Spring MCMXL
London Bridge is falling down, Rome's burnt and Babylon
The Great is now but dust; yet still Spring must
Swing back through Time's continual arc to earth.
Though every land become as a black field
Dunged with the dead, drenched by the dying's blood,
Still must a punctual goddess waken and ascend
The rocky stairs, up into earth's chilled air,
And pass upon her mission through those carrion ranks,
Picking her way among a maze of broken brick
To quicken with her footsteps the short sooty grass between;
While now once more their futile matchwood empires flare and blaze
And through the smoke men gaze with bloodshot eyes
At the translucent apparition, clad in trembling nascent green
Of one they still can recognize, though scarcely understand.
poem by David Gascoyne
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Leaves Of Grass
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave must fall to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
If people could look into each others eyes
What a wonderful place this world would be
All strife would end, we could start again
And dreams like these must not pass on
But the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
And the brave keep falling to honor the names
Of the ones who have gone before
And the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
The leaves of grass will not pass on
Though the millstones grind them into dust
For the earth shall give new life to them
But only the grass will grow once more
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mission to Earth, A Child is Born!
Mission to Earth, mission on Earth
A baby cries, cold air, no warmth
No womb comfort, a life, a journey begins.
Mission to Earth, mission on Earth
A universe spreads forth,
Horizon, spreads a hand and boundless.
Mission to Earth, mission on Earth
Giggles and applause, the friendly stars
Frowns and yellow eyes, the jealous frogs
Mission to Earth, Mission on Earth
The cross, he bears all, a thorn as crown
A mission, to save a life, though so thankless!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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This Green City
Someone's evil laugh shoots down my back
Shapeless and ageing we start to run
Through the tangle of your broken words
This cheap impulse falls so dry
In the maze. i burn down
Turn...you turn my skin around
Wishing my eyes could look down
Down on me...
Stairs fall like jewels
As we near the door
You fold through my neck
And arms like crystal
So black, so black with charm and breath
We turn to face the dying sun...
This green city rains down on me
This green city rains down on me
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Clear
They swarmed the skies like angry hornets,
the war birds in the air above.
There were so many,
at times they blocked out the sun.
Then their parcels of death,
started raining all around,
killing the innocent on the ground.
The earth shook, buildings crumbled,
hysteria filled each breath of air.
Footsteps ran in every direction,
away from the falling terror.
Speech was drowned,
in crashes and crackling flames.
Within in minutes nothing looked the same,
the horizon looked crooked and jagged,
dust and smoke burnt the eyes
of anyone standing near.
Then a blanket of silence fell,
as a solitary siren pierced the air,
with the sound of all clear.
(17 October 2007/My interpretation of what it might have been like during the London Blitz of the 1940’s.)
poem by David Harris
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Pride Of Man
Turn around,
go back down,
back the way you came,
Can't you see that flash of fire ten times brighter than the day?
And behold a mighty city broken in the dust again,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around,
go back down,
back the way you came,
Babylon is laid to waste, Egypt's buried in her shame,
The mighty men are all beaten down, their kings are fallen in the ways,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around,
go back down,
back the way you came,
Terror is on every side, lo our leaders are dismayed.
For those who place their faith in fire, their faith in fire shall be
repaid,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
Turn around,
go back down,
back the way you came,
And shout a warning unto the nation that the sword of God is raised.
Yes, Babylon, that mighty city, rich in treasures, wide in fame,
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
The meek shall cause your tower to fall, make of you a pyre of flame,
Oh you who dwell on many waters, rich in treasures, wide in fame.
you bow unto your God of gold, your pride of might shall be a shame,
For only God can lead His people back unto the Earth again.
Oh God, Pride of Man, broken in the dust again.
A Holy mountain be restored, and mercy on that people, that people
song performed by by Quicksilver Messenger Service
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Home Remains Sky
I will not return to earth
Once on the earth and the earth turned me down, only briefly with
I went back to the sky, I'm in heaven where my original
In the sky more beautiful in the sky over calm
Actually I had stayed at home on earth
Even now I miss her
But on earth I could scarcely recognize the permanence
So I'm just one or two times to the earth
I am the son of heaven who loves the sky
High and difficult to reach, or do not think anyone
After the sky I'm difficult and not easy to come back to earth
Only the rain was the tears that tell of the earth
Echoed devastated what is on earth
And I will continue in the sky
Before there was earth is really for me
Earth friendly and beautiful for me
So that's what eternity will tell their own
And we both lost in eternity swallow
Silence swallowed, swallowed by the beauty
Swallowed by time, into the night and day
Swallowed by love and affection both of us forever
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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Feel Grateful To Our Earth Mother
Feel grateful to our Earth mother for at least we should feel aware
That without her we could not exist of us she takes good care
We pollute her sky and waterways and remove trees from her land
Yet what we do to her to ourselves we do many of us don't seem to understand
The only visible God of which I can claim to know
To the great Goddess of Nature respect we ought to show
Many of her many life forms because of us becoming rare
This Earth is theirs as well as ours to live on and this Earth with them we ought to share
Feel grateful to our Earth Mother since off of her we do live
We take and take and take from her but back to her don't give
The creator of all life forms that live on land and waterway and sea
Than our marvellous Earth mother there is no greater force than she
And what we do to her we do to ourselves so happens to be true
Respect our great Earth Mother since our respect she is due.
poem by Francis Duggan
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October
The green elm with the one great bough of gold
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, --
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,
Harebell and scabious and tormentil,
That blackberry and gorse, in dew and sun,
Bow down to; and the wind travels too light
To shake the fallen birch leaves from the fern;
The gossamers wander at their own will.
At heavier steps than birds' the squirrels scold.
The rich scene has grown fresh again and new
As Spring and to the touch is not more cool
Than it is warm to the gaze; and now I might
As happy be as earth is beautiful,
Were I some other or with earth could turn
In alternation of violet and rose,
Harebell and snowdrop, at their season due,
And gorse that has no time not to be gay.
But if this be not happiness, -- who knows?
Some day I shall think this a happy day,
And this mood by the name of melancholy
Shall no more blackened and obscured be.
poem by Edward Thomas
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The Enkindled Spring
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Here We Come
For reasons known
The primal anger rise,
So hot
For the spells on ethnics,
It must boil.
Moving through time
Despite The Imperial Resistance
These eyes blaze
Burning out oppression
We resist unto death.
Look out!
Here we come
With swords, defying Babylon
With feet above the earth;
We pierce the Silver Lining...
Here we come!
THE KING is on our side
So step back
We are coming through.
How pleasurable it is
To see Babylon burn,
The oppressors spurned;
FIRE!
poem by Buxton Shippy
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The Burning Of The Temple
Fierce wrath of Solomon,
Where sleepest thou ?
0 see, The fabric which thou won
Earth and ocean to give thee-
0 look at the red skies.
Or hath the sun plunged down ?
What is this molten gold-
These thundering fires blown
Through heaven, where the smoke rolled ?
Again the great king dies.
His dreams go out in smoke.
His days he let not pass
And sculptured here are broke,
Are charred as the burnt grass,
Gone as his mouth's last sighs.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Falling, Falling, Falling!
Babylon is falling, falling, falling!
This world is ending, ending, ending!
The bombs are falling, falling, falling!
My people are dying, dying, dying!
But, hold on! Wait a minute! !
Why is the world not learning, learning, learning? !
For hatred are now being taught in the schools and the churches!
And my people are now dying, dying, dying! !
For, we as human beings have broken the covenant.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Set It Off
Our time has come, watch me set it off
Its been a while but we back
So you can count it loss
We lay and wait, dont hesitate
When opportunity knocks
Break the locks and rush the gates
Seize the day, we got moves to make
Its got to be now
Cause were half past late
Say what you say, but you aint shown me nothin
If you want me to feel you
Then you best to show me something
All bark and no bite, talking all hype
I hang with the illest
You I dont recognize
Desensitize and paralyze
Sabotage headquarters
Flood your bloodlines, we sterilize
Here we come
Chant down dem babylon
The wicked man when he sees me I go run
Me understand
Why dem cowards dont want none
Underground blaze the sound to armageddon
Chorus x2:
Rise - let your spirit fly
Rise- stand up for yourself
Rise- hold your head up high
Our time has come
Set it off
Choose my battles, unravel your crew
Dismantle, they still cant handle or fathom
What I throw at em
I cant imagine, they babblin
Acting like Im laughing, dont find it funny
But I smile at your sarcasm
You plastic, so tragic, you fake
So you mask it, no gimmicks, no antics
We real and weve outlasted
Your phoniness, so you best to come correct
You want to disrespect
Why do cowards talk the loudest
Papa didnt raise no punk
On everything I love, if you ready
Then come and get it son
Overpower the strong tower
Infiltrate top ranks
Count down the final hour
Here we come
Chant down dem babylon
The wicked man when he sees me I go run
Me understand
Why dem cowards dont want none
Underground blaze the sound to armageddon
Chorus
Bridge
We made it this far dont you quit on me
Chorus
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London bride is falling down like me
I am falling down like london bridge.
My life I can not rebuild.
My life was claimed by forces from a far.
By the forces from beyond.
Here I am falling like london bride.
Depession has taken me.
Soon suicide shall be mine.
Im falling falling into death.
London bridege can rebuild.
Me I continue to fall.
I can not be rebuilt.
I am falling down like london bridge.
But I can not get up again
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Green Above The Red
Full often when our fathers saw the Red above the Green,
They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and scian,
And over many a noble town, and many a field of dead,
They proudly set the Irish Green above the English Red.
But in the end throughout the land, the shameful sight was seen-
The English Red in triumph high above the Irish Green;
But well they died in breach and field, who, as their spirits fled,
Still saw the Green maintain its place above the English Red.
And they who saw, in after times, the Red above the Green
Were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest screen;
Yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were fed,
That, in some day to come, the Green should flutter o'er the Red.
Sure 'twas for this Lord Edward died, and Wolfe Tone sunk serene-
Because they could not bear to leave the Red above the Green;
And 'twas for this that Owen fought, and Sarsfield nobly bled-
Because their eyes were hot to see the Green above the Red.
So when the strife began again, our darling Irish Green
Was down upon the earth, while high the English Red was seen;
Yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us said,
'Before the strife is o'er you'll see the Green above the Red.'
And 'tis for this we think and toil, and knowledge strive to glean,
That we may pull the English Red below the Irish Green,
And leave our sons sweet Liberty, and smiling plenty spread
Above the land once dark with blood-the Green above the Red!
The jealous English tyrant now has banned the Irish Green,
And forced us to conceal it like a something foul and mean;
But yet, by Heavens! he'll sooner raise his victims from the dead
Than force our hearts to leave the Green, and cotton to the Red!
We'll trust ourselves, for God is good, and blesses those who lean
On their brave hearts, and not upon an earthly king or queen;
And, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to shed
Once and for evermore to raise the Green above the Red.
poem by Thomas Davis
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Soldier standing on the rain
I’m the soldier standing in the rain,
Being paid cold, being paid illness,
At hours of darkness I don’t knock out asleep,
On the daylight I fear booms booming within the ace of me,
Fearing I might die for nothing.
Back home is a land of milk and honey,
Back home is what I may perhaps call paradise,
Back home is they are joyful and amused,
Back home they relax to sleep,
Back home they don’t be bothered a propos my family,
But me I’m here in the rain for them.
Timorous I may bite the dust for nothing,
Afraid I may let my foes comfortable,
Apprehensive I may implant my blood for laughs,
Frightened I may not have a mission, I may be futile,
Nervous I may, because nobody knows I am
The soldier in the standing in the rain.
I’m kicking the dust for nothing,
I’m living for zilch,
For people who don’t worry for me,
For inhabitants who don’t know me,
For citizens who don’t want to know me,
For public who won’t even be at my funeral,
For nation who don’t know a soldier,
I timorous I’m already in dead; I’m living only with flesh,
I’m the soldier in the rain
The author is a soldier dying for nothing and attention!
poem by Stephen Raseona
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First rain
The past winter had come
with black ripe
and had turned the green grass,
even the flowers into dead,
yellow withered things
but now in this early spring,
rain was showering the earth
with thousands of kisses,
bringing back life
and the sweet smell
drifted up from the wet sand
as if something great
had come forth
out of the creator’s hand
and later a rainbow
with brilliant colours
stretched from horizon to horizon
against the dark black clouds
while in the distance
lightning bolts were crashing down
one after another
and in my imagination
I could already see
tender shoots sprouting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Babylon
If you could bring her glories back!
You gentle sirs who sift the dust
And burrow in the mould and must
Of Babylon for bric-a-brac;
Who catalogue and pigeon-hole
The faded splendours of her soul
And put her greatness under glass -
If you could bring her past to pass!
If you could bring her dead to life!
The soldier lad; the market wife;
Madam buying fowls from her;
Tip, the butcher's bandy cur;
Workmen carting bricks and clay;
Babel passing to and fro
On the business of a day
Gone three thousand years ago -
That you cannot; then be done,
Put the goblet down again,
Let the broken arch remain,
Leave the dead men's dust alone -
Is it nothing how she lies,
This old mother of you all,
You great cities proud and tall
Towering to a hundred skies
Round a world she never knew,
Is it nothing, this, to you?
Must the ghoulish work go on
Till her very floors are gone?
While there's still a brick to save
Drive these people from her grave!
The Jewish seer when he cried
Woe to Babel's lust and pride
Saw the foxes at her gates;
Once again the wild thing waits.
Then leave her in her last decay
A house of owls, a foxes' den;
The desert that till yesterday
Hid her from the eyes of men
In its proper time and way
Will take her to itself again.
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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Spring (Double Rondelet Triolet)
With a deep touch,
The red poppy awakes the grass.
With a deep touch,
Red wants green's vibration so much,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
The sky vibrates like a string bass,
With a deep touch.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
The sky vibrates like a bass string.
The red flowers bloom in the Spring.
I see the nature's purest swing.
The wind searches his bongo drums,
The red flowers bloom in the Spring
When the time of the green grass comes.
I see His love
Like a white lily among thorns.
I see His love
Like in clefts of the rock, a dove.
When red flower its grass adorns
And her dead Winter, Spring mourns,
I see His love.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass.
When the land is multicolor,
Shadows are inlaid in color.
When the cuckoo is a caller,
The sun awakes the sky's watch glass.
Shadows are inlaid in color
When red poppy awakes the grass.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Patience
Red! Red! Red!
Is there no black?
Red like the bloody earth, this pack!
Knaves! Kings! Queens!- all red!
Where are the black?
Shuffle again!
Will not the other cards come back?
The only cards to clear the brain!
Dear God, ‘twill crack!
Shuffle again!
Red! Red! Red!
Black! Black! Black!
Is there no red?
Has all the blood on earth been shed?
Each Queen! Each King! and every Jack!
Where are the red?
Shuffle again!
Has blood within the world all bled?
The millions mourning for the slain?
The million dead?
Shuffle again!
Black! Black! Black!
poem by Leon Gellert
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