My Own
Then let them point my every tear,
And let them mock and moan;
Another week, another year,
And I'll be with my own
Who slumber now by night and day
In fields of level brown;
Whose hearts within their breasts were clay
Before they laid them down.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Together
Splashing along the boggy woods all day,
And over brambled hedge and holding clay,
I shall not think of him:
But when the watery fields grow brown and dim,
And hounds have lost their fox, and horses tire,
I know that he’ll be with me on my way
Home through the darkness to the evening fire.
He’s jumped each stile along the glistening lanes;
His hand will be upon the mud-soaked reins;
Hearing the saddle creak,
He’ll wonder if the frost will come next week.
I shall forget him in the morning light;
And while we gallop on he will not speak:
But at the stable-door he’ll say good-night.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Stone
The days have passed, nights are gone,
I'm still in love with a stone,
The seasons changed, the clay too came,
I still hold it with no moan,
The clay comes to me in so many shapes,
Wants me to hold it, whatever it may take,
But clay can hurt me, clay may fake,
Even if it's clay, I have a heart it can break,
The season may change,
The clay may go,
Slowing my heart beat,
All time low,
Stone is hard,
Stone is black,
Stone is emotionless,
Doesn't stab at back,
The clay, the stone, both make me die,
But if a stone does, even the clay may cry...
and I'll never ask why...
It's better to live with a stone,
not clay,
Clay is soft, but it hurts,
which is not the stone's way.....
poem by Apurva Jain
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The Sister's Lullaby
You would not slumber
If laid at my breast:
You would not slumber.
The river-flood beats
The swan from her nest:
You would not slumber.
And like that quick flood
My blood goes unguessed:
You would not slumber.
Times without number
Has called the wood quest:
Times without number.
As oft as she called
To me you were pressed:
Times without number.
Now you'd not slumber
If laid at my breast
Times without number.
O starling reed-resting,
I’ll rock you to rest:
So you will slumber.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Bird Flew By
Bird flew by
And wondered, wondered why
She was white
And ought to stay up in the sky
From the air she could wonder
For the reason
Whats the point of a year
Or a season
Your life flies away
As the night turns to day
If you start once to think
Your hair will soon turn grey
But one would like to wonder
For the reason
Whats the point of a year
Or a season
The list of fallen stars
And crumbled, broken hearts
Comes from a need
To play so many parts
But one would like to wonder
For the reason
Whats the point of a year
Or a season
The wind and the rain
Shook hands again
Untouched by the world
They managed to keep sane
They were able to wonder
For the reason
Whats the point of a year
Or a season
Bird flew by
And wondered, wondered why
She was white
And ought to stay up in the sky
From the air she could wonder
For the reason
Whats the point of a year
Or a season
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Year and A Day
A year and a day
Are all that lay
Between me and
My love
A year and a day
Three months 'til May
The year leaping
Above
A year and a day
You scorn to say
Is destiny
Belov'd
A year and a day
I slight cliché
This puzzle I
Speak of
A year and a day
Do not delay
Migrate to me
My dove
A year and a day
No time astray
Like seconds that
I shove
A year and day
From the same clay
You claim you are
Void of
A year and a day
All night I pray
That you would be
My love
poem by Brandon McConnell
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As Dies The Year
The Old Year knocks at the farmhouse door.
October, come with your matron gaze,
From the fruit you are storing for winter days,
And prop him up on the granary floor,
Where the straw lies threshed and the corn stands heaped:
Let him eat of the bread he reaped;
He is feeble and faint, and can work no more.
Weaker he waneth, and weaker yet.
November, shower your harvest down,
Chestnut, and mast, and acorn brown;
For you he laboured, so pay the debt.
Make him a pallet-he cannot speak-
And a pillow of moss for his pale pinched cheek,
With your golden leaves for coverlet.
He is numb to touch, he is deaf to call.
December, hither with muffled tread,
And gaze on the Year, for the Year is dead,
And over him cast a wan white pall.
Take down the mattock, and ply the spade.
And deep in the clay let his clay be laid,
And snowflakes fall at his funeral.
Thus may I die, since it must be,
My wage well earned and my work-days done,
And the seasons following one by one
To the slow sweet end that the wise foresee;
Fed from the store of my ripened sheaves,
Laid to rest on my fallen leaves,
And with snow-white souls to weep for me.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Over The Hills And Far Away
A LITTLE bird flew my window by,
'Twixt the level street and the level sky,
The level rows of houses tall,
The long low sun on the level wall;
And all that the little bird did say
Was, 'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sang behind my chair,
From the level line of corn-fields fair,
The smooth green hedgerow's level bound
Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound,
And the level lawn where the sun all day
Burns:--'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sings above my bed,
And I know if I could but lift my head
I would see the sun set, round and grand,
Upon level sea and level sand,
While beyond the misty distance gray
Is 'Over the hills and far away.'
I think that a little bird will sing
Over a grassy mound, next spring,
Where something that once was me, ye'll leave
In the level sunshine, morn and eve:
But I shall be gone, past night, past day,
Over the hills and far away.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Brown Eye Girl
Don't taste me but eat me,
Don't test me but try me,
Because i do have a major deal for you!
Oh land of promise!
Each tear in my eyes are shed for you;
So come and plead my cause and set me free with your experiences!
For i am the brown eye girl nex tot you,
And i want you to lead me with your peace.
If i ever fall don't cry,
For my criminal lawyer left me last night;
But one busy night is not enough for me.
You can't do what i do and,
You don't know how to do it!
For my show time runs this town,
And the deepest point of love is what you need.
Night vision,
Life is like a movement in space!
But do love my flow when the wind blows you about,
For i am the brown eye girl next to you;
So take me as you do see me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lonely hearts
Lonely hearts, they don't cry
They moan in silence, they want to die.
Lonely hearts, they have no fear
And strength to dropp a single tear
Lonely hearts, they're cold inside
They have a dreadful pain to hide,
Lonely hearts, they're wrapped by grief
No joy, no prayers, no relief
Lonely hearts, they stop to beat
When hope is weak and starts to split.
Lonely hearts, forgotten dreams...
They fade away with stifled screams
poem by Katerina Yanchuk
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The Fields Of Flanders
Last year the fields were all glad and gay
With silver daisies and silver may;
There were kingcups gold by the river's edge
And primrose stars under every hedge.
This year the fields are trampled and brown,
The hedges are broken and beaten down,
And where the primroses used to grow
Are little black crosses set in a row.
And the flower of hopes, and the flowers of dreams,
The noble, fruitful, beautiful schemes,
The tree of life with its fruit and bud,
Are trampled down in the mud and the blood.
The changing seasons will bring again
The magic of Spring to our wood and plain;
Though the Spring be so green as never was seen
The crosses will still be black in the green.
The God of battles shall judge the foe
Who trampled our country and laid her low. . . .
God! hold our hands on the reckoning day,
Lest all we owe them we should repay
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Whinin' Boy Moan
Van Morrison
Exile Publishing Ltd / Universal Music Publishing Ltd
Drop that coin right into the slot
Get it whether you're ready or not
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Well they call him Mr. Jellyroll
It's just the way he rolls his dough
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Well let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Cos he can do it better, better than anyone else
Whine, whine, whine, whine
All the winos down on Market Street
Roll on over to old North Beach
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Well he gonna sing and play for you
Exactly what he's s'pposed to do
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Whine, whine, whine
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Let the whinin boy moan
If you don't know how to do it yourself
Cos he can do it better, better than anyone else
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear It All Down
I walk thru the streets of my old town
Trying to remember all the feelings
But the only feeling was that something
Sweet had come and gone for everyone
Theres factories in the fields where we used to run
Theres a hard day coming for us daughters and sons
Wake up, some things had better change
Tear it all down and starting here and now
Let it all burn, so many souls in pain
Tear it all down, too many hearts in doubt
Were never gonna learn
All of the treasures we own
God bless the house, the car and the t.v.
They built us a prison without any locks
And meanwhile the men who claim God on their side
Spit out their message and sell me a ride
While we look for idols inside a fashion magazine
Things are gonna change
Tear it all down and starting here and now
Let it all burn, so many souls in pain
Tear it all down, too many hearts in doubt
Were never gonna learn, theres a wall to keep us in
Tear it all down, and walls to keep us out
Let it all burn, too many souls in pain
Tear it all down, too many hearts in doubt
Were never gonna learn
Lying naked here in the shrine of your embrace (your embrace)
We touch the burning cauldron to your angel face (angel face)
I look at my boy as he sleeps
An innocent facing the lions
I wish there was some way I could talk to my father again
Theres a bomb in the schoolhouse
Wired to the face of the clock
In the face of disaster we stand like a rock
You cant want youre children to pay for your sins wake up
Some things are gonna change
Tear it all down, some things are gonna fall
Tear it all down, we cant go back again
Tear it all down, with backs against the wall
Tear it all down, theres a wall to keep us in
Tear it all down, theres a wall to keep us out
Let it all burn, too many souls in pain
Tear it all down, too many hearts in doubt
Tear it all down, some things are gonna fall
Tear it all down, we cant go back again
Tear it all down, with backs against the wall
Tear it all down, theres a wall to keep us in
Tear it all down, theres a wall to keep us out
Let it all burn, too many souls in pain
Tear it all down, too many hearts in doubt
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songs from The Beggar’s Opera: Air XVI-“Over the Hills, and Far Away”
Mac. Were I laid on Greenland’s coast,
And in my arms embraced my lass,
Warm amidst eternal frost,
Too soon the half-year’s night would pass.
Polly. Were I sold on Indian soil,
Soon as the burning day was closed,
I could mock the sultry toil
When on my charmer’s breast reposed.
Mac. And I would love you all the day,
Polly. Every night would kiss and play,
Mac. If with me you’d fondly stray
Polly. Over the hills, and far away.
Two Weeks Into September
Two weeks into September the leaves begin to brown
In the groves and in the Town Park of in and near Millstreet Town
And soon the redwing thrushes in the old fields will be seen
When the gray frost of the cold morning does temporarily cloak the green,
Two weeks into September by the mountains far away
Few singing birds at daybreak do sing to greet the day
Yet in my flights of fancy i hear the jackdaws call
And i hear the robin singing in the cool days of the Fall
With a tongue that can't stop babbling every night and every day
The old stream from the mountains to the river winds it's way
And on a rock in the river around where the rapid waters flow
The dark brown dipper is singing the one with breast as white as snow
And on the second week of September by the mountains far north of here
The shortening days are getting cooler in the Autumn of the year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A week, a month, a year
How long is this waiting?
A week, a month, a year
I can’t count the days anymore
How long is this yearning?
A week, a month, a year
I barely feel the difference
How long is this goodbye?
A week, a month, a year
Is the end is forever?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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It Is Not the Tear At This Moment Shed
It is not the tear at this moment shed,
When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him,
That can tell how beloved was the friend that's fled,
Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him.
'Tis the tear, through many a long day wept,
'Tis life's whole path o'ershaded;
'Tis the one remembrance, fondly kept,
When all lighter griefs have faded.
Thus his memory, like some holy light,
Kept alive in our hearts, will improve them,
For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright,
When we think how he lived but to love them.
And as fresher flowers the sod perfume
Where buried saints are lying,
So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom
From the image he left there in dying!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Ghosts Of The Old Year
The snow has ceased its fluttering flight,
The wind sunk to a whisper light,
An ominous stillness fills the night,
A pause — a hush.
At last, a sound that breaks the spell,
Loud, clanging mouthings of a bell,
That through the silence peal and swell,
And roll, and rush.
What does this brazen tongue declare,
That falling on the midnight air
Brings to my heart a sense of care
Akin to fright?
'Tis telling that the year is dead,
The New Year come, the Old Year fled,
Another leaf before me spread
On which to write.
It tells the deeds that were not done,
It tells of races never run,
Of victories that were not won,
Barriers unleaped.
It tells of many a squandered day,
Of slighted gems and treasured clay,
Of precious stores not laid away,
Of fields unreaped.
And so the years go swiftly by,
Each, coming, brings ambitions high,
And each, departing, leaves a sigh
Linked to the past.
Large resolutions, little deeds;
Thus, filled with aims unreached, life speeds
Until the blotted record reads,
'Failure!' at last.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Adieu Old Time
Our heart drops a tear, it also merrily sings
For the loss we suffered and gain of precious things
Hope in our breasts, we heave a little sigh
For the dawn of new time, for the year gone by!
The flow is timeless, we can’t stem the tide
Today’s wizened and old, was yesterday’s young bride
Yet life goes on, the dreams never die
We welcome new year, bid the old goodbye!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Our problem, from the point of view of psychology and from the point of view of genetic epistemology, is to explain how the transition is made from a lower level of knowledge to a level that is judged to be higher.
quote by Jean Piaget
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feelings on Watching the Moon
Time hard year famine life land empty
Brothers live abroad each east west
Fields gardens few fall shield spear after
Bone flesh flow apart road road on
Hang shadow separate like 10,000 li goose
Leave root apart rise 9 autumn dishevelled
Together look bright moon should fall tear
One night home heart 5 place alike The times are hard: a year of famine has emptied the fields,
My brothers live abroad- scattered west and east.
Now fields and gardens are scarcely seen after the fighting,
Family members wander, scattered on the road.
Attached to shadows, like geese ten thousand li apart,
Or roots uplifted into September's autumn air.
We look together at the bright moon, and then the tears should fall,
This night, our wish for home can make five places one.