairy, and yet no fable,
Weaving the dreams that we love so well.
Out in the dark where the night-winds hurry
And dead leaves carpet the silent bush,
She has a charm for minds that worry,
For the worn white face a fresh young blush.
Tell her a story of some love laid in
The grave long since with a maiden white —
She will not taunt you, the Red-Tressed Maiden
Dressed in her mantle of starless night.
With fingers potent as rich wine chosen
From dusty cellars where years lie dead,
She melts the ice in the veins long frozen,
The blood runs chainless, and young and red.
Her ears have hearkened the joyous laughter,
Man-made, maid-lifted through years and years
To frescoed dome and to smoky rafter,
And tears and tears and ceaseless tears.
Old as the world, and some say older,
Is she, and yet she is young and sweet:
She heard the story the Cave-man told her,
When hearts were bolder and ruder their beat.
No tale so trifling but she will listen,
The long day ended, the day's toil done;
Then wheresoever her great eyes glisten
An ancient battle is fought and won.
She is ready to hearken to some chance roamer,
A lyre on his shoulder, a lilt on his tongue,
As she was of old to the blind-eyed Homer
Who sang high strains when the world was young.
On winter nights, when the roads are cheerless
And west winds under a frosty moon,
She paints us Summer in colours peerless
And the broad gold charm of a tropic noon.
On summer evenings, in sylvan places
(The picnic over and stars in the skies),
She heightens the blush on sun-kissed faces
And deepens the dream in dear young eyes.
And who is the Maiden? When Night is about you,
Pile high dry leaves and dead wood, and so
Make a light for the darkness within and without you . . .
And now do you see her — and now do you know?
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Point Of View: II
I
In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,
Old hopes, like dead leaves, choke the difficult way;
Dark pinions fold dank round the soul, and it hears:
'It is night, it is night, it has never been day;
Thou hast dreamed of the day, of the rose of delight;
It was always dead leaves and the heart of the night.
Drink deep then, and rest, O thou foolish wayfarer,
For night, like a chalice, holds sleep in her hands.'
II
Then you drain the dark cup, and, half-drugged as you lie
In the arms of despair that is masked as delight,
You thrill to the rush of white wings, and you hear:
'It is day, it is day, it has never been night!
Thou hast dreamed of the night and the wood of lost leaves;
It was always noon, June, and red roses in sheaves,
Unlock the blind lids, and behold the light-bearer
Who holds, like a monstrance, the sun in his hands.'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Mystic
wind,
whispering trees
clouds, stars
radiant,
unseen
and again, ever-
moving into darkness
pale riders on
night's mystic train
night, to day,
to winter, to spring
summer's
heat arises,
unforeseen,
as tender leaves breathe
as taps the rain,
as life remains.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Madness Of King Goll
I SAT on cushioned otter-skin:
My word was law from Ith to Emain,
And shook at Inver Amergin
The hearts of the world-troubling seamen,
And drove tumult and war away
From girl and boy and man and beast;
The fields grew fatter day by day,
The wild fowl of the air increased;
And every ancient Ollave said,
While he bent down his fading head.
'He drives away the Northern cold.'
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sat and mused and drank sweet wine;
A herdsman came from inland valleys,
Crying, the pirates drove his swine
To fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys.
I called my battle-breaking men
And my loud brazen battle-cars
From rolling vale and rivery glen;
And under the blinking of the stars
Fell on the pirates by the deep,
And hurled them in the gulph of sleep:
These hands won many a torque of gold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
But slowly, as I shouting slew
And trampled in the bubbling mire,
In my most secret spirit grew
A whirling and a wandering fire:
I stood: keen stars above me shone,
Around me shone keen eyes of men:
I laughed aloud and hurried on
By rocky shore and rushy fen;
I laughed because birds fluttered by,
And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high,
And rushes waved and waters rolled.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
And now I wander in the woods
When summer gluts the golden bees,
Or in autumnal solitudes
Arise the leopard-coloured trees;
Or when along the wintry strands
The cormorants shiver on their rocks;
I wander on, and wave my hands,
And sing, and shake my heavy locks.
The grey wolf knows me; by one ear
I lead along the woodland deer;
The hares run by me growing bold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I came upon a little town
That slumbered in the harvest moon,
And passed a-tiptoe up and down,
Murmuring, to a fitful tune,
How I have followed, night and day,
A tramping of tremendous feet,
And saw where this old tympan lay
Deserted on a doorway seat,
And bore it to the woods with me;
Of some inhuman misery
Our married voices wildly trolled.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sang how, when day's toil is done,
Orchil shakes out her long dark hair
That hides away the dying sun
And sheds faint odours through the air:
When my hand passed from wire to wire
It quenched, with sound like falling dew
The whirling and the wandering fire;
But lift a mournful ulalu,
For the kind wires are torn and still,
And I must wander wood and hill
Through summer's heat and winter's cold.
They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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This is what summer means to me
A warm summer day
without a cloud in sight
A baby bird
Taking its first flight
This is what summer means to me
Trees full of leaves
Giving me shade
My dad and I
Fishing in the glade
This is what summer means to me
Watching my daughter
Play on her slide
And how She will never
Want to come inside
This is what summer means to me
See how she enjoys the day
Until the very last
Just like me as a child
Long ago in the past
This is what summer means to me
The distant roar
Of a neighbors lawn mower
Unruly grass be gone
For ever more
This is what summer means to me
The smell of charcoal
And good friends all around
Birds singing in the trees
What a lovely sound
This is what summer means to me
© JPM 5/25/2008
London in July
What ails my senses thus to cheat?
What is it ails the place,
That all the people in the street
Should wear one woman's face?
The London trees are dusty-brown
Beneath the summer sky;
My love, she dwells in London town,
Nor leaves it in July.
O various and intricate maze,
Wide waste of square and street;
Where, missing through unnumbered days,
We twain at last may meet!
And who cries out on crowd and mart?
Who prates of stream and sea?
The summer in the city's heart--
That is enough for me.
Under the Violets
HER hands are cold; her face is white;
No more her pulses come and go;
Her eyes are shut to life and light;--
Fold the white vesture, snow on snow,
And lay her where the violets blow.
But not beneath a graven stone,
To plead for tears with alien eyes;
A slender cross of wood alone
Shall say, that here a maiden lies
In peace beneath the peaceful skies.
And gray old trees of hugest limb
Shall wheel their circling shadows round
To make the scorching sunlight dim
That drinks the greenness from the ground,
And drop their dead leaves on her mound.
When o'er their boughs the squirrels run,
And through their leaves the robins call,
And, ripening in the autumn sun,
The acorns and the chestnuts fall,
Doubt not that she will heed them all.
For her the morning choir shall sing
Its matins from the branches high,
And every minstrel-voice of Spring,
That trills beneath the April sky,
Shall greet her with its earliest cry.
When, turning round their dial-track,
Eastward the lengthening shadows pass,
Her little mourners, clad in black,
The crickets, sliding through the grass,
Shall pipe for her an evening mass.
At last the rootlets of the trees
Shall find the prison where she lies,
And bear the buried dust they seize
In leaves and blossoms to the skies.
So may the soul that warmed it rise!
If any, born of kindlier blood,
Should ask, What maiden lies below?
Say only this: A tender bud,
That tried to blossom in the snow,
Lies withered where the violets blow.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Fever
Id spend my days alone
I used to stay at home
Lost in seclusion there.
Like I was in a cell
A captured heart as well
Surrounded by despair.
Darkness filled my soul
Losing all control.
Down on the streets below
Bright city lights would glow.
The energy would rise
And through the heat Id gaze
Still counting empty days.
With fire in my eyes
Living through this hell
Can I break this spell.
Fever. you set my soul on fire.
Fever. you fill me with desire.
Fever. you always get it right.
Fever. all day and all night.
Then one night as I walked
I heard your body talk
I saw a shooting star.
In some magnetic trance
Our beating hearts would dance
And crash down from afar.
Oh how strange fate is
Never dreamed of this.
So destiny has brought us
Oh so close together
We were like angels in the night
Living the dream
At last Ill be with you forever.
And all at once it feels so right.
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Fever
Listen to the ground:
There is movement all around.
There is something goin down
And I can feel it.
On the waves of the air,
There is dancin out there.
If its somethin we can share,
We can steal it.
And that sweet city woman,
She moves through the light,
Controlling my mind and my soul.
When you reach out for me
Yeah, and the feelin is bright,
Then I get night fever, night fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that night fever, night fever.
We know how to show it.
Here I am,
Prayin for this moment to last,
Livin on the music so fine,
Borne on the wind,
Makin it mine.
Night fever, night fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that night fever, night fever.
We know how to show it.
In the heat of our love,
Dont need no help for us to make it.
Gimme just enough to take us to the mornin.
I got fire in my mind.
I got higher in my walkin.
And Im glowin in the dark;
I give you warnin.
And that sweet city woman,
She moves through the light,
Controlling my mind and my soul.
When you reach out for me
Yeah, and the feelin is bright,
Then I get night fever, night fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that night fever, night fever.
We know how to show it.
Here I am,
Prayin for this moment to last,
Livin on the music so fine,
Borne on the wind,
Makin it mine.
Night fever, night fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that night fever, night fever.
We know how to show it.
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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C Is For Conifers
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
If you see a Christmas tree or a stack of newspapers or a 2x4 frame of a house
It's probably made from pine trees and pine trees are conifers, that's what this song is about
Or if you see a plant in the shape of an elephant, or in the shape of a dog
It's probably a shrub, a conifer shrub pruned into that shape by someone
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
Spoken: There are so many different kinds of conifer trees.
This is just a few of them: Spruce,
Hemlocks, larch, cyprus, juniper,
Fir, Douglas fir, cedar, yew,
Pine, the dwarf conifer,
And the great California sequoia redwood.
Most with cones for seeds, most with needles for leaves
C is for conifers, my kind of trees
Large junipers and fir, spruce, cedars and pines
C is for conifers, more then five hundred kinds
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Fever
Winds may come and the winds may flow
But theres no wind can cool me of my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Time of love, time of year
Temperatures rising, our bodies near in fever, summer fever
Summer fever
A heat-wave run, a dog-day night
Were making love, things are right, its fever, summer fever
Summer fever
You burn so deep with your love so sweet
And you satisfy and mystify my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Body to body, arms entwined
Locked in your love, feeling fine with fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Time of love, time of year
Temperatures rising, our bodies near in fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Winds may come and the winds may blow
But theres no wind can cool me of my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
You burn so deep with your love so sweet
And you satisfy and mystify my fever, summer fever
Summer fever
Fever, summer fever
Fever, summer fever
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leudeman's-on-the-River
Toward even when the day leans down,
To kiss the upturned face of night,
Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
I know a spot of calm delight.
Like crimson arrows from a quiver
The red rays pierce the water flowing,
While we go dreaming, singing, rowing,
To Leudeman's-on-the-River.
The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,
Send back our laughter and our singing,
While faint--and yet more faint is heard
The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.
Some message did the winds deliver
To each glad heart that August night,
All heard, but all heard not aright;
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
Night falls as in some foreign clime,
Between the hills that slope and rise.
So dusk the shades at landing time,
We could not see each other's eyes.
We only saw the moonbeams quiver
Far down upon the stream! that night
The new moon gave but little light
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
How dusky were those paths that led
Up from the river to the hall.
The tall trees branching overhead
Invite the early shades that fall.
In all the glad blithe world, oh, never
Were hearts more free from care than when
We wandered through those walks, we ten,
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
So soon, so soon, the changes came.
This August day we two alone,
On that same river, not the same,
Dream of a night forever flown.
Strange distances have come to sever
The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,
Long miles we cannot cross or measure--
From Leudeman's-on-the-River.
We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.
The green, the russet! seems it strange
So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!
Ah, me! so runs all night away
This night wind chills me, and I shiver;
The summer time is almost past.
One more good-bye--perhaps the last
To Leudeman's-on-the-River.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Summer Time Slooze
Where are the willow trees now
now that the summer is shrinking in acquiesce
Do they reside in a metaphor
since the storms took away their swaying sighs
Where my little hands yearned to grasp their drooping branches
only to feel the sappy leaves no more
And now do I dare tell my youthful soul
that I have grown past my childhood desires of playing and climbing
Now only to walk and gaze, drive and fail
to let these trees impact me like a wave as they did before
When they cherished the summer
that burned in my youth.
poem by Derek Marcoux
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Nights
(2/16/12)
It came upon a summers night
The wind was cool, the stars were bright.
Never in her life did she have such a thrill
As she felt her heart start to fill.
The beauties and splendors of the night
Created such a beautiful sight.
There was a feeling of love in the air
Wiping away all troubles and cares.
Music being played in the streets
Children dancing to the beat
Elderly couples walking hand in hand
This was a night that no one planned.
The summer nights tend to set all hearts free
And this is where you want to be.
Looking up at the stars at night
And seeing all of gods beauties
In my mind take flight.
Recalling times of summer s past
And hoping that it would forever last
But each season has a beginning and an end
And new memories in your mind to
Your heart will send.
But I will take my summer nights
And look upon my summer days
And to god for this I give him praise.
poem by Louis Rams
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