Storm-Wind
I am finished, but you live on.
And the wind, crying and moaning,
rocks the house and the clearing,
not each pine alone,
but all the trees together,
with the vast distance, whole,
like the hulls of vessels,
moored in a bay, storm-blown.
And it shakes them not from mischief,
and not with an aimless tone,
but to find, for you, from its grief,
the words of a cradle-song.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Wind
I am no more but you live on,
And the wind, whining and complaining,
Is shaking house and forest, straining
Not single fir trees one by one
But the whole wood, all trees together,
With all the distance far and wide,
Like sail-less yachts in stormy weather
When moored within a bay they lie.
And this not out of wanton pride
Or fury bent on aimless wronging,
But to provide a lullaby
For you with words of grief and longing,
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Almost A Love Song (Casi Un Bolero)
The bells are ringing in my mind
Sadly they ring for me
Throughout this empty house
They remind me so much, so much of you
This horrible loneliness
Comes with me, and with me it goes
With your picture against my skin
A dream in my heart
It's almost a love song
And I wish you were with me right now and always
And I wish I could see you next to meagain and much more
This sadness I sing to you
Is blown away in the wind (I sing this sad song
that blows away in the wind?)
Now that I'm looking for you I regret
I don't know why I stopped walking with you
I never told you that I love you
You couldn't guess it
With your memory always
Like a phantom that doesn't go away
I press your picture against my skin
A dream in my heart
Almost a love song
And I wish you were with me right now and always
And I wish I could see you next to meagain and much more
This sadness I sing to you
Is blown away in the wind (I sing this sad song
that blows away in the wind?)
A dream in my heart
Almost a love song
They remind me so much of you
And I wish,And I wish,And I wish
You were with me right now Almost a love song
And I weish, and I wish
Almost a love song
And much more
This sadness I sing to you
Is blown away in the wind (I sing this sad song
that blows away in the wind?)
song performed by by Ricky Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pine Tree in My House
A tree that grows in my garden
A robust pine tree
Stands big and Proud
Sinks its roots deeply into the Earth
A pine tree in my house
Spreads its seeds every where
Sheds needles all over
Drops big cones onto my lawn
Survives within the sun
Ambles forth in all direction s with each gust of wind
Bends over the roaring storm
Tosses its branches in magnificent enthusiasm
Attracts the colors of a million sunsets into its needles leaves
Sways gracefully with the wind
Whispers with the blowing breeze
Cuddles joyfully with the changing seasons
Tries to reach the sky!
Looks beautiful in a peaceful state,
Is wise in its silence
Grows lush in all seasons
Allows the birds to perch and soar
Never holds them back
Never pines for their return when they fly away
If our hearts were like pine trees
We would have no apprehension in our minds
No one would wish to bring us down
No one would wake us up at night
A pine tree in my house
I Call it the tree of paradise
What I’ve got, I know it matters
For paradise, I wish to pave the way!
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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Praise Of Ysolt
In vain have I striven,
to teach my heart to bow;
In vain have I said to him
'There be many singers greater than thou'.
But his answer cometh, as winds and as lutany,
As a vague crying upon the night
That leaveth me no rest, saying ever,
'Song, a song.'
Their echoes play upon each other in the twilight
Seeking ever a song.
Lo, I am worn with travail
And the wandering of many roads hath made my eyes
As dark red circles filled with dust.
Yet there is a trembling upon me in the twilight,
And little red elf words crying, ‘A song',
Little grey elf words crying for a song,
Little brown leaf words crying, ‘A song',
Little green leaf words crying for a song.
The words are as leaves, old brown leaves in the spring time
Blowing they know not whither, seeking a song.
White words as snow flakes but they are cold,
Moss words, lip words, words of slow streams.
In vain have I striven
to teach my soul to bow,
In vain have I pled with him:
'There be greater souls than thou.'
For in the morn of my years there came a woman
As moonlight calling,
As the moon calleth the tides,
'Song, a song.'
Wherefore I made her a song and she went from me
As the moon doth from the sea,
But still came the leaf words, little brown elf words
Stying 'The soul sendeth us'.
'A song, a song!'
And in vain I cried unto them ‘I have no song
For she I sang of hath gone from me'.
But my soul sent a woman, a woman of the wonder-folk,
A woman as fire upon the pine woods
crying 'Song, a song'.
As the flame crieth unto the sap.
My song was ablaze with her and she went from me
As flame leaveth the embers so went she unto new forests '
And the words were with me
crying ever. 'Song, a song'.
And I 'I have no song',
Till my soul sent a woman as the sun:
Yea as the sun calleth to the seed,
As the spring upon the bough
So is she that cometh, the mother of songs,
She that holdeth the wonder words within her eyes
The words, little elf words
that call ever unto me,
'Song, a song'.
In vain have I striven with my soul
to teach my soul to bow.
What soul boweth
while in his heart art thou?
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Wind that Shakes the Barley
There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the uplands drenched with dew
The sky hangs soft and pearly,
An emerald world is listening to
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the bluest mountain crest
The lark is singing rarely,
It rocks the singer into rest,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Oh, still through summers and through springs
It calls me late and early.
Come home, come home, come home, it sings,
The wind that shakes the barley.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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True Kingdom
The wind storm blew,
The green leaves flew,
Creakingly cracked the trees,
They tumbled with blows of the wind,
The turbans were blown away,
From the heads,
The shawls,
Entangled on the acacias’ thorns,
And the damsels moved mourning.
Ah! The wind storm blew,
All around the dust flew,
Only the kingdom,
Of the wind is the truth,
And all other is falsehood.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Are My Poems Finished/ And I Finished With Them?
ARE MY POEMS FINISHED/ AND I FINISHED WITH THEM?
Are my poems finished
And I finished with them?
Each day has a beauty of its own
Light, wind, trees, colors, flowers.
All I see
The cracks in the grey pavement before me.
The cool cool wind at my back
The prayer ahead.
Even this poem is not properly finished
And I a fool racing and rushing
Through another
Again and again and again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Winter Evening
The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts,
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child,
Now rustling the decayed thatch
On our tumbledown roof,
Now, like a delayed traveller,
Knocking on our window pane.
Our wretched little cottage
Is gloomy and dark.
Why do you sit all silent
Hugging the window, old gran?
Has the howling of the storm
Wearied you, at last, dear friend?
Or are you dozing fitfully
Under the spinning wheel's humming?
Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.
Sing me a song of how the bluetit
Quietly lives across the sea.
Sing me a song of how the young girl
Went to fetch water in the morning.
The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child.
Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Keep Each Other Warm
If you're looking for the dream you dreamed of
Open your eyes
If you're looking for the one and only
In your life, oh darling
If you're looking for a friend to turn to
Someone to care
When all the world is out to hurt you
I'll be there, oh darling
Reach out your hand, reach out for me
I'll be walking beside you through it all
And we'll stand tall
When we're blown by the wind
Torn by the storm
We'll always find the love we need
To keep each other, keep each other warm
When you talk about toleration
Well I know the score
And if you ever want liberation
There's the door, oh darling
Living in love is bitter sweet
You've got to have faith on a lonely street
But I'll be walking beside you through it all
And we'll stand tall
When we're blown by the wind
Torn by the storm
We'll always find the love we need
To keep each other warm
Come sail into my arms
The harbor of my heart
And trust that love is all we need
To keep each other, keep each other warm
Blown by the wind
Torn by the storm
We'll always find the love we need
To keep each other warm
Come saild into my arms
The harbor of my heart
And trust that love is all we need
To keep each other, keep each other warm
We'll keep each other warm
We'll keep each other warm
We'll keep each other warm
Were going to keep each other warm
We'll keep each other warm
We'll keep each other warm
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Woods Shake in an Ague-Fit
The woods shake in an ague-fit,
The mad wind rocks the pine,
From sea to sea the white gulls flit
Into the roaring brine.
The moon as if in panic grief
Darts through the clouds on high,
Blown like a wild autumnal leaf
Across the wilder sky.
The gusty rain is driving fast,
And through the rain we hear,
Above the equinoctial blast,
The thunder of the Weir.
The voices of the wind and rain
Wail echoing through my heart--
That love is ever dogged by pain
And fondest souls must part.
You made heart's summer, O my friend,
But now we bid adieu,
There will be winter without end
And tears for ever new.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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ll Be crying
'll Be crying tears if some of my wounds heal
'll Be crying crying child lost compassion
'll Be crying to wipe some tears filled my grief
'll be crying and the tears stream around me
'll Be crying'll be crying and the remainder of my life
'll be crying to drown in my tears
'll Be crying in the coffin and bury my grief
'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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The Dead Dont Cry
the dead dont cry,
they weep...
for the undone deeds
of the living...
for the work not finished,
the cup left half-empty,
the song that no one heard.
for the deaf ears,
and the blinded eyes.
for the callous heart,
the spirit left in chains.
for the house half finished,
and the home abandoned.
for the love left holding
the purse, and the scar!
for the holy child
born out of wedlock...
for the table left empty,
the chairs that long and pine.
for the touch that failed,
the quivering lip unseen.
for the pot left empty,
and the fire untended.
for the bodies walking
who have no face...
for the latched door,
and the candle unlit...
the dead dont cry,
they weep...
and the sound of their weeping
shakes the earth!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Taper In The Storm
All our smiles, chats
Amorous talk.
Faded with the
Time's subtle walk.
No lust, no grief,
But parting song-
Is heard, my dear
From distance long.
Much blood oozed out
From scarlet heart,
Let get dried
Let be it blurred.
Silence' wide mouth,
Nibbling my past;
Storm of minutes
Now spreading vast.
The taper mind
With sinking flame
Will be flown to
Death's own dark realm.
How long can I
Stand still alone
In strong wind and
In hatred zone?
Lonesome days cry,
In nothingness.
Let death and me
Meet face to face!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Mystery Obscured
Far away from nothing,
The trees in the sky is what I see.
I hear the wind - it's coming,
Stirring up the pine trees.
I hear the ocean behind -
Smell salt in the air.
The wind it finally reaches me,
Mixing pine with salt air.
The sky is steely grey,
The sun obscured by clouds.
It casts a mysterious light,
On trees and ocean alike.
poem by Aimee Nell
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The wind calls no one by their name
The wind calls no one by their name-
But howls and howls, before it wane.
Awakens at the dark of moon,
Circling mountains in the gloom,
Whistling high it's sovereign song-
That no one's on earth for long.
The wind has syllables unknown,
And for millenia has blown
Its keening cry, out on the plains,
Its fearsome dirge, that sounds like pain-
If you would learn the ways of wind,
All your days on earth would end.
The wind's capricious and alone,
And of true loneliness, it moans;
It knows no warmth of company,
But bland caresses of the trees.
The wind could take you far away-
To where no words could ever say.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Groaning The Blues
(by willie dixon)
Im so tired of moaning, trying to groan away my blues.
Im so tired of moaning, trying to groan away my blues.
I keep weeping and crying every time I think of you.
I would rather die of starvation, perish out in the desert sun,
I would rather die of starvation, perish out in the desert sun,
Than to think of some other man holding you in his arms.
My heart gets so heavy, lord I shakes down in my bones.
My heart gets so heavy, lord I shakes down in my bones.
I cant hurt a murderer, oh lord, but Im forced to weep and moan.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Favourite Sounds
Waves crashing against rocks
the rain on windows
birds chirping in the trees
leaves crunching underfoot.
Church bells in the distance
the crackling of a fire
a child's laughter
a loved ones voice.
Treading on snow
the purring of a cat
whistle of the wind
a favourite song.
The sound of silence.
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Last of his Tribe
He crouches, and buries his face on his knees,
And hides in the dark of his hair;
For he cannot look up to the storm-smitten trees,
Or think of the loneliness there -
Of the loss and the loneliness there.
The wallaroos grope through the tufts of the grass,
And turn to their coverts for fear;
But he sits in the ashes and lets them pass
Where the boomerangs sleep with the spear -
With the nullah, the sling and the spear.
Uloola, behold him! The thunder that breaks
On the tops of the rocks with the rain,
And the wind which drives up with the salt of the lakes,
Have made him a hunter again -
A hunter and fisher again.
For his eyes have been full with a smouldering thought;
But he dreams of the hunts of yore,
And of foes that he sought, and of fights that he fought
With those who will battle no more -
Who will go to the battle no more.
It is well that the water which tumbles and fills
Goes moaning and moaning along;
For an echo rolls out from the sides of the hills,
And he starts at a wonderful song -
At the sound of a wonderful song.
And he sees through the rents of the scattering fogs
The corroboree warlike and grim,
And the lubra who sat by the fire on the logs,
To watch, like a mourner, for him -
Like a mother and mourner for him.
Will he go in his sleep from these desolate lands,
Like a chief, to the rest of his race,
With the honey-voiced woman who beckons and stands,
And gleams like a dream in his face -
Like a marvellous dream in his face?
poem by Henry Kendall
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Weltschmerz
my hands are always small
enough to cover
a weeping face, my body too frail
to stay at the corner of one
hospital where one by one
the friends of friends are dying...
my heart too tiny for grief,
the universe is grief, and the stars are too small to appease the tears of rain...
my feet are always not enough
for the thorns
the rocks
my brain is a tiny speck of dust
to the howling storm of misunderstanding
i wish i had enough space to scatter whatever i have
till i am finished with this
struggle for emptiness...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Block City
What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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