Solo For Ear-Trumpet
The carriage brushes through the bright
Leaves (violent jets from life to light);
Strong polished speed is plunging, heaves
Between the showers of bright hot leaves
The window-glasses glaze our faces
And jar them to the very basis —
But they could never put a polish
Upon my manners or abolish
My most distinct disinclination
For calling on a rich relation!
In her house — (bulwark built between
The life man lives and visions seen) —
The sunlight hiccups white as chalk,
Grown drunk with emptiness of talk,
And silence hisses like a snake —
Invertebrate and rattling ache….
Then suddenly Eternity
Drowns all the houses like a sea
And down the street the Trump of Doom
Blares madly — shakes the drawing-room
Where raw-edged shadows sting forlorn
As dank dark nettles. Down the horn
Of her ear-trumpet I convey
The news that 'It is Judgment Day!'
'Speak louder: I don't catch, my dear.'
I roared: 'It is the Trump we hear!'
'The What?' 'THE TRUMP!' 'I shall complain!
…. the boy-scouts practising again.'
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Related quotes
The Last Trump
"You led the trump," the old man said
With fury in his eye,
"And yet you hope my girl to wed!
Young man! your hopes of love are fled,
'Twere better she should die!
"My sweet young daughter sitting there,
So innocent and plump!
You don't suppose that she would care
To wed an outlawed man who'd dare
To lead the thirteenth trump!
"If you had drawn their leading spade
It meant a certain win!
But no! By Pembroke's mighty shade
The thirteenth trump you went and played
And let their diamonds in!
"My girl, return at my command
His presents in a lump!
Return his ring! For, understand,
No man is fit to hold your hand
Who leads a thirteenth trump!
"But hold! Give every man his due
And every dog his day.
Speak up and say what made you do
This dreadful thing -- that is, if you
Have anything to say!"
He spoke. "I meant at first," said he,
"To give their spades a bump,
Or lead the hearts; but then you see
I thought against us there might be,
Perhaps, a fourteenth trump!"
They buried him at dawn of day
Beside a ruined stump:
And there he sleeps the hours away
And waits for Gabriel to play
The last -- the fourteenth trump.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Love him or hate him, Trump is a man who is certain about what he wants and sets out to get it, no holds barred. Women find his power almost as much of a turn-on as his money.
quote by Donald Trump
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obsession
We sit in your room
So dark and strange
With yellow candles
Burning straight
Outside it rains
So silver and bright
A glaring light
Crashed into the sky
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
We stayed awake at night
With vision so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
Its got a hold on me
Its got a hold on me
Smiles and voices suddenly changed
Eyes and shadows on a distance too short
Is there someone who I know ?
Is there someone at all ?
Is there someone who I know ?
Is there someone I called ?
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
Its just the way it should be
Its so right as rain
We stayed awake at night
With vision so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
So when the rain comes running in your eyes
And the wind shakes the forest leaves
We stayed awake at night
With visions so unreal
We stayed awake at night
With visions so ideal
Its got a hold on me
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thunderstorm
Layers vapour against the window
while the rain
fall for days long without end
and I see forked lightning
like blue-white tentacles
feeling the earth
and here and there
are a few stars
that gleams through the clouds
as if something
is peering from above to below
and I can hear the breath of it
rattling the windows
while it comes nearer
and I wonder if it is urine
or tears
that falls without end
and nothing out of that heaven
can decent to me
but outside the streetlights
glows citrine yellow
and the slippery wet road
shines like onyx
and suddenly the sky is dark
and somewhere I hear a car
breaking and slipping
and hitting another
with a great bang
and suddenly the monster
is gone
while tears
hisses down softly
from the heaven
and sirens come nearer
and higher up in the street
there are flashing blue and red
and white lights that shine up and down.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wince
Welcome to my white fog, devoid day
there is a sodding care in your thump,
dally in my intellect-one brass trump,
be in my feast of mind, a rose bouquet.
Wild flowers of Spring fiddle in winds,
where wraiths infinitely rewind feasts,
for one time my soul was lost in mists,
your tear's warm communion and wince.
It was your sanctified, sublimate care,
to embrace ideally whatever was wreak,
once more the trump was to play meek,
to time dancers in your mind and glare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Rain
I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.
And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
'Twill be a lovely sight.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Minimum Level
Let the truth remain to its level of minimum
But the lies should not dominate at maximum
As it will wrack the hard core element of life with its relation
Everything will be demolished and raise the questions
Think of damage and its consequences there after
When it has become known and apparent later
It might have then brought everything at stand still
Leaving behind tail of distrust and almost ill will
I know for sure that eyes speak no untruth
You may need nothing as an extra proof
The company may be needed at each turn
For the love and affection to respond and return
No one can definitely say about lust or real
It remains closely guarded secret and concealed
How can a human mind speak in anticipation?
When whole thing is built round honesty and relation
Sometimes we listen to but not attentively
We commit nothing and assure tentatively
This raise mistrust level and forecast doom
Leaving behind no chance for return in room
Any affection or attachment comes after long consideration
But once it is cemented then it has consent with full indication
It is grown at enormous speed with full commitment
You can feel k exhilaration in those happy moments
Sometimes it creates thaw in relation get stranded
Others sentiments are not taken care of and offended
Whole relation comes at stake and runs into rough weather
It faces grinding halt and adds concern for everybody to bother
Those moments prove costly in life and de-shape the imagination
The relation on which whole future evolved causes great alienation
Both are drifted apart much to the embarrassment and concern
Life has taken different course with point of no return
As it has been observed and advocated in precise terms
Truth always forms strong foundation at each turn
After all it is trust and confidence that is grown from feeling
Nothing should be done at this level when it comes almost willing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Faith II
THROUGH the long night, the deathlong night,
Along the dark and haunted way,
I knew your hidden face was bright--
More bright than any day.
And when the faint, insistent moan
Rose from some weed-grown wayside grave,
I said, 'I do not walk alone;
'Tis easy to be brave.
I never turned to speak with you,
For all the way was dark and long,
But all the shadows' menace through
Your silence was my song.
I never sought to take your hand,
For all the way was long and rough;
I taught my soul to understand
That love was strength enough.
Then, suddenly, the ghosts drew near,
A ghastly, gliding, tomb-white band;
I called aloud for you to hear,
My hand besought your hand.
No voice, no touch--the thin ghosts glide
Where in my dream I dreamed you were--
Night, night, you are not by my side,
You never have been there!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Diplomacy is the art of knowing what not to say.
Matthew Trump in Mother Earth News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad
I KNOW my love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
The sky is dear and blue,
The flowers are rich of hue,
The air I breathe is rare,
I have no grief or care;
For my own love is true,
And oh the day is fair.
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark.
Blows sadly down the wind,
While sorrow holds my mind;
I do not hear the lark,
For quenched is life's dear spark,—
My love is false I find,
And oh the day is dark!
For love doth make the day
Or dark or doubly bright;
Her beams along the way
Dispel the gloom and gray.
She lives and all is bright,
She dies and life is night.
For love doth make the day,
Or dark or doubly bright.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Chance Meetings
In the mazes of loitering people, the watchful and furtive,
The shadows of tree-trunks and shadows of leaves,
In the drowse of the sunlight, among the low voices,
I suddenly face you,
Your dark eyes return for a space from her who is with you,
They shine into mine with a sunlit desire,
They say an 'I love you, what star do you live on?'
They smile and then darken,
And silent, I answer 'You too-I have known you,-I love you!-'
And the shadows of tree-trunks and shadows of leaves
Interlace with low voices and footsteps and sunlight
To divide us forever
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Everything in life is luck.
quote by Donald Trump
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Glass of Absinthe
No use pleading anymore at the dawn,
The waved-off world gone disastrous with time.
Decisions are uncomfortable
In this atmosphere. Valves drain, raise ballad—
Measures pound to flaked light, sun astride
Iron lace of railing on Royal Street—
Scrolled into oak leaves, acorns, sad long horns
In day shadows—urinal, late coffee.
They are restorations of ruined night,
But no beacon in our silver hours.
A life shaped by digressions: Linger long
Enough, and death itself loses the way to us.
She seems drunk but is not, her white skirt striped
With black from a fall on wet cobblestones.
Nothing is nimble. There is no good news.
She lights a small cigarette. She nods off.
She knots up and moves on. The horns stop, sprawl,
Speed up. Snares salvo again in new dark.
poem by Ernest Hilbert
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If Only
IF only? Do it now fair friend,
ON ifs and buts time will not wait,
Leave vain regrets, anticipate!
Youth sighs good-byes until ti[m]es end.
IF only? Kisses signals send!
ONe sip, for lips four to elate,
Life is too short to hesitate!
Your closeness sought should joy extend.
IF only? There’s no time to spend!
ONce IS forever! Don’t debate!
Leave b[l]ind fact cracked behind – the gate
Yin, Yang leaves open none should rend.
IF only? Lifespans none extend,
ONto eternity see Fate
Lottery duly orchestrate...
Yet 'free will' sentence may suspend.
IF only one could clone or blend
ONline or off another state.
Let go! If you cannot score straight
Your cards can’t trump, heart buck harsh trend.
22 March 2005 revised 12 November 2008
robi03_1100_robi03_0000 AXX_CEZ
for previous version see below
If Only
IF only? Do it now dear friend,
ON ifs and buts time will not wait,
Leave vain regrets, anticipate!
Youth sighs good-byes until ti[m]es end.
IF only? Kisses signals send!
ONe sip, for lips four to elate,
Life is too short to hesitate!
Your closeness sought should joy extend.
IF only? There’s no time to spend!
ONce IS forever! Don’t debate!
Leave b[l]ind fact cracked behind – the gate
Yin, Yang leaves open none should rend.
IF only one could clone or blend
ONline or off another state.
Let go! If you cannot score straight
Your cards can’t trump, or buck the trend.
22 March 2005
If Only poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Every time you walk down the street people are screaming, 'You're fired!'
quote by Donald Trump
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bright Lights
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
As the world is round, the road is long
Ive trouble on my mind
Ill just keep on moving
Until the day comes round
The wind a blowing on my back
And my feet a flying
Flying down the road
Where the bright lights shine
Mondays in a pigtown
Tuesdays in a truck
Wednesdays a field of mud
And thursdays out of luck
Fridays rain clouds
Saturday flies by
Sunday comes shining
From a blue blue sky
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some towns are golden
Some towns are stained
Some towns are shadows
Fading in the rain
Some towns are rust
And some towns they gleam
Some towns are mad dogs
Some towns are a dream
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some dreams are hollow
Some dreams are cold
Some dreams are crazy
And some dreams are bold
Some dreams are bought
And other dreams are sold
Some dreams lie waiting
At the end of the road
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anniversary (November 24)
The treasure of trees
golden mounds
on the green ground.
Urged by the morning sun
yellow leaves
coruscate in chilled air
radiant
with the afterglow of a summer
well lived.
But thirty-two years ago
the light died
when dark death’s hand
seized your struggling heart.
We buried you,
bright treasure,
under still
green grass.
The mud from your grave
clung to our shoes
as we wept our grief
in bright puffs of white breath
ascending like incense
into the good sky.
And thirty-two years later
I still choke on bitter sorrow.
Tears
still sting my eyes.
But looking through the bright window,
I see in November’s gold,
a faint reflection
of the enduring glory
that lights your
endless day.
poem by Steven Federle
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The bus ticket
They meet very often in the bus
But she never talks.
He goes to work from the club
And she goes to a music class.
I saw he scribbles on the bus ticket
And he's a born gambler that everybody knows,
So I imagined that he could have written something like this;
'Am I the Joker in your playing cards
Tell my dear Queen of hearts? '
I feel sorry for her when I came to know that she cannot speak.
Then I wrote few lines on my bus ticket for her.
Are you serious or is it a gamble?
I hide the trump if you give up the spendthrift
And start a new life together.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Out The Window
Life was fun
Life was great
Til I made my big mistake
Oh no itll never happen to me
Life was short
And life was sweet
I was thinking as I hit the street
I could hardly beleve
I could scarcely conceive
But I had gone out the window
I had gone out the window
I had gone out the window
She was fine
She looked great
And so we made our big mistake
I swear I swear I swear
Itd never happen to her
But the pavement knocked her head around
When she hit the solid concrete ground
From 30 flights above
And she was thirty something loving nothing
Gone out the window
She had gone out the window
She had gone out the window
Catch me if Im falling,
Catch me if Im calling
He was smart he was wise
Hed profoundly philosophize
Empathy for all humanity
til one day by an open window
Theres a note that read
Ive gone out the window - Im dead
He said yes to life for all of his life
But then one day he said no
I gotta go out the window
We all go out the window
Catch me I am falling
Catch me I am calling
Catch me we are falling
Catch me we are calling
Gordon gano: vocal, acoustic guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar vocal
Victor delorenzo:
Brushed snare drum, wood, cowbell, arabic tabla, vocal
Mixed by david vartanian
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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041411A claws at treetops
chirps begging sun to rise
beneath those leaves chicks
learning secrets of feathery life
...tree snake is watching for catch
coiling its way for a sure strike
sharp beaks are waiting; watch
keep your eyes open 'til comes up
bright rays seeking all darkness
shadows getting shorter; hurry up
it would be race again; everyday
poem by Manonton Dalan
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