Why East Wind Chills
Why east wind chills and south wind cools
Shall not be known till windwell dries
And west's no longer drowned
In winds that bring the fruit and rind
Of many a hundred falls;
Why silk is soft and the stone wounds
The child shall question all his days,
Why night-time rain and the breast's blood
Both quench his thirst he'll have a black reply.
When cometh Jack Frost? the children ask.
Shall they clasp a comet in their fists?
Not till, from high and low, their dust
Sprinkles in children's eyes a long-last sleep
And dusk is crowded with the children's ghosts,
Shall a white answer echo from the rooftops.
All things are known: the stars' advice
Calls some content to travel with the winds,
Though what the stars ask as they round
Time upon time the towers of the skies
Is heard but little till the stars go out.
I hear content, and 'Be Content'
Ring like a handbell through the corridors,
And 'Know no answer,' and I know
No answer to the children's cry
Of echo's answer and the man of frost
And ghostly comets over the raised fists.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Related quotes
The Home Of The Spirit
Answer me, burning stars of night,
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?
And the stars answer'd me: 'We roll
In light and power on high;
But of the never-dying soul
Ask that which cannot die.'
O many-toned and chainless wind,
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?
And the wind murmur'd in reply:
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer - Have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd: 'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart
For that which cannot die.'
Speak, then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep low tone;
Answer me, through life's restless din -
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd: 'Be thou still;
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars
their
part fulfil;
Thine
is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The Drover Of The Stars
IT is little I care for earth's kings,
Its emperors, sultans and czars,
As I lie in the darkness and dream
All alone with my sheep and the stars.
For as dust of the moment are they,
Now agleam and now still on earth's breast;
But the stars, spreading wide in the night,
Travel on, ever on to the west.
My sheep, snugly camped in the dark,
Misty-white with the pale grasses blend;
But where is the camp of the stars?
And whither, O Night, do they wend?
Through leagues of dry distance we came,
Where dust-wreaths, wind-woven, upcurled,
Since Dawn dropped the rails of the east
And let the Day into our world.
Slow-moving we travelled the plains,
Trudging on through the sun and the wind,
Till Day galloped out of the west,
And Night set the sliprails behind.
And now, by my camp-fire alone,
A tryst with pale Wonder I keep —
That mystical Lady of Dreams,
Whose hour is the sleep-of-the-sheep.
Foot-tired in the grasses they lie,
Mist-pale in the darkness, and dumb;
Yet who was it mustered the stars,
And whence and what leagues have they come?
Who keeps them from straying apart?
Who urges them straight on their route?
No answer — none tell me; and lo!
The Night, though it listen, is mute!
Watch 'neath the stars of the Cross,
Orion, and Venus and Mars;
I am but a drover of sheep —
But who is the Drover of Stars?
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Invocation
I called on dreams and visions, to disclose
That which is veil'd from waking thought; conjured
Eternity, as men constrain a ghost
To appear and answer. ~ WORDSWORTH.
Answer me, burning stars of night!
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?–
And the stars answer'd me–'We roll
In light and power on high;
But, of the never-dying soul,
Ask that which cannot die.'
Oh! many-toned and chainless wind!
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?–
And the wind murmur'd in reply,
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds, that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer! have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd–'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart,
For that which cannot die.'
Speak then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep, low tone!
Answer me, thro' life's restless din,
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd–'Be thou still!
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars their part fulfil,
Thine is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've no answer...
Honeyed words
Shared till then
Assume sourness
In no time
If you ask me the reason
I’ve no answer
Melody to ears till then
Block the ears
With jarring notes
In no time
If you ask me the reason
I’ve no answer
The hands
Clasped till then
Get unclasped
In no time
If you ask me the reason
I’ve no answer
The eyes that spoke of
Simple love and affection
Till then, assume daggers
In no time
If you ask me the reason
I’ve no answer
Life simply strays
From its short
And sweet interludes
In no time
If you ask me the reason
I’ve no answer
Several abrupt shifts
Creep into lives
Creating unfathomable chasms
Immeasurable distances
Cutting edges
Just for no reason
And then
Silence hangs around
Like a noose
Silence hangs about
Like a knife
If you ask me the reason
Promise...even now, I’ve no answer
07sep2010
13.03hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Lonely Children
You go where the wind blows, leading the life you chose
Your destination remains unknown
No one to help you, nobody cares about you
Youre looking for someplace you can call home
Lonely children on the run
Lonely children need someone
Too many questions, you need to answer to them
Your information is so incomplete
You seek directions, you would be lost without them
Dont let them find you lying in the street
Lonely children on the run
Lonely children, lonely, need someone
Someone to talk to
Someone who cares
Someone who listens
Is anyone there?
They may detest you, someday they may arrest you
They stop at nothing to hold you down
You need to be free, but will they ever let you?
They wont be happy till you leave town
Lonely children on the run, run on the run
Lonely children need someone, need someone
Lonely children in the night, cant see the light
Lonely children need a guiding light, dont forget
Lonely children all alone
Lonely children have no home
Lonely children on the run
Hope someday therell be someone
Lonely, lonely children
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Question
I don't have the answer
So why ask me, why?
Why do you ask me a question
When there is no reply?
As though the answer was this?
Did you know all along?
That so much space
Is weighed down in white silence
Who told you these things?
These imagined replies?
To the unanswered question
The question why?
There is no reply
But bad weather
Rough roads
There is no reply
Leave the rain alone
There is no reply
No reply
No answer to why
Leave the question alone
No face in the sky
No key to the door
No there is nothing, but nothing
So leave nothing alone
And turn round and go home
Watch the sea from your window
The waves rise and fall
Nothing but madness
And nothing at all! !
The moon's silver crescent
No time to recall
What is left
What is deaf
What is blind
To ritual?
To sign?
There's no pattern no season
No face in the wall
No reason too reasonable
To make no sense at all!
There is no reply
To pain
Love lost
To prayer
Why ask me these questions?
When there's no answer there?
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Blowin In The Wind
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, n how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, n how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before theyre forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, n how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before its washed to the sea?
Yes, n how many years can some people exist
Before theyre allowed to be free?
Yes, n how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesnt see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do You Love Your Children
Father do you love your children
I heard you do
But father will you help your children
We need you to
It could be worse I know its true
But only if we plan
La la la lady mary... its time to show your hand
La la la lady mary... and make a few demands
Children do you hope that someone
Is watching you
But do you feel the need for someone
I know I do
I think about it constantly
We really arent that wise
La la la lady mary... open up our eyes
La la la lady mary... and make us realize
First I have a question
(do you love us)
I would like to know
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Yes we really need to know
(do you love us)
I think the time has come for you to show
(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)
Mother, do you love your children
I know you do
But mother do you know your children
Will poison you
The answer does not seem too clear
We look so hard ourselves
La la la lady mary... put your books back on the shelf
La la la lady mary... and save us from ourselves
First I have a question
(do you love us)
I would like to know
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Yes we really need to know
(do you love us)
I think the time has come for you to show
(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Cold Night
It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars--
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant's wife--among
her five children . . .
No answer. Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass. One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold . . . !
White thights of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly: In April . . .
In April I shall see again--In April!
the round and perfects thighs
of the Police Sergeant's wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Admiral Death
Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Fill for a bumper strong and bright,
And here's to Admiral Death!
He's sailed in a hundred builds o' boat,
He's fought in a thousand kinds o' coat,
He's the senior flag of all that float,
And his name's Admiral Death!
Which of you looks for a service free?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
The rules o' the service are but three
When ye sail with Admiral Death.
Steady your hand in time o' squalls,
Stand to the last by him that falls,
And answer clear to the voice that calls,
'Ay, Ay! Admiral Death!'
How will ye know him among the rest?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
By the glint o' the stars that cover his breast
Ye may find Admiral Death.
By the forehead grim with an ancient scar,
By the voice that rolls like thunder far,
By the tenderest eyes of all that are,
Ye may know Admiral Death.
Where are the lads that sailed before?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Their bones are white by many a shore,
They sleep with Admiral Death.
Oh! but they loved him, young and old,
For he left the laggard, and took the bold,
And the fight was fought, and the story's told,
And they sleep with Admiral Death.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Quench thirst
No question
Only answer.
In answer
Find answer.
Satisfied or not
I am not there
To quench thirst.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Some Advice from a Mother to Her Married Son
The answer to do you love me isn't, I married you, didn't I?
Or, Can't we discuss this after the ballgame is through?
It isn't, Well that all depends on what you mean by 'love'.
Or even, Come to bed and I'll prove that I do.
The answer isn't, How can I talk about love when
the bacon is burned and the house is an absolute mess and
the children are screaming their heads off and
I'm going to miss my bus?
The answer is yes.
The answer is yes.
The answer is yes.
poem by Judith Viorst
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Rock, Stone, Sand, Wind, Time, Eternity
the sculptor,
called to the great task; through
the huge columns, ringing echoes even with a sandal’s tread,
the stone chamber,
the assembled court, gold, enamelled blue,
eyes everywhere, walls, men,
the Pharoah’s presence:
‘show me as I am:
man as lion,
king of the living and the dead;
show me as eternity’
the frail old man in heavy robes,
the courtiers nodding, smirking…
more men than men could count
whipped to task under a burning noonday sun;
behind, a half-built pyramid;
slaves chipped away the ancient bedrock
according to the careful measurements,
blocking out the figure, until the day
the sculptor himself – and older now –
mounts the scaffold to begin chipping
the face of time that meets eternity.
‘time says nothing but I told you so’;
which Pharaoh died before his monument?
five thousand years before our own stone dreams,
how many years of scaffolding?
a temple hollowing between its long, long paws.
was it looked upon with awe, or
as meaningless to children,
to their children’s children,
as the frozen gesturing bronzes of our public squares? they,
running off around the back of it
to clamber onto its stone tail?
the night wind already piling up the drifting sand,
night wind in palm leaves whispering of metaphor,
green shores lost under dunes of time;
wind and sand sculpting their own unanswered question:
what is the reason we should ask of time?
what is the question whose answer is timelessness?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Barefoot Children
Scratch my back with a lightning bolt
Thunder rolls like a bass drum note
The sound of the weather is heaven's rag time band
We all fell down from the milky way
Hanging round here 'till judgment day
Heaven only knows who's in command
Chorus
Barefoot children in the rain
Got no need to explain
We'd be swinging on a ball and chain
It's always understood by those who play the game
Barefoot children in the rain
Show me yours and I'll show you mine
Take me back to days full with monkey shine's
Bouncing on a bubble full of trouble in the summer sun
Keep your raft from the riverboat
Fiction over fact always has my vote
And wrinkles only go where the smiles have been
Chorus
Barefoot children in the rain
Got no need to explain
We'd be swinging on a ball and chain
It's always understood by those who play the game
Barefoot children in the rain
la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
Barefoot children in the rain
Scratch my back with a lightning bolt
Thunder rolls like a bass drum note
The sound of the weather is heaven's rag time band
The sky turns blue and the sun appears
But the question's still "what are we doing here?"
I don't think the answer's close at hand
Chorus
Barefoot children in the rain
Got no need to explain
We'd be swinging on a ball and chain
It's always understood by those who play the game
Barefoot children in the rain
in the rain
in the rain
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is knowledge
What is knowledge
Who is there to explain.
This common question
Has no answer.
I undertake not to put
Any other question
Till the answer availabe.
The answer that is available
Is not applicable.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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See The Children
(la la la la la la la...)
I stopped the car
The other day
I had to ask a little
Girl the way
I thought she'd show me
Better if she got inside
And once inside
I thought i'd taker her
For a little ride...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
I'm a supermarket santa
Underneath the christmas tree
The little one all like to
Come and sit upon my knee
I have to hold them tightly
'cause they fall to the floor
A little concern ain't
Against the law...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time
See the children
(something something something??) all the time
I pass by the infant school
Every single day
I push sweeties through the fence
But the kids just run way
I only want to talk with them
And join in their fun
But all the little children do
Is run run run run run run run run...
(la la la la la la, la la la la la la..etc..)
See the children
Feel the children all the time..
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time........
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because It's Christmas
Unto us a son is given
Unto us a son is given
Unto us a son is given
Unto us a child is born
Tonight the stars shine for the children
And light the way for dreams to fly
Tonight our love comes wrapped in ribbons
The world is right
And hopes are high
And from a dark
And frosted window
A child appears
To search the sky
Because it's Christmas
Because it's Christmas
Tonight belongs to all the children
Tonight their joy rings through the air
And so we send our tender blessings
To all the children everywhere
To see the smiles and hear the laughter
A time to give
A time to share
Because it's Christmas
For now and forever
For all of the children
And for the children in us all
Tonight belongs to all the children
Tonight their joy rings through the air
And so we send our tender blessings
To all the children everywhere
To see the smiles and hear the laughter
A time to give
A time to share
Because it's Christmas
For now and forever
For all of the children
And for the children in us all
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Traveller-Heart
(To a Man who maintained that the Mausoleum is the Stateliest Possible Manner of Interment)
I would be one with the dark, dark earth:--
Follow the plough with a yokel tread.
I would be part of the Indian corn,
Walking the rows with the plumes o'erhead.
I would be one with the lavish earth,
Eating the bee-stung apples red:
Walking where lambs walk on the hills;
By oak-grove paths to the pools be led.
I would be one with the dark-bright night
When sparkling skies and the lightning wed--
Walking on with the vicious wind
By roads whence even the dogs have fled.
I would be one with the sacred earth
On to the end, till I sleep with the dead.
Terror shall put no spears through me.
Peace shall jewel my shroud instead.
I shall be one with all pit-black things
Finding their lowering threat unsaid:
Stars for my pillow there in the gloom,--
Oak-roots arching about my head!
Stars, like daisies, shall rise through the earth,
Acorns fall round my breast that bled.
Children shall weave there a flowery chain,
Squirrels on acorn-hearts be fed:--
Fruit of the traveller-heart of me,
Fruit of my harvest-songs long sped:
Sweet with the life of my sunburned days
When the sheaves were ripe, and the apples red.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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