En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Prelude

OUT of the west when the sun was dying
Clouds of white wings came flying, flying,
Wheeling and whirling they swept away
Into the heart of the eastern gray;
But one white dove came straight to my breast
Out of the west.

Into the west when the dawn was pearly
Clouds of white wings went, dewy-early,
Straight from the world of the waning stars;
O beating pinions! O prison bars!
My dove flies free no more with the rest
Into the west.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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West End Girls

(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys
And west end girls
And west end girls
And west end girls
East end boys
The west end girls
The west end boys
And west end girls
The west end girls
The west end boys
The west end girls

song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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West Of The Moon

Words and music by bob seger
Out on those trails
Out neath that sky
Rivers of old
Still rushing by
Eagles still soar
White mountains loom
Down in those valleys
West of the moon
West of the stars
Far from the chase
Far from the crowds
Far from the pace
Horses run free
Winter comes soon
Out by those mountains
West of the moon
And everywhere
Everywhere
Wild things are free
Free in the wind and the sun
Everywhere
Everywhere
As it should be
Left on their own while they run
Out by those mountains
West of the moon

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Villanelle

Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!

Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.

My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!

Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!

Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Villanelle Of Sunset

Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!

Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.

My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!

Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!

Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If

If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day,
O, what a day to-day would be!
But now he's away, miles and miles away
From me across the sea.

O little bird, flying, flying, flying
To your nest in the warm west,
Tell him as you pass that I am dying,
As you pass home to your nest.

I have a sister, I have a brother,
A faithful hound, a tame white dove;
But I had another, once I had another,
And I miss him, my love, my love!

In this weary world it is so cold, so cold,
While I sit here all alone;
I would not like to wait and to grow old,
But just to be dead and gone.

Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed,
Fair where I am lying:
Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead—
He for whom I am dying.

Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it,
And on the stone write my name;
If he never comes, I shall never know it,
But sleep on all the same.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wings Of A Dove

Let me fly in the wings of a dove
Above the Manhattan sky
So that all the yankies can see me
At least I will be safe in the wings of a dove
And I can sleep while I am fling in the wings of a dove
I love to fly in the wings of a dove
But the feeling of being high in the sky is great
But God gave me a chance to fly in the wings of a dove
When the opportunity came I didn't even think for a minute
I just jumped right in this opportunity
And I am glad I did it
Because I am having the greatest time when I am flying in the wings of a Dove
But I woke up at midnight and the sky was already dark
Eventhough the dove was still flying
The dove took me all the way to Chigago the windy city
Men I must tell you that it was very windy inthe sky in chicago
But we landed safe in Chicago by the shore
And I sleept in the shore of Chicago for the night
To me it was almost like being inside a movie scream when I woke up the next morning at the Shore of Chicago

poem by Aldo Kraas
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White Dove

Music :presser, adamis, rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
A place without a name
Under a burning sky
Theres no milk and honey here
In the land of god
Someone holds a sign
It says we are human, too
And while the sun goes down
The world goes by
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Waves, big like a house
Theyre stranded on a piece of wood
To leave it all behind
To start again
But instead of a new life
All they find is a door thats closed
And they keep looking for
A place called hope
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
Can anyone tell me why (can anyone tell me why)
The children of the world (the children of the world)
Have to pay the price (pay another price)
And now your telling me
Youve seen it all before
I know thats right but still
It breaks my heart
Well, the golden lamb we sent
Makes us feel better now
But you know its just a drop
In a sea of tears
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
...

song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’m Going West

I’m going west.
Where the snow capped mountains
reach up to the heavens
and their streams
sparkle under the warming sun.

I’m going west.
Where the wild flowers grow
and spread a coloured blanket
as far as the eye can see,
and the majestic deer run free.

I’m going west.
To God’s Garden of Eden,
a place of peace and tranquillity.
Where skies are always blue
like skies aught to be.

I’m going west.
To a land that is free
from all the hatred I see.
Where each day is filled
with wonder from dawn to dusk.

I’m going west to be me.

10 April 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Of The Paper

i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask such
a simple task from me

write as you wish
think as you want to
or dont want to
I feel a white dove
flying amongst wondrous
cumulus clouds

meditate as much as i wish
so that the white becomes
a mere plane of zen,
a vibration of existence

i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask just
such a simple thing of me
to swing myself and exercise
my thoughts so that i let loose
clouds, birds, stars and moon
in the minds of men

i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they always
are my best friends,
open an infinite plane
for me to act out my antics
for the good of men,
exercise their minds and
let their humours flow

i like the white of the
screen and the paper
because they are always
there to accommodate me
to let the gift from heaven flow

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stranded At The Moonbase

A long way up in light-years,
Just a pinpoint in space,
In a century of planetary storms,
Stranded at the moonbase,
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
Looking out at the roof-window,
I've seen many strange things,
From shooting stars to Stars 'n' Stripes
Thought I'd caught a glimpse of golden wings.
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.
Looking way down below me,
The worlds are all awhirl-whirly.
Won't you come along beside?
This place waits for company.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I leave my limbs behind me.
As I'm being lifted
Out into the, into the
Spiritual boom-boom abyss.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rosario

Early in the morning as the moon was in the sky,
Early in the morning I kissed my girl goodbye,
For kissing-time is over and it's time and time to go
When you've a long road to travel to Rosario!

Oh wake her &mdash oh shake her! - and the Peter's flying free,
And the pilot's come aboard her, and she's hungry for the sea.
Kissing time is over; And it's time and time to go
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

Summer'll soon be over, the leaves'll fade and die,
And white on every furrow the winter snows'll lie,
But we're bound for the long furrows where never lies the snow,
And we've a long road to travel to Rosario!

Oh wake her - oh shake her! - and the cable surges in
To the roar of a shanty chorus as we make the handspikes spin . . .
Oh she's bound for the long furrows where never lies the snow -
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

And now she smells the deep sea, and now she's gathering way,
And now she meets the rollers in a white smother of spray -
Sou'west an' a half west, and steady as we go . . .
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

Oh, wake her - oh, shake her! - and it's good-bye to the shore,
With the north wind in her topsails, and the whole wide world before . . .
Sou'west an' a half west, and steady as you go -
And a long road to travel to Rosario!'

poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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The Days They Fly

Hark! The sun it rises
But the mourning dove cries
As morning it dies
Lo, high sun's rise

Hearken! Noontide arrives
But soon the meadowlark sings
And takes to its wings
West, as evening bell rings

Hark! The night the moon illumines
Now hear raven's crow
Those that tarry below
Now midnight you know

Hearken! Morning approaches
Heron's white wings flows
As the seed of dawn grows
No longer caught in dark throes

poem by T.A. Rosenbaum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dove of Dacca

The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!

The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.

"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."

The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.

She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!

The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!

The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.

So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Camp Within the West

O DID you see a troop go by
Way-weary and oppressed,
Dead kisses on the drooping lip
And a dead heart in the breast?

Yea, I have seen them one by one
Way-weary and oppressed,
And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’
They answered, ‘To the West!’

And were they pale as pale could be—
Death-pale with haunted eyes,
And did you see the hot white dust
Range round their feet and rise?

Oh, they were pale as pale could be,
And pale as an embered leaf;
The hot white dust had risen, but
They laid it with their grief.

Did no one say the way is long,
And crave a little rest?
Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh,
Our camp is in the West!’

And did pain pierce their feet, as though
The way with thorns were set,
And were they visited by strange
Dark angels of regret?

Oh yea, and some were mute as death,
Though shot by many a dart,
With them the salt of inward tears
Went stinging through the heart.

And how are these wayfarers called,
And whither do they wend?
The Weary-Hearted—and their road
At sunset hath and end.

Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears!
They yearn for endless rest;
Perhaps large stars will burn above
Their camp within the West.

poem by Roderic Quinn
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Way Out West Of Wagga

The train winds west from wagga
Me - sitting sweating from the sun
My swag up on the swaying rack
Now beholden to no-one.

It's a morning on the sky line
The sun slides slanting rays
The countryside is counting
In years and not in days.

Way out west of wagga
Is why the journey ends
I’m off to find my people
And cast off city friends.

My mob came from out that country
That the white folks made their own
They sent us off to rail yards
And Redfern was our home.

It’s hard there housed in Redfern
Caught between two worlds
The white man's world don't see us
Us cut off from our birth.

The line sings out its rhythm
The sound of wheel on rail
The wheels made in those workshops
Those workshops were our gaol.

Way out west of wagga
I’m sure that I’ll find my mob
I’m told they’re drinking swearing
With more flies than there are jobs.

Yeah, I drank drinks with the piper
Lost control and do not know
Why what is west of wagga
Is now where i must go.

poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Train Winds West From Wagga

The train winds west from wagga
Me - sitting sweating from the sun
My swag up on the swaying rack
Me - beholden to no-one.

It's a morning on the sky line
The sun slides slanting rays
The countryside is counting
In years and not in days.

Way out west of wagga
Is where the journey ends
I’m off to find my people
And cast off city friends.

My mob came from out that country
That the white folks made their own
They sent us off to rail yards
And Redfern was our home.

It’s hard there housed in Redfern
Caught between two worlds
The white man's world don't see us
Us cut off from our birth.

The line sings out its rhythm
The sound of wheel on rail
The wheels made in those workshops
Those workshops were our gaol.

Way out west of wagga
I’m sure that I’ll find my mob
I’m told they’re drinking swearing
With more flies than there are jobs.

Yeah, I drank drinks with the piper
Lost control and do not know
Why what is west of wagga
Is now where i must go.

poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black raven, White dove

When it's black,
Like the raven,
The well is full, but full of what?
My sun is shining in a half pale burst,
With toxic, red hot guilt

And as if in stark contrast,
The white dove just hits home-
And its what I've always wanted alive,
But then when I give some brainpower,
I decide that maybe it could be dead-
And it took the black to show it.

But then the black of the raven,
So beautifully stunning,
I look at her and all I see,
Is the storm in her eyes,
And the dove
Should be crying
For it doesn't know
That my white heart is dying
Replaced by the black of the right

"Home is where the heart is"
Then my home's firmly with the white,
It's where I've lived,
For six months past,
And I feel like I belong
I feel like I am home there
But then I see,
Cupid's stupid decree-
With one black wing and one white,
But which is wrong?
Which right?

But is the dove ever going to surrender?
Wave its' flag and give in to the raven?
Cause the raven's a-pecking,
And so far she's winning,
And with a fight,
And a laboratory,
The boy of white has slim chance of winning.

Cause now that it's out,
I'm secretly devout,
So secretly, darkly obsessed,
With the black of the girl,
And the light blue of the raven's eye,
But then its' always been white,
The dove the keeper of my heart,
Cause I found the dove lost,
With clips in his wings,
And I tried to set him free
I showed all that he belonged to me
And he's the one who set me free,
My first and ever pet,
The first one I've wanted to be with-
Forever.

And the dove's innocent eyes,
And repeated cries,
Made me overlook the fact he can't fly,
But I'm not going to feed him,
All of his food,
He needs to live on his own too so he won't die

But could the raven ever be-
Just with me?
Even if the raven is more beautiful,
How does she know,
And how do I?
That she won't kill me,
That we won't die.

So used to the dove,
The raven's so new,
And there's so much evidence of some grey hue-

An ever-waging war,
Of black and white,
An ever-waging war,
Of wrong and right,
The dove or the raven,
Only you can decide,
The dove or the raven,
The tone that is inside.

poem by Ally Gunther
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Day dawn

All yesterday the thought of you was resting in my soul,
And when sleep wandered o'er the world that very thought she stole
To fill my dreams with splendour such as stars could not eclipse,
And in the morn I wakened with your name upon my lips.

Awakened, my beloved, to the morning of your eyes,
Your splendid eyes, so full of clouds, wherein a shadow tries
To overcome the flame that melts into the world of grey,
As coming suns dissolve the dark that veils the edge of day.

Cool drifts the air at dawn of day, cool lies the sleeping dew,
But all my heart is burning, for it woke from dreams of you;
And O! these longing eyes of mine look out and only see
A dying night, a waking day, and calm on all but me.

So gently creeps the morning through the heavy air,
The dawn grey-garbed and velvet-shod is wandering everywhere
To wake the slumber-laden hours that leave their dreamless rest,
With outspread, laggard wings to court the pillows of the west.

Up from the earth a moisture steals with odours fresh and soft,
A smell of moss and grasses warm with dew, and far aloft
The stars are growing colourless, while drooping in the west,
A late, wan moon is paling in a sky of amethyst.

The passing of the shadows, as they waft their pinions near,
Has stirred a tender wind within the night-hushed atmosphere,
That in its homeless wanderings sobs in an undertone
An echo to my heart that sobbing calls for you alone.

The night is gone, beloved, and another day set free,
Another day of hunger for the one I may not see.
What care I for the perfect dawn? the blue and empty skies?
The night is always mine without the morning of your eyes.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Going Back West

I was born and raised in the ghetto
Talk with me and youll know
I wasnt satisfied, with living on the side
I started looking around, for a possibility
Listen to my story, of what became of me
I met a businessman
Who said he had some friends back east
So why dont you come along
Well we can help you at least
Well make you into a big star
By playing your guitar
But the joke was on me
They left me flat to see
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Struggling for recognition, identity and respect
I got a lot of promises
They told me not to fret
So we will stand by you
If the going gets rough
But when I started thinking
They didnt even bluff
bout a year has come and gone
And left me standing here
Thinking how it could have been
For still I aint nowhere
They surely took me for a ride
Trampled on my pride
But I hold my head up high
Got no more tears to cry
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martin Lightfoot's Song

Come hearken, hearken, gentles all,
Come hearken unto me,
And I'll sing you a song of a Wood-Lyon
Came swimming out over the sea.

He ranged west, he ranged east,
And far and wide ranged he;
He took his bite out of every beast
Lives under the greenwood tree.

Then by there came a silly old wolf,
'And I'll serve you,' quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, 'My paw is heavy enough,
So what wilt thou do for me?'

Then by there came a cunning old fox,
'And I'll serve you,' quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, 'My wits are sharp enough
So what wilt thou do for me?'

Then by there came a white, white dove,
Flew off Our Lady's knee;
Sang 'It's I will be your true, true love,
If you'll be true to me.'

'And what will you do, you bonny white dove?
And what will you do for me?'
'Oh, it's I'll bring you to Our Lady's love,
In the ways of chivalrie.'

He followed the dove that Wood-Lyon
By mere and wood and wold,
Till he is come to a perfect knight,
Like the Paladin of old.

He ranged east, he ranged west,
And far and wide ranged he-
And ever the dove won him honour and fame
In the ways of chivalrie.

Then by there came a foul old sow,
Came rookling under the tree;
And 'It's I will be true love to you,
If you'll be true to me.'

'And what wilt thou do, thou foul old sow?
And what wilt thou do for me?'
'Oh, there hangs in my snout a jewel of gold,
And that will I give to thee.'

He took to the sow that Wood-Lyon;
To the rookling sow took he;
And the dove flew up to Our Lady's bosom;
And never again throve he.

poem by Charles Kingsley
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