Sorrow
Why does the thin grey strand
Floating up from the forgotten
Cigarette between my fingers,
Why does it trouble me?
Ah, you will understand;
When I carried my mother downstairs,
A few times only, at the beginning
Of her soft-foot malady,
I should find, for a reprimand
To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs
On the breast of my coat; and one by one
I let them float up the dark chimney.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Grey, Grey Sky
Someday I will ride the great bird
Into the sky, into the grey
And will take a bright secret of mine
Into the grey, grey sky.
And the light will come, piercing my eyes
Out of the sky, out of the grey
Come blinding and searing these eyes
Out of the grey, grey sky.
And I will find comfort in this
In the wide sky, in the wide grey
In the painful dark brightness of light
Light of the grey, grey sky.
My secret will fly away home
Into the sky, into the grey
And the great bird will follow it there
Into the grey, grey sky.
And I will be riding that bird
Bird of the sky, bird of the grey
And I will come home once again
Home to the grey, grey sky.
But for now I am weighted, earthbound
One of the mud, one of the ground
And I write this sad song to sad sound
Girl of the pavement sighs.
poem by Grace Hutton
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The lifting of the mist
All the long day the vapours played
At blindfold in the city streets,
Their elfin fingers caught and stayed
The sunbeams, as they wound their sheets
Into a filmy barricade
'Twixt earth and where the sunlight beats.
A vagrant band of mischiefs these,
With wings of grey and cobweb gown;
They live along the edge of seas,
And creeping out on foot of down,
They chase and frolic, frisk and tease
At blind-man's buff with all the town.
And when at eventide the sun
Breaks with a glory through their grey,
The vapour-fairies, one by one,
Outspread their wings and float away
In clouds of colouring, that run
Wine-like along the rim of day.
Athwart the beauty and the breast
Of purpling airs they twirl and twist,
Then float away to some far rest,
Leaving the skies all colour-kiss't--
A glorious and a golden West
That greets the Lifting of the Mist.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Wings In The Night
Now in the soft spring midnight
There's rush of wings and whirr,
Birds flying softly, swiftly;
The night's a-flutter, a-stir.
Home by the bitter seas,
They have sped home together.
So glad to be coming home
To the grey hills, the grey weather.
Calling and calling softly
One lights by the window-pane:
The rook, weary with building,
Turns to his sleep again.
Ere ever the moor-hens wake
And the wild duck come in,
The birds are about the house
With a long call and thin.
They have wakened the wood-pigeon
To make her plaintive moan,
The wood-pigeon lamenting
For sorrows not her own.
Oh, they are never birds,
But souls of men on the wind,
Seeking the mother's breast,
The heart that is soft and kind.
Souls of the Irish dead,
Flown from the fields of slaughter,
Home to the mother's arms
Over the wild grey water.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Grey Wolves Grey
The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;
And they march to-night and they march to-day
Like the grey wolves grey, like the grey wolves grey.
Nor song nor sound their track reveals,
Save the ceaseless “clock” of the waggon wheels;
But a rift in the mist shows a glint of sun
On the long, dark shape of a toiling gun;
And they strain by night and they drag by day
To a distant goal, like the grey wolves grey.
As the horses toil at the ends of trains,
And the ends of roads on the Blacksoil Plains.
And Ivan digs in the frozen clay,
And he rolls the logs a bed to lay
For a gun that’s five hundred miles away,
But as sure to come as the grey wolves grey.
He is marching on with a purpose grand,
For brother Slav in another land;
Whose tongue, perchance, he cannot understand.—
But he knows the cry from the far-away,
And he smells the blood like the grey wolves grey.
And Ivan’s wife in her den at home,
While hunger looms and his lean wolves come—
With her grey-black bread like the Darling mud,
And her tea-bricks bound with the bullock’s blood—
She shields her cubs by night and day
Like the crouching sluts of the grey wolves grey.
And I march with Ivan where’er he be,
With the foreign blood that is strong in me,
And the love and the hate that is fantasy,
Like the ghosts of a father’s memory.
With the blood that is strange to us to-day
As the strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
Grey wolves,
Grey wolves—
The strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Are friends Electric?
Its cold outside
And the paints peeling off of my walls
Theres a man outside
In a long coat, grey hat, smoking a cigarette
Now the light fades out
And Im wondering what Im doing in a room like this
Theres a knock on the door
And just for a second I thought I remembered you
So now Im alone
Now I can think for myself
About little deals
And *issues*
And things that I just dont understand
Like a white lie that night
Or a slight touch at times
I dont think it meant anything to you
So I open the door
Its the 'friend that Id left in the hallway
Please sit down
A candle lit a shadow on a wall near the bed
You know I hate to ask
But, are 'friends electric?
Mines broke down
And now Ive no one to love
So I find out your reason
For the phone calls and smiles
And it hurts
And Im lonely
And I should never have tried
And I missed you tonight
So its time to leave
You see this means everything to me
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Chord of Colour
My Lady clad herself in grey,
That caught and clung about her throat;
Then all the long grey winter day
On me a living splendour smote;
And why grey palmers holy are,
And why grey minsters great in story,
And grey skies ring the morning star,
And grey hairs are a crown of glory.
My Lady clad herself in green,
Like meadows where the wind-waves pass;
Then round my spirit spread, I ween,
A splendour of forgotten grass.
Then all that dropped of stem or sod,
Hoarded as emeralds might be,
I bowed to every bush, and trod
Amid the live grass fearfully.
My Lady clad herself in blue,
Then on me, like the seer long gone,
The likeness of a sapphire grew,
The throne of him that sat thereon.
Then knew I why the Fashioner
Splashed reckless blue on sky and sea;
And ere 'twas good enough for her,
He tried it on Eternity.
Beneath the gnarled old Knowledge-tree
Sat, like an owl, the evil sage:
'The World's a bubble,' solemnly
He read, and turned a second page.
'A bubble, then, old crow,' I cried,
'God keep you in your weary wit!
'A bubble--have you ever spied
'The colours I have seen on it?'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Trouble
Trouble in the city, trouble in the farm,
You got your rabbits foot, you got your good-luck charm.
But they cant help you none when theres trouble.
Trouble,
Trouble, trouble, trouble,
Nothin but trouble.
Trouble in the water, trouble in the air,
Go all the way to the other side of the world, youll find trouble there.
Revolution even aint no solution for trouble.
Trouble,
Trouble, trouble, trouble,
Nothin but trouble.
Drought and starvation, packaging of the soul,
Persecution, execution, governments out of control.
You can see the writing on the wall inviting trouble.
Trouble,
Trouble, trouble, trouble,
Nothin but trouble.
Put your ear to the train tracks, put your ear to the ground,
You ever feel like youre never alone even when theres nobody else around?
Since the beginning of the universe mans been cursed by trouble.
Trouble,
Trouble, trouble, trouble,
Nothin but trouble.
Nightclubs of the broken-hearted, stadiums of the damned,
Legislature, perverted nature, doors that are rudely slammed.
Look into infinity, all you see is trouble.
Trouble,
Trouble, trouble, trouble,
Nothin but trouble.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Bodies (demo)
Dark bodies floating in darkness
No sign of light ever given
Imprisoned in a world without a memory
Unconscious, or am I conscious?
Cut from the heart I am part of
Sometimes it feels as though I'm frozen in heaven
And I saw my own face in the black lonely space
Like a spark frozen grey
Floating away [x2]
In dreams I see myself flying
Closer to the sun and I'm climbing
Tried to touch the sun
But the brightness burned my eyes
Unconscious, or am I conscious?
Fell from the sky like a star
Sometimes it feels as though I'm frozen in heaven
And I saw my own face in the black lonely space
Like a spark frozen grey
Floating away
And I saw my own face in the black lonely space
Like a spark...
My mind was so dark...
My life was so dark...
My mind was so dark...
My life was so dark...
Everything was dark
Unconscious, or am I conscious?
Fell from the sky like a star
Sometimes I feel as though I'm frozen in Heaven
And I saw my own face in the black lonely space
Like a spark frozen grey
Floating away [x2]
And I saw my own face like a spark...floating away
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Grey Morning
Cold grey morning without sunlight ghostly mist on the horizon
Empty visions of a world gone mad paints a picture so revealing
Through my window dark tomorrow I can hear the sirens wailing
For the future we are holding on as the ship of fools is sailing
Such a long time such a long time
We are waiting for a peace that's lasting
Reaching upward sliding downward looks like just another
Cold grey morning
Hardly breathing hope is fading it's the e nd of the beginning
Children playing in the empty streets it's a cold grey morning
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To A Friend Who Had A Free Lunch With Me...
it's been long,
actually, i have forgotten, that place where we used to be,
i changed, i have told you i know myself,
i changed, i will not tell you that i have changed,
it will be as bitter as a detachment,
of a clover foot, divided into two pieces,
it will be still soft, but it will be more of slipping white sands
between my fingers,
i do not understand myself, so how can i ever understand you.
you sit on a table fronting me, yet, i do not see you completely
in the same manner, that i put my body here, but my mind is flying
like a kite somewhere, while my fingers pretend that i still have
a grasp about flying strings and wings and thoughts,
it's been long, and i talk to you, but i never mean each word,
actually, i do not like the color of that plate, the way the spoon and
fork are put parallel to each other,
the tea tastes like hell.
i could have told you, the tea really tastes like hell,
i have changed,
now i am dishonest.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morse Moose & The Grey Goose
Right on down at the bottom of the sea
Tell me are you receiving me?
My name is morse moose and Im calling you
The grey goose was a steady boat
People said shes never float
One night when the moon was high
The grey goose flew away
As we were sailing round the rocks
The mate took out his compass box
And said the wind is like a fox
But the grey goose flew away
When out upon the open sea
The admiral, the mate and me
Prepared to face eternity
But the grey goose flew away
She flew into the stormy sea
Davy jones was calling me
But heading for tranquility
The grey goose flew away
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Blue Eyes
I feel for the light
Your glory was lost that night
And no mind can't get me right
And now I'm praying that you'll find me out
Stone, stone has pulled me down
But my faith has got me bound to your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Don't forget my broken heart
You remember it from the start
You made it and it's all a part
Of your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You're gone and I know I'm dead
I've lost my way
Can't find me in your grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Son Davie! Son Davie!
'What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid of my great hawk,
Mother lady, Mother lady!
It is the bluid of my great hawk,
And the truth I hae tald to thee, O.'
'Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! Son Davie!
Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid of my grey hound,
Mother lady! Mother lady!
It is the bluid of my grey hound,
And it wudna rin for me, O.'
'Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! Son Davie!
Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid o' my brother John,
Mother lady! Mother lady!
It is the bluid o' my brother John,
And the truth I hae tald to thee, O.'
'What about did the plea begin?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'It began about the cutting o' a willow wand,
That would never hae been a tree, O.'
'What death dost thou desire to die?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What death dost thou desire to die?
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
Mother lady! mother lady!
I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
And ye'll never see mair o' me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'Grief and sorrow all her life,
And she'll never get mair frae me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy young son?
Son Davie! son Davie!'
'The weary warld to wander up and down,
And he'll never get mair o' me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty cheer,
And she'll never get mair o' me, O.'
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Old Checkered Coat
Seems like yesterday,
that I went out to paly,
in my old checkered coat,
my, how memories float.
My mom would say,
before you play,
put on your checkered coat
my, how memories float.
I remember the day,
I heard my mother sy,
here's your new checkered coat
my, how memories float.
Now today, I say goodbye,
in the box it goes, as I cry,
goodbye, goodbye old checkered coat,
my, how momories float
The Great Grey Water
Now two have met, now two have met,
Who may not meet again—
Two grains of sand, two blades of grass,
Two threads within the skein—
Beside the Great Grey Water.
Two hands to touch, two hearts to touch;
And, here forgathered, we
Will not forget, may not forget,
Where last forgathered three—
Beyond the Great Grey Water.
Two glasses filled, two pipes to fill—
‘To all our fortunes, brother!’
And as they clink—like so—we drink
Fair passage to the other
Across the Great Grey Water.
For three have sailed, and one has sailed,
His sins, like ours, still on him,
God sleep his soul! five oceans roll
Their long weight all upon him.
O God! thy Great Grey Water!
But I am still, and you are still,
And here our chance has flung us;
True comrades we, but…there were three
And one is not among us
Beside the Great Grey Water.
A breathing space, a biding place,
Soft lights and beakers beaded,
Then out again and on again,
Unminded and unheeded,
Across the Great Grey Water.
Now two have met where three have met
With curses or with laughter;
And so our Day shall pass away,
And so our Night come after—
But, ah! the Great Grey Water
poem by Edwin James Brady
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Jane O'Grady
Grey old lady, sat by the sea
With her nimble fingers, weaving,
Jane O’Grady, seventy three
In the world that she was leaving.
Hummed sweet honey from virgin lips
In the way of the wind, sad-sighing,
Carried the song from her fingertips
To the day that she lay dying.
Shuttle sang in the early breeze
To the tune of life’s sweet sorrow:
“God, I’m weary of weaving love,
But I’ll not be here tomorrow.”
Grey old lady, worked with a will
On the shawl of life’s sweet pattern,
Fingers stilled in the dawning chill
As the world turned once too often.
Nevermore will she weave the love
That we borrowed, all unknowing,
Only the rags of the hand-me-downs
With the grey wind blowing.
24 November 1974
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Senators Daughter
Hockey teams have playoff dreams
Teenage girls red magazines
No one hears the despirate screams of the techno dj
What does he say?
He say
Sha la la la la la
He say
Sha la la la la la
Im floating away
On oceans of grey-blue water
Im rising above
Im falling in love with the senators daughter
Im floating away
On oceans of grey-blue water
Im rising above
Im falling in love with the senators daughter
Crossing gaurds star traffic jams
Soccer moms drive minivans
No one sees the anchor man on the instant replay
What does she say?
She say
Sha la la la la la
She say
Sha la la la la la
Im floating away
On oceans of grey-blue water
Im rising above
Im falling in love with the senators daughter
Im floating away
On oceans of grey-blue water
Im rising above
Im falling in love with the senators daughter
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Cigarette
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker's tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
poem by Edwin Morgan
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Long Grey Mare
Written by peter green.
Ive got a long grey mare, she wont let me ride
I got a long grey mare, she wont let me ride
She makes me brush her in the morning
And put her to bed every night
Long grey mare, why cant we be just like before
Long grey mare, why cant we be just like before
We used to ride so hard
Until we just couldnt ride no more
Break:
Look at me grey mare, dont I feed you everyday
Look at me grey mare, dont I feed you everyday
But when I dig you with my spurs
You turn around the other way
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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