Related quotes: the Source of ‘Crab Nebula'...

The Source

the Source of ‘Crab Nebula'

'The greats molder in their graves
Their words collect as dust upon their spines
Their hearts do not beat in time with today
and yet, the Spirit calls & you answer
What more can a ‘writer' do'?

(poetic writers are compelled to write
& seldom know why)

Ninth Street

There is a cold water'd house
On a bleak winter'd street
With stale musty stink
Of unwashed sock and sheet
Dirty dishes left still
Standing there in the sink.
Memories drenched in scent
Of kerosene and coal
Christmases without trees
Colored paper or ribbon bows.
Yet ___ there was laughter, warm
and yes ___ love
Her making toast over-done
and coffee too thin for him.
Poverty of wage and things
Cannot suppress the hope
Of loves gentle kiss
As passions
Became a foggy mist
Of what could have been
Instead of what is.

(Genetic Memory of Life before I was)

Curmudgeon

(I did not ask to be born)

Knowing why, doesn't make the search go away
Knowing how, doesn't mean you can stop
There are alternative ways, different days
No one gets to stay forever

There are traps
There are walls
People trip and people fall
and some never get up and walk again

The world continues to change
Nothing stays the same
Tomorrow is not always better
Bad things happen to good people
Good things happen to bad

and no one knows, why the wind blows
The water rises and why everything must die
Wishing will not make the pain of life go away
Life, is what it is.

Son... this is Karma calling ___

I did not hear him as he called out
As if I could have comforted him
Or kept him from slipping away
Perhaps he was waiting to say goodbye
Or to hear how sorry I was to see him go

I did not hear him as he called out
I was young and caught up in living my life
Of squander, waste and dark skinned girls
With eyes of fire and ice
I admit I was not very nice

I did not hear him as he called out
Now fear grips my stony heart
Holds me tight as I call out
and there is no one there
In the middle of the night.

Decadent Dreams ___

Every day I am borne anew
Through the mud and sludge
Of decadent dreams
And some vague remembrance
That I'm connected to my past
I stare at a mirrored reflection
I do not recognize
My cold pinching shoes feel too far away to tie
As I try to remember, where I'm going and why
I try to capture that which is lost
The world that was meant for me
Is not the world in which I live
My face feels the sting of one hand clapping
My eyes focus on the world outside of my self
The colors change from ‘Dali-esque vibrancy
To being all sooty and smelling of sweat
Ahhh, ... it must be Monday and time to go back to work.

Hitch Hiker___

I found center and faced South
(thinking to my self)
‘Might as well start walking my ass some more'
I had gone back home, it wasn't there anymore
I had no future ‘cept my next step
Hungries forced asleep
Dead-air feed's on my innards
And yet, never have I felt so alive
I felt the wind push me further along the highway
Pushed by the driving force of Peterbilts and Reo's
Death a dark lonely step just to the left of shoulder
the Sign read
‘Watch Out For Falling Rocks'
Walk-another step
Impact on the endless lostness
Despair unworthy of the energy required
Onemindedness
Step impact, step, step
Taillights stop, door open
Light on friendly face
Smile,
Jump in as a grateful alley-cat seeking shelter from the rain,
Sot, footsoak, water-blister, blood wet, of another years-end drizzle
Feel the warm fragrant above my own Zen-stench
Step
Step
Now ride.

Cross the Line___

I've been to the other side
you know, Crossed the line
Where the juke joints live and people die
Where the rhythms have a hitch and some jive
And the words flow as a sudden snow
Kinda unexpected
Where the rules ain't as important
As the fire and ice, going through my veins
and the sound of underground trains
Made me feel gritty in my B-flat' strains
The city makes me crazy
Air I breathed, kinda hazy
& I couldn't take it anymore
So, I poured all my feelings onto the page
Bounced off the ceilings with all of my rage,
To see if it would fit, into the message I had writ
I have been, to the other side.

Just Relax ___

We are all just passing through
If we decide to stay a while, sit a spell
We may be able to rent or lease some place
As we ride this rock through space
We can't own it, even if we pay for it
The tax man will take it back
Come with bricks and bats
We own nothing, that we can take with us
As we build our towers and bridges
We can't even take the smell of flowers
They leave at our grave
Or the sweat we gave to make this place ours
So just relax
Don't get too attached, It ain't ours
We just use it for hours, to do what They' want us to do.

One Way Ticket___

Another day of the dead as I stare at my empty bed
I see shadows of the Moon as time falls behind
Love had grown old and turned to dust
The papers of Divorce have finally been signed
Disappointment has replaced my once young lust
Words can no longer describe what is left of my mind
As once held hopes and dreams
Now slowly unravel and unwind
The Sun turns dim and grows small upon the western sky
Clouds from the East, join with clouds from the North
And grayness comes into my world
The ecstatic colors of Autumn leaves silently fall to ground
The ‘Dog Winds of Winter' called forth their biting
Knowing she was no longer there to warm me with her smile.

Agnostic____

No one knows why some choices made are unwise / certainly not I
Or why some are out of step with the universal mind / as is mine
All I know for sure ___ is, I know nothing' for sure

There are those that believe with all their heart / I know not why
They see things that are not here or there / that I cannot
All I know for sure ___ is, I know nothing' for sure

While others are willing to kill or die
For an idea that I cannot comprehend
Or bring about a final end
Without trying to mend a broken fence
To me / makes no sense
All I know for sure ___ is, I know nothing' for sure.

Acceptance ___

I opened the bag *, that I had carried a lifetime
There was a lot of dark empty space
Some memories, smiles and tears
That never found my face
Knowledge without wisdom
Wasted energies
Experiences never intended
Pain I could not erase
Many failures and disappointed others,
I had met along the way
Many books unread, many games not played
In my search for what? I'm still not sure
My motives, though well intended, my thoughts often impure
I could have been / should have been
Meant to be so much more
I barely managed to carry that dusty bag
Now empty, lying there on the floor
I hadn't wanted it, to end like this
Shuffling, dragging one foot
Elbow pressed to my waist
Holding up my rumpled trousers
Whimpering with each painful step
Some times life' just be like that.

(* I had stood up too quickly and passed out, an ‘out of body experience,
revealed my ‘self from above, as my body appeared as an empty bag) .

El Gatos ___

Padded feet on deserted streets
After-hours as others sleep
With half Moon hidden
Behind clouds and trees stripped of leaves.

Familiar walks of solitude and classic etude's
Whispering in tall Fall grasses
Fences blending shadows into the night.
As Life's fabric of mystery weft and weaves.

There are gardens of purple hush
With no access for trespasses
No stone pillows for the restless and the lost
That wander the forever in dirty sleeves.

The air smells of dogs of war
Avoiding the whore of death
That tempts my contempt of the pleasures
Society so eagerly receives.

Being alone is my preference in life
Not the cackle of woman and bleating sheep
Or those that would lie in wait
To destroy dreams and dawns of precious sleep.

(the night belongs to stray cats & homeless old men)

Grandfather Clock / tick tick ___

Blustery she is...
The wind that crosses the River East
Shaking the remaining leaves from their wresting
Never resting she does not cease her hoary breath.
Others, stronger than I ignore her warnings
But I, hear her curse.
She is coming for the weary and infirm
She is searching for me in shudders and shakes
This is all it takes to confirm
That this year I am willing to go without a whimper.
I am ready for the kiss that takes my breath away.

WHY?

As a child I saw the gathering of suits
and dresses of somber smells.

Murmurs and the whispering of flowers
Sickly surrounding wooden chairs,
And guilt, because I did not feel anything.

'He is just a child, he does not know'.

I knew I did not like this Death thing.

Why is Uncle asleep there?
Why does she cry?
Why won't they say, so I understand?
Why can't I play?

'Shhhh, He's gone away'.

Why?

Anonymous ___

As leaves are beaten down from their homes of trees
and drops of rain rush fast towards the street corners drains
My words written in messy script on paper scraps
Are soon forgotten and do not last. I wonder...,
Was there a glimpse of gold in words unspoken?
A reflection of celebrity missed by me,
Crumpled and tossed into the waste in haste?
Probably not. But still I thought ___ maybe.
Maybe I am as among the undiscovered stars,
That flicker and shine but briefly, then burn away,
That no one sees and no one will ever know existed.

(Life is like that.)

Homeless Dreams___

I dreamt dreams as a child
And it was with fresh eyes when I woke
That I saw and remembered
What had been written in previous sleeps
Another world / the other world
That runs parallel to my own
Perhaps a step ahead or behind,
but... always, just out of reach.
A Catch of Breath___

Soon the falling will begin
Sunlight will weave in and out of leaves of trees
Changing the once dull and dusty green
Into complex tapestries
Closer to the ground
The grasses are cool and mute
Death will again dance to the tune
Of a seasons changing door
I have heard this melody before.

Breathe ___

I consider my existence and
Truth is only in the now
Everything past is muddled
Covered with a widows veil
Distorted by pride and fear

That future thing is never
What we suppose, hope or fantasize
Only the now, this moment
That eternal space between breaths
Means anything at all

Empathy with my self is all
That allows me to believe
That I deserve to exist
& gives me the will to go on.

Homeless Dust Dancer *____

Dressed in the rags of time and places
Signifying in loud incoherent phrases
With bluff and blunder
He talks a storm
Sings as thunder
Scaring tourists and their children
From tame towns that have no Zen
With once dull eyes they come
To see just another homeless bum
Believing their lives are the only way
They lie to self wishing they
Could also speak the magic of dirt and dust
And do what the dust dancer must.

* (Mike, a homeless person, lived on the sidewalk across the street) .

Inevitable___

The Autumn clouds gather &
Roll slowly across the small town quiet
Oak leaves tense in anticipation
Of the wrenching winds to come
The Birch trees tighten their iron grip
And brace their bark against the chilling
All things joined in Sighs
Breathing in the last long warmth of Sun
October's celebration colors emerge
For their frantic dance of dying
Spent, then drained
The cold shadows fell into their nocturnal slumber
Memories fall away in swirls
Mere dreams of another time
The world slips to sleep
As man once again, prepares for war.

Epiphany of the backward child ___

Sitting at the table of empty chairs
His world so small inside
Wishing he knew how to pray
How to dance
Laugh out loud
Wishing didn't work, so he stopped.

Dreamt in threes
Wept without tears
Love got lost on Monday
Never knew how much he missed
His Mothers kiss
Wishing didn't work, so he stopped.

Turned his back on the streets and roads
Never climbed the tree
Played in Clouds
Left the Porch
Splashed in puddles
Or kicked the can
Wishing didn't work, so he stopped.

(If you wish in one hand and spit in the other hand,
which hand gets filled first?)

On the Wall / a soldier's lament___

Amid the dark of night when drunks
Cease their raucous noise
Murky dews come once again
Upon the wall of stone
Standing in doorways shadow
Hearing Earth in its turning
and aging timbers in their moan
I sense the rose petal hue of dawn
Peek its eye on the edge of a mourning sky
I will to survive another night so that my bones
Might embrace again the warm before I die
The watching having been worth the while
My tour of duty over, I could then go home.

Author notes:
(' They also serve, who stand and wait.'.)
John Milton

Nautilus Shell ___

Night under a Summer's warm
I left the shell of me to see
How my sojourn thus far had come.
The breeze breathed a sigh
As I raised my eyes to see the polar star.
Through the night sky and summer trees
Transfixed and entranced, I held my gaze
and saw the universe as under an upturned bowl
the numberless days, slowly turning, yet,
Holding within my entire life.
Whether my journeys tonight end
Or the turnings cease and suspend
I am now no further than I have ever been.
I know not WHO, has thrust me thus or why
As I stand and watch the universe unfold on
The night time sky.
There are those that seem to understand and know
Though for me it is enough,
That I have lived to see
This wondrous thing called life.
(Inspired by, Omar Khyyam)

notes:
Nautilus - Living fossil

The Nautilus (in Greek 'sailor') has survived relatively unchanged for 450 million years and is one of the only shells to survive from the Dinosaurs era. This is why the Nautilus is sometimes referred to as a 'living fossil'. The Nautilus is a nocturnal creature and spends most of its time in the great depths of the ocean. The Nautilus shell, lined with mother-of-pearl, grows into increasingly larger chambers throughout its life and so has become a symbol for expansion and renewal.)

Red Dirt Road ___

Respectfully bowing at the waist, I acknowledged his presence.
'Where do you know me from? ' he asked.
‘From the land of Shu', I said.
His green drab field jJacket showed no rank.
It was his character that showed through the dirt and stank.
'I thank you for the respect you have shown... and more,
Although we were adversaries on opposing sides in the Great War.
Now, we are equal in both status and intellect'.
‘Isn't that the truth? , I said
Come share some tea and a piece of old bread.
There is nothing else left, so let us be friends.'
'We, at least both succeeded, in bringing the world to its end'.

Author notes:
('WAR! What's is it good for? NOTHING ')
...Edwin Starr

Night Shift ___

Each of us has an image of paradise,
A destinations resting reward, and yet
I am troubled as my own view is dim.
Deep down many levels beneath the sun
Where hand hewn roots of Sequoia support
the Marble hall of others, I am sweeping
the dust gatherings and collecting into piles
The cardboard refuse of gifts not meant for me.
Toiling the forever among vague others I never knew
While I was sleepwalking somewhere up there.
I go on, in the certainty that eventually
I too will rise to the Alabaster Porticos
Washed by brief sweet showers of rain.
Till then I accept my role
As Janitor, this side of the Gate.

Loss of Memory ___

Presenting masks wherever we go.
Mere representations that we give the world to see.
However, hidden deep down within and behind the eyes,
the (i) hides, wearing a mask that we expect others to recognize.
All who play the game of Life are afraid to strip away the facade
and show our true nature known only to God.
We have forgotten what we once were, before we learned
To speak lies and subterfuge
Before we stared at a dusty glass mirror,
As if that which is there, is forever.
After years of empty laughter turns to a dry sardonic grin,
Will we remember, what still lies within.

Pawned Guitar ___

Once we were as two strings on the instrument of Life's vibration.
Each different in composition and position,
Resonating one to the other in sympathetic harmonics.
A simple and pleasant chord of quiet discretion,
Far from the cacophonies of dissonance
That filled the chaos surrounding us.
Now it appears to our tone deaf ear,
That we too, have taken up noise as our chosen song.
Our once lullaby of love can no longer be heard.

Apostasy ___

'I no longer believe'!
Barely had the air escaped my lips
That my life turned left, veered into chaos & the magic left me.
The protection ripped from above my head,
As the wind rips the ribs of an umbrella,
Turning it, uselessly inside out.
The Earth continues to turn slowly,
Slightly askew.
Rolling towards the Sun.
Warming one side, then the other.
Day was done.
Night has come.

Slitherwhumping ___

Once upon a long ago
A Slitherwhumping to and fro
I'e clumb the chimmney brim
To find what I'e might know
The world had run amok and fallen to the Runes
(Runes be seen as a future already been
buried beneath the sandy dunes)
At present the air is not a gift
All thicky gloob and gone far adrift
The rain she burn the snigglebum
Once rivers flowed as crystal lead
Now filled with green and yallow scum
The fishees floating wide eyed ded
Ahhh da world
Da world
She be a' cryin
She be such a' mess
Wimmens wearing mustache
Mens be wearing dress
What kin I do?
What kin I do
To fix this globe of ‘Foam?
I know
I know
I will rite a pome'
‘Bout the starrries shine
An a' Moon
A' hanging on a cloud
and happy Willow trees
Instead of crying shrouds
I'd never take a bath
Never get dirty knees
As I'e go crawling in the grass
With Ziggy Bumblebees
I would
I would
Spread joy an happiness
But ___ alas
Sittin on this chimney brim
I see
I jus' be a boy
With a heart of glass.

(Respects & Apologies to; Lewis Carrol's 'Jabberwocky')

Novembers Embers ___

I felt the winds turning and the chilling
Come forth as Sun rays crept past
Shadowed peaks, angling rise to the north
Reflecting on the glass of panels new sleek buildings
Setting the leaves aglow in gold
Surely the seasons end went as a friend
Leaving memories to times gone by
It was Indians Summer's wave goodbye
That which was priceless began to die
Death was close at hand and winter's slow trod
According to the will of god
The cycle began its turning and
Trampled hearts in ember's burning
From dust to dust again.

Burnt Canvases ___

I tried not to let it happen
It happened all the same
I was stuck unhappily in my own time
Trapped in my own within.
Not a time others were in
(I was still back in the ‘Fifties)
When Jazz was King
When oil paints on canvas
and being ‘Cool, was my everything.
I suspect... I now look sad
Being old and still trying to act as if I am still like that
I never had that much, but it was all that I had.
So I leaned on it, as one leans on a cane
It's too late to change, so I can't & never will.

Expiration Date ___

When did I get as old as this carton of warm milk?
Yesterday I was laughing with fellow soldiers
On a sandy beach
This morning I was being helped
To cross the busy street
The curb seemed farther than I could reach
I realize I had forgot to zip my fly
The first indication that I, was losing my youth
My trousers have lost its press
I feel to be an wrinkled mess
Do I really care?
I hope I don't have that old man smell of unwashed hair
As I slowly walk in front of others in a hurry
I worry I have become a burden & no longer of any use
Its not fair
I was so good looking just yesterday
Or maybe not
Perhaps I just forgot all those other days in between.

Gypsy Recital ___

Opening her case with the edges frayed
Burnished in carved leather dyed black
She laid her strange stringed instrument
Upon its polished rosewood back

Proceeding to press her fingers
Between the inlaid ivory frets
As if it were a piano keyboard
Playing strange sounding couplets

At first
I thought her face rather plain
Until I heard the music that came
Emanating from deep down within
That changed her olive skin
Into a Regal face in classic profile

My hand fell from the one that I was with
I clutched my heart and began to drift
Sensing her spirit, I then became aware
That I could not tear myself away
From what she had become

Abruptly
The music stopped
And then too, my empty heart
Her hungry eyes became almost primitive
As I was left just barely breathing

Quietly, she said,
'Take that, you heartless Aristocrat'

It was then that I finally recognized
The daughter,
That in my youthful arrogance
I had casually abandoned.

Revenge of the Leaves of Autumn ___

They all came together in one place
Each with each and all with all
They said their piece
From early Spring to almost Fall.

They listened intent to understand
What was to become of the rest of Man
After assimilation's of the great debate
A conclusion was decided on their fate.

After man had raked, pillaged & burned their kin
Destroying memories of those within
The great leaves of trees would finally take revenge.

'Let US no longer give air for them to breathe
No longer the beauty of our Majesty
Never again provide shade from the Sun
Let them burn, as our Fathers had been done.'

From that day forward till the end
Trees and leaves held their breath
Until all the ‘Rakers had died
The most boring of deaths.

... and for any that may come long after,
That sound you hear
Of breeze in the trees
Is the leaves in their laughter.

The Olde Poet ___

My body has turned to Winter now
Though I still think it's Spring.

The wisdom I have acquired now
Has become a dusty thing.

Memories no longer found when trying now
They come and go on Raven's wings.

My passions are all brash and bravado now
Having lost my bite and lost my sting.

But that which bothers me most now,
Is the inability to balance and rhyme this darned poem.

Bluesy ___

Heavy reed tones of the tenor Sax
Soft & gentle chords of the flat string guitar
& yes, the shush of brush on snare skin drum
Cut down the lights
Let the blue cool glow seep into the soul
Gin on the rocks makes the day go away
It's Jazz night at the Hotel Bar
Drifting in and out
Stranger and regular alike
Mixing murmurs of smoke and whispers
'got's to show PROPS to the band'
The tempo slides down a notch
Clumsily, I try to look urbane as I dance with my date
True I'm glued to who I just met
Mostly jus' tryin to be cool
Cool as the night I hope never ends
Now, as I look in the misty bathroom mirror
the old man I no longer recognize, says:
'Everything for me has changed on Saturday nights'.

A New York Fall ___

Cold wind
Blown dusty and dry
Brownstone stoops
& painted iron gates
No one smiles
& no one knows their neighbors name
and yet the Sun shines on those with money
& those with none at all.

Alzheimer Images ___

The lips pursed
Not for kiss, but for curse
Pressed then held
Lest come forth
The yellowing of antique white upon the walls.
Dusty lies withheld / Silence is spilled
Truth mistaken as understood
All is hidden beneath dreams
As faces formed in a carpet of themes.
Staring up from the abyss
There is no respect found there
Only spittle and drools
& staring eyes unseeing
Blinded by memories of never was.
Such are the ways of the melting of aging
All is medical now
Furrows are re-visited upon the brow
Trips & stumbles now
Confused
Stands alone amused
Lost in thought
Offered help
Refused it all
Then,
Taken away
Taken away
Taken away.

Stranger to my Self ___

In my need to lose my past,
I've forgotten all I know,
Cep't Yesterdays never last,
Though lined up in a row.

Now I have lost the way.
Cannot find my home.
A stranger to those, that say:
' We know You and your Poem'.

Stripped of all I had acquired,
Penniless and getting old.
Viewed through eyes very tired,
My World has turned gray and cold.

The spark that lit the flame
Is damped and worn away
Only I am left to blame
For this always empty day.

If only I knew Now
What I knew back then.
I would never have allowed
This inevitable end.

Artistic Dysfunction___

If you have to explain your Poems,
Describe your Paintings,
Justify the existence of your Sculpture,
Then you have Failed.

If you have to receive affirmation from others,
To affirm your Self,
Then you have Failed.

If your center is self and the creative process,
Instead of others and the alleviation of pain and injustice,
Then you have failed.

the Outsider ___

In dreams as in waking I am nearly naked
Seeing and seen by people I do not know.
Though streets seem familiar of places been
I am and have always been alone.

Approaching encampments I smile my name
Extend my empty hand in peace
Shuffle and shly stand
Waiting for solitude's release

I will fight to be accepted, to prove my worth.
I will stand down to show my intent
I will not accept label as slave
I will not serve the corrupters Tent.

If I must remain or go alone
Bags or belongings be damned
All I ask from those within
Is - that I keep that which I am.

Never Learned to Laugh___

Lifetimes have passed,
The lips stay dry pressed.
I have heard ' mirth upon the path.
Jealous have leaned forward,
Eager to see this marvelous thing.
Always some unfortunate soul was in pain.

Laughter of small minds,
Gleefully sarcastic at the
Imposed shortcomings of another.

At seeing me they would stop and stare,
Looking for any caricature of difference.
Any blemish or distortion.
A shade of color not before seen.

Then the stabbings would begin.
Insults thrown javelin.
Hoping to rise a tear.

To them'___ that was funny,
To enjoy the susceptibilities
Of the soft unprotected underbelly.

I have always looked beyond
The mis shapen shell God has given us,
Hiding the beauty hidden within.

Looked deep down, past
The shallow Freudian mask.

Amazed at the lovliness.

Still I have never learned to laugh.

Hope I never will.

Invitation to Reality ___

Embossed, Elegant and Proper
With White Glove upon Silver Tray
(___‘He imagined) the invitation
Would surely come
To announce his required presence to attend.

His Fellow wordsmith's and other known
Notorious Poets of the Dusky Café',
would say, 'Come Speak and Bend your phrase
and entertain us, on this, your sixty-first Birthday'.

A celebration that would envy, Cyrano, Don Quixote'
and those other guys
Wine, laughter and Raucous noise
Out on the town with the boys.

With this a gentle tear did shyly slip
Past cheek, M'stache and hidden laugh.'
My life is proven to be all that I have dreamed '
(and With that___)
A crack of burn'n wood and steam
Did rise to wake from within that Barrel of fire
To warm the homeless and dispossessed,
Quaked! Don Booda,
In cold damp shoe and common cloth,
Of yesterday's still dressed.

Breath of kerosene, and hunger now asleep,
Did creep 'round to avoid the shift of wind
That hawkish did bite the face.
Covered in smoke and ash and forgotten sins
For which, he must now pay for his mistake
Of pride, rebellion and anti-social ways.

' Ahhh ___ but those were the days
Those were the days. '

So he wanders in whatever direction
The wind blows his back
Across the tracks through the brush
Of once garden's pruned and manicured
‘Til bloom of fragrant wafting airs turned to sickly smell
Of graves now frozen gates to hell.

Leaning against granite reality...
Scrapes his knuckles and barely bleeds
Feels the need to rest
Exhausted, crumples and collapses
The stars remain fixed
His world spins in ellipse
Of forever turning
Churning through the airless void.

His Belly flutters
Eyelids squint against the light
Wind whoosh chases night
Summer and being seven follow him
Down the path to a porch well worn
An unlocked door
His Mother's scolding scorn,

' Your hands are dirty and you're late for Dinner '

(About: Old homeless Man wanders into neglected cemetery,
Dies, and spends eternity in memories of Thanksgivings past.)

Stone in the stream ___

As I tried to continue my meaningless life
Grumbling, assigning all negativity to that which my eyes beheld
My spirit damped and soggy with the ‘clay of life's drudgeries
I came upon a narrowing of the way
The hall of doors closed.

Attempting to turn and return from whence I had come
The girth of my consuming, weakened by excess,
I could not.
Stifled, by the smalling enclousures
My gaze went floorward and as my chin touched my chest,
My windpipe bent, the scent of my failures filled my lungs.

As a wounded naked child in the chill of the long night
I pondered my decisions in life and could find no fault
with any... other than my self.

I had rejected the wisdom of experience
Going my own way in arrogant delusional defiance.
With too much pride and too late in the game to change,
I accepted my fate and was slowly erased from the book of life.

There are other unread books still flapping their pages in the dust.

Soon their words too, will be bleached by the Sun
and the ink washed away by Spring rains.

They usually appear darkly on the street corners of cities,
Staring vacantly... as the rush of Life moves around them,
As a Salmon swimming upstream past a wet rock
In a fast moving stream.

All just nameless poets, left behind.

Old Man with Stick ___

They have left me now
My childhood heroes.
My dreams.
My Loves long hair and dark eyes.
As wild horses chasing sunsets.
Now come the Specters of the dark unknown.
No longer warmed of the sun.
The nights of unresolved memories and unwise choices.

I chose to be & do, no other than I am.

Malcontents Epilogue ____

No matter where I am
I would rather be somewhere else
No matter who I am with
I would rather be with someone else
Or better yet ___ be alone
For me, it is better to reject the world
Than give the world the opportunity
To reject who I have decided I should be
I am a malcontent
A label I am content to live with

~~~

Have you ever seen a stand of birch
Braced against the snow?
A field untouched by buildings
Sleeping under nights blue white glow?
Or how a country road unpaved
Weaves among the barren brush?
Can you hear winter's gentle breath
Beneath full moons hush?
Then you know the peace,
That comes with an old mans death.

poem by Donald Goodside
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Senses of the Elegy

At a funeral people usually wear black but I'm wearing white
A small glitch of faith trapped by the depths...what a sight
Everything has changed the world now that you are deceased
Even if this is not the path you chose; may your soul rest in peace
I shall sit and stay with you and your one rose coffin
Strangers stop and stare every so often
I sit next to you entwining our hands
Even if you have passed my eyes shall remain on one man
One heart, one love, one life...one past
The love I have for you and others i compare and contrast
All i ask is for things to be like before
I shall look no further and breathe nevermore
My future and memories of my friends and family matter no longer
For they cannot support me like you do...for you are stronger
I think you did know how you made me feel when I looked into your eyes
We were always happy, always together, there was no sadness...there were no lies
I sit here every minute of every hour everyday reading you my elegy
I have always loved you and I still do that's why i want you to be with me
I will stay by you until there is no such thing as the present
Any of my time spent away from you I'll always resent
Sometimes when I put your hand up to my chest I hear my name in the wind
I know it is you that calls...so I start to cry again
I cry because I'll never know what it feels like to kiss your warm lips
When you were alive you drunk my life force in big sips
And when you got full you diminished our hereafter
A life without you could tear me apart like a natural disaster
Yet here I remain by you whose name was brought to shame
Nevertheless, I did not care...you were not to blame
From my mind your face will never fade
I refuse to be alone now I shall lie in the bed that I've made
It's such a pity that I won't be able to kiss your high cheekbones
You died labeling me single instead of widowed...you melt my heart to stone
Since then I haven't been home so when night appears I lay my head on your casket and see you in my dreams
How could you not see your mind...your soul...your life...tearing at the seams?
How could you know if I reek if you cannot smell?
How could you know, see, or feel what I feel if you cannot tell?
How can you know if I'm good if you cannot taste?
How can you rest in peace knowing your hard work has gone to waste?
How can you be happy and go into the tunnel of light when at the end of it is someone else's face?
The place I have for you in my heart no one else can replace
Without you I don't know what it means to be alive
I feed off of nothing so I won't survive
I remain rooted by you; it seems as if the world is spinning
If you could be revived would you go back to that grand hour or the beginning?
That day you were stressed and delusional of what you were hearing
You're just like the man of every woman's dreams even now you are appealing
Every night before I go to sleep I kiss you softly on your neck
I'm here now and I've been here since the day we've met...you I will never neglect
You're broken; a king who cannot breathe cannot be betrothed upon the throne
You...my darling, my family, my friends and the world have all left me alone
You should be proud your name's written in the dirt
Because you could never know how much this hurts
You can choose to chase me although I won't feel your touch
I sit beside you wasting away because I love you so much
I loved lying beside you in bed resting my head against your chest
I just hope you know you've been everything to me so for now just get some rest
You're in the sky now and I should have no reason to worry
I am ashamed to feel like this for you, for me...for us and I'm sorry
I cannot disappoint you anymore...I'll go home after giving you one last kiss
I'll be back for you and every minute I'm away it'll be you that I miss
To bring back my reason to exist your death i shall undo
As I walk away the darkness surrounds me and I fall into the abyss thinking about you

poem by Adena Marie Von Gardner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Dead To The Living

Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,

She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!

And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!

Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'

'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Even if my life without you comes to a halt

(for M)

Even if my life without you comes to a halt,
even if I see your face in those of other women
I continue with the steps of each day,
while I have got to give you up.
Daisies are flowering; roses open in the garden,
the sun hangs yellow-gold in the cobalt sky;
and when each morning I go to town
I return again back home
and although this separation
makes me feel very much alone
and comes between us with distance
there is still the wind whose fingers play over me
and I am not connected to your humanity anymore
while I try to find my way into the wide world.
Sometimes I drive long distances
when my motorbikes comes to life under me.

When my motorbikes comes to life under me,
I am aware of the world around me
as when I left the house that we did share,
my hand was on the throttle
while streets, traffic lights and cars just glided past
and I had been so without even God in that event;
with a city, a whole world that came between you and me
as if there is no mercy and I had been punished
and had to jump to the way of destiny and your wishes
with trucks, cars and pickups on the highways
as if our love did not anymore speak to your heart
while everything moved on in our separation
and when I opened the throttle we finally took our farewell
when my world disappeared into the naught.

III

When my world disappeared into the naught,
when there was nothing that remained between us,
when far too many things had come between us,
when too many words, acts
broke our bond to pieces,
in pain that distorts,
until no oblivion comes and memories remain
with the meaning
that we still adore each other,
then I wonder
why you draw a world between us,
why you send me off to hell
and force us to live in different places
while your love still reaches out to me?

While your love still reaches out to me,
I wonder how I can affect
that which was high and holy
here with words written in pain,
how I can force destiny to a standstill
and put something that was honourable and pure
on only a piece of paper,
when I rather want to throw my pen down?
Let me rather remember your bright eyes,
your hot lips that could tell me about your world,
that opened softly under mine,
how your body softly tilted
with the lights of the city in the distance,
when the leaves whirl in and out.

When the leaves whirl in and out
in the depths of your soul,
blow as against the windows,
wrecking the last days to dust,
when the first signs of winter come
and I am stripped from old dreams and every expectation
with signs of my disrepair all around,
when nothing remains of my passion and yearning
it is as if the last summer already fades,
as if I am destined to death,
as if never again something great will come,
as if I stand alone against life and the whole world
and still when love remains
the surprise is pass time, place and meaning.

The surprise is pass time, place and meaning
with the shining glance in the eyes
or did you only pretend at times?
My darling, now a rainbow of tears
hang over your cheeks
as if the falling rain forces you to struggle
with the problems of the world,
as if the lightning bolts of life fall around us
and your eyes have caught somebody else,
in the mystery of your heart,
it is somebody else to whom you long
and the sky is covered with darkness,
its cold and the atmosphere somewhat chilly,
in the evenings it's so very silent.

VII

In the evenings it's so very silent
that I can hear my own breathing
as if in the night I loose time and meaning,
as if I do not want to go any further,
as if I do not want to waste time
on our past love,
and think over and over again
while you frolic somewhere else.
Days have a own way
with events occurring unplanned
and I wonder from where I get my poems
as the world lies open before me
and I do not want to let anything else vex my poetry,
even if my life without you comes to a halt.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Crab Nebula

Crab Nebula*

* Not an Astronomy Reference

(Unlike the dust of Galaxies / these
are the scattered thoughts of an old man)

Wince ___ *

Mother and son sit alone in the cold
A kerosene lamp with dirty glass
Paints the room ochre and dust
Rock Cold
wince!

She pushes back against the night
Lighting Lucky Strikes one after one in chains
Talking to demons buried deep within the swirling smoke
Rock Cold
wince!

Her son sits unseen under the table
Watching the play unfold
Trying to understand a past before he was born
Before he became
Rock Cold
wince!

* (wince! , is the sound a rocking chair makes on the ‘push back
wince! , is also a facial tic caused by the winterness of childhood)

First, the ‘tricity went, then the gas, the cold water pipes froze and as a child, I seldom took a bath after that. Thoughts festered in the gloom, sitting alone in those cold dark rooms. From that time on, I was always out of step. A bit off track. Lost in my self, looking in that dusty mirror at a neglected child.
'Sometimes, life be like that'.

As a wounded naked child in the chill of the long night. I pondered the decisions in my life and could find fault with none other than my' self. It was I, that rejected the wisdom of others experience, going my own way in arrogant delusions defiance. With too much pride and too late in the game to change, I accept my fate of being erased from the ‘Book of Life.

Carried on wisps of whispered kisses, I clutched and grabbed on, to hold my place, rather than drift away from the face that had borne the me I am. Pushed from behind by blinded eyes, (not drawn by a need to fly) I was thrust into the cold air and sea, floating on coarse cloth tearing me, away from all that was maternal. Forever from that moment on, I lived a dream that never happened. Searching highways for familiar paths to take me back to the beginnings and the traumas of being born too soon. 'Not me, not me, (I cried) choose another other than I'. Too soon they had cut the cord and I am now undone. Now I must forever run, hide and seek, until the womb of those dreams becomes the tomb of clay beneath my feet. Till even the dust of me is washed away. I would forever have wished that I had never been born only to die. Except that I, remain in the dream of those who believed my being born was because they were once in Love.

Continually lost, looking for that familiar space in my genetic memory, that far removed place of ancient lives and times of my night wanderings. I am man become as homing pigeon. Caught in the middle of a magnetic ion storm. Having lost direction to where I belong, I wander the forever. looking for that warm sweet breast and the loving sound of the eternal Mother.

A flowering struggle was the birth of a cold day of gray such as this. Reminiscent of my own, and yet I too somehow came to exist. Un-kissed by the warmth of Sun, dwelling in the damp and gloom. Pushed aside as runt, stunted in growth, overshadowed by others that stretched out too soon to reach the light. They quickly burned off and I was left to stay, so that I might show my discontent and say: 'Such is life here, on this side of the shade'.

A cold front moved across the Hudson River, settling into the concrete streets of Hell's Kitchen. A Postal canvas hamper cried in its wheels while being pushed by a scavenger collecting cardboard refuse. Impatient horns made known their intent. A woman missing teeth with an affluent smile, rattled a paper cup asking for change giving God's blessing in return, and I, lost in my own disappointments barely noticed the Opera's drama. Unawares that I had been ‘caste, in the role as an extra.

The Moon was hidden behind skyline spires, as are the passions that were once desired. Though echoes are mere mutters beneath torrential rains awash in gutters. The homeless bodies are wracked in sadness. Their minds mired in madness. They often weep. Then they scribe wishes for love on paper scraps. Sticking them into the buildings cracks. Wrapping hopes in vague traditions under conditions no one else could bear. Such is the life we live seemingly forever. We all fitfully sleep, dream and hope, that sanity still exists somewhere out there.

Jumping the turnstile intending to ride the train for free. What I saw was not as nice as I had hoped and dreamed. The Stations were filled at every stop with tired people and weary cops. Platforms lighted in cold neon temptations, with scent of Carmel Corn and urination's. Then I heard the conductors static cry... 'Utopia Station, is closed for construction,
this train is now running express and will pass it by'.

A lonely rams horn sounds where once fresh fountain waters flowed. Men now slept in hovels of cardboard boxes, mumbling in the winters cold. Shaking Miter heads wail, cry and point to their altars denied. Rubble is all that remains of a world gone terribly wrong. Proud voices quieted of their militant marching song. Crippled hands wave to days of glory passed. Fueled by greed that was never meant to last. Merely a tease and a bribe to follow another war yet to come. After another generation had lost their last remaining son.

'Moon of many names, come out from your hiding', show your true face of blood and shed your pretense of ‘Romance. Falling leaves whispered your true nature and changing seasons have announced that ‘Ten Colds, will thin the herd, before the realization cometh that WE are the Harvest.

There are times as your mind travels on a scattered past, flitting about from first to last, or perhaps all out of sync, trying to find that link to today. A reason to step out of sorrow. Cross that bridge to tomorrow, now hidden by low lying clouds of gray. As newborn birds try to learn to fly, my own wings ragged and dry, wishing I had a reason to soar above the rest and test once again the mourning sky.

Each day I study the script thus far writ, not by the author of us all, rather the chronicler that lives within. The author's abstract and dubious wit, is the final act' and is hidden and unclear. Each must play their part on Faith alone. If not, then randomness and chaos will ensue. It is not for us to discern the time of the curtains fall or what we must endure for remaining true. Daily actions are mere rehearsals for the end. Now as evening draws to a close, not all know the one who will lead the pack. Rather, they believe the one who thinks he knows, ‘the Dreams of Winter Rain.

Wandering nights in my sleep, crossing streets that have no traffic. I am aware that I'm getting closer to home. Exchanging converses with those I meet, there is a familiarity I recognize through eyes that seem to be the same as my own. Upon my waking, I discern there is an understanding I should have known, that we do not arrive there, until our time here on earth has finally and inevitably flown.

Keeping time with the thump of the road. Heel hitting gravel on shoulders unpaved. Adjusting the strap of pack upon my back, I gave it all I had. Now in restless sleep, faithfully I keep the rhythm going on in my head. As I, now much older lay infirm upon my bed. It drives 'the wife, insane. She does not understand why in dreams I go astray. It seems to her, I purpose to ruin her rest. She does not know the lasting lust of youthful legs spent in freedoms search upon the open road.

Words are gathered, arranged, exchanged, articulated and emphasized, thrust before our eyes and into our consciousness. There is no echo. No response. Nothing has changed save the settling of dust and the natural decay of things. Celebrity has not been my goal, nor the acquisition of diamonds or coal. Rather to understand and to know, the why of me.

Fools on the Tarot Card with puppies yapping at their feet. Happy with stick and puffy clouds overhead. Stepping off into the abyss, kissing goodbye their life unnoticed. Interrupting fantasies and dreams. I am thrust into the face of the surreal. Riots in the street for lack of food, or clean water to drink and economic chaos. War planes raining down tears. Waves of sludge, volcanic ash and then comes a brief peace with the end of the Evening News, dancing bears and sour singing divas lull us back into foolishness.

Snow as cold powder measured in more feet than me, drifts up against wood framed houses. icicles dripping off eaves. Bare black branches cracking ‘staccato in the concerto of my childhood dreams, in a world where the clouds are blue and the sky dirty green.
'Life is what it is. Cold and mean'.

As I walk the streets through Subway steam oblivious to the thoughts of others. Their wants and needs, lusts and greed. Unwed Mothers and children crying, hungry, homeless, cold and dying from cheap wine, with nowhere to safely sleep. All that remains is pride. Of what? Embarrassed shame? A strangers name? Nothing remains in who I had hoped to be.

Cold night moon. Winter cold. New Years old cold familiar as broken bones. Too tight shoes, hole in my Soul, where the warm fell away lost, pain too large to lose, carried as a cloak over one shoulder as I leant on a black painted limping stick. I should have embraced the Tao. Where NO thing is worth the seeking and 'the pain of life, just is'.

Plod the men, trying to stride. Their steps half and halt, burdened by the faults of uneven streets, always grading up. Plod another step, another stair tread climbed, beyond where they should have stayed to let the world pass them by. Sometime they rest, to reflect the remains of yesterdays. Only the face of strangers change. What do we hope to find around the corner, down the street? A friendly smile in those we meet? or perhaps proof exists, GOD or some other curiosity.

I made up all those dreams and memories that make me who I am. My life barely made a difference, but then I never gave a damn. Somehow I knew that this could never last. For me there was no future only an uncertain past. Anyway... they were only whispers while standing in the tall weeds of grass.

Others caught words in their understanding. Concepts of math and GOD that I could not. Perhaps I in my rebellion chose instead to catch dreams of what could have been, or better yet, should be. Like all those things that were swirling around inside of me. I found comfort there in the dusty dim. Pictures projected upon my inner mental scrim. Words did not come from my lips. They were all there, locked up tight in my mind. They can keep their happy song as my silence lay at their feet. I kicked and scuffed my shoe, thinking wordlessly, ‘What is wrong with me seeing things differently from the others'?

I did not wish to get old. In a way, I am surprised to see I am still alive. The only benefit I can find, is, I do not have to do as I am told. I do not have to smile or pretend, that I care what others say. I do not expect tomorrow, I only live for today. I want nothing more. If I actually believed wishes really came true, I would wish the same for you.

Having always sought the self, that within which I do not yet know. That evolving creature that is borne of hope, that I might still become more then I am. Foolish as I am I wanted to be who I suspect I was meant to be, before the hammer slings and controlling others began their molding abuses. Before the brain washers wash away my individuality. How audacious I must appear to others. How arrogant I must seem to be, to just want to be me.

poem by Donald Goodside
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lamplight Symphony

On a winter's night, stars are cold and bright in the sky,
The slumber of the earth is pure and deep
From a distant wood, drifts the echo of a beast
The old man stirs and wakens in the night
He stands before his window gazing at the grave
Forgotten dreams are flashing through his weary mind
And though his life is empty, he pretends that she's still there
With hunger in his soul, he yearns for life and love gone by,
With memories his one and only joy
All he has to give, he would give to bring back the life,
And raise the one who lies beneath the snow
He lights a lamp and looks at pictures of the past
The faces of their youth still glow with new-found love,
But the picture's faded, and time has stolen youth away
With a spoken word that he thought he heard from her lips,
He felt another presence in the room,
He was filled with fear but filled with joy he arose
And turned to face the image that he knew
She stood before him and her hand reached out for his
A peaceful light shone in her eyes
She said she'd come to soothe him, and someday they'd be as one
She began to fade and her image disappeared,
So he was left alone to face the night,
Never in his life, had he been so held in awe,
As he faced the apparition of his wife
He stood before the window gazing at the grave,
And with a lightened heart he saw the first of dawn,
He knew that she was waiting, that someday they'd be as one

song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Excerpt From Lamplight Symphony

song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Rain

Roxette - the rain
I was raised the northern way and my
Father had a northern name, I did my
Crying out in the pouring rain. and a
Season turned into another one, I found
A heart bright like the morning sun. he
Touched my lips, so softly, with his fingertips.
But I kept the rain falling down on me
All the time, all the time. I kept the rain
Falling down on me all the time, all the time.
And some things in life wont ever
Change, theres a smell of a rusty chain
And of love disappearing like an aeroplane.
Ive kept the rain falling down on me
All the time, all the time. Ive kept the rain
Falling down on me all the time, all the time,
All the time.
White lion - broken heart
Here I stand, all alone
Trying to fight the pain from a broken heart
Why she left me? I dont know
It really doesnt matter anymore
I thought our love could last forever
But here I stand lost and all alone
Start a new day, but not alone
Im gonna break away from this broken heart
Ill meet a woman. Im gonna take her home
(where) Ill pick all the pieces and start all over again
I know that life will be much better
Cause I know the (light) will shine again
Chorus:
There is life even after a broken heart, broken heart
You can fight the pain from a broken heart broken heart
I know that life will be much better
Ch:
Repeat ch
White lion - farewell to you
Well its time to say goodbye my friend
Im glad you stayed until the end
I hope that youve enjoyed the time we spent
Though I know that I will be back again
I dont know just how soon my friend
Until we meet again just think of me
Ill think of you
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye
Now the bus is leaving once again
I bid farewell to you
Oh oh yeah
I remember all the fun we had
And all the tears when times were bad
But you were there when we were down nout
And I know that I will not forget
What was written and what was said
And who was there when we were not on top
Of the world
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye
Now the bus is leaving once again
I bid farewell to you
Oh oh yeah
Yes its time to say auf wiedersehn
Sayonara nciao my friend
Youll always have a place within my heart
And rock will come and rock will go
The scene will change and time will show
But still I hope that Ill be there for you
Be there for me
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye
Now the bus is leaving once again
I bid farewell to you
Oh oh yeah
White lion - its over
Theres a little note beside this empty bed
I hear the back door slam nbaby youre on your way
You know I cried a thousand times before you left
You say that this is it
But baby cant you wait
You take your love and go far away
But Ill be missing your everyday
Cause its over
And theres nothing I can do
Yeah its over
But Im still in love with you
Over, over, over
But I love you girl
And I want you back again
This house is lonely and cold without you here
I wish the pain inside my heart would disappear
I know that I was wrong to treat you like I did
But dont you think our love deserves a second chance
When all the love is gone from your heart
And everything we had falls apart
Then its over
And theres nothing I can do
Yeah its over
But Im still in love with you
Over, over, over
But I love you girl
And I want you back again
Tears are falling from my eyes as I cry
I only wish that you were here
If only you had told me
If only I had known
Maybe you would still
Be sleeping in my arms
Wont you let me know
Wont you let it show
Now its over
And theres nothing I can do
Yeah its over
But Im still in love with you
Over, over, over
But I love you girl
And I want you back again
White lion - love dont come easy
There comes a time
When baby you nme
We gotta work it out
Whatever it will be
It feels so right
But somewhere deep inside
You dont know how you feel
You dont know if it is real
Do you want it
Do you need it
Cause love dont come easy
Do you want it
Do you need it
Cause love dont come easy
There comes a time
When you wake up one day
Not knowing if our love
Will take us all the way
Then suddenly,
You feel you must decide
If we should carry on
With what weve just begun
You know that it aint always easy
You know that it aint always right
When love finds a place in your heart
Do you want it
Do you need it
Cause love dont come easy
Do you want it
Do you need it
Cause love dont come easy
You can walk out thru this open door
Just like so many times before
If you dont find what you are looking for
You may be lost forevermore
You know that it aint always easy
You know that it aint always right
When love finds a place in your heart
There comes a time
When baby you should know
We are gonna make it
You gotta let it show
Cause I cant wait
And find out in the end
That you will not be standing
Right here by my side
White lion - till death do us part
As we talk the golden mile
Down the pretty aisle
I know that you are mine
And theres nothing in this world
That I know that I wanna do
To be near you everyday
Every hour every minute
Take my hand and let me lead the way
All thru your life
Ill be by your side
Till death do us part
Ill be your friend
My love will never end
Till death do us part
When I wake up everyday
With you lying in my arms
I wonder if Im dreaming
When I look into your eyes
I just cant believe its true
That my heart belongs to you
Baby you can have it all
Take my hand and let me lead the way
All thru your life
Ill be by your side
Till death do us part
Ill be your friend
My love will never end
Till death do us part
Therell be good times
And therell be bad
But I will stand beside you woman
All the way
And thru the years
As life goes on non
When snow will fall on winter nights
Ill keep you warm inside
Yeah baby I will
All thru your life
Ill be by your side
Till death do us part
Ill be your friend
My love will never end
Till death do us part
White lion - youre all I need
I know that shes waiting
For me to say forever
I know that I sometimes
Just dont know how to tell her
I want to hold and kiss her
Give her my love
Make her believe
Cause she doesnt know
She doesnt know
Youre all I need beside me girl
Youre all I need to turn my world
Youre all I want inside my heart
Youre all I need when were apart
I know that shes always
There when I need her loving
I know that Ive never
Told her how much I love her
I see her face before me
I look in her eyes
Wondering why
She doesnt know
She doesnt know
Youre all I need beside me girl
Youre all I need to turn my world
Youre all I want inside my heart
Youre all I need when were apart
Say, say that youll be there
Whenever I reach out
To feel your hand in mine
Stay, stay within my heart
Whenever Im alone
Ill know that you are there
Youre all I need beside me girl
Youre all I need to turn my world
Youre all I want inside my heart
Youre all I need when were apart
Youre all I need, etc.
All that I need
Is for you to believe
All that I need
Is you

song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Autumn Swing

Back to the back
Undo and tracking our footprints
Printed on the sand of time
Reached and stopped at one point
The beginning of earliest thing
Our first meet and Hello greet

Hello world
We keen seed a plant
Sprout the moment, the lesson start
Water my soul you bring me light
With you the life we ride
Deep in core, inside
Grows to root in heart
Hello world
It's been many years we had
But seems like yesterday we been here
The wind still calm, loyal visit our garden
Hope all season life still evergreen not frozen

Time goes fast like a smoke
Thick, thin, disappear
We smile we cry, branching emotion in vessels
Patiently we waiting to smell the scent of happy
Life not easy but we learn new lesson daily
Branches becomes stronger day by day
Stronger construct history today
Dig deep by root, taller, up by shoot
Life so mystery but can be understood

Green leaf symbols of living
Each one, each day we been talking
One day we gained or leaving
Day by day, Oh World
Who thought we passed years
We changed by now and we still
To be now a shady tree
Against the storm or a safe home
The best shelter of nightingale
And we learn how to sing beautiful tale
At least apples ripen accompany

Time running just like a smoke
Dense, smear, disappear
Now, here, today will be another memory
Seasons of life, chapter of our story
Green leaf will change to yellow or brown glory
Feel blue, past leave yellow history
Time so fast, if wrong, say my sorry

Green leaves won't leave a grieve
Together this color we folded in our lifestory
Enveloped in leaves of remembrance
And sand of time bringing changes again
Seal with red to yellow, fade out the blue
The old green one day be the past hue

Gentle breeze drift them away
Fall down, the leaves
fall me with the miss
As the autumn comes again
The memories fly away
We missing and missed
but the wind we love still

The moments we now shared
Rooted in heart, ever-last to exhale
The joy, the smile, the cry and pain
In each branches, vessel and vein
We passed the past, memory make it last
The colors only changed but still so intense
All...Enveloped in leaves of remembrance
Just not green only red or yellow remain
Once we live it fresh as green but now
To the red, brown to yellow it changed
I sat and think life is about to change
The significant why memory remain

Autumn wind take all away
Falling all the red leaves
Falling me, for something i missed
The wind touch again, on this skin
Kiss me cold remind, warm past rewind
But this life-tales we love still
Autumn come again to swing this feel

Hello world,
The seed we plant
Swing me back to memories
When the first time i touch life flowers
I enjoyed and sweetly cry
When the branches broken in vein
I cried my salty cry

Now i learn shoot will replace anew
As new day we keep growing too
The lost green will fade away
The past cant forever stay
We might lost beautiful red, yellow part
But forever memory warming in my heart
I will remember as blue disperse remarks.

Falling down those leaves
falling me, this miss
All behind was around and round
Leaves falling down on the ground
Like our memories, matured, beautiful brown
I'll wait for the time, when everything is back
Beginning of a new story
For new branches to grow
And bring green back home
I smiled and creating new footprints to remember
...........for one day i will return

: : : : : : : : Theme: Memory, Time and Dedication: : : : : : : : : Meaning: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
The poem is about these three things, i make it to tell in diverse meaning..hope fully it works
1. The memory and story of life that symbolized as a leaf..losing it may cause a miss
2. The time, is like the story of our life and history...Hello is intro when we was born and life
bring some another greet as we grow and changed by time
3. Dedication to a friend, which evergreen in heart
I imagine that we start something like a hello, we plant it and grow
deep in heart...

Autumn Swing is about...
'what all of us having now, current is green..so fresh color of living..this moment we are constructing memories for old days sooner...Then the memories in the making are green as it in present tense and all folded in a leaf...The green will fade as time we will leave...it turn to yellow, red and brown (color of memory) we miss the blue (color of peace) ..The green colors have two complexions (element of green=blue+yellow) mean (live in current=peace and memory. As the leaf lost the green and turn yellow, it means the blue and memory depart each other...When the autumn comes, the wind blows and the leave fall...the fall of the leave=miss because the memory just far away from tree which planted in heart..deep rooted in heart :)

The colors, from green to red-yellow fade to blue meaning as well as this
(blue+yellow=green) ...blue=serene, yellow=memory, green=life and fresh. Hope you can feel connected to one of these or any reason
Thanks for reading and Autumn just coming, enjoy it..! ! Keep smiling
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sunset Blues

It's been a long time
before i step to this land again
But tonight I'm home
Where each edge keeps history
Nightingale sing about night glory
I'm just lost by the voice
gentleness kill the noise
Slowly my eyes closed
but then i see you
Your smile never change
Appear in dream image

The photos on the wall
Revisit past, memories recall
Never forget how we riding a bike
I was afraid you said we got new brake
Child time such a pure snowflakes
My brother now our life separate

Time and space then show powers
Under this tree, witness of ours
Fighting for an ice cream
I'm crying and you gave to me
Said 'Please do not screaming'
Sometimes it went extreme
But now just a funny dream
All enclosed in this little frame
Hanging as the family wall of fame

I looked into your eyes
You looked unto me
We shared our dreams
Sometimes we share silent scream
You want to make a tall tower
I said i will watch you at this river
Big but something not seen

It's been a long time
To back this hometown
Yesterday i was around
Alarm makes night-dream harm
Waking up present left yesterday warm
I'm going, leaving home again
Bye...Our family waving hands
I just didn't see you
The bus is waiting but i searching for you
Take my seat i keep my next journey
But later, i see someone walking on the street
It's you and our eyes meet
Too late but capture memory cues
The same person i knew
My brother cool like a dew
One day we will talk a review
Till the time bring you to me
Or future separate thee
Thou, My brother is always you

: : : : : : : : : : : Theme: Memories: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Memories, past, childhood, farewell...part of this life
Ringing bell will be missed when a silence live....
Age of past build a strong base of future......

Time we passed for better future
it still cant change the moment we had together :)

It just a synthetic story with imaginary with family gallery
...................................... ..............................................

poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lazarus

“No, Mary, there was nothing—not a word.
Nothing, and always nothing. Go again
Yourself, and he may listen—or at least
Look up at you, and let you see his eyes.
I might as well have been the sound of rain,
A wind among the cedars, or a bird;
Or nothing. Mary, make him look at you;
And even if he should say that we are nothing,
To know that you have heard him will be something.
And yet he loved us, and it was for love
The Master gave him back. Why did he wait
So long before he came? Why did he weep?
I thought he would be glad—and Lazarus—
To see us all again as he had left us—
All as it was, all as it was before.”

Mary, who felt her sister’s frightened arms
Like those of someone drowning who had seized her,
Fearing at last they were to fail and sink
Together in this fog-stricken sea of strangeness,
Fought sadly, with bereaved indignant eyes,
To find again the fading shores of home
That she had seen but now could see no longer
Now she could only gaze into the twilight,
And in the dimness know that he was there,
Like someone that was not. He who had been
Their brother, and was dead, now seemed alive
Only in death again—or worse than death;
For tombs at least, always until today,
Though sad were certain. There was nothing certain
For man or God in such a day as this;
For there they were alone, and there was he—
Alone; and somewhere out of Bethany,
The Master—who had come to them so late,
Only for love of them and then so slowly,
And was for their sake hunted now by men
Who feared Him as they feared no other prey—
For the world’s sake was hidden. “Better the tomb
For Lazarus than life, if this be life,”
She thought; and then to Martha, “No, my dear,”
She said aloud; “not as it was before.
Nothing is ever as it was before,
Where Time has been. Here there is more than Time;
And we that are so lonely and so far
From home, since he is with us here again,
Are farther now from him and from ourselves
Than we are from the stars. He will not speak
Until the spirit that is in him speaks;
And we must wait for all we are to know,
Or even to learn that we are not to know.
Martha, we are too near to this for knowledge,
And that is why it is that we must wait.
Our friends are coming if we call for them,
And there are covers we’ll put over him
To make him warmer. We are too young, perhaps,
To say that we know better what is best
Than he. We do not know how old he is.
If you remember what the Master said,
Try to believe that we need have no fear.
Let me, the selfish and the careless one,
Be housewife and a mother for tonight;
For I am not so fearful as you are,
And I was not so eager.”

Martha sank
Down at her sister’s feet and there sat watching
A flower that had a small familiar name
That was as old as memory, but was not
The name of what she saw now in its brief
And infinite mystery that so frightened her
That life became a terror. Tears again
Flooded her eyes and overflowed. “No, Mary,”
She murmured slowly, hating her own words
Before she heard them, “you are not so eager
To see our brother as we see him now;
Neither is he who gave him back to us.
I was to be the simple one, as always,
And this was all for me.” She stared again
Over among the trees where Lazarus,
Who seemed to be a man who was not there,
Might have been one more shadow among shadows,
If she had not remembered. Then she felt
The cool calm hands of Mary on her face,
And shivered, wondering if such hands were real.

“The Master loved you as he loved us all,
Martha; and you are saying only things
That children say when they have had no sleep.
Try somehow now to rest a little while;
You know that I am here, and that our friends
Are coming if I call.”

Martha at last
Arose, and went with Mary to the door,
Where they stood looking off at the same place,
And at the same shape that was always there
As if it would not ever move or speak,
And always would be there. “Mary, go now,
Before the dark that will be coming hides him.
I am afraid of him out there alone,
Unless I see him; and I have forgotten
What sleep is. Go now—make him look at you—
And I shall hear him if he stirs or whispers.
Go!—or I’ll scream and bring all Bethany
To come and make him speak. Make him say once
That he is glad, and God may say the rest.
Though He say I shall sleep, and sleep for ever,
I shall not care for that… Go!”

Mary, moving
Almost as if an angry child had pushed her,
Went forward a few steps; and having waited
As long as Martha’s eyes would look at hers,
Went forward a few more, and a few more;
And so, until she came to Lazarus,
Who crouched with his face hidden in his hands,
Like one that had no face. Before she spoke,
Feeling her sister’s eyes that were behind her
As if the door where Martha stood were now
As far from her as Egypt, Mary turned
Once more to see that she was there. Then, softly,
Fearing him not so much as wondering
What his first word might be, said, “Lazarus,
Forgive us if we seemed afraid of you;”
And having spoken, pitied her poor speech
That had so little seeming gladness in it,
So little comfort, and so little love.

There was no sign from him that he had heard,
Or that he knew that she was there, or cared
Whether she spoke to him again or died
There at his feet. “We love you, Lazarus,
And we are not afraid. The Master said
We need not be afraid. Will you not say
To me that you are glad? Look, Lazarus!
Look at my face, and see me. This is Mary.”
She found his hands and held them. They were cool,
Like hers, but they were not so calm as hers.
Through the white robes in which his friends had wrapped him
When he had groped out of that awful sleep,
She felt him trembling and she was afraid.
At last he sighed; and she prayed hungrily
To God that she might hear again the voice
Of Lazarus, whose hands were giving her now
The recognition of a living pressure
That was almost a language. When he spoke,
Only one word that she had waited for
Came from his lips, and that word was her name.

“I heard them saying, Mary, that he wept
Before I woke.” The words were low and shaken,
Yet Mary knew that he who uttered them
Was Lazarus; and that would be enough
Until there should be more… “Who made him come,
That he should weep for me?… Was it you, Mary?”
The questions held in his incredulous eyes
Were more than she would see. She looked away;
But she had felt them and should feel for ever,
She thought, their cold and lonely desperation
That had the bitterness of all cold things
That were not cruel. “I should have wept,” he said,
“If I had been the Master….”

Now she could feel
His hands above her hair—the same black hair
That once he made a jest of, praising it,
While Martha’s busy eyes had left their work
To flash with laughing envy. Nothing of that
Was to be theirs again; and such a thought
Was like the flying by of a quick bird
Seen through a shadowy doorway in the twilight.
For now she felt his hands upon her head,
Like weights of kindness: “I forgive you, Mary….
You did not know—Martha could not have known—
Only the Master knew…. Where is he now?
Yes, I remember. They came after him.
May the good God forgive him…. I forgive him.
I must; and I may know only from him
The burden of all this… Martha was here—
But I was not yet here. She was afraid….
Why did he do it, Mary? Was it—you?
Was it for you?… Where are the friends I saw?
Yes, I remember. They all went away.
I made them go away…. Where is he now?…
What do I see down there? Do I see Martha—
Down by the door?… I must have time for this.”

Lazarus looked about him fearfully,
And then again at Mary, who discovered
Awakening apprehension in his eyes,
And shivered at his feet. All she had feared
Was here; and only in the slow reproach
Of his forgiveness lived his gratitude.
Why had he asked if it was all for her
That he was here? And what had Martha meant?
Why had the Master waited? What was coming
To Lazarus, and to them, that had not come?
What had the Master seen before he came,
That he had come so late?

“Where is he, Mary?”
Lazarus asked again. “Where did he go?”
Once more he gazed about him, and once more
At Mary for an answer. “Have they found him?
Or did he go away because he wished
Never to look into my eyes again?…
That, I could understand…. Where is he, Mary?”

“I do not know,” she said. “Yet in my heart
I know that he is living, as you are living—
Living, and here. He is not far from us.
He will come back to us and find us all—
Lazarus, Martha, Mary—everything—
All as it was before. Martha said that.
And he said we were not to be afraid.”
Lazarus closed his eyes while on his face
A tortured adumbration of a smile
Flickered an instant. “All as it was before,”
He murmured wearily. “Martha said that;
And he said you were not to be afraid …
Not you… Not you… Why should you be afraid?
Give all your little fears, and Martha’s with them,
To me; and I will add them unto mine,
Like a few rain-drops to Gennesaret.”

“If you had frightened me in other ways,
Not willing it,” Mary said, “I should have known
You still for Lazarus. But who is this?
Tell me again that you are Lazarus;
And tell me if the Master gave to you
No sign of a new joy that shall be coming
To this house that he loved. Are you afraid?
Are you afraid, who have felt everything—
And seen…?”

But Lazarus only shook his head,
Staring with his bewildered shining eyes
Hard into Mary’s face. “I do not know,
Mary,” he said, after a long time.
“When I came back, I knew the Master’s eyes
Were looking into mine. I looked at his,
And there was more in them than I could see.
At first I could see nothing but his eyes;
Nothing else anywhere was to be seen—
Only his eyes. And they looked into mine—
Long into mine, Mary, as if he knew.”

Mary began to be afraid of words
As she had never been afraid before
Of loneliness or darkness, or of death,
But now she must have more of them or die:
“He cannot know that there is worse than death,”
She said. “And you…”

“Yes, there is worse than death.”
Said Lazarus; “and that was what he knew;
And that is what it was that I could see
This morning in his eyes. I was afraid,
But not as you are. There is worse than death,
Mary; and there is nothing that is good
For you in dying while you are still here.
Mary, never go back to that again.
You would not hear me if I told you more,
For I should say it only in a language
That you are not to learn by going back.
To be a child again is to go forward—
And that is much to know. Many grow old,
And fade, and go away, not knowing how much
That is to know. Mary, the night is coming,
And there will soon be darkness all around you.
Let us go down where Martha waits for us,
And let there be light shining in this house.”

He rose, but Mary would not let him go:
“Martha, when she came back from here, said only
That she heard nothing. And have you no more
For Mary now than you had then for Martha?
Is Nothing, Lazarus, all you have for me?
Was Nothing all you found where you have been?
If that be so, what is there worse than that—
Or better—if that be so? And why should you,
With even our love, go the same dark road over?”

“I could not answer that, if that were so,”
Said Lazarus,—“not even if I were God.
Why should He care whether I came or stayed,
If that were so? Why should the Master weep—
For me, or for the world,—or save himself
Longer for nothing? And if that were so,
Why should a few years’ more mortality
Make him a fugitive where flight were needless,
Had he but held his peace and given his nod
To an old Law that would be new as any?
I cannot say the answer to all that;
Though I may say that he is not afraid,
And that it is not for the joy there is
In serving an eternal Ignorance
Of our futility that he is here.
Is that what you and Martha mean by Nothing?
Is that what you are fearing? If that be so,
There are more weeds than lentils in your garden.
And one whose weeds are laughing at his harvest
May as well have no garden; for not there
Shall he be gleaning the few bits and orts
Of life that are to save him. For my part,
I am again with you, here among shadows
That will not always be so dark as this;
Though now I see there’s yet an evil in me
That made me let you be afraid of me.
No, I was not afraid—not even of life.
I thought I was…I must have time for this;
And all the time there is will not be long.
I cannot tell you what the Master saw
This morning in my eyes. I do not know.
I cannot yet say how far I have gone,
Or why it is that I am here again,
Or where the old road leads. I do not know.
I know that when I did come back, I saw
His eyes again among the trees and faces—
Only his eyes; and they looked into mine—
Long into mine—long, long, as if he knew.”

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Long ago, a star
Sent forth its light from afar.
And now, no matter how far,
We will follow the same star.
Lost sailors used stars
To calculate their course
Whenever the wind and waves took
Them with their force.

Let truth transform you;
It will make your heart and mind new.
If you're not faithful, your heart's in denial;
Take it from me - it's worth your while.
So forget this world with all its cares,
For troubled dreams turn into nightmares.
You have to leave this world behind
If you want to keep what you find.

The stars haven't always been there,
But the love of our Lord is everywhere.
The devil appears as an angel of light;
He does his best work in the night.
One day you'll leave this world of ours,
Taking your place among the stars.
Shine bright with light, my star;
Show the world who you are.

'SHARE THE SAME STAR'
I'm looking at this star tonight,
But will my wish come true?
I can't help wondering,
If you can see the same star too?
Do you see what I see,
As we stand in its light?
Does darkness overwhelm you,
When you look up there tonight?

I am dreaming in the darkness,
About this star that shines above.
I hope that you'll find me,
Looking for true love.
I've wished upon this special star
For my whole life, it seems.
I close my eyes and make a wish
For all my hopes and dreams.

One day, I got my wish;
I finally met you.
You're that special someone,
Who made my dreams come true.
They say you should never tell
What you wish for, it's true,
But I want the whole world to know
That my wish was for you.

Though there are miles between us,
I know our hearts will meet.
At the point this star begins,
The two will have one beat.
Whenever we are apart,
I find that same bright star.
It makes me feel close to your heart,
No matter where you are.

'WISH ON A STAR'
As I wait here, wondering where you are,
I lie in loneliness and look up at the stars.
Soaring on through space like a shooting star,
Still searching - wondering who you are.

As far as you can see into eternity,
Each one is a wish that with you I'll be.
Stare at the sky, on a silent night;
Count the crystal sea of stars, blazing bright.

Staying by your side wherever you may go,
I have to tell you now - I just want you to know
That even as the stars keep shining in the sky,
My love for you will burn forever and never die.

There's just something beautiful about when angels pray;
A star shines brighter in the night than the light of day.
You can't lift a candle to show lost souls the way
Without feeling the warmth of that radiant ray.

'SHINE BRIGHT WITH LIGHT'
Up in heaven, the angels cry;
Another star falls from the sky.
A falling star - a fading light,
And soon it shall pass from our sight.

When the world starts falling apart,
The hope of heaven is hidden in my heart.
I'll make the world a brighter place,
Like the light of a star in space.

Someday, we'll be just like the angels are;
Like the steady light of a distant star.
Someday soon, we'll shine like them,
Radiant as the rarest, glowing gem.

Sing to the stars - sing to the sea;
Let your song echo for eternity.
Truth our hearts alone can see,
A reflection of reality.

'EACH NIGHT I PRAY'
Walking outside, I lift my eyes
To a symphony in the skies.
You are my star - you shine so bright;
When it is dark, you are my light.

Everyday, I'm so grateful
For your warm and glowing light.
Thank you for being so faithful;
You make my whole world bright.

Just like a star, you're so far away.
I think of you - each night I pray,
But I know there's no way
For you to hear the words I say.

I see you in the sky at night,
But I can't touch the star in sight.
I guess I will always be
A friend you will never see.

'WISH YOU WERE HERE'
One night I was out wandering,
Feeling lost and alone.
I looked up into the heavens,
And there a bright star shone.

I picked one to wish on
From every star above.
I closed my eyes and made a wish
To send you all my love.

So look up in the sky tonight
And find that star;
It will shine bright with light,
However near or far.

And when you see our star,
My wish will come to you;
Stars were made to wish upon;
Sometimes wishes come true.

'I SAW THE LIGHT'
I saw a bright ray today
That led me out of darkness.
A little light so far away
In an endless sea of emptiness.

It burned like a shooting star,
In the distance, so very far.
I think it’s getting clearer;
Now it's coming nearer.

A light just as bright as the sun
And almost as distant;
It wasn’t the only one;
You couldn't have missed it.

When I'm lost in the dark and I can't see,0
I just look for the light.
I have hope when it shines on me,
Everything will be bright.

'YOU ARE MY LIGHT'
I looked up at the stars last night,
Just thinking about you,
And wondering what I could do
To make our dreams come true.

Together, we’ll shine like the sun;
Two candles burn brighter than one.
We'll dance just like the stars in space,
Together forever in an endless embrace.

Wherever you go, I will follow;
And it doesn't matter how far.
Without you, my heart feels hollow;
I just want to be where you are.

You shine just like a star so bright;
I'd be lost without your light.
Hand in hand, we'll stand together;
I promise to be there forever.

'A STAR IS BORN'
Every star is destined by fate
To live and then to die.
It glows with light - it just can't wait,
Shooting across the sky.

For a moment, it is there,
Burning bright up in the air.
It falls gently onto the ground,
Without making a sound.

Like a falling star,
Glowing bright with glory,
I'm just another ending
To someone else's story.

Just a dropp of rain in the desert,
Just a grain of sand in the sea;
What have I done that won’t be forgotten?
Will anyone remember me?

'SHINE LIKE A STAR'
I look up at the sky;
It hurts so much saying goodbye.
Every time I think of you,
It makes me want to cry.

Hope is not hope if you can see;
Is there a star that shines for me?
Like a star, you showed me the way;
You led me with your light each day.

I'll say a prayer for you;
I'll make a wish and I hope it comes true.
Put your faith in what you can't see;
I wish you could be here with me.

Sometimes I wish I could be
A star to shine for all to see.
I know the light is not my own;
I could never do it alone.

'YOU ARE MY STAR'
You are my star,
So bright up above;
I can't forget it;
It's you I love.

My star will shine
So bright and true.
It's a light in the night
Made just for you.

When you are lost,
Wherever you may be,
Look for the light,
For it will set you free.

Don't hide your light,
Wherever you are;
Let it burn bright,
Just like a star.

'A SEA OF STARS'
A life is lost;
What can we say?
A bright light burns,
Then it fades away.

And at the sight,
They stop and stare
On this dark night,
But they don't care.

It came and went;
I'm not sure what it meant.
A star fell from the sky,
And I want to know why.

Just for you,
This star fell;
You have one wish,
So use it well.

poem by Daniel Cobb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Nocturne Of Remembered Spring

Moonlight silvers the tops of trees,
Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall
And through the evening fall,
Clearly, as if through enchanted seas,
Footsteps passing, an infinite distance away,
In another world and another day.
Moonlight turns the purple lilacs blue,
Moonlight leaves the fountain hoar and old,
And the boughs of elms grow green and cold,
Our footsteps echo on gleaming stones,
The leaves are stirred to a jargon of muted tones.
This is the night we have kept, you say:
This is the moonlit night that will never die.
Through the grey streets our memories retain
Let us go back again.

II.

Mist goes up from the river to dim the stars,
The river is black and cold; so let us dance
To flare of horns, and clang of cymbals and drums;
And strew the glimmering floor with roses,
And remember, while the rich music yawns and closes,
With a luxury of pain, how silence comes.
Yes, we loved each other, long ago;
We moved like wind to a music's ebb and flow.
At a phrase from violins you closed your eyes,
And smiled, and let me lead you how young we were!
Your hair, upon that music, seemed to stir.
Let us return there, let us return, you and I;
Through changeless streets our memories retain
Let us go back again.

III.

Mist goes up from the rain steeped earth, and clings
Ghostly with lamplight among drenched maple trees.
We walk in silence and see how the lamplight flings
Fans of shadow upon it the music's mournful pleas
Die out behind us, the door is closed at last,
A net of silver silence is softly cast
Over our thought slowly we walk,
Quietly with delicious pause, we talk,
Of foolish trivial things; of life and death,
Time, and forgetfulness, and dust and truth;
Lilacs and youth.
You laugh, I hear the after taken breath,
You darken your eyes and turn away your head
At something I have said
Some intuition that flew too deep,
And struck a plageant chord.
Tonight, tonight you will remember it as you fall asleep,
Your dream will suddenly blossom with sharp delight,
Goodnight! You say.
The leaves of the lilac dip and sway;
The purple spikes of bloom
Nod their sweetness upon us, lift again,
Your white face turns, I am caught with pain
And silence descends, and dripping of dew from eaves,
And jeweled points of leaves.

IV.

I walk in a pleasure of sorrow along the street
And try to remember you; slow drops patter;
Water upon the lilacs has made them sweet;
I brush them with my sleeve, the cool drops scatter;
And suddenly I laugh and stand and listen
As if another had laughed a gust
Rustles the leaves, the wet spikes glisten;
And it seems as though it were you who had shaken the bough,
And spilled the fragrance I pursue your face again,
It grows more vague and lovely, it eludes me now.
I remember that you are gone, and drown in pain.
Something there was I said to you I recall,
Something just as the music seemed to fall
That made you laugh, and burns me still with pleasure.
What were those words the words like dripping fire?
I remember them now, and in sweet leisure
Rehearse the scene, more exquisite than before,
And you more beautiful, and I more wise.
Lilacs and spring, and night, and your clear eyes,
And you, in white, by the darkness of a door:
These things, like voices weaving to richest music,
Flow and fall in the cool night of my mind,
I pursue your ghost among green leaves that are ghostly,
I pursue you, but cannot find.
And suddenly, with a pang that is sweetest of all,
I become aware that I cannot remember you;
The ghost I knew
Has silently plunged in shadows, shadows that stream and fall.

Let us go in and dance once more
On the dream's glimmering floor,
Beneath the balcony festooned with roses.
Let us go in and dance once more.
The door behind us closes
Against an evening purple with stars and mist.
Let us go in and keep our tryst
With music and white roses, and spin around
In swirls of sound.
Do you foresee me, married and grown old?
And you, who smile about you at this room,
Is it foretold
That you must step from tumult into gloom,
Forget me, love another?
No, you are Cleopatra, fiercely young,
Laughing upon the topmost stair of night;
Roses upon the desert must be flung;
Above us, light by light,
Weaves the delirious darkness, petal fall,
And music breaks in waves on the pillared wall;
And you are Cleopatra, and do not care.
And so, in memory, you will always be
Young and foolish, a thing of dream and mist;
And so, perhaps when all is disillusioned,
And eternal spring returns once more,
Bringing a ghost of lovelier springs remembered,
You will remember me.

VI.

Yet when we meet we seem in silence to say,
Pretending serene forgetfulness of our youth,
"Do you remember but then why should you remember!
Do you remember a certain day,
Or evening rather, spring evening long ago,
We talked of death, and love, and time, and truth,
And said such wise things, things that amused us so
How foolish we were, who thought ourselves so wise!"
And then we laugh, with shadows in our eyes.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Art Of Life

Desert Rose
Why do you live alone
If you are sad
I'll make you leave this life
Are you white, blue or bloody red
All I can see is drowning in cold grey sand
The winds of time
You knock me to the ground
I'm dying of thirst
I wanna run away
I don't know how to set me free to live
My mind cries out feeling pain
I've been roaming to find myself
How long have I been feeling endless hurt
Falling down, rain flows into my heart
In the pain I'm waiting for you
Can't go back
No place to go back to
Life is lost, Flowers fall
If it's all dreams
Now wake me up
If it's all real
Just kill me
I'm making the wall inside my heart
I don't wanna let my emotions get out
It scares me to look at the world
Don't want to find myself lost in your eyes
I tried to drown my past in grey
I never wanna feel more pain
Ran away from you without saying any words
What I don't wanna lose is love
Through my eyes
Time goes by like tears
My emotion's losing the color of life
Kill my heart
Release all my pain
I'm shouting out loud
Insanity takes hold over me
Turning away from the wall
Nothing I can see
The scream deep inside
reflecting another person in my heart
He calls me from within
"All existence you see before you
must be wiped out :
Dream, Reality, Memories,
and Yourself"
I begin to lose control of myself
My lust is so blind, destroys my mind
Nobody can stop my turning to madness
No matter how you try to hold me in your heart
Why do you wanna raise these walls
I don't know the meaning of hatred
My brain gets blown away hearing words of lies
I only want to hold your love
Stab the dolls filled with hate
Wash yourself with their blood
Drive into the raging current of time
Swing your murderous weapon into the belly
"the earth"
Shout and start creating confusion
Shed your blood for pleasure
And what ? for love ?
What am I supposed to do ?
I believe in the madness called "Now"
Past and future prison my heart
Time is blind
But I wanna trace my love
on the wall of time, over pain in my heart
Art of life
Insane blade stabbing dreams
Try to break all truth now
But I can't heal this broken heart in pain
Cannot start to live, Cannot end my life
Keep on crying
Close my eyes
Time breathes I can hear
All love and sadness
melt in my heart
Dry my tears
Wipe my bloody face
I wanna feel me living my life
outside my walls
You can't draw a picture of yesterday, so
You're painting your heart with your blood
You can't say "No"
Only turning the wheel of time
with a rope around your neck
You build a wall of morality and take a breath
from between the bricks
You make up imaginary enemies and are chased by them
You're trying to commit suicide
You're satisfied with your prologue
Now you're painting your first chapter black
You are putting the scraps of life together
and trying to make an asylum for yourself
You're hitting a bell at the edge of the stage
and
You are trying to kill me
I believe in the madness called "Now"
Time goes flowing, breaking my heart
Wanna live
Can't let my heart kill myself
Still I haven't found what I'm looking for
Art of life
I try to stop myself
But my heart goes to destroy the truth
Tell me why
I want the meaning of my life
Do I try to live, Do I try to love
in my dream
I'm breaking the wall inside my heart
I just wanna let my emotions get out
Nobody can stop
I'm running to freedom
No matter how you try to hold me in your world
Like a doll carried by the flow of time
I sacrificed the present moment for the future
I was in chains of memory half-blinded
Losing my heart, walking in the sea of dreams
Close my eyes
Rose breathes I can hear
All love and sadness melt in my heart
Dry my tears
Wipe my bloody face
I wanna feel me living my life
outside my mind
Dreams can make me mad
I can't leave my dream
I can't stop myself
Don't know what I am
What lies are truth ?
What truths are lies ?
I believe in the madness called "Now"
Time goes flowing, breaking my heart
Wanna to live
Can't let my heart kill myself
Still I haven't found what I'm looking for
Art of life
I try to stop myself
But my heart goes to destroy the truth
Tell me why
I want the meaning of my life
Do I try to live, Do I try to love
Art of life
An Eternal Bleeding heart
You never wanna breathe your last
Wanna live
Can't let my heart kill myself
Still I'm feeling for
A Rose is breathing love
in my life

song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Art Of Life

song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Improvisations: Light and Snow

The girl in the room beneath
Before going to bed
Strums on a mandolin
The three simple tunes she knows.
How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels!
When she has finished them several times
She thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nails
And smiles, and thinks happily of many things.

I stood for a long while before the shop window
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk.
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,
Sun went over the housetops and dusty trees;
And there they were, glistening, brilliant, motionless,
Stitched in a golden sky
By yellow patient fingers long since turned to dust.

III

The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with rockets
Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.
The third bell is saffron and slow,
And I behold a long sunset over the sea
With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.
The fourth bell is color of bronze,
I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:
Muffled crackings run in the ice,
Trees creak, birds fly.
The fifth bell is cold clear azure,
Delicately tinged with green:
One golden star hangs melting in it,
And towards this, sleepily, I go.
The sixth bell is as if a pebble
Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .
Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.

On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and that
We refrained from looking at the child's coffin on the seat before us.
When we reached the cemetery
We found that the thin snow on the grass
Was already transparent with rain;
And boards had been laid upon it
That we might walk without wetting our feet.

When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of icicles
In many lengths along a wall
I was dissappointed to find
That I could not play music upon them:
I ran my hand lightly across them
And they fell, tinkling.
I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of life
Will not be too great.

It is now two hours since I left you,
And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands.
And though since then
I have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,
And heard the dead leaves blowing over the ground
Under the trees,
I still remember the sound of your laughter.
How will it be, lady, when there is none left to remember you
Even as long as this?
Will the dust braid your hair?

VII

The day opens with the brown light of snowfall
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall.
I sit in my chair all day and work and work
Measuring words against each other.
I open the piano and play a tune
But find it does not say what I feel,
I grow tired of measuring words against each other,
I grow tired of these four walls,
And I think of you, who write me that you have just had a daughter
And named her after your first sweetheart,
And you, who break your heart, far away,
In the confusion and savagery of a long war,
And you who, worn by the bitterness of winter,
Will soon go south.
The snowflakes fall almost straight in the brown light
Past my window,
And a sparrow finds refuge on my window-ledge.
This alone comes to me out of the world outside
As I measure word with word.

VIII

Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of stars
Never to be opened by me.
The starr'd leaves are silently turned,
And the mooned leaves;
And as they are turned, fall the shadows of life and death.
Perplexed and troubled,
I light a small light in a small room,
The lighted walls come closer to me,
The familiar pictures are clear.
I sit in my favourite chair and turn in my mind
The tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written,
And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, coming
From I know not where.

How many times have I sat here,
How many times will I sit here again,
Thinking these same things over and over in solitude
As a child says over and over
The first word he has learned to say.

This girl gave her heart to me,
And this, and this.
This one looked at me as if she loved me,
And silently walked away.
This one I saw once and loved, and never saw her again.

Shall I count them for you upon my fingers?
Or like a priest solemnly sliding beads?
Or pretend they are roses, pale pink, yellow, and white,
And arrange them for you in a wide bowl
To be set in sunlight?
See how nicely it sounds as I count them for you --
'This girl gave her heart to me
And this, and this, . . . !
And nevertheless, my heart breaks when I think of them,
When I think their names,
And how, like leaves, they have changed and blown
And will lie, at last, forgotten,
Under the snow.

It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls.
In the small world of light around the arc-lamp
A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls.
The street grows silent. The last stranger passes.
The sound of his feet, in the snow, is indistinct.

What forgotten sadness is it, on a night like this,
Takes possession of my heart?
Why do I think of a camellia tree in a southern garden,
With pink blossoms among dark leaves,
Standing, surprised, in the snow?
Why do I think of spring?

The snowflakes, helplessly veering,,
Fall silently past my window;
They come from darkness and enter darkness.
What is it in my heart is surprised and bewildered
Like that camellia tree,
Beautiful still in its glittering anguish?
And spring so far away!

As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes fixed
On the face of this grief which has come to me,
That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouring
Of lamplight on the snow;
Nor the interlaced long blue shadows of trees;

And yet these things were there,
And the white lamps, and the orange lamps, and the lamps of lilac were there,
As I have seen them so often before;
As they will be so often again
Long after my grief is forgotten.

And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.

XII

How many times have we been interrupted
Just as I was about to make up a story for you!
One time it was because we suddenly saw a firefly
Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree.
Marvellous! Marvellous! He is making for himself
A little tent of light in the darkness!
And one time it was because we saw a lilac lightning flash
Run wrinkling into the blue top of the mountain, --
We heard boulders of thunder rolling down upon us
And the plat-plat of drops on the window,
And we ran to watch the rain
Charging in wavering clouds across the long grass of the field!
Or at other times it was because we saw a star
Slipping easily out of the sky and falling, far off,
Among pine-dark hills;
Or because we found a crimson eft
Darting in the cold grass!

These things interrupted us and left us wondering;
And the stories, whatever they might have been,
Were never told.
A fairy, binding a daisy down and laughing?
A golden-haired princess caught in a cobweb?
A love-story of long ago?
Some day, just as we are beginning again,
Just as we blow the first sweet note,
Death itself will interrupt us.

XIII

My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,
In the very centre, dark and forgotten,
Is a locked room where an enchanted princess
Lies sleeping.
But sometimes, in that dark house,
As if almost from the stars, far away,
Sounds whisper in that secret room --
Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?
And suddenly, from her long sleep,
The beautiful princess awakes and dances.

Who is she? I do not know.
Why does she dance? Do not ask me! --
Yet to-day, when I saw you,
When I saw your eyes troubled with the trouble of happiness,
And your mouth trembling into a smile,
And your fingers pull shyly forward, --
Softly, in that room,
The little princess arose
And danced;
And as she danced the old house gravely trembled
With its vague and delicious secret.

XIV

Like an old tree uprooted by the wind
And flung down cruelly
With roots bared to the sun and stars
And limp leaves brought to earth --
Torn from its house --
So do I seem to myself
When you have left me.

The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlight
Pigeons huddle against the wind.
The music of evening is attenuated and thin --
The moon seen through a wave by a mermaid;
The crying of a violin.
Far down there, far down where the river turns to the west,
The delicate lights begin to twinkle
On the dusky arches of the bridge:
In the green sky a long cloud,
A smouldering wave of smoky crimson,
Breaks in the freezing wind: and above it, unabashed,
Remote, untouched, fierly palpitant,
Sings the first star.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Path Of Mirrors

They walk so close to you, yet so far away
Their eyes are lost, their faces fixed like stone
They walk behind the mirrors and here they shall stay
You walk with other souls liveng, breathing, yet for them they are alone

You walk through the hall way down the path of glass
You watch as they walk on into eternity, into the dark
They walk there behind the glass,
People around you going through leaving their mark.

They walk past your reflection as if you never saw
They walk through time as if time weren’t there
They know you would never aproach them
They know you would never dare.

They walk through the glass and look straight ahead,
They know nothing lies ahead, yet they know they can not turn back,
So they walk into nothing instead,
Passing you so all you see is their back.

You pause infront of the glass looking looking past,
You know that you shall not join them you know it is not your fate
You think about the footsteps you take, wondering which shall be your last,
You walk on again only thinking of their fate

Their faces emotionless the souls so cold,
You think of how you own skin feels, so warm,
You watch as the move like action figures made from a mold,
All the same, all waiting out the storm

The storm of life, the storm of death,
You walk along side them as they walk past everyone,
They watch ahead never turning, never looking above,
They turn to noone.

You walk along beside them as they take no notice to lifes dance,
They only walk past, walk through the mirrors of fate,
Kepping one great stance,
You watch people finding their fate.

Their faces so still, alone in the world, without hope
You watch them walk on, you watch them pass
You see their unmoving faces, as they walk up the endless slope
They walk along, behind the glass.

You turn to watch as their souls move on,
You reach out your hand to touch the glass,
Only to feel the glass is gone,
You watch as your hand passes through the glass.

As you hand melts through one by one the spirits turn,
One takes your hand and pulls your arm through,
More spirits feel your presence and more turn,
They watch as you melt through.

You watch your world leave as you leave it,
You have found you fate and not you are here along with them,
They walk on as you pull your body through, leaving behind the sweater of life you knit,
You have come and joined them.

You look back at the mirror to look at your face,
And you see your eyes becoming lost,
As you enter their race,
The race that shall never end, the race through eternity, for now you are lost

You skin feels so cold you face feels so hard,
You walk with them, as one
As you emotions turn hard,
In true time you are done.

You walk with them, walk alone
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
As everything becomes an endless drone,
For now you are here to stay.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Father's Garden

I remember my father as being a warm person-
A strong man in many ways always working hard so that
My mother and I could have the very best-
He passed so many years ago but
I can still hear his laughter, and recall his gentleness-
As he was always there for me-
I still can see him working in his garden
At the time we lived close to the shores of Carmel –
I can still hear the leaves upon the trees rustling in the wind,
And the peaceful rocking of the ocean waves
Soothing me as they were lapping upon the shore close by-
I will never forget the joy the flowers he had planted
Brought to him, my mother and I,
As he seemed to be lost inside a world of his own,
Transforming a yard where at one time only high grasses grew
Into a kingdom of color and beauty for everyone to perceive-
I shall never forget the rose bushes-
Yellow, pink and red blossoms in their colorful hues
Enlightening to everyone’s eyes, as they were, and fragrant as well,
In all of their delicacy;
My father passed years ago- - a terminal illness snatched away
This wonderful being – tears still come to my eyes in past memories- as
I cannot comprehend that if a god exists-
How could he have snatched life away so quickly from
A person who had such a zest for life?
I shall never forget the moment he died, how my uncle
Sat upon a chair in the bathroom with his head in his hands weeping
When my father fell to the floor at his death-
Although he has parted from this world forever, fond memories continue-
People always die but flowers keep growing and live on.
Yesterday I cut a pink rose from a bush in the yard and
Placed it in a small vase upon the end table by my bed side and
As I drifted off to sleep this delicate and lovely flower carried me
Into the world of my fantasies- where my father is still with me always, and
I still feel his loving arms embracing me; I can still hear the rustling of
Leaves upon the trees outside, and I still hear the waves lapping upon the shore
And even though in flesh he is gone-
Departed from this world, he has left valuable reminiscences for me to treasure;
Whenever I stand in his garden I can still feel his presence, as in my
Heart and spirit, he shall always be very much alive….

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

It's Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door

I've been up at this all night long
I've been drowning in my sleep
I've prayed for your safe place
And its time for us to leave
Time is running on empty and the gas is running out
I've decided that tonight is the night
That I set love aside
Full speed ahead this seems to be the place
I've seen this once before
Planned perfection sought in my dreams
Hoping this would take you home
My knuckles have turned to white
There's no turning back tonight
So kiss me one last time
Around this turn where
The cross will cast your shadow
The people will all gather
To remember such a day where the flames grew as high
As trees
And the world stopped for you and me
My knuckles have turned white
There's no turning back tonight
So hold on tight
Kiss me one last time
Shut your eyes
I will now bring new meaning to the word alone
Endless nights of dreaming of life
And the days we should have spent here
Drowning in my sleep I'm drowning in my sleep
Glass shatters and comes to a halt
I thought we'd be there by now
I thought it would be so much quicker than this
Pain has never been so brilliant
I made sure you were buckled in
Now you can walk hand in hand with him

song performed by by Underoath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Things Might Be Drifting Away

Things might be drifting away
like an empty lifeboat
with nothing left to save
but the memory of moonlight
on the rush of a wave of the heart
that rose and fell
like a bell of insight on the night watch
that said all's well all's well for the night.
And so it was for a while.

Time might seem
that it's overstaying its welcome
and you've become the estranged guest
of a bad dream
in your own bed
in the thirteenth house of the zodiac
where the dispossessed
shack up with the misbegotten
and the ghosts of everything you've forgotten
don't give you any rest
until all that you've cursed
out of anger and need
has been immensely forgiven and blessed.
And perhaps it appears
you've been the rogue star
of a sign in long exile
far away from now
and that might account
for your misplaced trust in mirrors
and your lack of confidence in star maps.

Happiness just happens
like good luck and grace
and the creative inspiration
to rejoice in your time and place here
as if the purpose of your voice
were always to praise
even on the darkest of days
when the only thing
that shone in your eyes
weren't the stars you kept
locked away in your tears
like the face paint of clowns
or the crown jewels of the Pleiades
but a bitter farce of black holes
in the veils of the mirage
that eclipsed your enlightenment
with a starless night
it's impossible to get beyond.
And so it may well be
for those who've been
as far gone for as long you have.

But even the blind are shining
though they can't see it
and the deaf are still singing
though they can't hear it
and the dead are still living
though they can't feel it.
And those who have given up seeking
still find what they were looking for
like a loveletter with a return address
and an open door that recognizes them
like the prodigal threshold
of a homeless human
about to cross one more
like the last step of a long journey
that lost its way back in all directions
like the radiance of a star in space and time
that never took its eye off the past.

We cherish the flowers of summer that bloom last
more poignantly than those of the spring
because we feel our own hour of farewell
in the progress of their passing.
The sadness of an earthly excellence
fulfilled and surpassed
we see in the shedding of the aster's petals
and in the lowering of the wild rose's eyelids
and in the lengthening of the black walnut's shadows
that move like cool water
across the dry grass of a late afternoon
signs of the same night approaching us.
And we know it will be dusk soon.

We'll look up at the blue moon in late October
and whether the silos are full or empty
wonder if every harvest
wears the same death mask we do
with the smile of a scythe on its face
or if the goddess of the grain
bears true witness to
the perennial innocence of death
in the way she enhances
the white spectre of the first frost
to shock the garden down to its roots
with the same koan she uses
to enlighten the dew on the stargrass.

And you might dread the coming excruciations
of the scarecrow immolated on the pyre
of its own substance
like the short straw of flesh
that once sustained it
lost in a draw with death.
And come to scorn your heart like an urn
filled with ashes in the aftermath
of the same fire that once filled it
so full of desire to bloom
it could no more contain itself
than a seed can keep a secret from the spring.

You could see it that way.
And who among those clinging
like a blue atmosphere
to this homeless grain of dust
in the vastness of these sidereal immensities
within and without
that animate us like starmud
to join in this dance of life and death
like a legacy of shining
that can't be washed out of our eyes
though tears have fallen for lightyears
on the root fires of what we've loved and lost.
Who among these
could say you were wrong?

Because no river's flowing
the wrong way to the sea
in this reunion of arrivals and departures
at the stations of our afterlives
on this wheel of birth and death.
We're all going to make it back
to where we came from
one way or another.
Some like rain.
Some like ice.
Some like snow.
Some like the lingering ghost
of morning mist on the lake
that's gone before noon
and some like water on the moon.
The flowing of the river
summoned by the sea
to the source of its coming and going
is the calling of life everywhere
to transcend itself
by passing into the unknown
like the available dimension of a future
that's no further beyond us
than the past is
in the light of distant stars.

The sword doesn't wound itself.
Fire doesn't burn itself.
Water doesn't drown in itself.
And life doesn't bleed out of itself
like the dream of a fortune-telling poppy
or a water clock that's run itself to ground.

The eye isn't the seeing.
The ear isn't the hearing.
The tongue isn't the tasting.
The skin isn't the touching.
The voice isn't the saying.
The brain isn't the thinking.
The heart isn't the feeling
anymore than life
is the carrying in
and death is the bearing out.
The darkness isn't a lack of light
and the light isn't the absence of night.
Death is unborn.
Life is unperishing.
Formless in a world of forms.
Two wavelengths of the same awareness.

You say you can see night gathering
under the door you're afraid to answer
long before anyone knocks
and though you dream by your own light
you don't know who's casting the shadows.
Is sorrow any younger in the heart of a child
than it is in the memory of an old man?
Joy any less vivid in the eyes of an old woman
attending to the flowers in her garden
than it is in a girl having tea with her dolls?
Is this day not as new to the widow
as it is to the newly-wed?
Experience is the capstone and dunce-cap
of the sum of destructions
that made us who we are today.
And in life it's the brilliance of our failures
that throws more light on the dark matter
of the issue before us
than all the star power
of the blazing successes
that blind us to our own shining.

You step out of a backlit doorway
into the dark
and slowly the darkness grows
the eyes you need to see the stars.
And maybe death is like that.
Nothing to look at but black
until we blow the candle out
that's been misleading us all the way.
Maybe that's why the jaws of skulls
are always caught gaping at something
that's more than they can say.
But look at the expressions on their faces.
Maybe their eyes
are too overwhelmed by what they're seeing
to want to get in the way.
You could see it like that.
You could see it through the eyes of the rain.
You can taste it on the tongue of a candle flame.
You can read it from right to left
in the Kufic script of the wind.
You can hear it in what the stars are whispering
through the keyholes in the pyramids.
You can feel it all around you
like bubbles of skin and air.
Like empty rooms with atmosphere.
As many ways and roads and rivers as there are
that flow into it down the world mountain
back to the sea
back to the same undifferentiated watershed
of these myriads of mystic specificity
and who could number them all
as many as the stars
or all the grains of sand
of all the deserts and beaches on earth
as many as the dead of every kind who've come and gone
all that blood mind passion dream and imagination
all those tears all that despair lucidity and apprehension
love and familial affection
all that waste and hatred and emotional sewage
dissolved wholly back into the sea
like a watercolour left out in the rain
like a name written on water
by a poet who died young
in a foreign language far away from home
just as birth arrays the universe before us
and says make of it what you can
so death approaches no less a peer of life
than we are in our relationship with all things
and offers us
the same great creative opportunity life does.
Green bough.
Dead branch.
Sunset.
Moon rise.
The hidden night bird alights
on either alike
and folding its wings
like gates and books
and the eyelids of those who dream
at the beginning and end
of a long dark radiant journey,
sings.

poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Your Eyes For Awhile

Your eyes for awhile
were the only eyes
I could see through
to catch a glimpse of god;
were windows into my own soul
that I could look through from the outside
without throwing the moon
through my reflection like a stone
in the hand of an angry boy.
And it was always as true
as the way your heart grew
that you could love strangers
easier than I do even now
after all these years of learning how
to talk to mirrors in their own language.
And you were not one woman
but all women forever
when I saw you once
bending down like the dusk
to touch the last of the flowers
as if you would never see them again.
As serene as the evening
there was no labour in your beauty
and I swear when I saw you that night
I felt as if I were the whole world watching
time put a finger to its lips
and pour its fountain
into the flow of your body
as if it were the sum of all passage.
And though I was your friend in all things
every evening since
the candle went out
in the lantern of a lost tomorrow
I have walked out into abandoned fields alone
and asked the saddest questions
of the most distant stars
knowing there is not enough light sometimes
even in the eyes of God
to be a companion of our sorrows.
And the questions grow longer
as the darkness deepens
the echo of my longing
in a well as dry as my skull
and closes its gates like scars.
And then those nights come
like a life or a day
or even just this moment
when I stop asking
why human suffering
is always indescribably true
and joyful as an irreproachable buffoon
sword-dancing alone with the moon
who writes me dangerous loveletters
as if she were the Lady of the Lake
receiving me back
like a funeral ship
into this mysterium of you,
I can almost believe that you know
even though the night mocks the crow
that pines for mercy
and turns its lightless face toward you
as if it could still feel
the warmth of the sun at midnight
in your eyes again
like the afterlife of light
playing with fireflies in the abyss
now that the summer constellations have gone down;
that somehow you must know
like a guitar
on the far side of a room
where someone is singing
as if they had their ear
to the womb
of your irrevocable absence
that binds me to you with every breath
I take for two
as if I had learned to live on death
to keep you alive in me
where you still flow through the seasons
on the nightstreams of my blood
like blossoms and leaves and stars
and the moon leaves no scars on the water;
must know. Or a demon’s a kinder face
to bestow on the darkness
than a black hole without eyes,
though it’s taken many, long, painful years
for the night to share the light with its jewels again
and as many schools as there are fools to fill them
that even just one
of those slightly compassionate smiles
you would send across the room
to cool the furnace of my heart
with the lightness of one snowflake,
one feather
gracing a change in the weather,
knew more about love
as a raindropp knows the sea
than all of us
who have been washed up
on this cold, lonely shore together
thinking we may have been saved
for something more
than this tidal longing
to brave the sea again
and even if doomed to drown
as I have learned
from this shale of pain
that has carbon-dated the eras
of my missing you
like a life that didn’t
flash before my eyes
as I went down for good with everything,
to thank-you, o, yes,
with nothing but love and light in my heart
and your face in the eye of my solitude
as I stand before the sea in gratitude
to thank-you
as you well knew one day I could
for the generosity of the wound
that has run like my life
down these eyes
these windows
this page
these empty mirrors
of autumn rain
that have wept for years without you
just to see you again
for one moment more
than the time I have left
to know that I never will.

poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Source

Related quotes

Senses of the Elegy

The Dead To The Living

Even if my life without you comes to a halt

Crab Nebula

Lamplight Symphony

Excerpt From Lamplight Symphony

The Rain

Autumn Swing

Sunset Blues

Lazarus

11 Star

Nocturne Of Remembered Spring

Art Of Life

Art Of Life

Improvisations: Light and Snow

Path Of Mirrors

My Father's Garden

It's Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door

Things Might Be Drifting Away

Your Eyes For Awhile

En.Citatepedia®.ro

The Source

Related quotes

Senses of the Elegy

The Dead To The Living

Even if my life without you comes to a halt

Crab Nebula

Lamplight Symphony

Excerpt From Lamplight Symphony

The Rain

Autumn Swing

Sunset Blues

Lazarus

11 Star

Nocturne Of Remembered Spring

Art Of Life

Art Of Life

Improvisations: Light and Snow

Path Of Mirrors

My Father's Garden

It's Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door

Things Might Be Drifting Away

Your Eyes For Awhile

En.Citatepedia^®.ro