Submersible
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? Psalm 42
Down from twilight into dark at noon,
through darker, down until the black
could not be more devoid of star
or sunlight, o my soul, near freezing
in sub-photic stillness past
the fragile strands of glowing jelly
radiant with tentacles to sting,
and bioluminescent lures of anglers,
down where water beading on the cold hatch
overhead has sheathed in dewdrops
the titanium, past dragonfish
with nightlights set into their heads
and flanks, past unlit cruisers,
blackcod, owl fish, eelpout, skate,
where spider crabs, arms long as mine,
on creamy prongs drift floodlit
over the pillow lava, here,
our craft has taken us where no one
could have come till now but corpses.
poem by Brooks Haxton
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Related quotes
Time Long Past
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past.
A tone which is now forever fled,
A hope which is now forever past,
A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past.
There were sweet dreams in the night
Of Time long past:
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last--
That Time long past.
There is regret, almost remorse,
For Time long past.
'Tis like a child's belovèd corse
A father watches, till at last
Beauty is like remembrance, cast
From Time long past.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Barnacles
My soul is sailing through the sea,
But the Past is heavy and hindereth me.
The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells
That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells
About my soul.
The huge waves wash, the high waves roll,
Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole
And hindereth me from sailing!
Old Past let go, and drop i' the sea
Till fathomless waters cover thee!
For I am living but thou art dead;
Thou drawest back, I strive ahead
The Day to find.
Thy shells unbind! Night comes behind,
I needs must hurry with the wind
And trim me best for sailing.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Leaping Salmon
I will not dream another's sweet musings
when the truth is only partly known
the fruit is so sweet but of another knowledge
but face my own full on
naked in the darkness
and recognise that which has never been shown before
and dream it as my own
I will not share you with another
I cannot
for their knowledge would lack the spice of experience
I am the silver salmon driving out of the peat black water into the
daylight
Rising rising
timeless and heavy
Falling backwards into the darkness
I am inside you rising up through the water feeling the water rush past
my
flanks
light flickers above
Searching for the head waters
They are there. I smell them
Peatiness all round
I hold your flanks
Pass my hands to your front, beneath your gills
fingers just apart
sensing your power running past my fingers
Silver water running through my fingers
Pass my hands down your sides
Sense the water passing over my skin
Surges rising up
geysers of water silver spume
The salmon rises
My beautiful salmon, you rise and explode gasping in the electric air
showers of jewels tremble in the sunlight
the sound of a thousand water falls
The pinky darkness of your open mouth
catching the irresdecent droplets
Your flanks tremble in the sun
and fall
back into the enveloping water
bubbles rise
Dark fish sinks into the velvet darkness
Still Still Swish Still
Held like a chalice
poem by Anthony Dalby
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Hymn
At morn- at noon- at twilight dim-
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and woe- in good and ill-
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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White Letters On Green Green Grass
Never had he spoken of what they saw
He’d held it back- his emotions raw
Until this day when it came to pass
He found the name etched in black glass
Before that wall he found himself kneeling
Couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling
His ravaged soul opened up at last
As long-buried memories flooded from the past
Black ink against the paper lined
On and on as he spoke his mind
Comrades-in-arms; friends ‘till the last
White letter on green green grass…..
His tears spilled and on the paper fell
As he wrote it all down; describing their hell
Fevered and hard; the words came fast
Purging his soul as he relived their past
Black ink against the paper lined
On and on as he spoke his mind
Comrades-in-arms; friends till the last
White letter on green green grass…..
poem by Julie Dant
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EVEnt Attained - Eve Entertained
The night before was dark and drear
the morrow darker would appear,
and yet, and yet, could shadows pass
when contest changes life at last?
The night before, spent, as I said,
from bed to dread from dread to bed,
clouds pillow-billowed overcast,
light overhead fled fleet and fast.
The night before, reared insincere
head ugly, no dream-future clear
could lighten load, elastoplast
afford my hide-bound mind’s repast.
The night before was long and wear,
as faulty as a salty tear, -
a tear tear followed, which aghast
grieves universe, Earth’s dearth surpassed.
by night to come that nowhere led,
no motive true to stay ahead,
as night before led from the past
to nowhere – horror scope forecast.
The night before’s forgot! Instead
to joy sublime time's rhyme chime’s wed,
to trophy rich which at long last
plays switch stitch lines, may from cold blast
defend end chill, will lend to head,
a heart resprung, soul whole, sheet spread.
Yet don’t forget such sharp contrast
between what followed and the past
so precious seems that outline here
might make Gods jealous, so we'll steer
from story few’d believe outclassed, -
leave each to judge through insight vast...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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Meganom
1
Still far the asphodels,
grey-transparent Spring.
Meanwhile, the sand rustles,
the wave foams.
But here, like Persephone,
my soul joins the gentle circle,
and in the realm of the dead,
there were no seductive, sunburnt arms.
2
Why do we trust the boat
with the heaviness of the funerary urn,
and conclude the festival of black roses
over amethystine water?
My soul rushes there,
to the cloudy cape of Meganom,
and from there the black sail will return
after the funeral.
3
How quickly clouds rush by
in a sunless row and
flakes of black roses drift
under this windy moon.
And, a bird of death and sobbing,
the enormous flag of remembrance
is dragged along the mournful border
behind a cypress stern.
4
The sorrowful fan of past years
unfolds with a rustle.
My soul rushes there,
to the cloudy cape of Meganom,
where with dark trembling,
an amulet was buried in the sand,
and from there the black sail will return
after the funeral.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Three Men Walking
Three men walking
Along the roadside
One after another
Wearing weird caps
In the dark
The town asleep
Some traffic
Street lights
And cold
Silhouettes
Trees
Roots whirling
Some visible others hiding
Some past events
The three men
Talking to themselves
And to each other too
Smell of hey
Some old friends
The three men
Still walking
One after another
A young boy
Runs past
All covered up
Without socks
A cat with long tail
And a dog
Waiting for something to eat
Common cause
The boy
Collects rotten fruit
In a bag
Whose cause?
The three men walking
A young girl
Beaten
Cries
Selling flowers
A man with a gun
A watchman
Destroys her flowers
Water
Red colored
And black too
Going down a small stream
Blood is red
And water black
The three men
Further, into the darkness of the streets
Their caps
Water enters the shoes
Cold water
And black water
And then into the restaurant
The three men
With weird caps
Some people in the restaurant
Long faced small faced
Tired and worried
The three men
Looking from above a cabin
Some boys
And burgers
Water and tea
A common cause
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The Dread Voyage
1 Trim the sails the weird stars under—
2 Past the iron hail and thunder,
3 Past the mystery and the wonder,
4 Sails our fated bark;
5 Past the myriad voices hailing,
6 Past the moaning and the wailing,
7 The far voices failing, failing,
8 Drive we to the dark.
9 Past the headlands grim and sombre,
10 Past the shores of mist and slumber,
11 Leagues on leagues no man may number,
12 Soundings none can mark;
13 While the olden voices calling,
14 One by one behind are falling;
15 Into silence dread, appalling,
16 Drift we to the dark.
17 Far behind, the sad eyes yearning,
18 Hands that wring for our returning,
19 Lamps of love yet vainly burning:
20 Past the headlands stark!
21 Through the wintry snows and sleeting,
22 On our pallid faces beating,
23 Through the phantom twilight fleeting,
24 Drive we to the dark.
25 Without knowledge, without warning,
26 Drive we to no lands of morning;
27 Far ahead no signals horning
28 Hail our nightward bark.
29 Hopeless, helpless, weird, outdriven,
30 Fateless, friendless, dread, unshriven,
31 For some race-doom unforgiven,
32 Drive we to the dark.
33 Not one craven or unseemly;
34 In the flare-light gleaming dimly,
35 Each ghost-face is watching grimly:
36 Past the headlands stark!
37 Hearts wherein no hope may waken,
38 Like the clouds of night wind-shaken,
39 Chartless, anchorless, forsaken,
40 Drift we to the dark.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Sancta Maria
Sancta Maria! turn thine eyes -
Upon the sinner's sacrifice,
Of fervent prayer and humble love,
From thy holy throne above.
At morn - at noon - at twilight dim -
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and wo - in good and ill -
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the Hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Dyes Cast
Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.
A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.
Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.
Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.
Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.
His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.
The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.
‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’
27 December 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Street Crab
First Ill panic quick and listen
To advice
Agree to anything and try to be
Too nice
Then my skin flakes, another allergy
Im not making sense, just
Ignore me
Thirst I had at last
Run the water
Shut my mouth and run past
Whats the matter?
Street crabs buy it fast
Infect the water
Safe and sound like the perfect food
Ice the beer, its east to feel good
What was that you said? I thought
I heard my name but
Every street crab will push the
Vowels the same
Thist I had at last
Run the water
Shut my mouth and run past
Whats the matter?
Street crabs buy in fast
Infect the water
song performed by by Helmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing For A Friend
when you go to fish
go fishing for the finest kind
which good anglers always do.
if you're looking for a fine fish
you must choose the purest lake
in which good anglers fish.
if you catch a fine fish
try not to let it get away
good anglers real them in.
you must bring your fish home
a fine fish will quench your hunger
after a long day fishing.
(January,2010, Omar Ibrahim)
(revised by MR.Ronald Peat)
poem by Omar Ibrahim
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Between you and sports
Skating is the lost dream
that I once had
the one that was never with you
but always in my mind.
Swimming is to come back to the past
the moment where I first met you
that's why to be in water
means to see you by my side.
So I remember the water
with fresh splashes
and the wonderful sight of you
swimming along the pool.
Then I'll go
deep under the sea
and go over a great slope
to skate through my dreams
and be under the water to refresh my soul
walking always along streams
poem by Maria Jose Cid Velazquez
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A Warning
the sea knows how to dream
and dream
it will
still dream about a jellyfish
a flesh
of a jelly fish, and it will sleep and think
about this dream of more flesh
and sting
and fling
its salt like the tentacles of the jellyfish
to the fish
and the sea urchins
and starfish begin their journey to the shores
where desire stops but does not end
i am the sea and i dream about her tentacles
her flesh
and the pain
in my skin
the needles of the urchin
and the hardness of the starfish and the shore
where i lay
to desires that do not end
to loves lost to wishes that it may regain again
sea dreams sea pains sea urchins
the boat on fire and the captain drowning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work Overtime Turbo Drive
long overdue
a well earned rest
about to sleep,
sweet sweet well earned sleep,
my eyes can hardly peep
about to hit my pillow,
think instant sleep sublime,
will caress my soul be bedtime mine
I will heartily wallow,
in gentle sleeps slumber pastime,
this rest of tired mind be chime downtime fine
long long past,
sleep sleep past early dawn time,
long overdue this hard nightime earned recline
peacetime nest so welcomed
this rest among clime blessed
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Royal Heads Went Rolling
Down the pebbled path in town the royal heads went rolling,
Past the boys and past the girls and past the couples strolling,
Though new heads grew to take their place and continued to oppress,
For empowered fools will always rule the pools of powerless.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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A full red moon hangs in the night sky
A full red moon
hangs in the night sky
and birds fly past in silhouette
and the leopard
in my soul jumps out
to take the tract
and roars resounding in the dark night
and sneaks, sneaks past
till where you wait for me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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