Sonnet LXXIX: The Monochord
Is it this sky's vast vault or ocean's sound
That is Life's self and draws my life from me,
And by instinct ineffable decree
Holds my breath quailing on the bitter bound?
Nay, is it Life or Death, thus thunder-crown'd,
That 'mid the tide of all emergency
Now notes my separate wave, and to what sea
Its difficult eddies labour in the ground?
Oh! what is this that knows the road I came,
The flame turned cloud, the cloud returned to flame,
The lifted shifted steeps and all the way?—
That draws round me at last this wind-warm space,
And in regenerate rapture turns my face
Upon the devious coverts of dismay?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Clouds By Number
Cloud Nine lived a life of fantasy,
Barely conceding the existence of Cloud Eight,
Who felt jealousy for Cloud Seven's
Silver lining,
Although it was saturnine.
Cloud Six lived a life in a daze,
Dozing in the sun's rays;
While Cloud Five held a bellyful of rain
That it wept onto
The arid plain.
Cloud Four came out of nowhere,
Hugging Cloud Three,
Making way, hurriedly, for Cloud Two,
Who shot lightning and thunder,
And like a magic trick
Became Cloud One.
The Great Funnel Cloud,
Who left nothing after its short reign
But a painful memory and a swollen path to be filled with regrets.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Rape Of The Mist
High o’er the clouds a Sunbeam shone,
And far down under him,
With a subtle grace that was all her own,
The Mist gleamed, fair and dim.
He looked at her with burning eyes
And longed to fall at her feet;
Of all sweet things there under the skies,
He thought her the thing most sweet.
He had wooed oft, as a Sunbeam may,
Wave, and blossom, and flower;
But never before had he felt the sway
Of a great love’s mighty power.
Tall cloud-mountains and vast space-seas,
Wind, and tempest, and fire –
What obstacles such as these
To a heart that is filled with desire?
Boldly he trod over cloud and star,
Boldly he swam through space,
She caught the glow of his eyes afar
And veiled her delicate face.
He was so strong and he was so bright,
And his breath was a breath of flame;
The Mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright,
As fond, yet fierce, he came.
Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed;
She swooned in love’s alarms,
And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced Mist
In the Sunbeam’s passionate arms.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Universal Wheels
(natures retalliation)
All the fields are
Smoke and flame, fire in the sky
Its a state of emergency
Much more than meets the eye
Just hide away your tears
There are many more hidden fears
As the universal wheels
Go round n round n round
Rivers of pollution
Taking life from living things
Running out of oxygen
There is no way to win
We ignore the signs of nature
Got to learn to live beside her
As the universal wheels
Go round n round n round
Better take good care of
All the things you say and do
Round n round n round ...
Look out for the warning sign
Now its up to you
Theres a mighty eight point six
Waiting in the ground
When she opens up
This world will humble to the sound
There is only one real power
Creating life by the hour
See the universal wheels
See the universal wheels
See the universal wheels
Go round n round n round ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire
This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly.
And this all we can do
To use our little light
Before, in the piercing wind,
It flickers into night:
To yield the heat of the flame,
To grudge not, but to give
Whatever we have of strength,
That one more flame may live.
poem by Dorothea Mackeller
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Chorus of the Dead
And all returns to Thee, alone eternal,
And all Thee returning.
Oh Death, in Thy vast shadow,
Simple and bare we languish,
Not happy, but from the anguish
Of life at last set free. The night profoundly
Falls on the shaken spirit,
And dark in dark confuses;
The withered soul sourage and hope refuses;
Spent and uncaring,
Free now from sorrow and from fear for ever,
We lie here undespairing
Through void eternity.
We lived... And as a phantom from a dream of terror
Wanders into the day,
And draws across the speechless souls of children
A memory and a fear,
We, as we linger here,
Are haunted still by life: but fears of children
Haunt us not now. What were we?
What was that bitter point in time
That bore the name of life?
Mysterious, stupendous,
Lost in our thought that hidden country lies:
As in our day of life there lay
The secret land of death. And as from dying
Our living souls drew back, so now they draw
Back from the flame of life,
Simple and bare to languish,
Not happy, but not in anguish;
For happiness we know
Fate upon life or death will not bestow.
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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Wind Walking
Searching for a friend,
Spirit walks in wind.
Many miles complete,
Without blistered feet.
On cloud cushioned air,
With much of life’s flare.
Two; many miles apart,
Wind carries each heart.
A road not so very rare,
To trek proud with care.
With each step we take,
A full circle we’ll make.
From truth doth splinter,
As spring begins winter,
Some peace, some strife,
Death begins with life.
With silver cord bound,
Fully off solid ground,
Walking the Sky Town,
True friendship is found.
poem by Joseph Blitch
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The Shape of Death
What does love look like? We know
the shape of death. Death is a cloud
immense and awesome. At first a lid
is lifted from the eye of light:
there is a clap of sound, a white blossom
belches from the jaw of fright,
a pillared cloud churns from white to gray
like a monstrous brain that bursts and burns,
then turns sickly black, spilling away,
filling the whole sky with ashes of dread;
thickly it wraps, between the clean sea
and the moon, the earth's green head.
Trapped in its cocoon, its choking breath
we know the shape of death:
Death is a cloud.
What does love look like?
Is it a particle, a star -
invisible entirely, beyond the microscope and Palomar?
A dimension unimagined, past the length of hope?
Is it a climate far and fair that we shall never dare
discover? What is its color, and its alchemy?
Is it a jewel in the earth-can it be dug?
Or dredged from the sea? Can it be bought?
Can it be sown and harvested?
Is it a shy beast to be caught?
Death is a cloud,
immense, a clap of sound.
Love is little and not loud.
It nests within each cell, and it
cannot be split.
It is a ray, a seed, a note, a word,
a secret motion of our air and blood.
It is not alien, it is near-
our very skin-
a sheath to keep us pure of fear.
poem by May Swenson
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A New Flame
I was bowled out
I was sold down the river
But her warm heart
Would turn me forever
Shes turned me round
A new flame has come
And nothing she can do can do me wrong
I am stern now
Petty words
Dont believe me
But her warm smile
Is never gonna leave me
Shes turned me round
A new flame has come
And nothing she can do can do me wrong
Wrong oh no
Wrong oh no
Shes made of real glass
She got real real emotion
But my heart laughs
I have that same sweet devotion
Shes turned me round
A new flame has come
And nothing she can do can do me wrong
Wrong oh no
Wrong oh no
Nothing she can do can ever do me wrong
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pillow Of Winds
A cloud of eider down
Draws around me softening the sound
Sleepy time in my life
With my love by my side
And she's breathing low
And the candle dies.
When night comes down you lock the door
The boot falls to the floor
As darkness falls and waves roll by
The seasons change
The wind is raw.
Now wakes the hour that sleeps the swan
Behold a dream
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Meddle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloud In The Fog
The cold wind cuts through my face like glass,
Along two lines on my cheeks it was exceptionally sharp.
The moon shone down on me covering me with a silver hue,
The icy ground like indigo stained my feet frosted and blue.
My fingers crackled as I tried to move them
My toes refused to move however much I told them.
My clothes threadbare, hung along my body with no other choice,
My hair scattered all over my shoulder holds the raining ice.
There is no sign of life in this isolated venue
I’ve left all hope of any possible rescue.
As the streaks of pink show up on the horizon,
The fog sets into play as appears the sun.
The sun is nothing but a show of nature,
Even it is cold with no warmth in its features.
As the fog robs me of my partial vision
I see a little cloud appearing like an illusion.
The little cloud was made up of the vast fog
Yet they felt as different as a desert and a bog.
The cloud seemed to grow as it neared me,
It held me gently and cut me free:
Of my cold bondages. It tried to melt my heart
That had frozen in the long icy past.
It defeated all the fog and protected me fruitlessly from the cold
As the fog cleared the sun shone on my face bold.
The cloud wrapped me in a beautiful gown
It swung me on itself and flew me north along.
I flew like the wind over mountains and molehills
Still frozen as ice, the wind giving me chills.
The sun drew closer, closer every second,
After rising for seven days there began my descent.
Below me loomed a warm tropical village,
I landed square on my feet before a tiny cottage.
The cloud gave me a message that it had done all this for me,
But it didn’t for once know my history.
I look south with my fog blinded eyes new to the vision
The warmth after cold is like handcuffs when out of prison.
I still stand as frozen as an idol
Even after saving me, it left me alone, the cloud.
The tropics now cut through my face like a knife
Exceptionally cold on two lines of my cheeks like ice.
poem by Isabella Francis
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Lying Still
She came thru the door round my place
She was not the same
I reached out my hand to touch her face
She turned her head away
Her words flew in empty circles
Reasons unexplained
I saw that her thoughts were somewhere else
We made love anyway
Lying still in your arms
And the tears came down
She cried her pain
And like the rain that draws a cloud across the sun
The tears flow on
She cried the pain she felt inside
As night touched the sky with moonglow
She opened up her heart
The tides of emotions ebb and flow
Washing us apart
We talked thru the night in whispers
As the silent city lay
Reasons she gave cut deep and hard
The dawn broke angry grey
Lying still in your arms
Heartbeats cold
She cried my pain
Like thunder rolling thru an aching winter sky
Heartbeats cold
Her pain
Lying still in your arms
But the tears came down
She cried my pain
And like the rain that draws a cloud across the sun
The tears flow on
She cried the pain I felt inside
The future dissolves in the tears
The morning surrenders the years
How can you say our love wasnt real
When I can see how you feel
Another time
Another place
I wont cry for her
No more
The days go on
But the nights are long
Ill remember her
For sure
Still in your arms
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Daily Joy to be Alive
No matter how serene things
may be in my life,
how well things are going,
my body and soul
are two cliff peaks
from which a dream of who I can be
falls, and I must learn
to fly again each day,
or die.
Death draws respect
and fear from the living.
Death offers
no false starts. It is not
a referee with a pop-gun
at the startling
of a hundred yard dash.
I do not live to retrieve
or multiply what my father lost
or gained.
I continually find myself in the ruins
of new beginnings,
uncoiling the rope of my life
to descend ever deeper into unknown abysses,
tying my heart into a knot
round a tree or boulder,
to insure I have something that will hold me,
that will not let me fall.
My heart has many thorn-studded slits of flame
springing from the red candle jars.
My dreams flicker and twist
on the altar of this earth,
light wrestling with darkness,
light radiating into darkness,
to widen my day blue,
and all that is wax melts
in the flame-
I can see treetops!
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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Mirror of life
The two faced mirror of life
Why do you deceive me and make me look pretty
Where is the mirror
Why do you make me look so pretty
When the hands of death draws me near to its eternal bosom
The two faced mirror of life
The jars of perfume are not helping
The smell of death draws near
Let death no longer lie to me
Death, the two faced mirror of life
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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To Sylvia Plath
You had awaken with a burning flame
trying to keep a small universe in your hands
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father
with words that are unquenchable on paper
you thought about pain, exhaustion.
You had awaken with a burning flame,
to people that did not regard your words
you wanted to give life with all its blemishes,
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father
until you could not go on anymore
when your courage, your life force started to diminish.
You had awaken with a burning flame,
where you tried to set the fire ablaze again
with nothing further to hold on to
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father,
you turned your hands to your own life
and it was gone, had vaporise like dew;
you had awaken with a burning flame
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dusty Road
I walk the line, look straight ahead
A second chance, one slip and its gone
Though the bird has flown, the sands of time stand still
Scars that never heal, wounds you always feel
Keep on walking that dusty road, blinded by the flame
Keep on walking that dusty road, never giving in
A single light, you hold your breath
Your heart beats fast, a skin that burns
Maybe the tide has turned, one goal you know is near
And wish of a thousand nights, voices you always hear
So keep on walking that dusty road, blinded by the flame
Keep on walking that dusty road, never giving in
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want To Be A Cloud Above You
I want to be a cloud above you,
To travel in the world,
To be on highest sky,
Nearest stars and moon.
Wind to be my carrier,
Sun to be my warmth,
I am just a cloud filled with memories,
On the infinite sky of life.
I am balancing my wings everywhere,
Seeking for peace and love,
Following you wherever you go,
Seeing you near brings me relief.
I am for you only a memory,
In an ocean of happenings of your life,
I 'll be always above you watching,
My tears will always fall to you with my love.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Cloud's Life
Meandering on – as would a cloud –
I billowed bored, with nowt to do...
No, wait!
At least I tinkle on the crowd, and
On occasion, soak ‘em through!
You should see them bloody run
Without a brolly – oh the fun!
And when it’s cold, I dropp the hail,
Creating havoc – ne’er to fail!
I dump my snow a metre deep to
Trap ‘em all – I’m such a creep!
You know,
It ain’t so bad just being a cloud –
I’m really proud!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Life life life life life life life life
Life life life life life life life life
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.
quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Candlelight
So many bees, who know so much
that only bees can tell,
gave their life’s devotion
to this single source of light;
silent whisper for your attention
to what it has to tell your sight,
before its substance burns, returns
into the upper air…
gently burns on altar, or scented in the bathroom’s grace;
or here in front of you, gentle hypnotist
for the wandering mind;
to which it has so much to tell..
tells of humility; gently burning
in a stable, before a birth;
tells of loving-kindness; gives itself,
yet asks for nothing but to be itself;
tells of worship: worship, first, of what the bees are;
and here in this honey-coloured form
is their own worship;
waxing silent in murmured devotion;
warming miraculously, into liquid wax;
only love can be so liquid;
only love can reach so far;
liquid, warmed into this present light:
the candle’s flame you know so well
yet cannot shape or hold;
already, candle hints to you
that there is that beyond all sense:
for round its light, air’s gently warmed:
drawing the flame itself into the invisible above
like the soul that’s yearning for its homeland;
and beyond, within, that air you cannot see
unless it moves some other thing,
it lights the space – space which is not
bathroom, altar; but all space;
candle tells you of all that;
draws the mind with steady, silent truth
to all creation in a single flame;
flame that asks for naught of you
but your attention; which it will reward
by telling you in stillness,
what you worship in yourself;
the light of self, that shines before all men
and glorifies its maker
like a gentle flame that cannot be put out.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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