Time Knows No Passages
Nights in white cottages
By the last of the flickered firelight,
Supping sweet pottages
To the wind-wail without,
With the water on the wet wall
And your shadow on the lattices
As you cold-come to comfort
In the red candlelight.
At the grey day's frail dawning
We walk the storm ravages,
We talk at the tattered sea shore
Where the tide night-high rips,
I kissed you on a grey sky
Where the shells turn to sea-sand,
For time knows no passages
At a warm woman's lips.
5 July 1981
poem by David Lewis Paget
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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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Shades of Grey
Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare
White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed
Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo
Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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The Surfer
He thrust his joy against the weight of the sea;
climbed through, slid under those long banks of
foam--
(hawthorn hedges in spring, thorns in the face stinging).
How his brown strength drove through the hollow and coil
of green-through weirs of water!
Muscle of arm thrust down long muscle of water;
and swimming so, went out of sight
where mortal, masterful, frail, the gulls went wheeling
in air as he in water, with delight.
Turn home, the sun goes down; swimmer, turn home.
Last leaf of gold vanishes from the sea-curve.
Take the big roller’s shoulder, speed and serve;
come to the long beach home like a gull diving.
For on the sand the grey-wolf sea lies, snarling,
cold twilight wind splits the waves’ hair and shows
the bones they worry in their wolf-teeth. O, wind blows
and sea crouches on sand, fawning and mouthing;
drops there and snatches again, drops and again snatches
its broken toys, its whitened pebbles and shells.
poem by Judith Wright
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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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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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American Storm
Words and music by bob seger
Headin out on some uncharted path
You soon turn back
It happens time and time again
You never seem to reach the end
Someones out there on the street tonight
When things go wrong
Hell guarantee to make them right
If the price is right
Every time I look youre fallin fallin
Beaten by the wind
Every time I turn around hes there again
Its like a full force gale
An american storm
Youre buried far beneath a mountain of cold
And you never get warm
Its like a wall of mirrors
You charge 'em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You never feel the need
Everybody casts a certain light
A special gift
Its theirs to use for wrong or right
When you face the night
More and more we choose the easy way
We take no risks
We figure out which games to play
And how to make em pay
Suddenly the pressures fallin fallin
Skies have all turned grey
Suddenly the storm is heading straight your way
Its like a full force gale
Atop a mountain of cold
You tell your story again and again
And it never gets old
Its like a wall of mirrors
You charge em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You face a full force gale
An american storm
Youre buried beneath a mountain of cold
And you never get warm - no you never get warm
You face a wall of mirrors
You charge em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You never feel the need
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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A Sting In The Tail
Well I don't care about the summer rain
I know it's good for the garden
Don't care what blue skies, they turn to grey
When you come around and try to run me down
The storm clouds darken...mmm...yeah
I don't get down when the leaves go brown
It's just a charm of the season
Well things in nature have their reason
But when you come along and try to do me wrong
Well the first time I'll ignore it
But don't you push me beyond the pale
But then you're going to find there's no more water in the well
And you may think you're going to walk right all over me
But there's a sting in the tail of this honey bee
The wind blows cold as the year grows old
Yeah that's just the natural way it goes
I feel a chill from my head down to my toes
Each time you call my name and tell me I'm to blame
Well the first time I'll ignore it but don't you push beyond the pale
Then you're going to find there's no more water in the well
And you may think you're going to walk right all over me
But there's a sting in the tail of this honey bee
I said the first time I'll ignore it but don't you push me beyond the pale
And then you're going to find there's no more water in the well
You may think you're going to walk right all over me
There's a sting in the tail of this honey bee
Yes there's a sting in the tail well the cold wind's going to blow
Let it rain, let it snow
And don't give me your grief, I can't take it any more...
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Seventeen
I remember you when you were only seventeen
the sun was high above us then
and all the fields were green
and dressed in grey and white
the world was at your feet
but you'd no time for fame or lights
you were myth made real
and every part of me believed
I remember dancing in your arms at Christmas time
the local band played Maggie May;
the world was out of sight
and you were harmony
in every move you made
and I was just a teenage fool
with sense enough to pray
that I might spend some time with you
(chorus)
And now you've crossed the great divide
Your pain is gone, at such a price
And I will think of you, in grey and white,
I will think of you on autumn nights
I will think of you at Christmas time
And I'll think of when your lips touched mine
And I'll remember you at seventeen
When the sun was high
and all the fields were green
I remember you outside the gym when we were young
your eyes were full of sunshine,
there was passion on your tongue
I didn't have the words
to tell you how I felt
but still you took my hand, and walked
where love rose and fell
and I'll remember when we touched
And now you've crossed the great divide
Your pain is gone, at such a price
And I will think of you, in grey and white,
I will think of you on autumn nights
I will think of you at Christmas time
And I'll think of when your lips touched mine
And I'll remember you at seventeen
When the sun was high
and all the fields were green
13 03 2010
Night-Bound.
Comes the night that brings me rest,
Comes the dark that folds me in
This of all my nights the best,
Nights of virtue, nights of sin.
I can hear a water moan,
And it seems no mortal tide,
But my own grey life that's gone
With the darkness to abide.
Ah! beyond the veil I pierce —
See my pain and pleasure done
In a mouldering universe
Without stars and without sun!
Through my warm red veins the chill
Of Death's coming seems to creep,
Till the world grows ghasty still
To me in my lonely sleep
So I cease: this night is mine;
Other nights for other things!
Comes the gloom that is divine
With the peace for me it brings.
poem by Robert Crawford
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A Parable
BETWEEN the sandhills and the sea
A narrow strip of silver sand,
Whereon a little maid doth stand,
Who picks up shells continually
Between the sandhills and the sea.
Far as her wondering eyes can reach
A Vastness, heaving grey in grey
To the frayed edges where the day
Furls his red standard on the breach,
Between the skyline and the beach.
The waters of the flowing tide
Cast up the seapink shells and weed;
She toys with shells, and doth not heed
The ocean, which on every side
Is closing round her vast and wide.
It creeps her way as if in play,
Pink shells at her pink feet to cast;
But now the wild waves hold her fast,
And bear her off and melt away
A Vastness heaving gray in gray.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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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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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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A Death-Parting
LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Gulls
When the mist drives past and the wind blows high,
And the harbour lights are dim--
See where they circle, and dip and fly,
The grey free-lances of wind and sky,
To the water's distant rim!
Like spirits possessed of a fierce delight,
A courage that cannot fail,
They face the breakers--they face the night--
The mad storm-horses are silvery white,
They ride through the bitter gale!
They seem like the souls of the long, long lost,
Who breasted the ocean-main--
Vikings whose vessels were tempest-tossed,
Voyagers who sailed, whatever the cost,
And never came home again.
Or stranger and wilder fancy--it seems
As I hear their wind-torn cry,
No birds fly there through the sun's last gleams,
But the wraiths of hopes--the ghosts of dreams
That the old sea-gods saw die.
When the mist drives past and the wind blows high,
And the harbour lights are dim--
See where they circle, and dip and fly,
The grey free-lances of wind and sky,
To the far horizon's rim.
poem by Virna Sheard
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One Woman Man
I'm a one woman man after all these years
I've sailed with the tide on a sea of tears
Any port in a storm, I'd make my home
Any arms that were warm, when I was alone
CHORUS
When the moon was high, I would drift away
Into the night, until another day
When the sun comes up, I just wanna see
The woman that I love, lying next to me
I'm a one woman man I've got to say
You know that it hasn't always been this way
But that's all changed, I can say at last
I've waved goodbye to my chequered past
CHORUS
I'm a one woman man & that's no lie
I've got no use for no alibi
Ain't got no time, cause time can fly
And when I'm not with her, then I can't get high
CHORUS
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lady in Grey
On this road, I did meet,
In the wee hours, a lady,
frail and petit.
I spoke to her softly,
and bid her good day.
This little old lady,
all dressed in grey.
Just a slight nod, was her
greeting you see,
as she continued her walk,
up the hill past me.
I had to know, on this very night,
why this lady in grey, gave me
such a fright.
I turned my head quickly,
to ask her, her name
but gone was the lady,
I had met in the rain.
This story you see, really is
true.
fore I met her that morning,
around the hour of two.
The lady in grey, was Mrs.
Metler, you see,
a lady from a time, long
before you and me.
Dec.01 2012
poem by Earl Spencer
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A Storm Is Coming
An angry grey comes from the deepening storm
Caressing the wings of petrels, gulls and a
Lone storm riding albatross
Greens curling twisting into grey corners
Black edges spitting razor rain
Wind driven craziness
Smiling predatory hunters gather on the front line
Storms bring nervous food sources
That have lost caution
Thrown it to the wind so easy
This wind that whips up salty froth
The rain rains
Big fish eat
Little fish die
There is a symphony of sound
That no one hears
Storms assume that the world is deaf
There is a hundred colours here
Mixing on this easel of nature
Out here on the sea of bluster
This way and that way
The wind and the waters
The wind and the waves
The wind and the wild
Wanton storm song
That no one else can sing
And the birds wheel and cry
Turn and fly away just before they cant
The beasts of the deep grey green
do the same
Only I cannot turn and fly away
Only I remain and scream at the sight
sound and might.
poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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The Salty Sea
Oh, how I love the salty sea,
And if it were up to me,
I would stay there night and day,
While felling it's soft, sweet spray.
I would sit on the salty sea shore,
Watching the seagulls dip and soar.
I would sit on the sand, soft and white,
And stay 'till the sun was out of sight.
When the sea tide is low,
I will stay while it tickles my toes.
When the sea tide is high,
I will not bid it good-bye.
Oh, how I love the salty sea,
I wish it belonged just to me.
If I could hold my breathe forever,
I would never move, never!
So, on the sand I would lay,
And wait for the tide to take me away...
Oh, how I love the sea!
poem by Layla Stone
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Misty Water Woman
I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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