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Withers

The flowers falls and the grass withers away,
But my home is about a stone's thrown from yours;
And, your love has blindfolded me.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sestina

I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.

And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.

When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.

Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.

I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.

The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.

Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.

poem by Dante Alighieri
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Ittai And Getti

You are in exile from your homeland,
And Ittai and Getti came and told me of the news;
But the wicked are alwaysw impatient in life.

Is this your joyous city?
For your love now lay bare and forgotten;
But Sherley and Cherly will give me hope,
Because the grass withers and the flowers fades away!

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In some fields of grass under the hills (sestina)

This afternoon the peaks throw a big shade
with the black cliffs shining up on the hills,
while we lay together in the long grass,
I look in your eyes that are amber-green
while under my head there is a small stone
and you smile at me like the prettiest lady.

I had once known another charming lady;
that part of my life is now left in shade,
bad churchmen were casting stone upon stone,
while I had to flee from them to the hills
to pastures were everything is green
to find the Lord in divine fields of grass.

Under your head there is a crown of grass
and your mother is a gracious, kind lady,
around us everything is lovely green
while we are still resting in the cool shade,
we are softly chatting about life’s hills,
about walls of very hard granite stone.

Your eyes are much brighter than emerald stone
while all of your words are softer than grass,
reaching higher and beyond all the hills,
the high mountain which is dangerous lady,
while from our pain nothing gives any shade,
nowhere is a place of rest that is green.

Your summer dress is lovely, is bright green,
suddenly all our ails have turned to stone
I follow you further; see your small shade,
I am seen as one that woos any lady,
we walk past some flowers growing in grass,
climbing up higher into the foothills.

Bright streams are splashing down some of the hills,
with water transparent, sometimes cold and green,
love and lust burns like in a youthful lady
while I at that moment feel cold as stone,
we notice a deer feeding on lone grass
while our garments lie under a tree’s shade.

Far into the hills you want love till dusk’s shade,
where you peep like some green moss from the grass,
are tossing me with a stone like no lady.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Glory for the Light!

All human beings are like grass
And all their glory is like wild flowers
The grass withers and the flowers fall
But the word of the Lord remains forever
The Lord said to my Lord
‘sit here at my right side
Until I put your enemies under your feet’
This is the message from the one
I wish that this war will be the last war
They will be like angels and cannot die
The children of God
Because they have risen from death
Remain yours
Look!
Sun will grow dark
The moon will no longer shine
The star will fall from heaven
But the light will be among you a little longer
Continue your way while you have the light!
So that the darkness will not come upon you
For the one who walks in the dark
Does not know where he is going
Glory for the light!

from devil

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Colour Studies {At Dieppe}

The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!

One stark monotony of stone,
The long hotel, acutely white,
Against the after-sunset light
Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.

Listless and endless it outlies,
And means, to you and me, no more
Than any pebble on the shore,
Or this indifferent moment as it dies.

poem by Arthur Symons
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At Dieppe

The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!

One stark monotony of stone,
The long hotel, acutely white,
Against the after-sunset light
Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.

Listless and endless it outlies,
And means, to you and me, no more
Than any pebble on the shore,
Or this indifferent moment as it dies.

poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blind Love

Words and music by tom waits
Now youre gone
And its hotels and whiskey and sad luck days
And I dont care if they miss me
I never remember their names
They say if you get far enough away
Youll be on your way back home
Well Im at the station
And I cant get on the train
Must be blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Well the streets turning blue
The dogs are barking and the night has come
And its tears that are falling
From these brown eyes now
And I wonder where you are
And I whisper your name
(I whisper your name)
And the only way to find you
Is if I close my eyes
And find you with my blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Oh its blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Me A Home

Give me a home to call my own
A humble home of wood or stone;
A place where ripples laugh all day
And songbirds sing and children play
A little home of love and cheer
Where seasons paint throughout the year,
And at last, when the day is through,
A place where I may talk with you.

Give me a home to call my own,
A friendly home to stand alone
And crown some earthly mound of clay
Or set before an ocean spray,
A simple home of faith and trust
Where I may toil in Heaven's dust
And when, anew, each day is through,
A place where I may be with you.

Give me a home to call my own,
A common home of tree or stone;
A place where kindness lights the way,
And flowers bloom and willows sway-
A home of love where hearts may kiss
Each tender joy of wedded bliss,
And in each hour of life to find,
A truer peace of heart and mind.

poem by Sara Stowell
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Bells in the Rain

Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,
Upon the steep cliffs of the town.
Sleep falls; men are at peace again
While the small drops fall softly down.

The bright drops ring like bells of glass
Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown;
Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass
So softly as it falls on stone.

Peace falls unheeded on the dead
Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;
Upon a live man's bloody head
It falls most tenderly, I think.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Useless

the scissor trims
taking only what is necessary

for the design
the excess becomes

useless, thrown
away

and those which
are meant to stay

stay, and become
a part of

a new landscape
flowers

and leaves
and stones

in her own kind
of tapestry

and those who
are thrown away

shall keep the
faith of
next time

nothing diminishes
the importance later

of what she deems
as useless

that night
she thinks that something

is missing
yes, the grass.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35

Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fools Blindfolded In Duels

Fools blindfolded in duels.

The unfortunate sadness of all of this is,
They have come to champion their own demise.
In a cohesive collectedness...
Based on racist politics,
That has liberals pitted against those conservative.
And no one sabered with this 'arrogance'
Takes into account,
A country splitting into pieces of disaster!
As the severity of their actions surmount.

Fools blindfolded in duels.

A saving of a lost quality of life.
And that is being proclaimed,
By those too ignorant...
To assess their own shame.
Or a self examination,
That leads by steps to an unregrettable,
End.

Fools blindfolded in duels.

And those owning and holding the debt...
Could care less!
Since they...
Unannounced,
And undeclared...
Have long been the winners,
Of these 'foreign' affairs not theirs...
To bare or shoulder in deceit!
And they observe from distances...

Fools blindfolded in duels.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Flowers

(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Stone

Poor little stone
sat there so alone
No-one listens to your pain
They dont care that you're stuck out in the rain
Everyone just walks past
Uncaring, their sympathy for anything doesnt last
Im sorry little stone
You feel so hated dont you?
But cheer up, no need to be blue
Sure they can all kick you around
Let them think they're not hurting you because you make no sound
Dont worry little stone
One day one of these people will help, and you will be thrown
And then you'll be that bit closer to home

poem by Rachel BaByBeAr Anderson
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When You Die

let nothing bewilder
or surprise you
let no one worry about
what happens
after the last stone is thrown
when the first grass
creeps above you
she has a job of her own
the benefits of insurance
the house and the lawn
and the nice garden
she knows now how to
forget

you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turn To Stone

The city streets are empty now the lights dont shine no more
And so the songs are way down low turning turning turning
A sound that flows into my mind the echoes of the daylight
Of everything that is alive in my blue world
I turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
Turn to stone when you comin home, I cant go on.
The dying embers of the night a fire that slowly fades till dawn
Still glow upon the wall so bright burning burning burning
The tired streets that hide away from here to everywhere they go
Roll past my door into the day in my blue world
I turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
Turn to stone when you comin home, I cant go on.
Turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
Yes, Im turnin to stone cos you aint comin home.
Why you aint comin home if Im turnin to stone?
Youve been gone for so long and I cant carry on,
Yes, Im turnin, Im turnin, Im turnin to stone.
The dancing shadows on the wall the two-step in the hall
Are all I see since youve been gone turning turning turning
Through all I sit here and I wait I turn to stone I turn to stone
You will return again some day to my blue world
I turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
Turn to stone when you comin home, I cant go on.
Turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
I turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.
Turn to stone when you comin home, I cant go on.
Turn to stone when you are gone, I turn to stone.

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honeycomb Child

Melting honeycomb
Tie my shoelace on my own
That boy laughing
Wearing my hands (?)
To pull me back in
Home, home, home
To your love
Home, home, home
To your love
Climb down the oak tree
Feeling the dry grass
Under my feet
I'm here without you
Holding on, holding on
Nothing to lose
And I don't mind
You protecting me
To the end us
And I don't mind
You protecting all the others
You, you carried me in
To bed from the car
I painted your face
But I had to ask
Permission to go
But don't go to far
And we like to watch
All the flickering stars
You don't like your face
But that's who you are
I got all those shells
And put them in a box
How far would you go
If I didn't want to stop
I looked in your eyes
And it was all gone
Home, home, home
To your love
Home (to your love)
Home (to your love)
Home (to your love)
To your love (to your love)

song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter rain

She comes as an uninvited guest
when she’s expected less
and in times of the year’s
cold misery
she falls like icicles
out of a grey winter sky.

Her coming when the faded earth
is at its bare rest
with stripped trees
and yellowed grass
and bare patches
where flowers should be;

vexes me, as nothing rise when she falls
and just more chill follows her drops.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Penetration And Trust

I

Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone,
The look of her heart slipped out and in.
Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone,
As innocents clear of a shade of sin.

II

He laid a finger under her chin,
His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown:
Now, what will happen and who will win,
With me in the fight and my lady lone?

III

He clasped her, clasping a shape of stone;
Was fire on her eyes till they let him in.
Her breast to a God of the daybeams shone,
And never a corner for serpent sin.

IV

Tranced she stood, with a chattering chin;
Her shrunken form at his feet was thrown:
At home to the death my lord shall win,
When it is no tyrant who leaves me lone!

poem by George Meredith
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How much I wanted you to come

How much I wished for you to come
and a million times, I though I saw your face
returning to me, coming home
as if you were walking through the market place
and girls other women were passing by
through the almost empty silent town
and I was catching every eye
day after day until the sun goes down
but my gentle rose had gone away,
and some flowers withers quickly,
some loves cannot stay
and sometimes love ends prickly:
a person within the mind’s echoes fade
disappears away, into an eternal shade.

poem by Gert Strydom
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