Pegasus
Lava gouts from the volcano's jagged neck,
hot and thick as a gorgon's blood
and snakes into the sea's cold check,
where seething baleful steam clouds scud.
Pale ashen horse heads for the stratosphere.
Flailing hooves split white moonbeams
scattering red and gold, sear shear,
for the morning and evening sun to glean.
Gentle sweep of noctilucent wings
filters moonlight, blue as fabled springs.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lava Lamp
In the half light of the evening
I could almost see you glow, I can tell by the way you're moving,
Time may be right to let you know,
you've got a many coloured halo, the body of venus
a babe rainbow and if I come on any closer, I might fall into your silhouette
but the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, lava lava lava lamp
indigo, violet and blue, can we meet where the edge is blur cause I am comin' atcha, like a bug eye heading for the burn
the truth is I can't stay away, no I wanna let you light my volcano
and maybe it's just my imagination, but you never know
because the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
so let it, so let it, so let it ...
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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12. Moonlight River
Black horse, strolling alone, to the river
He lowers his neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, shading the rays from the sky
White horse, treading alone, to the river
She lowers her neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, fusing the shadow into the night
Gradually the clouds disperse, and the moon
Shines warmly on the black horse
It lifts up its head and looks around
The white horse has disappeared.
(Aug 23,2004)
poem by Eugene Issaus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Volcano
Volcano
By: jimmy buffett, keith sykes, harry dailey
1979
Chorus:
Now i don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
Chorus:
Let me say now i don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
Ground she's movin' under me
Tidal waves out on the sea
Sulphur smoke up in the sky
Pretty soon we learn to fly
Chorus:
Let me hear ya now i don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
Now my girl quickly say to me
Mon you better watch your feet
Lava come down soft and hot
You better lava me now or lava me not
Chorus:
Let me say now i don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
-- spoken: "mr utley..."
No time to count what i'm worth
'cause i just left the planet earth
Where i go i hope there's rum
Not to worry mon soon come
Chorus:
Now i don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
Chorus:
One more now i don't know (ah he don't know)
I don't know (he don't know, mon)
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
But i don't want to land in new york city
Don't want to land in mexico (no no no)
Don't want to land on no three mile island
Don't want to see my skin aglow (no no no)
Don't want to land in commanche sky park
Or in nashville, tennessee (no no no)
Don't want to land in no san juan airport
Or the yukon territory (no no no)
Don't want to land no san diego
Don't want to land in no buzzards bay (no no no)
Don't want to land on no ayotollah
I got nothing more to say
Chorus:
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
Chorus:
Just a one more, i don't know (he don't know)
I don't know (i don't know, man)
I don't know where i'm a gonna go
When the volcano blow
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kimo's About Nature In The City
The thunder branches, crackling down blue-white,
on the inner eye the power
of God is lingering.
*
At the old pond each raindropp circles out wide
before a fish gleaming gold
brake through the calm surface
*
With the first cold rain shower that is falling
steam hisses in snow white clouds
reaching up to heaven
*
No croaking frog or cricket that screams shrill
can be heard above the noise
of a train and lorries.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunset Red & Pale Moonlight
(kim richey)
We gave the day up to a back road
And let it take us out of town
To a spot down by the river
To watch the sun go down
We must have sat and talked for hours
Not giving in to the night
And that day I saw the sunset
In a whole new light
Now the stars came out like diamonds
On a deep blue satin sky
He said from where he stood
Honey you sure look good
In sunset red and pale moonlight
Later we pulled out the blanket
When we felt the evening chill
Oh and he wrapped his arms around me
Thats when time stood still
Now the stars came out like diamonds
On a deep blue satin sky
He said from where he stood
Honey you sure look good
In sunset red and pale moonlight
Now the stars came out like diamonds
On a deep blue satin sky
He said from where he stood
Honey you sure look good
In sunset red and pale moonlight
In sunset red and pale moonlight
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pale
Pale blue clouds, in a pale blue sky,
Pale sea birds, fly every which way.
O'er the pale blue sea, they softly fly,
Throughout the pale blue day.
Pale brown grass, withering alone,
Amid the sand dunes dying.
Pale as a sun bleached animal bone,
As you hear the sea breeze sighing.
Pale grey mist upon the sea,
Slowly creeping to the shore.
Pale giant tarpons jumping free,
As the pale Atlantic, gently roars.
12/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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I Witness A Raven
When the moonlight fractures the patterned frost,
in fragments chiseled into the glass,
shattering and refracting its battery
of light, in silent solace through my window,
I witness a raven through eyes
thick and glazed with sleep.
The night hermit probes his feast
of carrion, picking at entrails, a solitary
meal devoured beneath the round moon’s
undaunted glare, refracting the criss-cross
claw marks on the crust.
The boughs and branches
are furred with frost, casting their shadows
upon dunes of snow. He lifts his hollow
wings, a rancid clump of meat in his beak,
and springs upon a limb, scattering
the snow that’s sprinkled there;
the moon wears a ring
of diffused blue, foretelling snow in the morning,
replenishing the chill in the wind.
The stars that cut the blue-black sky sing
like crystals, but are dulled to wet parchment.
The hesitant dawn is inching its hazy throat
toward the horizon, and the raven, a lone witness
to the dying night. The black pearls of his eyes
shine with a cold luster, untouched
by the palls of weather,
toughened by the glint of his harsh feather.
poem by Caroline Misner
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Waters of Love
water cool, fresh
a waterfall
a clear blue pool
then it is steam
white vapor hot
burning everthing
as clouds massing
in the west
thunder clapping across my chest
then rain cold
in my face
which are tears
as brook, steam
rivers or ocean
which water or notion
Is not love
made of such
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only The Darkness (Can See)
kick down the door,
rattle the panes and the shutters.
break the glass urn,
blow the dust from the wings.
touch the untouchable.
feel the forbidden.
what you taste in your sleep,
is only you!
strike a match to the walls,
sweep your belongings to the fire.
what is burned cant own you,
the unbridled horse runs free!
bite the neck of the lover,
give way to the howl.
the moonlight writes verses
only the darkness can see!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Messidor
Put in the sickles and reap;
For the morning of harvest is red,
And the long large ranks of the corn
Coloured and clothed as the morn
Stand thick in the fields and deep
For them that faint to be fed.
Let all that hunger and weep
Come hither, and who would have bread
Put in the sickles and reap.
Coloured and clothed as the morn,
The grain grows ruddier than gold,
And the good strong sun is alight
In the mists of the day-dawn white,
And the crescent, a faint sharp horn,
In the fear of his face turns cold
As the snakes of the night-time that creep
From the flag of our faith unrolled.
Put in the sickles and reap.
In the mists of the day-dawn white
That roll round the morning star,
The large flame lightens and grows
Till the red-gold harvest-rows,
Full-grown, are full of the light
As the spirits of strong men are,
Crying, Who shall slumber or sleep?
Who put back morning or mar?
Put in the sickles and reap.
Till the red-gold harvest-rows
For miles through shudder and shine
In the wind's breath, fed with the sun,
A thousand spear-heads as one
Bowed as for battle to close
Line in rank against line
With place and station to keep
Till all men's hands at a sign
Put in the sickles and reap.
A thousand spear-heads as one
Wave as with swing of the sea
When the mid tide sways at its height;
For the hour is for harvest or fight
In face of the just calm sun,
As the signal in season may be
And the lot in the helm may leap
When chance shall shake it; but ye,
Put in the sickles and reap.
For the hour is for harvest or fight
To clothe with raiment of red;
O men sore stricken of hours,
Lo, this one, is not it ours
To glean, to gather, to smite?
Let none make risk of his head
Within reach of the clean scythe-sweep,
When the people that lay as the dead
Put in the sickles and reap.
Lo, this one, is not it ours,
Now the ruins of dead things rattle
As dead men's bones in the pit,
Now the kings wax lean as they sit
Girt round with memories of powers,
With musters counted as cattle
And armies folded as sheep
Till the red blind husbandman battle
Put in the sickles and reap?
Now the kings wax lean as they sit,
The people grow strong to stand;
The men they trod on and spat,
The dumb dread people that sat
As corpses cast in a pit,
Rise up with God at their hand,
And thrones are hurled on a heap,
And strong men, sons of the land,
Put in the sickles and reap.
The dumb dread people that sat
All night without screen for the night,
All day without food for the day,
They shall give not their harvest away,
They shall eat of its fruit and wax fat:
They shall see the desire of their sight,
Though the ways of the seasons be steep,
They shall climb with face to the light,
Put in the sickles and reap.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Got The Sun In The Morning
Taking stock of what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
The things I got will keep me satisfied
Checking up on what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
A healthy balance on the credit side
Got no diamond
Got no pearl
Still I think I'm a lucky girl
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[2]
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no silver
Got no gold
What I got can't be bought or sold
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[3]
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no heirlooms
For my kin
Made no will but when I cash in
I leave the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening they're all right
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stratosphere of Joy
He whose life that is not well spend,
Have not yet reached the stratosphere,
His mind is not completely bend
That the joy of life is at the end,
But once in his life, he shall go here,
And be with us in the stratosphere.
In May, when sunshine arise
The droppeth of fear subside;
Inter-relating with the God
In the stratosphere of joy,
Where gloominess is out of sight,
And only joyfullness reigns;
Yet amidst the life, He once thought,
That theres no stratosphere of joy,
But now, openminded he is,
He now know he can exist,
In the stratosphere of joy
And dance with glee and joy.
poem by Andre Jose Surigao
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Horse and Rider
The prairie blows the grasses
And whips the horse’s mane.
They travel, horse and rider,
Through the sea of amber grain
Hills roll by, and clouds pass
But steady are the horse’s hooves
Upon the wind blown grass
As they travel, horse and rider
There is no trail that they follow
No path that can be seen
There they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless blowing green
poem by Horse Poet
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One of the most amazing locations I've ever been is the top of the volcano in Tanzania, Africa. It's an actual volcano where you really have this lava every day.
quote by Jan de Bont
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Song
An old man and an old horse moved slowly and steadily
towards the furthest mountain.
An old man on an old horse.
The old man thought of the many times he'd been thrown;
the old horse, how many times he'd been ridden.
They weren't in no great rush.
The old man sat straight in the saddle, head held high.
The old horse kept his head high too,
letting his feet choose the way as they
searched the clouds looking for any old friends
they had passed on the way.
A soft gentle rain started to fall,
the horse stopped, the old man bent over
and stroked his friend's neck
poem by William Mendelson
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Barren Waste
Mount, ride my Prince, son of our Queen,
Lead us to Gold.
Pale is the horse, the dim white horse,
That I now do hold.
Our Queen sent us here, to Cebu,
Most cruel land.
Here we stand, awaiting her command,
Take my hand.
Now you will be lost, silent and pale,
Son of the Queen.
Lead us to Cebu, Land of Gold,
Never to be seen.
poem by Jerome Brooke
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Heroin
Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
A cord around your arm and the needle hunts your vein.
You'll starve in your dreams with the lotus in your brain.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
There's blood in your eyes, and your time's not free.
Selling it like that will get yah HIV.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Ya, death is a rider on a pale horse.
The Power of Steam
We now do sing a new theme,
It is prodigious power of steam ;
And our little fast steam horse,
How he works with mighty force.
Instead of hay and oats, we thrust
In his mouth chips and saw dust ;
Which heats the blood in his veins,
Then how he saws and bores and plains.
He's never troubled with the botts,
But all the time he gaily trotts,
And every day he is full able
To make many a chair and table.
Work for him is only sport,
He feels so good he oft does snort,
As he trotts along his course,
Our little frolicksome steam horse.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Horse and Rider
The prairie blows the grasses
And whips the horse’s mane.
They travel, horse and rider,
Through the sea of amber grain
Hills roll by, and clouds pass
But steady are the horse’s hooves
Upon the wind blown grass
As they travel, horse and rider
There is no trail that they follow
No path that can be seen
There they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless blowing green
The Heart
The wild heart grew white in the forest;
Dark anxiety
Of death, as when the gold
Died in the grey cloud.
An evening in November.
A crowd of needy women stood at the bare gate
Of the slaughterhouse;
Rotten meat and guts fell
Into every basket;
Horrible food.
The blue dove of the evening
Brought no forgiveness.
The dark cry of trumpets
Tr a v e l l e d i n t h e golden branches
Of the soaked elms,
A frayed flag
Smoking with blood,
To w h i c h a m a n l i s t e n s
In wild despair.
All your days of nobility, buried
In that red evening!
Out of the dark entrance hall
The golden shape
Of the young girl steps
Surrounded by the pale moon,
The prince’s court of autumn,
Black fir trees broken
In the night’s storm,
The steep fortress.
O heart
Glittering above in the snowy cold
poem by Georg Trakl
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