This Mighty Wanderer
Standing on a cliff overlooking the sea
I stare out at the restless waters below,
slowly moving in and out
with each incoming and receding tide.
Like a nomad ever seeking
a new place to rest its head.
Its colours always changing
under the rays of the sun,
wandering restlessly forever
from dawn to dusk,
dusk to dawn
in its never-ending travels
in this worldwide.
This mighty wanderer
only comes to shore
at the incoming tide.
17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
Full Moon
The moon wore a halo
as dusk turned into night
and the nocturnal creatures
came out to enjoy the light,
an incoming tide
basked under the full moon light
as time moved on
with no rest bite.
14 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Research on Cinderalla - after Shel Silverstein In search of Cinderalla
From dawn til dusk,
from land to land,
without too much ado,
I'd seek the perfect ankle,
From dawn til dusk
I'd stretch my hand
to virgin, husk, - not you! -
perceptions change, oh dear, they do!
perfection minds must rankle
In Search of Cinderella
From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot
To fit this crystal shoe.
From dusk to dawn,
I try it on
Each damsel that I meet.
And I still love her so, but oh,
I've started hating feet.
- Shel Silverstein
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Curling Waters
The tide rolls in on curling waters,
then stretches its fingers to touch the shore.
It hisses as each wave breaks
and its white waters pound against
the sands and rolling stones.
We can sit for hours watching
its endless race
to see which finger
can go farthest up the shore.
Its waters then retreat
as a new wave takes its place.
25 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Nuggets Of History
Watching the tide slowly recede,
wondering what treasures it left behind.
What little nuggets of history
it has left lying on the shore.
Walking along the damp sand,
you look for something
that might just catch your eye.
A rare coin from a distant era
lost in a shipwreck somewhere.
A slice of someone’s life
from a long gone past,
or it could be an old bowl
someone had eaten from.
Now its fragments have washed ashore
and lay in front of you.
A token given back from the sea
in place of lives it stole.
You may find these and many more
if you walk along a quiet shore
just as the sea recedes
to carry on it journey once more.
Roaming restlessly
on this earth, it calls its home.
22 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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When Age Comes On
When Age comes on!--
'The deepening dusk is where the dawn
Once glittered splendid, and the dew
In honey-drips, from red rose-lips
Was kissed away by me and you.--
And now across the frosty lawn
Black foot-prints trail, and Age comes on--
And Age comes on!
And biting wild-winds whistle through
Our tattered hopes--and Age comes on!
When Age comes on!--
O tide of raptures, long withdrawn,
Flow back in summer-floods, and fling
Here at our feet our childhood sweet,
And all the songs we used to sing! . . .
Old loves, old friends--all dead and gone--
Our old faith lost--and Age comes on--
And Age comes on!
Poor hearts! have we not anything
But longings left when Age comes on?
ENVOY.
Just as of old! The world rolls on and on;
The day dies into night--night into dawn--
Dawn into dusk--through centuries untold.--
Just as of old.
Time loiters not. The river ever flows,
Its brink or white with blossoms or with snows;
Its tide or warm with Spring or Winter cold:
Just as of old.
Lo! where is the beginning, where the end
Of living, loving, longing? Listen, friend!--
God answers with a silence of pure gold--
Just as of old.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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As They Stroll Along
The silvery moonlight
dances on the incoming waves
as they hiss against the shore.
Couples arm in arm
dare the waters
as it curls around their toes.
They smile at one another,
capture a lingering kiss
by the waters edge
and their feet leave footprints
in the dampened sand
as they stroll along
a shore made for love.
23 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Take Time Off To Relax! !
Behind each and every human,
Who has to work dusk to dawn,
Dawn to dusk or dawn to dawn,
There are few mouths at home,
Hopefully waiting for them,
To keep the food on the table,
to provide cloth and shelter,
to educate and medicate,
to love, care and cherish,
Most labor goes for love,
Love that we have,
Upon our loved ones,
our friends, society,
and our dear nation,
That energizes us,
To work tirelessly.
Happy Labor's day! !
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sunrise, Sunset
O Sun, When you rise,
It’s morning dawn.
When you set,
It’s evening dusk.
O Sun, Seeing your beauty lighting
Shining on landscape from dawn
Shining on seascape from dusk
It comes from dawn to dusk.
O Sun, rise from East
O Sun, set to West
From East to West,
Celestial light comes and go,
Seasons come and go.
Here come four seasons
North to South, East to West
From Spring comes Autumn,
From Summer comes Winter.
O Sun, From rising East
To setting West
O Moon, Come rising East
To setting West
Cycle never end,
It’s endless cycle,
Seeing sunset every dusk,
Seeing sunrise every dawn.
Making us pondering..
Make us wondering
Where, When will be next..
Sunrise, sunset..
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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As if you are Helen of Troy
As if you are Helen of Troy
You are such a nasty playboy!
You wear a beautiful mask
From dusk to dawn dawn to dusk!
You hurt me with Cupid’s arrow
My life is now full of sorrow!
As if you are deaf and blind
You can’t hear and read my mind!
poem by Asif Andalib
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In Search Of Cinderella
From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot
To fit this crystal shoe.
From dusk to dawn,
I try it on
Each damsel that I meet.
And I still love her so, but oh,
I've started hating feet.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Falling Leaves
Youth a golden shadow
here but not to stay
like clouds the wind
may chase across the bay
an incoming tide
sweeps fallen years once gay
soon washing upon
darkening shore cold grey day
so softly
falling last leaves do fall.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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September Song
For my wife
On our forthcoming 37th Wedding Anniversary on the 12th of September.
With the summer closing fast upon us,
we sing our September song.
How wonderful all the years have been,
our trouble no more than a ripple
on an incoming ocean tide.
As I fondly remember that day long ago,
when you consented and became my bride.
The choir sang Ava Maria;
I became the proudest man in the land.
I think I had more nerves than you.
My legs were like wobbling jelly,
and as I recall I almost muffed I do.
The sun was out and stayed that way,
throughout the day with your family and mine,
friends and other relations.
It was a wonderful time.
September sang to us a song,
even long after that day had long gone.
5 September 2007
poem by David Harris
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Look Across Time
'Beyond the east the sunrise
beyond the west the sea.... ' Gerald Gough
So yonder my thoughts
do flee, my friend,
long after
to be chased by me.
All you see is a mask
a ghost from the past
it’s not me
I’ve changed girl.
You look across time
your memories are fine
but you won’t find me
from there girl.
The incoming tide
washes our prints
from the shore.
You stare down
from this ledge above me.
The wind blowing,
the gleaming black strands
of your shoulder length hair.
Strands play
around the straps
of your long white dress,
blown sensuously against you.
And you watch me
with those beautiful
solemn eyes.
You reach down
our hands do not touch
they never can.
Yet will always love you.
Your very being
fills me with rapture
and a deep longing.
The vision of you
I behold, is a mist of spray
against the golden rays
washing over my senses.
My life of solitaire
is ending here.
I’ll be what I am
the man you have searched for,
with consoling care.
For I have waited
an eternity, for you here.
And of all women
I do confess of them all
I love thee best.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Haiku is
haiku is telling the readers
how the day starts
and how it actually ends
the light, the mist, the birds, the sun
how the dawn is different from the dusk
how the birds sing in the dawn
and how they sing in the dusk
and ultimately how the sun rises
and how it sets
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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White Horse
The White Mare
the incoming tide made an island out of
the sand bank where I sat, king for a day,
made a crown of coarse grass
but since I only ruled over a few crabs, who
bit my finger when I shook their claws, I
renounced my crown and swam ashore.
Sanitation workers, in blue overalls and
logo, heckled me since I was not like them
and they made fun of my crown.
On an incoming wave a white mare came,
bareback I mounted and gently the horse
trotted amongst the awestruck workers
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The garden
The garden is a living cell
A Monet' of colour
and still reflection!
Its life is onwards moving…
But still like the sun
forever in dusk or dawn:
A theatre of hearts
beating as one!
An applauds of petals
Scented; in love.
The garden is a river…
a place of worship
a place to espy
a good time to die.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Longing never ceases
One looks for dawn while at dusk
and for dusk when at dawn.
One longs for winter in summer
and for summer when in winter.
One begs for hunger in affluence
and the other for food in penury..
The one at peak is for privacy
and the other, down, for publicity.
Who is happy from womb to tomb?
28.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fishing (Novelinee)
To sit next to the big river brings peace
throwing a rod over the tranquil way
in a kind of the heart's sheer release
into the same pool up to close of day.
To live a life of utter joy we must,
when the river catches the rays of morn
to experience nature until dusk,
to be there when the bright new day is born;
it's great to just catch time at dusk and dawn.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Working Man
I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
I till the fields to keep my family fed.
The soil is not my right,
but a gift to me.
If I handle it with care,
crops every year it rewards me.
I am a working man
and when my day is done,
the warmth of my family
fills the place I call home.
Every morning I see
the wonders of the rising sun
and as night approaches,
I watch the moon come up.
My life is sometimes hard,
but I know satisfaction of a job well done.
It is our daily bread,
where our money comes from.
God blessed me with this land
and I look after it for him.
For I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
26 November 2007
poem by David Harris
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Tides
Love in my heart was a fresh tide flowing
Where the starlike sea gulls soar;
The sun was keen and the foam was blowing
High on the rocky shore.
But now in the dusk the tide is turning,
Lower the sea gulls soar,
And the waves that rose in resistless yearning
Are broken forevermore.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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