The Country Wife
She makes her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
Following their voices on the breeze,
She makes her way. Through the dark trees
The distant stars are all she sees.
They cannot light the way she's gone.
She make her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
She cannot see the winds that break
The night reflected on the lake
But knows they motion for her sake.
These are the choices they have brought her:
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
poem by Dana Gioia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Reflection of God
Thoughts are like ripples,
gently flowing over
the surface of the mind.
Deep inside us
we bear the image of God,
the ripples of thought break that image
into fragments.
It is as if you are looking in
a lake full of ripples-
It is a full moon night,
and the lake is reflecting
the beautiful moon.
But the lake is full of ripples
You cannot gather the moon together;
the moon goes on splitting
into a thousand fragments.
The whole lake seems to be
spread over by the moon-
the silvery beauty, softly broken apart;
many a fragments is seen floating-
all around.
Then the wind stops,
the ripples disappear:
those fragments start falling into one moon.
The silver that was spread
all over the lake,
now becomes more concentrated
into one place - into one moon.
When the lake
is completely without ripples,
the moon is reflected perfectly.
God is reflected perfectly
when there is no ripple in you.
poem by Nazmul Haque
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Promise Made And Kept.
She stood looking out
Across the small lake
With the late afternoon
Sun reflected in the water
And you beside her your
Hand in hers the sound of
Rooks from the high trees
A slight breeze touching
Tall branches and she said
Softly this is our lake this
Is ours to view and sit beside
And be together and promise
Me you’ll not come here with
Another she said looking from
The water into your hazel eyes
Promise me that and cross your
Heart and hope to die and you
Saw the two vivid reflections of
Yourself there in her bright blue
Eyes and you said yes I promise
I’ll never come here with another
And cross my heart and hope to die
And you never did even after she
Died of cancer and the lake you
Think has her there standing now
Gazing ghostly across the water’s
Skin thinking maybe of you both
And those days of love and youth
And both of you sitting and kissing
Beneath the vast sky’s blue roof.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fire-sky
The sunset was like a fire-sky
That truly lit up my world
Clouds were orange and yellow
Like a paintbrush making swirls
The beauty was overwhelming
But a little bit frightening as well
It raged as though with fury
As it all began to swell
The colors were also reflected
In the lake where trees surround
It was quiet as I stood mesmerized
There was barely a single sound
I saw some fellows out fishing
Their bodies in semi-dark
Nothing looked quite real
The lake looked cold and stark
I doubt that I will ever see
A sunset just like this again
The entire sky so unimaginable
In a shocking kind of blend!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Autumn comes [Întomnare]
The stars mirrored by the lake, among water lily leaves,
Turned the lake into a glade, fire flies into small stars,
And this glade appears to glow, as if amber snow receives,
Because golden drops stand out like the tips of lit cigars.
When the lucent night puts on a fair vestment in this hush,
The frogs stop to wail at once and keep silent for a while;
And the moon on water, lo, like a saint begins to rush,
Withering the frightened leaves with its wry and deadly smile.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Fire Lake
Words and music by bob seger
Whos gonna ride that chrome three wheeler
Whos gonna make that first mistake
Who wants to wear those gypsy leathers
All the way to fire lake
Who wants to break the news about uncle joe
You remember uncle joe
He was the one afraid to cut the cake
Who wants to tell poor aunt sarah
Joes run off to fire lake
Joes run off to fire lake
Who wants to brave those bronze beauties
Lying in the sun
With their long soft hair falling
Flying as they run
Oh they smile so shy
And they flirt so well
And they lay you down so fast
Till you look straight up and say
Oh lord
Am I really here at lost
Who wants to play those eights and aces
Who wants a raise
Who needs a stake
Who wants to take that long shot gamble
And head out to fire lake
Head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
And head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
Head out
Out to fire lake
Whos gonna do it
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago Sestina
I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.
I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.
“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.
If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.
And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.
Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?
Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.
poem by Brian Maloney
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Purple World
in a purple world
lavender clouds
a violet day
dusk pool
shadowy trees
black grasses
sickle moon
gray mountains
tiny stars
reflected on the lake
let me ask you
were you there once?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hounds Of Love
Its in the trees!
Its coming!
When I was a child:
Running in the night,
Afraid of what might be
Hiding in the dark,
Hiding in the street,
And of what was following me...
Now hounds of love are hunting.
Ive always been a coward,
And I dont know whats good for me.
Here I go!
Its coming for me through the trees.
Help me, someone!
Help me, please!
Take my shoes off,
And throw them in the lake,
And Ill be
Two steps on the water.
I found a fox
Caught by dogs.
He let me take him in my hands.
His little heart,
It beats so fast,
And Im ashamed of running away
From nothing real--
I just cant deal with this,
But Im still afraid to be there,
Among your hounds of love,
And feel your arms surround me.
Ive always been a coward,
And never know whats good for me.
Oh, here I go!
Dont let me go!
Hold me down!
Its coming for me through the trees.
Help me, darling,
Help me, please!
Take my shoes off
And throw them in the lake,
And Ill be
Two steps on the water.
I dont know whats good for me.
I dont know whats good for me.
I need your love love love love love, yeah!
Your love!
Take your shoes off
And throw them in the lake!
Do you know what I really need?
Do you know what I really need?
I need love love love love love, yeah!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the Lake
I got this little spot
just out of town
next to a lake
not much else around
There I can hear the wind blow
rustling through the trees
sometimes I can hear the fish jump
eating amongst the reeds
It is very quiet
no machines or human sounds
just those of little critters
looking for food on the ground
Here you can smell the trees
amongst all of natures smells
honeysuckle, a few weeds
water standing in a well
At night the fire crackles
shadows dance around the circle
reflections on the water
the horizon turning purple
As I cook some food
the smells begin to wander
drawing everyone near
tomorrow's goals we ponder
Will we fish? , Will we swim?
or will we just lay around
will we hit golf balls in the lake
or driver our tractor to town?
Maybe we will sit right here
and sip old Jim Beam down
cause that's what I like the best
about that spot just out of town!
poem by Rusty Gibson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hindsight and Multidimensions
I stand here alone,
looking back down the road I came here on
Its pictures like sunlight and stars
reflected off the water of a lake
or the e-coli filled gutter water
It is a gift to see everything gone wrong
and talk about these things
to every other broken heart in every other world
it is an infinity of tragic stories
for each one a single tear shed
for the loss of everything beloved
poem by Poet Dragon
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The Hunchback in the Park
The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark
Eating bread from a newspaper
Drinking water from the chained cup
That the children filled with gravel
In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship
Slept at night in a dog kennel
But nobody chained him up.
Like the park birds he came early
Like the water he sat down
And Mister they called Hey mister
The truant boys from the town
Running when he had heard them clearly
On out of sound
Past lake and rockery
Laughing when he shook his paper
Hunchbacked in mockery
Through the loud zoo of the willow groves
Dodging the park keeper
With his stick that picked up leaves.
And the old dog sleeper
Alone between nurses and swans
While the boys among willows
Made the tigers jump out of their eyes
To roar on the rockery stones
And the groves were blue with sailors
Made all day until bell time
A woman figure without fault
Straight as a young elm
Straight and tall from his crooked bones
That she might stand in the night
After the locks and chains
All night in the unmade park
After the railings and shrubberies
The birds the grass the trees the lake
And the wild boys innocent as strawberries
Had followed the hunchback
To his kennel in the dark.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Lake Scenes
DREAM
Ambling on beach in dark
when the lake laps the feet.
Sometimes I wish to walk away
on the water like a dragonfly.
MORNING
Trying to figure out
what happened?
Lake Huron went
into flames!
MOONLIGHT
Up, above
a white ship was sailing.
On water,
thousands of boats.
poem by Satish Verma
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Landscape 28 Meniscus
The molecules of water are held together
By weak electrical forces
That extend in all directions.
At the water surface, the upward forces,
Having nowhere watery to go,
Lie along the surface
To form a thin skin, called a meniscus.
This is the skin that holds water drops,
Supports water striders,
Even skips stones.
I came once to an Adirondack Lake
On a still moonlit night.
The lake seemed full of fireflies,
Flashes of light in the water
As far as the eye could see.
I finally discovered the source of the light,
The sudden movements of water striders
Riding the meniscus
Bent the water surface
Into a curved mirror
That reflected glimmers of moonlight.
The Japanese make a flower arrangement
In a vessel with a perfectly level rim.
The vessel is filled with water
To a level above the rim
The water is held from overflowing
By a curved meniscus
That bends light like a lens.
In the center of the water
Floats a single perfect flower
That sends tiny ripples across the water surface
And crinkles the meniscus
When the vessel is vibrated.
poem by Stewart McKenzie
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Deep in Spring, the Rain's Passed
Spring deep rain pass west lake good
Hundred grass vie beauty
Butterfly confused bee noisy
Clear day hurry flower warm almost blaze
Lily oar paint barge unhurried go
Suspect be spirit
Reflected light ripple in
Water broad wind high carry pipes strings
Deep in spring, the rain's passed- West Lake is good.
A hundred grasses vie in beauty,
Confusion of butterflies, clamour of bees,
The clear day hurries the blossom to burst forth in the warmth.
Oars in lilies, a painted barge moving without haste.
I think I see a band of sprites-
Light reflected in the ripples,
The high wind carries music over the broad water.
poem by Ouyang Xiu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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a Thought....
There is a lady by the lake
She plays the Piano
At night sadly
The moon listens and remembers
Just like any abandoned lover
A song
Learned by the Heart
and Until
Now is never forgotten
The notes from the Piano
Swim in the Lake like some fishes
Wishing to be stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Night Like This
See the Milky-way, a great bowl of wonder
Filling the sky amidst the crisp magic air
You are in the stars and the stars in you
The camp fire crackles, the breeze is easy
The night is old and sleepy
I watch the heavens in silent wonder
You are my star child, laying in my arms
Comfort me in your serene universe
An owl hoots, the loons are calling
Everything else is in peaceful bliss
I am justified and cleansed
Only God could make a night like this
A shooting star flickers
The lake is like a dream
The fire brings pine tree shadows
The crickets are playing their music
Your face dances with fire light
Time is a drama from the heavens
The north star is bright tonight
There's nothing I miss on a night like this
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Mauthe Lake
Long scenic drive to her
a beautiful park and lake
enjoying the crisp fall air
the beautiful fall landscape
the peacefulness she brings
the huge lake so calm this time of the year
a lone canoe with two fishermen afloat
trying to make a few late season catches
the waves so gently wave
the beach deserted, a few hikers here and there
the scenery so gorgeous, mother nature at her best
as I stroll the trails, you could hear a pin drop
the slight wind blowing thru the trees
a few birds still chirping, a few heading south
a squirrel here and there
the brisk air feels good on the face
the smell of fresh rain tingles the nose
as I walk the fishing pier I notice a few fishes
enjoying the lake without hooks harms
so peaceful to walk her mighty landscape
clears the mind and makes you think
how such a wonderful place survived man
as the sunset on the lake, it brings a chilling breeze
night to all who came to enjoy her
maybe I will be back, who know
Mauthe Lake, mother nature's wonderland
a Haven for all to to have peace and mind
poem by Michael Peterson
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Voodoo Lake
(johnny vanzant -- chris eddy -- bob britt)
Way down yonder you can hear the wind blow
Through the tall grass growing in the old bayou
The old bayou
Theres a dark haired woman that looks so fine
Wearing hand me down clothes, drinking homemade wine
No one ever knew who her daddy was
The people down here say its all because
Shes the daughter of the devil, the sister of a snake
The keeper of souls down on vodoo lake
Theres a city boy across the county line
Came looking for the legend of the girl so fine
Well the stories that he heard, well they had to be lies
But he found out different when he looked inher eyes
Well he tried to run away but she had control
Hes findin out now what everybody knows
He knew it was over when she started to shake
Now theres one more soul down on voodoo lake
Theres an eerie silence at the break of dawn
A chill in the air, something wrong
When a shadow crosses the ground
Those long lost souls never make a sound
Youd think by now theyd realize
Shell never break her bayou ties
Shes the daughter of the devil, the sister of a snake
The keeper of souls down on voodoo lake
Voodoo lake, voodoo lake
Daughter of the devil, sister of a snake
Voodoo lake
Down on voodoo lake, down on voodoo lake
You can see her down on voodoo lake
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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