Herman Melville
‘My towers at last!’—
What meant the word
from what acknowledged circuit sprung
and in the heart and on the tongue
at sight of few familiar birds
when seaward his last sail unfurled
to leeward from the wheel once more
bloomed the pale crags of haunted shore
that once-more-visited notch of world:
and straight he knew as known before
the Logos in Leviathan’s roar
he deepest sounding with his lead
who all had fathomed all had said.
Much-loving hero—towers indeed
were those that overhung your log
with entries of typhoon and fog
and thunderstone for Adam’s breed:
man’s warm Sargasso Sea of faith
dislimned in light by luck or fate
you for mankind set sail by hate
and weathered it, and with it death.
And now at world’s end coasting late
in dolphined calms beyond the gate
which Hercules flung down, you come
to the grim rocks that nod you home.
Depth below depth this love of man:
among unnumbered and unknown
to mark and make his cryptic own
one landfall of all time began:
of all life’s hurts to treasure one
and hug it to the wounded breast,
in this to dedicate the rest,
all injuries received or done.
Your towers again but towers now blest
your haven in a shoreless west
o mariner of the human soul
who in the landmark notched the Pole
and in the Item loved the Whole.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Related quotes
Voyage to the Depth
Voyage to the Depth
By: Adam M. Snow
Woe unto us, one of many,
Yet was not the foe-of any-
Unto us the storm crashing tides,
But to sail on, voyage to the depth.
I envy Seas, whereon we rides-
By thee captain side, I stand tall.
Waves crashing upon the haul,
The creaks of soaked oaken rot.
A sound throughout the ship had caught.
Tossing and turning, the ship sailed not.
The thoughts of death upon us all,
Among this time, we all stand tall.
We await the time calming sea,
To sail this voyage once again.
We know not the curse may be,
But we know to sail on to the depth.
None-the-less to live on dreaming,
As we sail the moonlit tides gleaming.
A glistening light in the far distance,
Our only hope to our existence.
That might prove useful and yet never proves.
Closer we are, the further it moves.
Lest not give up hope,
For many should cope.
A journey seen fit till the end.
I should not dare to leave my friend,
But if we do not see the shore again,
I make mend of my very sin.
But the stormy seas rages still,
This voyage ceases to thrill.
Lightning clashes throughout the sky.
A time like this, all things must die.
Journey on to that dark horizon,
Until our bodies rot and wizen
All but I am sickened for home,
Out at sea, do we roam.
Many are ill since lost at sea,
All now knows what our curse may be.
Traveled the world, many times till now,
Onto the depth, our soul soon sail.
We leave behind our eternal vow,
Our promise to return to our love somehow.
We now sail down the river Styx,
Free from the havoc ocean tides.
Lost at sea, not a month but six,
As we leave behind our many brides.
Our vision's clearer than ever before,
Our voyage ends, not a glimpse of shore.
Our soul sails on, unto the abyss,
Our life's voyage went amiss.
We leave behind a story untold,
Many a child to whom never hold.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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A Bad Day In September
People woke up on a September day
Not knowing what price they would pay
The Twin Towers stood so tall
Who ever knew they would fall
Reaching high, up to the sky
People lived and people died
There was smoke, people screaming
What the heck, was I dreaming?
Planes hit the towers
In the early morning dawn
Everyone knew something was wrong
Chaos, confusion, aghast, looks of fright
Running screaming terror in sight
Where were you on the day?
Where you there?
Did you stop and stare?
Stare in shock?
Stare and scream?
People were fighting to get free
Families calling on the phone
Hoping to hear “I’ll be home”
Instead they heard
“I love you and goodbye”
Give my kids a kiss
And tell them they will be missed
Once twin towers
Now ground zero
We’d like to say
“Your our hero”
To all the hero’s
How brave you are
Risking your life
For one for all
We want to say
Thank you god bless!
You’re the best
People woke up on that September day
Not knowing what price they would pay
Our lives are forever changed
But are faith and freedom
Will stay the same
poem by Emmy Huffman
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Love's Bower.
On the white bosom, 'tween the breasts
Of Helen Love has made his bower,
As in a sweet and secret tower
Where mid the world's decay he rests —
A bridegroom in his dream's desire
With the imperial bride whose brow
Is great with beauty now,
Whose eyes have the old fire
That in their passion's joy
Burnt to a cinder on the towers of Troy!
All youths and virgins may go there,
And thence their hearts as torches light,
Fragrant and fresh as new-born air
In the old world's serenest might —
May learn from Love and his warm mate
The secret of the tender tune
Of that long honeymoon,
That like the fire of Fate
Still in their passion's joy
Burns to a cinder on the towers of Troy!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Ultima Thule: Elegiac
Dark is the morning with mist; in the narrow mouth of the harbor
Motionless lies the sea, under its curtain of cloud;
Dreamily glimmer the sails of ships on the distant horizon,
Like to the towers of a town, built on the verge of the sea.
Slowly and stately and still, they sail forth into the ocean;
With them sail my thoughts over the limitless deep,
Farther and farther away, borne on by unsatisfied longings,
Unto Hesperian isles, unto Ausonian shores.
Now they have vanished away, have disappeared in the ocean;
Sunk are the towers of the town into the depths of the sea!
All have vanished but those that, moored in the neighboring
roadstead,
Sailless at anchor ride, looming so large in the mist.
Vanished, too, are the thoughts, the dim, unsatisfied longings;
Sunk are the turrets of cloud into the ocean of dreams;
While in a haven of rest my heart is riding at anchor,
Held by the chains of love, held by the anchors of trust!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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From the exterior face of the wall towers must be projected, from which an approaching enemy may be annoyed by weapons, from the embrasures of those towers, right and left.
quote by Marcus V. Pollio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon This Wide Water, For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985, Manhattan
.
'On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are
more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.'
- Walt Whitman, from 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry'
1
Upon this wide water, Whitman's bay, wandering
outward toward Eastward windings -
Upon this white-starred charted bay we ride
gray with midnight leaning toward the Towers**
distant growing, stalking, yellow and glowing,
mimicing the stars -
Our eyes stare tearing,
seawind pushes lids to slits.
We glimmer. Lights shimmer
ahead and above,
and still we cry -
the wind.
The ferry, furtive, floats the edge of Manhatta.
There's power pushing against the bow,
riptides to the rear, but we go on,
approach sleepily, enamored of gin and
the beds we will make again and again
pulling sheets tighter. This stretching water
safe-keeps the light of eyes and the city there-
Upon the water's wide skirt one will, quiet,
lift up a hand to the spray, sway for love,
and pray for the world -
A dark tern unfurls from the sail
of a starboard yacht, flirts once with
the silhouette extended upon the wave,
then leaves, an under-turning rail or rudder
sinking in the ferrier's wake.
Each night there must be one, out there,
on the deck, supplicating in boozy tongue,
oozing heart-love all over, spurning the way
things go down in the world, cheap spindrift
the cranes know of, dipping their bloated beaks
to the waves. And he must dip his head, braying,
with his hands motioning to the night -
Away! Away!
[**World Trade Towers]
poem by Warren Falcon
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Courage
Even when the greatest ship
of her time
sank in a sea of ice,
even when man’s
reach into outer space
exploded with his rocket ship
in a ball of orange flame,
still the human spirit
did arise to sail the sea again
and to set his mark on the moon.
Above all disasters, setbacks and impediments
courage towers to infinity.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Twin Towers
When I was but a tiny child
Back when the world was new
My parents like twin towers stood
And everything was true
My father died at Eighty one
Peacefully asleep
My mother lived ten years alone
In the house up from main Street
The Century turned over then
In the new millennium
When Mother in the nursing home
reached her journey’s end.
Your first impulse must be to cry
When towers fall, when people die
If Brick and stone- you build anew
If of flesh- the monument is you.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Pantun - Twin Towers Kuala Lumpur
KL Twin Towers mencakar langit minda
rakyat dan negara bersepadu
tegak, cerah, lurus, berwibawa
mencapai matlamat dengan laju
Twin Towers touches the sky of our mind
the people and country together
strong, bright, straight and credible
working towards a vision with speed
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Twin Towers in the Clouds
They rose above the Clouds
as my charter passed downtown.
An April day dawning,
thirty thousand feet from ground.
It was as if they, alone, had been spared
And all New York was gone.
The future was quite different,
Something I could not have known.
Two other planes approaching
on a clear September morn.
changed utterly, the world;
Twin Towers, smoking, gone.
The death of one or several men
Might barely give us pause,
but as we read two thousand names
We’re still fighting two wars.
Peace continues to elude us
No matter whom we catch or kill.
Sometimes, in dreams, I think I see
the towers standing still.
But in the cold grey light of morning
I know I never will.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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When they released Sidewalks of New York, there were some shots with the towers they were going to take out, and Ed told them no. I don't think they can deny the towers were a part of New York.
quote by Dennis Farina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unknown God
The President to Kingdoms,
As in the Days of Old;
The King to the Republic,
As it had been foretold.
They could not read the spelling,
They would not hear the call;
They would not brook the telling
Of Writing on the Wall.
I buy my Peace with Slaughter,
With Peace I fashion War;
I drown the land with water,
With land I build the shore.
I walk with Son and Daughter
Where Ocean rolled before.
I build a town where sea was
A tower where tempests roar.
From bays in distant islands,
And rocks in lonely seas,
With unseen Death in silence
I smite mine enemies!
The great Cathedral crashes
Where once a city stood;
I build again on ashes
And breed on clotted blood!
I link the seas together,
And at my sign and will
The train runs on the ocean bed,
The great ship climbs the hill!
For pastime I flood deserts
With water from the rill;
And in my tireless leisure hours
I empty lakes, and fill.
I plumb the seas beneath us
And fathom skies above,
Yet I make Peace for hatred
And I make War for love.
I race beneath the ranges
And sit where Mystery dwells—
Yet mankind sees no changes,
They ask for “miracles!”
I own the world and span its
Lone lands from Pole to Pole;
I live in other planets,
Yet do not know my soul—
The soul that none may fathom,
Whose secrets none may tell,
The soul that none may humble,
The Soul Unconquerable!
I am the God of Ages!
I am the Unknown God!
My life is written pages
Wherever man hath trod.
From bounds of Polar regions,
To where the Desert reigns,
I’ve left my myriad legions
On countless vanished plains.
And I shall reign for ever
On earth while oceans roll,
In shape of man, or woman,
Through my immortal soul;
Yet I can love and suffer,
Be angry, or be mild,
And I can bow me down and weep
Just like a mortal child.
I conquer Death and Living,
And Fiends in shape of men,
For I rejoice in giving
Not to receive again.
For I am Man!—and Mortal!
And Mammon’s Towers must fall,
Though Greed draws all his pencils through
The Writing on the Wall!
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Way Lifes Meant To Be
Well, I came a long way to be here today
And I left you so long on this avenue
And here I stand in the strangest land
Not knowing what to say or do
As I gaze around at these strangers in town
I guess the only stranger is me
And I wonder (yes, I wonder)
Yes, I wonder (oh, I wonder)
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
Although its only a day since I was taken away
And left standing here looking in wonder
(its your life, its your life)
Ah, the ground at my feet, maybe its just the old street
But everything that I know lies under
(its your life, its your life)
And when I see what theyve done
To this place that was home
Shame is all that I feel
Oh, and I wonder (oh, I wonder)
Yes, I wonder (wonder, wonder, wonder, wonder)
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
Too late, too late to cry
The people say
Too late for you, too late for me
Youve come so far, now you know everything my friend
Look and see the wonders of our world...
And I wonder (oh, I wonder)
Yes, I wonder (yes, I wonder)
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
As I wander around this wreck of a town
Where people never speak aloud
With its ivory towers and its plastic flowers
I wish I was back in 1981
Just to see your face instead of this place
Now I know what you mean to me
And I wonder (oh, I wonder)
Yes, I wonder (yes, I wonder)
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
And I wonder (oh, I wonder)
Yes, I wonder, wonder, wonder, wonder
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
Ooohh, I wonder
Oh, I wonder, wonder, wonder
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
Oh, is this the way lifes meant to be?
Mmmmm, is this the way lifes meant to be?
I wanna know now
Is this the way lifes meant to be?
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Works - What Is The Depth Of A Man
What is the depth of a man,
what makes him courageous
in front of mortal fears
or walk straight and tall
when his eyes are blinded with tears?
What is the depth of a man
what gives him the spark
deep in his heart
to do good
when only evil surrounds him.
What is the depth of a man
that can’t be conquered
is it the love of a woman
is it loyalty
or is it the belief that each man should be free.
What is the depth of a man?
Date unknown, probably late 1960’s
poem by David Harris
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Inscriptions: II: For A Statue Of Chaucer At Woodstock
Such was old Chaucer. such the placid mien
Of him who first with harmony inform'd
The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt
For many a cheerful day. these ancient walls
Have often heard him, while his legends blithe
He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles
Of homely life: through each estate and age,
The fashions and the follies of the world
With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance
From Blenheim's towers, o stranger, thou art come
Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain
Dost thou applaud them, if thy breast be cold
To him, this other hero; who, in times
Dark and untaught, began with charming verse
To tame the rudeness of his native land.
poem by Mark Akenside
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Women Of Courage
Women of courage, women of strength ,
Women of faith and devotion.
Mothers of children with spirits so strong
Who may have unbridled imaginations. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ ring His love on all those they greet. Women with losses, women who love,
Whose strength and whose courage comes from above,
Whether they're mothers; or loving Aunties,
It's plain to see Jesus’ love shines through them. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ring His love on all those they greet. Women I work with, women I know,
Whether at church, or other places I go.
Women whose spirits are battered by pain,
But Christ lifts them up, and they go on again. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ring His love on all those they greet.
poem by Kathy L. Goings
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Jump To Heaven
Hijacked planes flown into, for terror attack;
A heart shrilling scene, impossible to forget:
the view of smoking and blazing towers;
rising from both sides, flames of the fire.
Stood aghast watching buildings burn;
People disbelieved, shrieked and stunned.
Some people trapped on the floors of upper,
towers collapsed, sending plume of dust into air.
Many chose to jump instead of dying from fire
Sky looked raining human rather than water;
Though they knew the path they had chosen
Was also leading via earth to the same heaven.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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The Indolent Mist of Autumn
The indolent mist of autumn at last dispersed…
It hovers between the towers, like the incense full of dreams
That will linger in the naves after the most solemn Mass;
And it sleeps like cloth spread on the dejected, grey ramparts.
It comes unfolded then folds back on itself, like a wing
In imperceptible motion, yet incessant, in the fog;
All is shaded to a blur and turns slightly divine,
As beneath the pallid brushing, all is vague and lost in dreams.
All is a shade of grey, cloaked in the colour of fog:
The sky with its ancient pinions, the water and the poplars,
Old friends, reconciled, so easily, with the haze of the past autumn,
Like all things that will soon be nothing but the faintest memory.
The victorious mist, against the pale depth of air,
Has diluted even the accustomed towers,
Whose grey thoughts are now gone forever,
Like some vague dream, or a geometry of vapour.
poem by Georges Rodenbach
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There's Nothing One Can Say Against Goodbye
i never knew it would be like this
a certain always or a deja vue
seen too many times but hurts just the same
i keep saying it's ok
and it is it really is
'cos one cannot make anybody
anybody stay
and there's nothing one can do
against goodbye
i live, you know, at the joints
in the pack of cards towers
that turn down too easily i know
i have never learned to build solidly
i know it all serves me right
my fault is sort of my way of the world
and it's ok
it really is
'cos one cannot make anybody
anybody love you
and there's nothing one can do
against goodbye
i never knew i could draw a heart again
a certain heart always a deja vue
hit too many times but beats just the same
i keep saying it's ok
it'll beat again
there'll be lots of love around
even without me
or my first or last times
there'll be lots of love around
even without you
or your first and last goodbye
and there's nothing one can say
against that
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Birds Never Sang Or Flew
The dawn awoke one morning
to start a day brand new
but there was something wrong
outside no birds sang or flew.
The skies that normally teamed with life
on the day before
now fell silent empty and abandoned
by all that flew there.
While in a great city
twin towers crumpled into dust,
its plumes of agony stretched
high up in the air for the world to see
that a new demon with a cancerous soul
was about to scourge the earth
to corrupt others to follow him
into the damnation of hell.
Was this the Armageddon that was prophesied,
in which the world as we know it died?
As the tentacles of this demon,
who dressed as a man
stretched around the world
penetrating every land.
Hence, the battle of good against evil began
in the day of infamy known simply as 9/11.
In the days that followed as no planes flew,
no birds sang or took to the skies
as if in a mark of respect from them to
for those who had fallen
in this demons evil plan.
13 October 2009
Author’s note:
Following the horror of 9/11 when all the planes around the world were grounded a strange phenomena occurred. For all the time the planes were grounded the world seemed absent of birds. My late brother brought it to my attention and when I looked, he was right. I did not see or hear a bird until the planes few again.
poem by David Harris
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