Death
NEVER again:
No child shall stir the inmost heart of her
And teach her heaven by that first faint stir;
No little lips shall lie against her breast
Save the cold lips that now lie there at rest;
No little voice shall rouse her from her sleep
And bid her wake to pain:
Her sleep is calm and deep,
Call not! refrain.
Close in her arm
As though even death drew back before the face
Of Motherhood in this white stilly place,
The gathered bud lies waxen white and cold,
As ever a flower your winter gardens hold.
She bore the pain, she never wore the crown,
She worked the bitter charm,
But all she won thereby is here laid down
Renounced--for good or harm.
Dream? Feed your soul
With dreams, while we must starve our hearts on clay,
Dream of a glorious white-winged sun-crowned day
When you shall see her once more face to face
Beside Christ's Mother in the blessed place!
But while you dream, they carry her from here,
The black bells toll and toll.
Oh God! if only she cannot see or hear,
Not hear those ghoul-like bells that crowd so near,
Not see that cold clay hole.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dream-Dew
WHITE bird of love, lie warm upon my breast,
White flower of love, lie cool against my face!
Teach me to dream again a little space
Ere this dream, too, sink earthward with the rest.
Teach me to dream my heart still pure as snow,
Teach me to dream my lips deserve this grace:
Then let me wake in some forgotten place,
And know you gone, but never see you go.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wake Up Screaming
(jim lauderdale/john leventhal)
Used to sleep through the night peacefully
Not a care in the world got to me
But now I lay me down to sleep
Im afraid of what I might see
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
Used to feel like a man in control
Unaware of the storm in my soul
The sight of you took away my breath
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
Now in this dream Im in a room
All dressed up just like a groom
Watchin' shadows dance in the ledge
Suddenly you then appear you whisper in my hear
And I jump right over the edge
Just a dream that I seem to recall
Cant you tell me which doctor to call
Tell him please Im not feelin too well
Everynight Im hearin' wedding bells
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
I lay there in an ice cold sweat
Sheets are torn and theyre soakin' wet
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
I wake up screamin' when your dream goes by
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See That My Grave Is Kept Clean
(first releaseblind lemon jefferson)
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one kind of favor Ill ask for you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.
And theres two white horses following me
And theres two white horses following me
I got two white horses following me
Waiting on my burying ground.
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Means another poor boy is underground.
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Means another poor boy is dead and gone.
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
Now I believe what the Bible told.
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
And theres one last favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
See that my grave is kept clean.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Via Amoris
I.
IT is not Love, this beautiful unrest,
This tremor of longing that invades my breast:
For Love is in his grave this many a year,
He will not rise--I do not wish him here.
It is not memory, for your face and eyes
Are not reflected where that dark pool lies:
It is not hope, for life makes no amends,
And hope and I are long no longer friends:
It is a ghost out of another Spring
It needs but little for its comforting--
That I should hold your hand and see your face
And muse a little in this quiet place,
Where, through the silence, I can hear you sigh
And feel you sadden, O Virgin Mystery,
And know my thought has in your thought begot
Sadness, its child, and that you know it not.
II.
If this were Love, if all this bitter pain
Were but the birth-pang of Love born again,
If through the doubts and dreams resolved, smiled
The prophetic promise of the holy child,
What should I gain? The Love whose dream-lips smiled
Could never be my own and only child,
But to Love's birth would come, with the last pain,
Renunciation, also born again.
III.
If this were Love why should I turn away?
Am I not, too, made of the common clay?
Is life so fair, am I so fortunate,
I can refuse the capricious gift of Fate,
The sudden glory, the unhoped-for flowers,
The transfiguration of my earthly hours?
Come, Love! the house is garnished and is swept,
Washed clean with all the tears that I have wept,
Washed from the stain of my unworthy fears,
Hung with the splendid spoils of wasted years,
Lighted with lamps of hope, and curtained fast
Against the gathered darkness of the past.
I draw the bolts! I throw the portals wide,
The darkness rushes shivering to my side,
Love is not here--the darkness creeps about
My house wherein the lamps of hope die out.
Ah Love! it was not then your hand that came
Beating my door? your voice that called my name?
IV.
'It is not Love, it is not Love,' I said,
And bowed in fearful hope my trembling head.
'It is not Love, for Love could never rise
Out of the rock-hewn grave wherein he lies.'
But as I spake, the heavenly form drew near
Where close I clasped a hope grown keen as fear,
Upon my head His very hand He laid
And whispered, 'It is I, be not afraid!'
V.
And this is Love, no rose-crowned laughing guest
By whom my passionate heart should be caressed,
But one re-risen from the grave; austere,
Cold as the grave, and infinitely dear,
To follow whom I lay the whole world down,
Take up the cross, bind on the thorny crown;
And, following whom, my bleeding pilgrim feet
Find the rough pathway sure and very sweet.
The august environment of mighty wings
Shuts out the snare of vain imaginings,
For by my side, crowned with Love's death-white rose,
The Angel of Renunciation goes.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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We Dream In Color
Dream sequence
(wake up, wake up, wake up, time to dream)
(wake up, time to dream)
We dream, we dream, we dream in color
Wake me up in the middle of the night, tell me what youve seen
Ivory clouds in a sea of blue, fields of endless green
But we lie here and we search for stars
Or big bad letters all the way from mars
The sky is black and the moon is pale, and we cry for this world of ours
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
Chorus:
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
Oh yes we dream
I wake up in the middle of the day, locked within this cell
The sun is weak on the gun gray street, a cold and concrete hell
So I close my eyes and remember the days
Of a blood red sky and a purple haze
The flag was yours and the flag was mine, but we let it fade away
In the dark we still believe (oh you know that we still believe)
In the dark we see
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, but still the dream is not enough
We dream in color
(guitar solo)
This is where it all comes down, this is where the truth is found
Someones gotta keep this dream alive
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - like a rainbow in the night
We dream of peace, we dream of love, we dream of life!
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream, yes we dream
We dream in color - but we live in black and white
We dream in color - and hold on to each other
We dream in color - lover to lover, sister to brother, we hold on
We dream in color
We dream in color - we dream
We dream in color - we dream...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is It Any Wonder
Turn me down
To the ground
I want to feel the coolness on my face
Lie me down
Show me how
I can begin to hold you endlessly
I don't sleep
So I don't dream of leaving
And when I wake I face the night
And I don't speak
I listen to the breathing
I sometimes think I hear my fate
So is it any wonder
That I'm finding someone in this place here next to me
And is it any wonder
That we found each other
I've found another who meets the same
Is it any wonder
Don't explain by it's name
We write our words forever in the space
Who could say
Chance again
Chooses to bring together you and me
Now I don't sleep so I don't dream of leaving
I lie awake and face the night
I lie awake and dream of you
So is it any wonder
that I'm finding someone in this place here next to me
And is it and wonder that you made it here
We found another who meets the same
And is it any wonder that I'm finding someone in this place here next to me
Is it any wonder
that we found each other
We found another who meets the same
song performed by by Sophie Ellis Bextor from Read My Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
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The Tryst
I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.
She could not stay me, being dead;
Her body here was mine to hold.
What if her lips had lost their red?
To me they always tasted cold
With the cold words she said.
Did my breath run along her hair,
And free the pulse, and fire the brain,
My wild blood wake her wild blood there?
Here eyelids lifted wide again
In a blue, sudden stare.
Beneath my fierce, profane caress
The whole white length of body moved;
The drowsy bosom seemed to press
As if against a breast beloved,
Then fail for weariness.
No, not that anguish! Christ forbid
That I should raise such dead! I rose,
Stifled the mouth with lilies, hid
Those eyes, And drew the long hair close,
And shut the coffin lid.
My cold brow on the cold wood laid,
Quiet and close to-night we lie.
No cruel words her lips have said.
I shall not take nor she deny.
The dead is with the dead.
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mother
I
IT was April, blossoming spring,
They buried me, when the birds did sing;
Earth, in clammy wedging earth,
They banked my bed with a black, damp girth.
Under the damp and under the mould,
I kenned my breasts were clammy and cold.
Out from the red beams, slanting and bright,
I kenned my cheeks were sunken and white.
I was a dream, and the world was a dream,
And yet I kenned all things that seem.
I was a dream, and the world was a dream,
But you cannot bury a red sunbeam.
For though in the under-grave's doom-night
I lay all silent and stark and white,
Yet over my head I seemed to know
The murmurous moods of wind and snow,
The snows that wasted, the winds that blew,
The rays that slanted, the clouds that drew
The water-ghosts up from lakes below,
And the little flower-souls in earth that grow.
Under earth, in the grave's stark night,
I felt the stars and the moon's pale light.
I felt the winds of ocean and land
That whispered the blossoms soft and bland.
Though they had buried me dark and low,
My soul with the season's seemed to grow.
II
From throes of pain they buried me low,
For death had finished a mother's woe.
But under the sod, in the grave's dread doom,
I dreamed of my baby in glimmer and gloom.
I dreamed of my babe, and I kenned that his rest
Was broken in wailings on my dead breast.
I dreamed that a rose-leaf hand did cling;
Oh, you cannot bury a mother in spring!
When the winds are soft and the blossoms are red
She could not sleep in her cold earth-bed.
I dreamed of my babe for a day and a night,
And then I rose in my grave-clothes white.
I rose like a flower from my damp earth-bed
To the world of sorrowing overhead.
Men would have called me a thing of harm,
But dreams of my babe made me rosy and warm.
I felt my breasts swell under my shroud;
No star shone white, no winds were loud;
But I stole me past the graveyard wall,
For the voice of my baby seemed to call;
And I kenned me a voice, though my lips were dumb:
Hush, baby, hush! for mother is come.
I passed the streets to my husband's home;
The chamber stairs in a dream I clomb;
I heard the sound of each sleeper's breath,
Light waves that break on the shores of death.
I listened a space at my chamber door,
Then stole like a moon-ray over its floor.
My babe was asleep on a stranger's arm,
'O baby, my baby, the grave is so warm,
'Though dark and so deep, for mother is there!
O come with me from the pain and care!
'O come with me from the anguish of earth,
Where the bed is banked with a blossoming girth,
'Where the pillow is soft and the rest is long,
And mother will croon you a slumber-song–
'A slumber-song that will charm your eyes
To a sleep that never in earth-song lies!
'The loves of earth your being can spare,
But never the grave, for mother is there.'
I nestled him soft to my throbbing breast,
And stole me back to my long, long rest.
And here I lie with him under the stars,
Dead to earth, its peace and its wars;
Dead to its hates, its hopes, and its harms,
So long as he cradles up soft in my arms.
And heaven may open its shimmering doors,
And saints make music on pearly floors,
And hell may yawn to its infinite sea,
But they never can take my baby from me.
For so much a part of my soul he hath grown
That God doth know of it high on His throne.
And here I lie with him under the flowers
That sun-winds rock through the billowy hours,
With the night-airs that steal from the murmuring sea,
Bringing sweet peace to my baby and me.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Parting II
I WILL not wake you, dear; no tears shall creep
To chill the still bed where you lie asleep;
No cry, no word, shall break the sanctity
Of the great silence where God lets you lie.
I will not tease your grave with flower or stone;
You are tired, my heart; you shall be left alone.
And even the kisses that my lips must lay
Upon the mould of the triumphant clay
Shall be so soft--like those a mother lays
Upon her sleeping baby's little face--
You will not feel my kisses, will not hear;
You are tired: sleep on, I will not wake you, dear!
But when the good day comes, you will hear me cry,
'Ah, make a little place where I can lie!'
And half awakened, you will feel me creep
Into the folds of your familiar sleep,
And draw them round us, with a tender moan,
'How could you let me sleep so long alone?'
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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James Lionel Michael
BE HIS rest the rest he sought:
Calm and deep.
Let no wayward word or thought
Vex his sleep.
Peace—the peace that no man knows—
Now remains
Where the wasted woodwind blows,
Wakes and wanes.
Latter leaves, in Autumn’s breath,
White and sere,
Sanctify the scholar’s death,
Lying here.
Soft surprises of the sun—
Swift, serene—
O’er the mute grave-grasses run,
Cold and green.
Wet and cold the hillwinds moan;
Let them rave!
Love that takes a tender tone
Lights his grave.
He who knew the friendless face
Sorrows shew,
Often sought this quiet place
Years ago.
One, too apt to faint and fail,
Loved to stray
Here where water-shallows wail
Day by day.
Care that lays her heavy hand
On the best,
Bound him with an iron hand;
Let him rest.
Life, that flieth like a tune,
Left his eyes,
As an April afternoon
Leaves the skies.
Peace is best! If life was hard
Peace came next.
Thus the scholar, thus the bard,
Lies unvext.
Safely housed at last from rack—
Far from pain;
Who would wish to have him back?
Back again?
Let the forms he loved so well
Hover near;
Shine of hill and shade of dell,
Year by year.
All the wilful waifs that make
Beauty’s face,
Let them sojourn for his sake
Round this place.
Flying splendours, singing streams,
Lutes and lights,
May they be as happy dreams:
Sounds and sights;
So that Time to Love may say,
“Wherefore weep?
Sweet is sleep at close of day!
Death is sleep.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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Martha
SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha 's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
"I'm old and poor,-- would I were dead!"
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She'll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
'Tis fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
Toll the bell!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Cold Blows The Wind
Cold blows the wind over my true love
Cold blows the drops of rain
I never had but one true love
And in camville he was slain
I'll do as much for my true love as any young girl may
I'll sit and weep down by his grave for twelve month and one day
But when twelve months were come and gone
This young man he arose
What makes you weep down by my grave
I can't take my repose
One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips -- one kiss is all i crave
One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips and return back to your grave
My lips they are as cold as my clay
My breath is heavy and strong
If thou was to kiss my lily white lips
Thy days would not be long
Oh don't you remember the garden grove where we used to walk
Pluck the finest flower of them all, twill wither to a stalk
Go fetch me a nun from the dungeon deep
And water from a stone
And white milk from a maiden's breast,
That babe ere never known
Go dig me a grave both long, wide and deep as quickly as you may
I'll lie down in it and take one sleep for twelve month and one day
Cold blows the wind over my true love
Cold blows the drops of rain
I never had but one true love
And in camville he was slain
I'll do as much for my true love as any young girl may
I'll sit and weep down by his grave for twelve month and one day
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I can never dream of God
TELL ME, GOD!
you will let me dream,
that I'l dream of a heaven
I'l never see,
that I'l dream of a hell
that has no pain.
that I'l dream that one day
that I dreamed that I wake!
TELL ME I'L DREAM
that my mother was alive!
Tell me I'l dream
there were tears in my eyes!
Tell me I'l dream
of the first light of day,
TELL ME I'L DREAM!
and I'l dream that I wake!
For, in a grave!
for the rest of my time,
In a grave! in the hell where I lie!
In a grave, where forever I'l sleep,
I'd dream of God,
..........If only I could dream
A Prayer For The King's Majesty
22nd January, 1901.
THE Queen is dead. God save the King,
In this his hour of grief,
When sorrow gathers memories in a sheaf
To lay them on his shoulders as he stands
Inheriting her glories and her lands--
First gain of his at which his Mother's voice
Has not been first to bless and to rejoice--
A man, set lonely between gain and loss.
(O words of love the heart remembereth,
O mighty loss outweighing every gain!)
A Son whose kingdom Death's arm lies across,
A King whose Mother lies alone with Death
Wrapped in the folds of white implacable sleep.
O God, who seest the tears Thy children weep,
O God, who countest each sad heart-beat, see
How our King needs the grace we ask of Thee!
Thou knowest how little and how vain a thing
Is Empire, when the heart is sick with pain--
God, save the King!
The Queen is dead. The splendour of her days,
The sorrow of them both alike merge now
In the new aureole that lights her brow.
The clamour of her people's voice in praise
Must hush itself to the still voice that prays
In the holy chamber of Death. Tread softly here,
A mighty Queen lies dead.
Her people's heart wears black,
The black bells toll unceasing in their ear,
And on the gold sun's track
The great world round
Like a black ring the voice of mourning goes,
Till even our ancient foes
With eyes downbent, and brotherly bared head,
Keep mourning watch with us. This is the hour
When Love lends all his power
To speed grief's arrows from the bow of Death,
When sighs are idle breath,
When tears are fountains vain.
She will not wake again,
Not now, not here.
O great and good and infinitely dear,
O Mother of your people, sleep is sweet,
No more Life's thorny ways will wound your feet.
O Mother dear, sleep sound!
When you shall wake,
Your brows freed from the crown that made them ache
So many a time, and wear the heavenly crown,
Then, then you will look down
On us who love you, and, remembering,
The love of earth will breathe with us our prayer,
Our prayer prayed here, joined to your prayer prayed there:
Who knows what radiant answer it may bring?
'God save the King!'
The Queen is dead. God save the King!
From all ill thought and deed,
From heartless service and from selfish sway,
From treason, and the vain imagining
Of evil counsellors, and the noisome breed
Of flatterers who eat the soul away,
God save the King!
From loss and pain and tears
Such as her many years
Brought her; from battle and strife,
And the inmost hurt of life,
The wounds that no crown can heal,
No ermine robes conceal,
God save the King!
God, by our memories of his Mother's face,
By the love that makes our heart her dwelling-place,
Grant to our sorrow this desired grace:
God save the King!
* * * * * * * * *
The Queen is dead. God save the King.
This is no hour when joy has leave to sing;
Only, amid our tears, we are bold to pray,
More boldly, in that we pray sorrowing,
In this most sorrowful day.
God, who wast of a mortal Mother born,
Who driest the tears with which Thy children mourn,
God, save the King!
Look down on him whose crown is wet with tears
In which its splendour fades and disappears--
His tears, our tears, tears out of all her lands.
The Queen is dead.
God! strengthen the King's hands!
God, save the King!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Late Winter
Why is winter late this year?
Will it come or not, I fear?
Sometime it’s cloudy, sometimes sunny,
They play hide & seek, how funny!
All of sudden it is drizzling,
Then raining, then pouring,
Rain in Winter?
The seasons are in a scatter,
Its mid winter, what happens thereafter?
I feel little bit of cold
Is winter at the threshold?
Christmas is fast approaching,
but no sign of winter,
no festive feeling,
Can’t dream of a Christmas without winter,
Or a winter without Christmas.
Can’t dream of a hot Christmas night,
Or of a Christmas that is not white
If so, no shepherd will shiver out in cold,
No Angel will sing carols new or old
Baby Jesus will not be cold in the manger
No cattle will be in the shed for warmth any longer
No winter fairy tale will be sung,
No Silver Bells will be rung,
No Santa will come on his sleigh,
No Jingle Bells will be heard on the way
Christmas and Winter both go together
They are truly made for each other.
An Irish Mile
In my dream I walk in the times gone by
On the western edge of a heartbreak shore
Where sleep’s dark fears are howling ‘round
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
Near the edge of a cliff there’s an angry
crowd with hungry faces crowding around
’fear in their eyes when they hear the drum
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
The troops come on with bayonets fixed
Pushing the people to the mountain’s lip
A cry goes out as the first goes down
in the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
The troops move off in single file.
The Empire grows by an Irish mile.
A voice cries out from the rocks below in
the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
In my dream I walk in the times gone by
As close to the edge as my fears allow
in the air there's a prayer for pity and revenge
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
poem by Sean Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dream of
I Dream of...!
I dream of... A life without pain...
I dream of... Love that I can't explain...
I dream of... Eyes not plagued by tears...
I dream of... A soul without fears...
I dream of... A pure, unbroken heart...
I dream of... A hope of never growing apart...
I dream of... The smile on your face...
I dream of... A better place...
I dream of... The things I could never do...
I dream of... A dream of you...
poem by Sachin Don
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make love with me
The reality of your dream
Is a mask turned backward
Black over white, black over white
Love over pain, love over pain.
Hey, take me to yourself.
The dream of my reality
Is the backward of that mask
Turned backward
White over black, white over black
Pain over love, pain over love.
Hey, come to myself.
Come to self in self
In that place where
Everything can be
Black into white when is taken from us
Or white into black when is given to us.
Love into pain when is given to us.
Or pain into love when is taken from us.
Look to the mask
Intangible
Me
And
You
Alw ays the same
Looking for myself
Through you
And looking for yourself
Through me.
In that place where
Everything can be
Sometimes
Black without white and white without black
Or pain without love and love without pain
In losing control.
MCN: C7986-UKG7K-58QFA
© copyright Mon Jan 24 22: 44: 44 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dreams
Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
Figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
These dreams in the mist
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
Is it cloak n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
There's something out there
I can't resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There's something out there
I can't resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I've ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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