Beloved Vagabond
Her eyes a window to the world have forgotten the light once blinding.
Empty streets surround me. I am alone.
One with the mist that envelopes the city sleeping
Chimney stacks and smoke black bellowing are my horizons.
Who is this shadow in the night unwinding?
Is it he our beloved vagabond?
Once more upon his journey searching
Hooded and cloaked within the shadow of himself
Guided by the midnight sun?
He calls for understanding as he walks in foreign lands
Never an outsider but always an outcast
He passes the woodsman wandering... he shall kill game for the pot
He passes the songbird singing.... he shall make welcome all that winter forgot.
poem by David Lacey
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Related quotes
Passes away
Passes away
Everything passes away
The night the star
The day the fire
Everything everything.
I remained as it is
Where it is
Here as a fairy tale.
Death passes away
Birth passes away
And passes away
Everything passes away.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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In the spirit of Rumi - 41 - Prayer
In the street outside the window
a beautiful young maiden passes;
only her eyes, looking straight ahead, demurely down,
are to be seen of her, above her veil, below her headscarf; and yet –
around her, as we draw our breath, transfixed –
around her, all the air is radiant with the light of love…
and in the following days, for hours each day,
we, love-smitten, wait in hope to catch her
as she passes; and the more we see her passing,
the more we seek to snare her attention;
hoping for the day when, as she passes,
her lovely eyes may glance so briefly, glance this way…
and on that day, the day of days
which we have waited for, for weeks and months -
then, it is no longer all we want:
how to ensnare her gaze? so that, one day,
our burning ears and lips may draw one single word from her…
*
Wise men say in the ancient tongue, the word,
to pray, meant, to incline, to listen – and, to snare…
and so for every one of us, our whole life is prayer:
from the first moment to the last,
from the first time when the baby’s eyes
meet those of loving parents, until
the last moment when our eyes turn upward…
we bow in adoration of the Beloved,
of whom we are not worthy; yet…
then listen for the first word breathed
by child; by parent; lover; ruler; God…
And, lover and beloved both alike,
set snares to catch our Beloved to ourselves…
that Beloved who is outside us, yet within…
that sleeping beauty who is our very self.
and, since prayer is love, our Beloved
sets snares for us also, to test our love;
this is the lovely game of love…
God plays it too with us:
to test our faith, to test our trust, to test our love…
Prayer, O Beloved, is pure love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
====================
Shape to Guide Aligned by Light
Formed of Cross Divide of Shadow
Light to Darken The Cross Within
The Dark Surround The Light With Out
Shape To Confine The Shadow Caste Of Iron Cross
Pieced Together The Puzzle Within
Immediate Light of Circumstantial
Fade to Black
Cross Fade to Light
The Sound Staged Within
Shadow Sounds Free of Night
Forged Of Iron Shadow
Holier Than Thou Be This Shadow Cross of Age
Cast of Moon Beam of Light to Burn
Outline of Cross Confines The Shadow Dark
Which Binds A Mind To Light
Fore There In No Way Exist
This One Without The Other Side of Good
As Day to Blackest Night of Evil
As Sun Give Rise to Dawn To Cast Away
The Nightmare Within A Mind Of Day and Shadow
Night of Day To Darkest Cross Beam of Light
To Light A Mind Eclipsed In Shadow
Forever In Light To Dark Shade of Gray Matter
Inside The Cross Of Iron Shadow.
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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Gravity And Desire
frozen...
the trees, grasses partly covered,
the smoke from the chimney,
the light in the window.
the streets with silence,
even the darkness suspended.
conversation, a stray cat,
the cup cracked in the sink.
the pouring, and the fire,
shadow held by shadow.
the heart buried in dawn,
the dawn held by the dark!
ghosts?
or just snowflakes,
no one names or remembers,
falling and gravity, gravity and desire...
frozen...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Midnight Shadow Man
He comes at midnight
and kisses me tenderly
but everytime I try to touch him
he just disappear.
My midnight shadow man
who are you in my life?
My midnight shadow man
are you real,
or just my fantasy?
My midnight shadow man
can I touch you tonight?
My midnight shadow man
will you be by my side
even just for tonight?
My midnight shadow man
my midnight shadow...
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Linda Let Me Be The One
Midnight boys are outside
Scrapin tears up off the street
Standing guard over the window
Where the lonely linda sleeps
Theres a kid named eddie
Walks like an angel in defeat
The ashes of a romance come
Traces lindas name in a seat
Calls
Linda will you let me be the one
Linda will you, hey let me be the one
Linda will you let me be the one
Linda will you let me be the one
In a room full of contenders
Shadow boxin, eddies strong
Till he drops through a feigned surrender
To the canvas draped in scarves
Stole from lindas bedroom
The night he laid at her feet
And the midnight boys were wasted
Down on king street
He calls out
Linda will you let me be the one
Linda will you, hey let me be the one
Linda will you let me be the one
Linda will you let me be the one
Midnights base is st marys
Midnight boys hide from the rain
Stay with the stolen sisters
Till the streets are dry again
Talking fast cars and chrome parts
Different worlds and strange girls
Empty homes, busted hearts
And kneeling with linda in the dark
Linda will you let me be the one
Linda will you, hey let me be the one
Linda will you let me be the one
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whithin Another Man's Shadow
Is not the same
To be in the Shadow,
Than to be the Shadow itself…
For you can move away from the Shadow
Towards the light
But, the shadows could not do
The same,
For it no longer will be the shadow…
Now it is painful and hard for me
To convince myself
That it is NOT what I thought
It could be…
Worse than anything else,
Is to share another man's shadow..
Why should I pay for another man's sins?
It wouldn't be right
And I don't deserve it..
Now I realize,
That everything was just a game
With the shadow and the light
And I caught in between…
Now, obviously, one path remains
For me to take:
The light anytime,
Then,
Definitely I will be
A free Man…
However, wondering
who my shadow
One day may be?
Since you are
Already somebody's else...
©All Rights Reserved-2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Me And My Shadow
Sometimes, my shadow appears really short and small;
Whilst, at others, it stretches ahead of me, thin and tall.
Sometimes, my shadow is behind me; sometimes it’s in front.
Quite often, for my shadow, I find myself having to hunt.
Depending on how the street lamps shine their light,
My shadow may be hidden, or may be within my sight.
Sometimes, I have two shadows, plus me;
Then I appear in triplicate: one, two, three.
Sometimes, when I take my time, my shadow seems to rush;
My shadow dances round me, amid the dark night’s hush.
When I wander through an unlit patch, my shadow disappears;
Although I cannot see it for a moment, I know that it is still near.
As I emerge back into the light, I’m rejoined by my shadow.
My best buddy and I are very firmly attached, down at the toe.
My shadow is featureless; of me, it’s just a darkened outline.
During my night-time journey, it’s an ever changing design.
To my shadowy friend, I do feel really very attached.
We are two of a kind, and, I think, very well matched.
My shadow and I, travel everywhere together;
From each other, we will never ever be severed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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In the Midnight Hour
When we meet
in the midnight hour
country girl
I will bring you night flowers
coloured like your eyes
in the moonlight
in the midnight
hour
I remember
Your cold hand
held for a moment among strangers
held for a moment among dripping trees
in the midnight hour
I remember
Your eyes coloured like the autumn landscape
walking down muddy lanes
watching sheep eating yellow roses
walking in city squares in winter rain
kissing in darkened hallways
walking in empty suburban streets
saying goodnight in deserted alleyways
in the midnight hour
Andy Williams singing `We'll keep a Welcome in the
Hillsides' for us
When I meet you at the station
The Beatles singing `We Can Work it Out' with James
Ensor at the harmonium
Rita Hayworth in a nightclub singing `Arcade Mia'
I will send you armadas
of love vast argosies of flowers
in the midnight hour
country girl
when we meet
in the moonlight
midnight
hour
country girl
I will bring you
yellow
white
eyes
bright
moon
light
mid
night
flowers
in the midnight hour.
poem by Adrian Henri
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I Would Kiss You
We are now two strangers passing
On the same street.
I think that this happens because
My shadow still needs yours
Like darkness needs the light.
It's very much unlike
That indelible need of your blue love
For my sorrow.
I forgot myself there,
Searching for your vanished thoughts
About hope.
So, every time I meet you,
I'm able to understand your silence.
Oh, that silence of yours
Is a magic window to your inner world!
Your eyes still lingers in my mind,
Although yesterday will be burned in our tomorrow.
I enter through our love memory into nowhere.
It's an empty space
Between us
In-between, more exactly.
Your eyes say you still love me.
You have composed successfully
This unavoidable reality....
I would kiss you.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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In the Spirit of Rumi-18
I said to My Beloved
O My Beloved
I fear I have forgotten You!
I have fallen in love with the world –
when I walk out of the door
I swoon with the scent of the Spring air;
I hear each flower singing in the garden;
I sink into the heart of every rose;
I am dazzled by the sunlight;
I see the sky reflected in the lake
and lose myself in its shining stillness;
I see the sky and lose myself in the sky’s immensity;
when I walk, my feet want to dance;
when I speak, my heart wants to sing;
in every person who passes
old or young,
smiling or frowning,
I see myself in them;
wherever I look, I see only love…
I have fallen in love with the world –
O My Beloved, have I forgotten You?
My Beloved said
I am the one in you who sees all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The world who passed by
So much pain in my eyes,
as the world passed by.
Don't understand why, I could be so shy,
As the world passes by.
and as the world come and goes
the more and more he knows
That the emotion hidden behind my eyes
Is more than Butterflies and harmonic Sighs,
Everytime the world passes by...
And when the world walks in the narrow pathways of my saddened eyes,
Its sad as the little time flies by.
And then I'm left alone...
After the world passed by
poem by Jailyn williams
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Life is a shadow and a mist; it passes quickly by, and is no more.
A White Architect Of Light
8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone
Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections
Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Future Unwinding
They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger
All I know is that I can't be dead any longer
And so I try to be me,
But will I fall?
Can I set my mind free?
Will I ever stand tall?
I can only wait and see
Through the eyes in my head
But I can look forward and see
With the eye of my mind
So I just let the future unwind.
I let the future unwind in me.
I see the future unwinding
I feel the light is gonna be blinding
And I know that there's only one way of finding
And that is to search through the future unwinding,
Through the future unwinding in me.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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Shadow Man
Theres a man back a-ways
Who believes at where he is
And theres a girl
Up ahead who says she knows
And the street overflows
With the folk who understand
But for the guy who cant be seen
Hes the shadow man
And the shadow man is close at hand
Take a turn and see his smile
Made of nothing but loneliness
Just take a walk and be a friend
To the shadow man
You can call him joe, you can call him sam
You should call and see who answers
For he promises to come running, guided by the truth
But the shadow man is really you
Look in his eyes and see your reflection
Look to the stars and see his eyes
Hell show you tomorrow, hell show you the sorrows
Of what you did today
You can call him foe, you can call him friend
You should call and see who answers
For he knows your eyes are drawn to the road ahead
And the shadow man is waiting round the bend
Oh, the shadow man
Ohooooo oooo
Shadow man, shadow man
Its really you, its really you, its really you
Hes the shadow man
Oh yeah
Shadow man
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting By My Window
by this window
my world is made and seen
you pass by
a lonely shadow
shaded by the
full moon
in silence you
always pass
by and i sit by this window
seeing you
my loneliness
reflected in yours
this is our world now
you pass by
while i stay always looking
what passes away next.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evening
The light passes
from ridge to ridge,
from flower to flower—
the hepaticas, wide-spread
under the light
grow faint—
the petals reach inward,
the blue tips bend
toward the bluer heart
and the flowers are lost.
The cornel-buds are still white,
but shadows dart
from the cornel-roots—
black creeps from root to root,
each leaf
cuts another leaf on the grass,
shadow seeks shadow,
then both leaf
and leaf-shadow are lost.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Under Cover of Night
To slip into your shadow under cover of night.
To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window.
That shadow at the window is you and no one else;
it's you.
Do not open that window behind whose curtains you're moving.
Shut your eyes.
I'd like to shut them with my lips.
But the window opens and the breeze, the breeze
which strangely balances flame and flag surrounds my escape
with its cloak.
The window opens: it's not you.
I knew it all along.
poem by Robert Desnos
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Shadow March
All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.
Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,
With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;
And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,
And go marching along up the stair.
The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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