En.Citatepedia^®.ro

All Hail Breaks Loose

Mere mortals mill around all so panicky,
Whilst mountain top bubbles volcanically,
But bleak horizon weather stirs a good story,
Cloud shrouded Olympus spits its godly fury,
Hera shrieks name slander blunderdolt,
Zeus hurls godfire levin and thunderbolt,
Wife’s anguish and infidelity distress,
Husband caught again with another mistress,
Crunched teeth seethe, causing stormy behaviour,
Bellowed voice inhales cold condensed vapour,
Feminine wrath extirpates any chance of a truce,
Assailed thunderous inveigh is let loose,
Whipped up frosty voice unleashes a cold gale,
Showering mortal heads with heaven’s hail,
Zeus’ teeth knocked out of divine jaw,
And laid out cold upon Olympian floor,
Hera’s power-coiled fist, so sorely felt,
Left peasants wondering why the hail didn’t melt!

poem by Dale Mullock
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We'll Soon Be Dust

Heaven knows we'll soon be dust
And your wealth shall all be lost.
.
Who could admit the folly on Olympus?
Who could quench forever the
thirst of Zeus' sexual lust.
Who could stop Hera from
being so jealous?
Why should Hades be so greedy.

All these I do not know.

But a man must learn to extend
his love.
For tomorrow, there shall be no
World we could call our own.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Don't Sympathize

Why I detest sympathy
It revives hurtful memories
Those days that are sad,
Let them go with my past.
Don't remind me of my misery
They are now my history
Those friends I have hurt
I am human, I was only wrong
Even Olympus knew no love
Zeus lived in sexual lust
Hera was too jealous
Prometheus should rule Olympus
Zeus should be chained
For goodness sake, let him wail
Tiresias should not be so blinded
Oedipus shouldn't have left
Lius should have abdicated
And his throne coveted,
The Sphinx shouldn't have
had a riddle
She should be a pawn in our fiddle.
These are histories
They shouldn't conflict with
our mysteries
They should be buried in
the tomb of Herodotus.
And today, I am glad we have a God
Who's world itself is love;
And we all know He's perfect in all.
In my life I had never been an epigone
But great men have inspired me
To them I will forever be grateful
And to my God, I'll be faithful.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Shivery

This cold cold weather, bids me not
to energetic spree
I stand and shiver, wondering how
To warm that cold cold me

If only I could make a start
It would not be bad it seems.
But somehow I just linger on
And do it, in my dreams.

My ideas are brilliant
They are plain to see
But ho, this cold cold weather
Does waste my time for me.

poem by Mary Gore
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Zeus

Zeus has a normal life
Two children and a loving wife
Yet he feels his days crappy
He never is really happy!
Zeus likes his wife on his side
And when the children on his shoulder ride
Yet he feels he’s missing something
In nothing of these he’s getting the zing!
Zeus’ head wants to remain rational
But down there pricks the monster carnal
Goading him to break free
Telling him ‘you are not happy’!
Zeus after a prolonged strife
Breaks the shackle blows the fife
Other women with madness he hounds
Crazed with the blindness this world abounds!
Zeus wakes up to the riddle at last
That happiness cannot come out of lust
It’s always there in a normal life
Two children and a loving wife!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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The coldest of the cold?

A greedy person’s Cold ambition
Or could it be Cold windy nights
The pureness of Cold clear water
Or the alien aspect of Cold neon lights

The careless Cold shoulder
The unfeeling Cold heart
The curse of Cold nature
Cold hands held apart

Could it be Cold feet
Could it be cold fears
Could it be cold weather
Or icy cold ears

Even above cold blood…
Even above… being apart
My choice of all, above, Would be
the unfeeling…of a cold, cold heart

poem by David Whalen
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Arabian Disco

Has it been so long?
Do you think we know?
Do you think we care?
Die...for the here and now
Do you remember why?
Do you remember how?
Face .... out
Stick your chest .... out
Stomach .... in
Thats right
Do you really know
Where the harems go
In the desert snow? hail,
An oasis dream doesnt really seem
To mean a thing when youre out .... cold
So, hands .... up
Put your guards .... up
Feet .... down
Up .... down
Forward .... march
Left .... right
Cold .... cold
I feel cold

song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lingers

shotgun shells,
and kentucky bourbon;
long howling nights,
bound by the moon/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.

the fiddle weeps,
while the mandolin prays.
old hat pulled down,
feet dance to the sound/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood...
lingers...

broke down and busted,
carried by the darkness.
fists pound the walls,
but there's no one home/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
woman, smell and touch,
sucks the light from empty.
she rolls me over,
cries out like a cat/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Four Seasons In One Day

Yesterday it was twenty degrees or so
And this morning it feels cold enough to snow
But Melbourne weather known to be that way
The place you get four Seasons in one day.

In mid morning a heavy shower of rain
And then the warming sun shine out again
And later on the wind blow to a gale
Accompanied by heavy showers of hail.

And quick as the hail storm came it then subside
This Melbourne weather like Jekyll and Hyde
The morning fine could make a sunny day
But will it rain? how can one ever say.

In Melbourne in the early days of Spring
As weather goes you expect anything
The morning fine but take your hat and coat
As four seasons in one day it has been wrote.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Cold and Alone

Cold and alone,
Shrouded by mist,
Frozen and desolate,
An isolated tundra sits, and waits,

Cold and alone,
Intimidating to humans,
A lonely snow-capped mountain,
In the middle of nowhere,

Cold and alone,
As the night wades on,
Screaming endlessly,
But drowned out by the howling wind,

Cold and alone,
Lost forever,
Encased in ice and snow,
Never to be discovered,

Cold and alone,
Hope’s candle flickering,
Buried for eternity,
Cold and alone.

poem by Blue Jay
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King of Sorrow

I am that king of sorrow
Who owns no hope
For a better tomorrow
We all live and die in sorrow,
Dear Christ, it's you we follow.
If a life that I could borrow.
.
I would borrow that of America,
And lend it to my beloved Africa.
If I am privileged to meet with a president,
I would like to meet with Barack Obama,
And tell him how much I like his government.

Our leaders should learn from example,
For Adam can't find for himself another apple
That garden had already been lost to Lucifer.
And Eve is yet another Pandora.
.
Who dared admit the folly on Olympus,
Who could quench the thirst
of Zeus' sexual lust,
Who would blame Hera for
Being so jealous.
.
This world of ours is so perfectly unfair,
There are tales, and tales of Hell still unheard.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Hera

I am Hera,
And you may know me
As the queen of the gods,
And as Zeus's wife.

Despite what they say about me,
I do not really like my husband,
For he is a real jerk.
I mean, he gives all this
Attention to other women,
And never gives any attention
To me.

It makes me mad,
And, of course, jealous,
Because I only have two children,
And one is a spoiled brat,
And the other walks with a freaking limp!

I mean, maybe I give
My husband to hard of a time,
But, truthfully, I can be reasonable;
And, yes, I am reasonable!
I listen to my husband,
And I am there when he needs me,
And I am there when he has problems.
But, I just wish he wasn't so selfish
And I wish he understood what
The true meaning of marriage was!
Sometimes, I feel like I want
To kill him,
But, of course, I cannot,
Even though my envy
Gets so high,
So I punish him through
Killing his bastard children.

Yes, I have smitten
A few humans in my lifetime,
As my husband smote many
Things in his lifetime,
As well,
And, yes, they were all his children.

I think I have killed so
Many that I have lost count,
But I do know that I killed
Hercules,
Had Paris killed,
Had Hector killed,
Maybe Theseus,
For I cannot remember,
Put my wrath on Jason,
And also my wrath
Onto Medea,
And I have also
Killed many other people.

Heck, I helped Troy
Fall to the ground,
For that is why it is no more,
Just because Paris thought
Aphrodite was more
Beautiful than I was.

I mean, come on,
Aphrodite may be beautiful,
But she is like a prostitute,
Sleeping around all the time,
And having fun while doing it, too.

I, on the other hand, do not
Do that,
For I am loyal to my
Husband, no matter what.

Oh, okay, you have me there;
I did cheat on him
Once in my life,
And I had that awful
Child with the limp,
And man,
I cannot stand it,
For I guess I was punished
By the Fates
For that,
After all.

But, still, I do not sleep
Around like Aphrodite does,
For she is a creep!
Dang, I hate her,
If anything.

So, yes,
Life is pretty
Unhappy with my husband,
But I do manage to trick him
Every once in a while,
For he can easily be seduced,
For he likes who I am
Whenever I come across him,
And I am the master of seduction,
So I take him to bed,
And he does everything I ask of him.

It is ingenious, I know, right?
Yeah, it works,
But life could still be better,
Even though I do have fun with
Trickery every once in a while.

I hope you all enjoy yourselves,
For I have some stuff
That I need to do,
And I will go to it.

Thank you so much,
And it was nice meeting you.

poem by James Roberts
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Snowbound

The bitter cold sapped his strength,
he should have put his thicker coat on,
but now it was too late.
He trudged through the snow, now knee deep,
struggling to keep his balance, and his feet from slipping on the ice.
She would no doubt have left by now,
and he would have made the journey in vain.
To get to her was imperative, he couldn't lose her now,
not when he knew his feelings for her.
His whole life depended on it.
Suddenly, a figure loomed out of the snow swirls in front of him,
a slight figure, battling also against the cold.
'Are you lost? ' he asked,
'I'm looking for someone' the voice replied.
The voice tinkled in his mind, a voice, her voice,
was this a trick, a hallucination?
No, it was her, but how?
She stopped and grinned, teeth chattering, recognising him.
'I love you', she said, I couldn't go without you.

Two people seen striding through the snow,
arms wrapped around each other,
minding nothing, but the knowledge of being together,
and being warmed by their love.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Russia, O My Russia, Hail!

Russia, O my Russia, hail!
Steeds as tempests flying,
Howling of the distant wolves,
Eagles high, shrill crying!
Hail, my Russia, hail! Hail high!
Hail thy green forests proud,
Hail thy silvery nightingales,
Hail Steppes and wind and cloud!

poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
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I'm So Laid Back, I'm Laid Out

The people were running
The place was on fire
The smoke was a-growing
And the flames were getting higher
The fire chief was shouting
As he knocked down my door
He said you better move your butt boy
Or you'll knock on heaven's door
I'm so laid back, I'm laid out
I'm so caved in and spaced out
I'm wired to the teeth
I'm fused to the floor
So baby don't you bug me no more
Don't you bug me no more
The rent needing paying
The insurance was due
The roof needing fixing
And the rain was coming through
But the forecast is sunny
So I'll stay here on my back
Tomorrow is another day
It's cozy in the sack
I'm so laid back, I'm laid out
I'm so caved in and spaced out
I'm wired to the teeth
I'm fused to the floor
So baby don't you bug me no more
Don't you bug me no more
There were times when you wanted to be number one
And the glamour and the glitter were turning him on
But he realized that it was better to be number two (ooh)
My luxury is living
'Cause I can't afford to die
I'm a diletantic mother
With a twinkle in my eye
Let the others do the running
I'm content to take a cut
Percentages are burning
And I'm happy in my rut
I'm so laid back, I'm laid out
I'm so caved in and spaced out
I'm wired to the teeth
I'm fused to the floor
So baby don't you bug me no more
Don't you bug me no more
No more, no more, no more, [etc.]

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Says Mister Doojabs

Well, eight months ago one clear cold day,
I took a ramble up Broadway,
And with my hands behind my back
I strolled along on the streetcar track—
(I walked on the track, for walking there
Gives one, I think, a distinguished air.)

'Well, all of a sudden I felt a jar
And I said, 'I’ll bet that’s a trolley car,'
And, sure enough, when I looked to see
I saw it had run right over me!
And my limbs and things were so scattered about
That for a moment I felt put out.

Well, the motorman was a nice young chap!
And he came right up and tipped his cap
And said, 'Beg pardon,' and was so kind
That his gentle manner soothed my mind:
Especially as he took such pains
To gather up my spilt remains.

Well, he found my arms and found my head,
And then, in a contrite voice, he said,
'Say, mister, I guess I’ll have to beg Your pardon,
I can’t find your left leg,'
And he would have wept, but I said,
'No! no! It doesn’t matter, just let it go.'

Well, I went on home and on the way
I considered what my wife would say:
I knew she would have some sharp reply
If I let her know I was one leg shy,
So I thought, on the whole, ’twould be just as well
For my peace of mind if I didn’t tell.

Well, that was the first thing in my life
That I kept a secret from my wife.
And for eight long months I was in distress
To think that I didn’t dare confess,
And I’d probably still feel just that way
If it hadn’t come ’round to Christmas Day.

Well, in good old customs I still believe,
So I hung up my stocking Christmas Eve;
(A brand-new left one I’d never worn.)
And when I looked in it Christmas morn
There was my leg, as large as life,
With a ticket on it, 'From your wife.'

Well, my wife had had it stored away
In cotton, since last Easter Day,
When she ran across it, quite by chance,
In the left hip-pocket of my pants;
And the only reproachful thing she said
Was, 'Look out or some day you’ll lose your head.'

poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Cold Cold Cold

When the weather hot
It so unbearable hot
When the weather cold
It so unbearable cold

These days it so cold
Even the wind blowing is cold
Even when i am in the house
with the fan on it's cold
On the bus with the air-con
also cold
Goosebumps all popping out
Why is it i the one who feel so
Others dun seem to be
Oh Why Oh Why am i the only one

poem by Josephine Lee
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As You Look Deep Into The Mirror

the mirror is the echo of the sound you make
inside yourself,
the voice that you utter when nobody watches you
when all of them left to their homes
and you are left alone
talking to yourself, the voice comes out
from your heart
speaking your name, your dreams
you hear the voice that you cannot see
calling you
and so you stand before the mirror
and try once more
to see the face of that voice
fair and square
it tells you who you really are
softer inside
hard on the outside
the exoskeleton that you have been making
breaks down
like flakes of mud drying
the warmth in your eyes is still there
the affection you want to give
the love you want to spread

they are all there
in your eyes
but you cannot help it
seeing something ugly

you have not spoken
the voice hides in the silence
walled by your teeth
your tongue swollen

this discomfort of not saying
anything as everyone you love

leaves the door still opening
to the cold outside

the wind hunting for some stars

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter Moonlight

LOUD-VOICED night, with the wild wind blowing
Many a tune;
Stormy night, with white rain-clouds going
Over the moon;
Mystic night, that each minute changes,
Now as blue as the mountain-ranges
Far, far away;
Now as black as a heart where strange is
Joy, night or day.

Wondrous moonlight, unlike all moonlights
Since I was born;
That on a hundred, bright as noonlights,
Looks in slow scorn,--
Moonlights where the old vine-leaves quiver,
Moonlights shining on vale and river,
Where old paths lie;
Moonlights--Night, blot their like forever
Out of the sky!

Hail, new moonlight, fierce, wild, and stormy,
Wintry and bold!
Hail, sharp wind, that can strengthen, warm me,
If ne'er so cold!
Not chance-driven this deluge rages,
ONE doth pour out and ONE assuages;
Under His hand
Drifting, Noah-like, into the ages
Shall touch land.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Voices Of The Night : Midnight Mass For The Dying Year

Yes, the Year is growing old,
And his eye is pale and bleared!
Death, with frosty hand and cold,
Plucks the old man by the beard,
Sorely, sorely!

The leaves are falling, falling,
Solemnly and slow;
Caw! caw! the rooks are calling,
It is a sound of woe,
A sound of woe!

Through woods and mountain passes
The winds, like anthems, roll;
They are chanting solemn masses,
Singing, 'Pray for this poor soul,
Pray, pray!'

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain,
And patter their doleful prayers;
But their prayers are all in vain,
All in vain!

There he stands in the foul weather,
The foolish, fond Old Year,
Crowned with wild flowers and with heather,
Like weak, despiséd Lear,
A king, a king!

Then comes the summer-like day,
Bids the old man rejoice!
His joy! his last! Oh, the man gray
Loveth that ever-soft voice,
Gentle and low.

To the crimson woods he saith,
To the voice gentle and low
Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath,
'Pray do not mock me so!
Do not laugh at me!'

And now the sweet day is dead;
Cold in his arms it lies;
No stain from its breath is spread
Over the glassy skies,
No mist or stain!

Then, too, the Old Year dieth,
And the forests utter a moan,
Like the voice of one who crieth
In the wilderness alone,
'Vex not his ghost!'

Then comes, with an awful roar,
Gathering and sounding on,
The storm-wind from Labrador,
The wind Euroclydon,
The storm-wind!

Howl! howl! and from the forest
Sweep the red leaves away!
Would the sins that thou abhorrest,
O Soul! could thus decay,
And be swept away!

For there shall come a mightier blast,
There shall be a darker day;
And the stars, from heaven down-cast
Like red leaves be swept away!
Kyrie, eleyson!
Christe, eleyson!

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Faun Sees Snow for the First Time

Zeus,
Brazen-thunder-hurler,
Cloud-whirler, son-of-Kronos,
Send vengeance on these Oreads
Who strew
White frozen flecks of mist and cloud
Over the brown trees and the tufted grass
Of the meadows, where the stream
Runs black through shining banks
Of bluish white.

Zeus,
Are the halls of heaven broken up
That you flake down upon me
Feather-strips of marble?

Dis and Styx!
When I stamp my hoof
The frozen-cloud-specks jam into the cleft
So that I reel upon two slippery points ...

Fool, to stand here cursing
When I might be running!

poem by Richard Aldington
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