En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Silas Dement

It was moon-light, and the earth sparkled
With new-fallen frost.
It was midnight and not a soul abroad.
Out of the chimney of the court-house
A gray-hound of smoke leapt and chased
The northwest wind.
I carried a ladder to the landing of the stairs
And leaned it against the frame of the trap-door
In the ceiling of the portico,
And I crawled under the roof and amid the rafters
And flung among the seasoned timbers
A lighted handful of oil-soaked waste.
Then I came down and slunk away.
In a little while the fire-bell rang --
Clang! Clang! Clang!
And the Spoon River ladder company
Came with a dozen buckets and began to pour water
On the glorious bon-fire, growing hotter,
Higher and brighter, till the walls fell in,
And the limestone columns where Lincoln stood
Crashed like trees when the woodman fells them...
When I came back from Joliet
There was a new court house with a dome.
For I was punished like all who destroy
The past for the sake of the future.

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Sounds In The Roof

At four in the morning we were awakened
by sounds coming from up in the roof.
It sounded like whispering and music,
and we were puzzled to tell the truth.

At first we thought it was our neighbours,
but then remembered they had gone away.
We decided to go up there and investigate,
so got a ladder, and a torch to show the way.

We could hear the sounds quite clearly,
as we climbed the ladder to the loft.
We whispered so no one could hear us
and at one stage we nearly fell off.

I slowly opened the roofs trap door
and shone my torch all around,
but I couldn’t see anything unusual,
and couldn’t hear a sound.

Bewildered, we climbed down the ladder
and decided to go back to bed,
but as soon as our heads touched the pillows
we wished we were elsewhere instead.

The sounds had returned, and much louder,
so we went up the ladder again.
It went quiet as soon as I raised the trap door,
this time I searched, but in vain.

We concluded that the wind was the problem,
as it came down the chimney pot.
But in hindsight we were only fooling ourselves
because we hear the sounds if it’s windy or not.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Become A Robot

Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Become a robot (clang clang)
Clang, clang, whoops, too late
Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Become a robot (clang clang)
Clang, clang, whoops, too late
Lets stick together cause were number 8*
Lets stick to numbers cause were great*
Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Become a robot (clang clang)
Clang, clang, whoops, too late
Hey!
Wait!
Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Harbor a deathwish* (help help)
Help, help, help yourself
Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Harbor a deathwish* (help help)
Help, help, help yourself
Hip, hip, horrific are the words we sing
Hip, hip, horrific is our thing
Heres hoping you dont (hoping you dont)
Become a robot (help help)
Help, help, help, help
Help, help, help
Notes
*these lines are disputable. the liner notes to then: the earlier years claim that the lines in the first bridge are as written here, and that in the second verse the line is harbor a wish
Quot; many fans claim to hear harbor a deathwish or harbor a penguin, but deathwish seems the most likely. others hear number a/cause were gray
E first bridge rather than what is printed here.

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Need of Being Versed in Country Things

The house had gone to bring again
To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go.

The barn opposed across the way,
That would have joined the house in flame
Had it been the will of the wind, was left
To bear forsaken the place's name.

No more it opened with all one end
For teams that came by the stony road
To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs
And brush the mow with the summer load.

The birds that came to it through the air
At broken windows flew out and in,
Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh
From too much dwelling on what has been.

Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,
And the aged elm, though touched with fire;
And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm;
And the fence post carried a strand of wire.

For them there was really nothing sad.
But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept,
One had to be versed in country things
Not to believe the phoebes wept.

poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A House Without Stairs

do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore

without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me

take the roof
if you want

or the beams
or even the floor and window frames

my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling

whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead

crushed to the death of
our imaginations

a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming

the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Black Riders

Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.

poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Black Riders Came From the Sea

Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.

poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ladder To The Sun

From the very start
Came Earth parted
Broke up into pieces and
I was sure I could have missed it
It could risked it
But I put myself into your hands
Cause you're not just anyone
You're a ladder to the sun
You're not just anyone
You're a ladder to the sun
I can run my courses
Opposing forces
Then I...
If you want me you can have me
Oh take me, oh baby grab me
Cause if you want me then you can have me
Cause you're not just anyone
You're a ladder to the sun
You're not just anyone
You're a ladder to the sun
you cannot run
I had it all and I risked it
I had it all and I risked it all
And I risked it all
And I risked it all
A ladder to the
A Ladder to the sun
A ladder to the
A ladder to the sun
A ladder to the
A ladder to the sun
And I risked it all
A ladder to the
A ladder to the sun
And I risked it all
I risked it all
I had it all
I risked it all
A ladder to the sun

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

House of fire (Lyrics)

House of fire
House of fire, yeah
Let's build a house of fire, baby
Not one of wood or stone
Walk thru my door of desire, baby
Come on in and make it your home
Don't need a window to watch you, baby
Don't need no roof overhead
Don't need no key to unlock ya, baby
I'll use my lovin'instead
I won't tire
Take me higher
Building a house of fire, baby
Buildin'it with our love
We are buildin'a house of fire every time we touch
House of fire
House of fire
We ain't gotta pay rent now, baby
No landlord to throw us out
I want to play in your garden, baby
When you want it give me a shout
I won't tire
Take me higher
Building a house of fire, baby
Buildin'it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch
We are building this house together, baby
Standing on solid ground
We are building a house of fire
That you can't tear down
Brick by brick the flames get higher
Build it strong with our desire
Building a house of fire, baby
Building it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch
We are building this house together, baby
Standing on solid ground
We are building a house of fire
That you can't tear down
Building a house of fire, baby
Building it with our love
We are building a house of fire every time we touch

poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The House

For many years, the house
stood empty and forlorn.
The windows had been boarded
preventing the sunlight coming in.
No welcoming mat lay by the door;
laughter was a thing of the past
as spiders spun their webs
within the gloomy silence.

The house stood empty
abandoned by most living things
and there were those who said
spooky goings on went on
after night fell in there.
No one could prove it
because no one would stay there.
Only the fool hardy
would ever enter after dark.

The paintwork pealed
and the front door creaked
if someone dared to open it.
They say the house is haunted,
but no one knew
by what or who.
The house began to crumble
as each season came to pass.

The glory of its birth
lay somewhere in the past
and now the crumbling walls
would never reveal
any of the secrets that it knew.
Then a fire started
by a hand unseen
and the house finally died
within its own funeral pyre

15 March 2011

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Firemen's Ball

SECTION ONE

"Give the engines room,
Give the engines room."
Louder, faster
The little band-master
Whips up the fluting,
Hurries up the tooting.
He thinks that he stands,
[*] The reins in his hands,
In the fire-chief's place
In the night alarm chase.
The cymbals whang,
The kettledrums bang: —
"Clear the street,
Clear the street,
Clear the street — Boom, boom.
In the evening gloom,
In the evening gloom,
Give the engines room,
Give the engines room.
Lest souls be trapped
In a terrible tomb."
The sparks and the pine-brands
Whirl on high
From the black and reeking alleys
To the wide red sky.
Hear the hot glass crashing,
Hear the stone steps hissing.
Coal black streams
Down the gutters pour.
There are cries for help
From a far fifth floor.
For a longer ladder
Hear the fire-chief call.
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.

Faster, faster
The red flames come.
"Hum grum," say the engines,
"Hum grum grum."
"Buzz, buzz,"
Says the crowd.
"See, see,"
Calls the crowd.
And the high walls fall:—
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
NIGHT
Of doom,
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
Whangaranga, whangaranga,
Whang, whang, whang,
Clang, clang, clangaranga,
Clang, clang, clang.
Clang—a—ranga—
Clang—a—ranga—
Clang,
Clang,
Clang.
Listen—to—the—music—
Of the firemen's ball—

SECTION TWO

"Many's the heart that's breaking
If we could read them all
After the ball is over."

(An old song.)

Scornfully, gaily
The bandmaster sways,
Changing the strain
That the wild band plays.
With a red and royal intoxication,
A tangle of sounds
And a syncopation,
Sweeping and bending
From side to side,
Master of dreams,
With a peacock pride.
A lord of the delicate flowers of delight
He drives compunction
Back through the night.
Dreams he's a soldier
Plumed and spurred,
And valiant lads
Arise at his word,
Flaying the sober
Thoughts he hates,
Driving them back
From the dream-town gates.
How can the languorous
Dancers know
The red dreams come
When the good dreams go?
'"Tis the
NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells,
"NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells.
"Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
Sing low, now, violins,
Sing, sing low,
Blow gently, wood-wind,
Mellow and slow.
Like midnight poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
Their eyes flash power,
Their lips are dumb.
Faster and faster
Their pulses come,
Though softer now
The drum-beats fall.
Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
'Tis the firemen's ball,
'Tis the firemen's ball.

"I am slain,"
Cries true-love
There in the shadow.
"And I die,"
Cries true-love,
There laid low.
"When the fire-dreams come,
The wise dreams go."
BUT HIS CRY IS DROWNED
BY THE PROUD BAND-MASTER.

And now great gongs whang,
Sharper, faster,
And kettledrums rattle
And hide the shame
With a swish and a swirk
In dead love's name.
Red and crimson
And scarlet and rose
Magical poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
The scarlet stays
When the rose-flush goes,
And love lies low
In a marble tomb.
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of Doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
Hark how the piccolos still make cheer.
'Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year."
CLANGARANGA, CLANGARANGA,
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG.
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG . . .
LISTEN . . . TO . . . THE . . . MUSIC . . .
OF . . . THE . . . FIREMEN'S BALL . . .
LISTEN . . . TO . . . THE . . . MUSIC . . .
OF . . . THE . . . FIREMEN'S . . . BALL . . .

SECTION THREE

In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed before the reader.

(From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga: "There Buddha thus addressed his disciples: 'Everything, O mendicants, is burning. With what fire is it burning? I declare unto you it is burning with the fire of passion, with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance. It is burning with the anxieties of birth, decay and death, grief, lamentation, suffering and despair. . . . A disciple, . . . becoming weary of all that, divests himself of passion. By absence of passion, he is made free.'")

I once knew a teacher,
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the young men
"Wine is a fire."
Who said to the merchants:—
"Gold is a flame
That sears and tortures
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire
Who said to the soldiers,
"Hate is a fire."
Who said to the statesmen:—
"Power is a flame
That flays and blisters
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the lordly,
"Pride is a fire."
Who thus warned the revellers:—
"Life is a flame.
Be cold as the dew
Would you win at the game
With hearts like the stars,
With hearts like the stars."
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE OF THE FIRE.
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
LEST SOULS BE TRAPPED
IN A TERRIBLE TOMB.
SAYS THE SWIFT WHITE HORSE
TO THE SWIFT BLACK HORSE:—
"THERE GOES THE ALARM,
THERE GOES THE ALARM.
THEY ARE HITCHED, THEY ARE OFF,
THEY ARE GONE IN A FLASH,
AND THEY STRAIN AT THE DRIVER'S IRON ARM."
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA, . . . CLANG.. A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG. . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . . CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG. . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . . CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG . . . .

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Bitter Love

down from the branches fall the leaves,
a wanness comes on all the trees,
the summers done;
and into his last house in heaven,
now goes the sun.

sharp frost destroys the tender sprays,
birds are cold in these short days,
the Nightengale
is grieving that the fire of heaven
is now grown pale.

the swollen river rushes on
past meadows whence the green has gone,
the golden sun
has filled our world.snow falls by day
the nights are numb.

about me all the world is stark,
and i am burning; in my heart
there is a fire
a living flame in me, the maid
of my desire

your kisses, fuel my fire,
your tender touches, flaming higher.
the light of light
dwells in your eyes; divinity
is in your sight.

greek fire can be extingwished
by bitter wine; my fire is fed
on other meat.
yea, even the bitterness of love
is bitter sweet

poem by Brian Saling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Any Woman

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.

I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.

At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.

I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.

I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.

I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow!

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man

Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then

poem by David Aoloch Bion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Become A Robot (Radio Broadcast Early 90's)

Here's hoping you don't
Become a robot
Clang, clang, whoops! too late
Let's stick together 'cause we're number 8
Let's stick to numbers 'cause we're great
Here's hoping you don't
Harbor a wishnik
Help, help help yourself
Hip, hip, horrific are the words we sing
Hip, hip, horrific is our thing

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Bellman

He rang it in the marketplace,
He rang it in the street,
Old Silas was the Bellman
In the village of Purfleet,
He'd rung the bell for sixty years,
He'd rung the bell for war,
He'd rung it for the harvest
But would ring the bell no more!

The Mayor and all his councillors
Had met within the Hall,
Discussed the ponderous questions
That would bear upon them all,
Their gowns were trimmed with ermine
And the mayor, he wore his chain,
The solemn Majesty of State
Was heard in their refrain!

‘We must dismiss the Bellman, '
Said the hoary Abel Creep,
‘He rings it at the strangest times,
I just can't get to sleep! '
‘Agreed, ' said Horace Fumblewit,
It's more than time enough,
I thought that he'd be dead by this…'
‘Hear hear! ' said Toby Gruff.

They called him to the chamber
And delivered him the score,
Old Silas staggered back in shock,
They'd rocked him to the core!
He raised the bell above his head
And gave a mighty ‘Clang! '
Then jumped up on their table
Where they sat, their ears rang!

‘I've been the Bellman sixty years,
My father taught me then,
His father went before him, rang
The bell for Inkerman;
But way, way back before that time
My forebears had a stake,
They warned of the Armada,
Rang the bell for Francis Drake! '

He stomped along their table
In his coarse old hob-nailed boots,
He silenced their authority
To rule in mean disputes,
For every time a councillor
Would seek to raise his voice,
The bell would drown his utterance,
It gave them little choice!

‘There's been a Bellman in this burgh
Right back, before King John,
You think you petty underlings
Can rule once I am gone?
Your ancestors lie buried in
The gravel by the Church,
While mine live on in history…
I'll knock you off your perch!

He raised the bell and made it peal,
It rocked the ancient hall,
The walls shook with vibrations
‘Til the roof began to fall,
The beams came crashing down in a
Scenario from Hell,
‘Your time is not forever, ' cried
The man who rang the bell!

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

From The Terrace

White house
brown roof
windows with outsretched arms
speak to my eyes
urging acceptance

Walls lift roof to gray sky
breeze flowing through the columns
floor, not for walking
but for ascending
request my steps
to be uplifted

Arches curve upwards
and downwards
dancing like the waves
invite me to join
all is in place
all agog with excitement

My soul flutters
knees buckle
and answer no
to House built with greed
not sweat of labour

Here I stay
on the terrace
watching house
not Home
blocks and roof
not sweat and contentment

poem by Mark Nwagwu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Expectedly

houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland

but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun

it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again

this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits

this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass

it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Morning on the Lièvre

Far above us where a jay
Screams his matins to the day,
Capped with gold and amethyst,
Like a vapor from the forge
Of a giant somewhere hid,
Out of hearing of the clang
Of his hammer, skirts of mist
Slowly up the woody gorge
Lift and hang.

Softly as a cloud we go,
Sky above and sky below,
Down the river; and the dip
Of the paddles scarcely breaks,
With the little silvery drip
Of the water as it shakes
From the blades, the crystal deep
Of the silence of the morn,
Of the forest yet asleep;
And the river reaches borne
In a mirror, purple gray,
Sheer away
To the misty line of light,
Where the forest and the stream
In the shadow meet and plight,
Like a dream.

From amid a stretch of reeds,
Where the lazy river sucks
All the water as it bleeds
From a little curling creek,
And the muskrats peer and sneak
In around the sunken wrecks
Of a tree that swept the skies
Long ago,
On a sudden seven ducks
With a splashy rustle rise,
Stretching out their seven necks,
One before, and two behind,
And the others all arow,
And as steady as the wind
With a swivelling whistle go,
Through the purple shadow led,
Till we only hear their whir
In behind a rocky spur,
Just ahead.

poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poetics 9...

beyond this house
where we live
more or less
ten meters away
lies my neighbor's house
painted white
with a blue roof
and magenta windows
some walls are made
of glass

honesty there is peace
among us
who are still on unspeakable
terms

on good fences
higher than ever
we have become
perfect neighbors

there is independence
when fire breaks
we are ready with our own
pails already
filled with stinking water

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Old Fire, New Flame

The fires flames had now burnt low,
The embers began to lose their glow,
Slightly warm ever-growing cold.
Soot through out the chimney old,
Smoke upward could hardly flow.
As after fuel no one choose to go.
Even with the sun shinning so bright,
Frost atop the roof remained white.
Laid to rest good use of minds eye.
From worldly sorrow heart did cry.
Peace and joy no longer remained.
The windows became tear stained.
Almost done the unwinding clock.
Almost unanswered was the knock,
Of someone special at hearts door.
Spirits embraced warming the core.
Kind words their effects now unfold,
On an old fire, like heaping new coal.
New friends, their love would acclaim,
Bringing to that old fire, a new flame!

poem by Joseph Blitch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!