Mayan Apocalypse
December 21,2012
From shimmering oil
of ebony still
will come flailing of limbs
will come hacking
quick slashing
of hands now untied
tattooing no pattern
not even a maze
depriving gray walls
of their stone
will come spittle
wild churning rivers
agush from slack jaws
of blanching gray hounds
till one day at dawn
will come quiet
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Will You Love Me In December As You Do In May
Now, in the summer of life, sweetheart
You say you love but me
Gladly I give all my heart to you
Throbbing with ecstasy
But last night I saw, while a-dreaming
, the future old and gray,
And I wondered if youll love me then, dear
Just as you do today?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
You say the glow on my cheek, sweetheart
Is like the rose so sweet
But when the bloom of fair youth has flown
Then will our lips still meet?
When lifes setting sun fades away, dear,
And all is said and done,
Will you arms still entwine and caress me?
Will our hearts beat as one?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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neath A Cold Gray Tomb Of Stone
Passing by a lonesome graveyard
Everything I love is gone
Weeping as they lay my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
In this world i'm left to wander
With no one to call my own
While my precious darling's sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Out there in that lonesome graveyard
She is sleeping all alone
And I burried my heart with her
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Skies above are dark and stormy
All the sunshine,all is gone
For the while my love is sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
My heart is dead and yet i'm living
Traveling through this world alone
I wish that I was with my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~ A Prisoner Of Your Love ~ [Double Acrostic]
A prisoner of your love. I stand behind four walls of gray.
- Alone; your memory my only company, each solitary day.
Locked down; twenty four hours around the clock, without you near.
- Living dreams of the past it seems, are all that I hold dear.
Constantly and always there, memories of you flow through the air.
- Constantly reminding me of our love. That we no longer share.
A prisoner of your love. Can I do the time? That's my only fear.
- And now the echo's of my lonely heart are the only sounds I hear.
Trapped; in this cinder block room. Shadows of gloom are here to stay.
- Trapped here without your love, as my blood turns prison gray.
Release may never come to me. This cell's become my home you see.
- Reliving how things used to be, in this gray walled penitentiary.
Alcatraz; is where I dwell. Where these gray walls are my living hell.
- Although one day escape I may. Right now's too soon to tell.
Zenith's, I know our love had reached. I'll love you still as time goes on.
- Zealously i'll wait for thee on ''The Rock''; till my last breath is gone..
*********************************** *************************************************
Author notes:
Written in double Acrostic -
This poem was inspired by a picture of Alcatraz Prison
''The Rock'' as they called it then. Built in 1866, closed
one hundred years later - and a poem written by one the
prisoners:
Untitled -
I awaken to gray
And gray is my morning sun
I live gray
And all days are like one
There are no colors
Only shadows along the way
Sometimes I think, the blood in my body
Must also be prison gray
Eyes Of Green And Gray
Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray
Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white
Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone
Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray
poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
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Whatso might happen happens still
Try churning oceans of wisdom,
You may well get nectar of life,
But churning life's venomous strife,
The crown of thorn comes with kingdom.
Ask not the hen on a dunghill
O when the sun would rise,
The sun shall rise to scorching noon,
To fall and fall till midnight's moon,
Till death rises, till dark night dies,
And new dawn as ever does dawn,
Though unsteady, like a newly born fawn,
Whatso might happen happens still.
Notice, dawn dawns not till dusk dies,
The sun must set if it should rise.
_________________________________________
Not a traditional sonnet this, but a sonnet still.
_____________________________________________ _____
- Sonnets | 08.04.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Growin' Gray
HELLO, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
Tho' it oughtn't to cause me no su'prise,
Fur there's many a sun 'at you've seen rise
An' many a one you've seen go down
Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
An' storms an' snows have had their way—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to play
Are dreams of a far past long ago
That lie in a heart where the fires burn low—
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm.
December holds the place of May—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray —
Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age can't make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love fur all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Walking West
Anyone with quiet pace who
walks a gray road in the West
may hear a badger underground where
in deep flint another time is
Caught by flint and held forever,
the quiet pace of God stopped still.
Anyone who listens walks on
time that dogs him single file,
To mountains that are far from people,
the face of the land gone gray like flint.
Badgers dig their little lives there,
quiet-paced the land lies gaunt,
The railroad dies by a yellow depot,
town falls away toward a muddy creek.
Badger-gray the sod goes under
a river of wind, a hawk on a stick.
poem by William Stafford
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Opel
On a distant shore, miles from land
Stands the ebony totem in ebony sand
A dream in a mist of gray...
On a far distant shore...
The pebble that stood alone
And driftwood lies half buried
Warm shallow waters sweep shells
So the cockles shine...
A bare winding carcass, stark
Shimmers as flies scoop up meat, an empty way...
Dry tears...
Crisp flax squeaks tall reeds
Make a circle of gray in a summer way, around man
Stood on ground...
Im trying
Im trying to find you!
To find you
Im living, Im giving,
To find you, to find you,
Im living, Im living,
Im trying, Im giving
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith
A wall
Gray and tall,
And a sky of gray,
And a twilight cold;
And that is all
That my eyes behold.
But I know that unseen,
Beyond the wall,
On a lawn of green
White blossoms fall
In the waning light;
And beyond the lawn
Curtains are drawn
From windows bright.
And within she moves with her gracious hands
And the heart that loves and that understands,
Waiting to succour poor souls in need,
And to bind with her blessing the hearts that bleed.
I know it all, though I cannot see;
But the tired-out tramp,
Dirty and ill,
In the evening's damp,
In the Spring's clean chill,
Knows not that there
Is the heart to care
For such as I and for such as he.
He slouches along, and sees alone
The gray of the sky and the gray of the stone.
Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey
In all Thy world that is now so green,
I will bethink me of this spring day
And the house of welcome, known yet unseen;
The wall that conceals
And the faith that reveals.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Of Two Different Natures
shimmering sea
floating forever on
the waves
landing on the shore
the shimmering is gone
the gray sands are hungry
and there are too many of them
countless
annihilators
of motion and light
earth and water
always part away
the sky is ready
for the ball of fire
that soon
shall take its
needed sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sad Bridge In Eastern Europe
In a Slavic city,
Unpronouncable, on a concrete bridge,
Spanning churning gray water,
Smokestacks on the shrore belching yellow fumes.
Peering over an English paper
I saw her and we locked eyes.
She joined me on the bench:
'All alone? ' she asked.
Then we exchanged pleasantries
That soon, so soon, became profound.
Of course it began to rain.
We held hands and trotted off the bridge.
Here she told
me she had to return to work,
Home or boarding-house.
It was predestined, my loneliness, for why else was I here.
Walking the drizzling streets,
Crowded with gray brick buildings,
impossible Complex corners,
I wandered for hours,
Just needing a hand to hold.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Olive Garden
(Rainer Maria Rilke)
He went up under the gray leaves
All gray and lost in the olive lands
And laid his forehead, gray with dust,
Deep in the dustiness of his hot hands.
After everything this. And this was the end.
-- Now I must go, as I am going blind.
And why is it Thy will that I must say
Thou art, when I myself no more can find Thee.
I find Thee no more. Not in me, no.
Not in others. Not in this stone,
I find Thee no more. I am alone.
I am alone with all men's sorrow --
All that, through Thee, I thought to lighten,
Thou who art not, O nameless shame ...
Men said, later: an angel came.
Why an angel? Alas, there came the night,
And leafed through the trees, indifferently.
The disciples moved a little in their dreams.
Why an angel? Alas, there came the night.
The night that came was no uncommon night:
So hundreds of nights go by.
There dogs sleep; there stones lie,
Alas a sorrowful, alas any night
That waits till once more it is morning.
For then beseech: the angels do not come,
Never do nights grow great around them.
Who lose themselves, all things let go;
They are renounced by their own fathers
And shut from their own mothers' hearts.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Charlotte
I never was
a particularly spiritual person
until the day
I saw your raven
ebony shimmering
wings
unfold in my hands
and you took flight
never to
return
poem by Fiona Eris Strand
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Tears Of A Guy
Lone child in the wild
A bird thats lost at sea
The words that whisper in the silent film
Say tomorrows gone for me
All night lying with your head in my hands
And I search for reasons why
But if I cant get to it - I cant get through it
All thats gone now - all thats...
The tears of a guy
Is all I ever see
The tears of a guy
So many rivers run to me
Wake up dreaming with the sun in my eyes
Hear me screaming, dont ask why
Some strange music from some sweet soul song
Says I cant feel it - I cant try
Time goes - and the fountain still flows
Ill be watching through fortunate eyes
But I cant get cured - I must endure
All thats gone now - all thats...
The tears of a guy
Is all I ever see
The tears of a guy
So many rivers run to me
Drift by the walls - this way
Babylon - in your eyes
Drift by the walls - this way
Babylon - in your eyes
So many rivers run through me
(and we will walk)
Oh little angel
Its all I ever see
(and we will rise)
So many rivers run to me
(and we will walk)
Oh my little angels
In your eyes
So many rivers run through me
In your eyes
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faithless Nelly Gray
A Pathetic Ballad
Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.
Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'
The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'
Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.
But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.
Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave
'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'
'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'
'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.
'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'
Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.
So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.
One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.
And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.
A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Confederate Memorial Day
The marching armies of the past
Along our Southern plains,
Are sleeping now in quiet rest
Beneath the Southern rains.
The bugle call is now in vain
To rouse them from their bed;
To arms they'll never march again-
They are sleeping with the dead.
No more will Shiloh's plains be stained
With blood our heroes shed,
Nor Chancellorsville resound again
To our noble warriors' tread.
For them no more shall reveille
Sound at the break of dawn,
But may their sleep peaceful be
Till God's great judgment morn.
We bow our heads in solemn prayer
For those who wore the gray,
And clasp again their unseen hands
On our Memorial Day.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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I’ll tell you how the sun rose
I’ll tell you how the sun rose, -
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile.
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Phyllis
PHYLLIS, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,
Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,
Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,
Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!
Only the cloud hangeth over my life.
Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday
Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife:
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,
Life must be lived as our destinies rule;
Leisure or labor or work day or play day—
Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Love Riding
such a wild horse
sleeps within
just to gallop
just to move fast
as storm
to ransack stone to dust
such the wild hoofs
to break the jaws
the salient feature of untold apache
wild his move awakes
with transmitted warm
aflames to ratify
the dribbling tracks of tunicked soil
to strip off every silence to flag
the flood of noise
pain and pleasure
the wild
wild
runs to ruin
her fathomic far
as if any further awake
bother not his sleep within
runs with gallop
runs to break
runs to implant
the scream never loose
its pacific passion
Pranab k c
04/08/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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