Escape
When foxes eat the last gold grape,
And the last white antelope is killed,
I shall stop fighting and escape
Into a little house I'll build.
But first I'll shrink to fairy size,
With a whisper no one understands,
Making blind moons of all your eyes,
And muddy roads of all your hands.
And you may grope for me in vain
In hollows under the mangrove root,
Or where, in apple-scented rain,
The silver wasp-nests hang like fruit.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Related quotes
Valentine
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
If on some night of cold
It falls to ground
In apple-leaves of gold
I'll wrap it round.
And I shall seal it up
With spice and salt,
In a carven silver cup,
In a deep vault.
Before my eyes are blind
And my lips mute,
I must eat core and rind
Of that same fruit.
Before my heart is dust
By the end of all,
Eat it I must, I must
Were it bitter gall.
But I shall keep it sweet
By some strange art;
Wild honey I shall eat
When I eat my heart.
O honey cool and chaste
As clover's breath!
Sweet Heaven I shall taste
Before my death.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madona Mia
UNDER green apple-boughs
That never a storm will rouse,
My lady hath her house
Between two bowers;
In either of the twain
Red roses full of rain;
She hath for bondwomen
All kind of flowers.
She hath no handmaid fair
To draw her curled gold hair
Through rings of gold that bear
Her whole hair’s weight;
She hath no maids to stand
Gold-clothed on either hand;
In all the great green land
None is so great.
She hath no more to wear
But one white hood of vair
Drawn over eyes and hair,
Wrought with strange gold,
Made for some great queen’s head,
Some fair great queen since dead;
And one strait gown of red
Against the cold.
Beneath her eyelids deep
Love lying seems asleep,
Love, swift to wake, to weep,
To laugh, to gaze;
Her breasts are like white birds,
And all her gracious words
As water-grass to herds
In the June-days.
To her all dews that fall
And rains are musical;
Her flowers are fed from all,
Her joy from these;
In the deep-feathered firs
Their gift of joy is hers,
In the least breath that stirs
Across the trees.
She grows with greenest leaves,
Ripens with reddest sheaves,
Forgets, remembers, grieves,
And is not sad;
The quiet lands and skies
Leave light upon her eyes;
None knows her, weak or wise,
Or tired or glad.
None knows, none understands,
What flowers are like her hands;
Though you should search all lands
Wherein time grows,
What snows are like her feet,
Though his eyes burn with heat
Through gazing on my sweet,
Yet no man knows.
Only this thing is said;
That white and gold and red,
God’s three chief words, man’s bread
And oil and wine,
Were given her for dowers,
And kingdom of all hours,
And grace of goodly flowers
And various vine.
This is my lady’s praise:
God after many days
Wrought her in unknown ways,
In sunset lands;
This was my lady’s birth;
God gave her might and mirth
And laid his whole sweet earth
Between her hands.
Under deep apple-boughs
My lady hath her house;
She wears upon her brows
The flower thereof;
All saying but what God saith
To her is as vain breath;
She is more strong than death,
Being strong as love.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Birthday
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Crossed Apple
I’ve come to give you fruit from out my orchard,
Of wide report.
I have trees there that bear me many apples.
Of every sort:
Clear, streaked; red and russet; green and golden;
Sour and sweet.
This apple’s from a tree yet unbeholden,
Where two kinds meet, -
So that this side is red without a dapple,
And this side’s hue
Is clear and snowy. It’s a lovely apple.
It is for you.
Within are five black pips as big as peas,
As you will find,
Potent to breed you five great apple trees
Of varying kind:
To breed you wood for fire, leaves for shade,
Apples for sauce.
Oh, this is a good apple for a maid,
It is a cross,
Fine on the finer, so the flesh is tight,
And grained like silk.
Sweet Burning gave the red side, and the white
Is Meadow Milk.
Eat it, and you will taste more than the fruit:
The blossom, too,
The sun, the air, the darkness at the root,
The rain, the dew,
The earth we came to, and the time we flee,
The fire and the breast.
I claim the white part, maiden, that’s for me.
You take the rest.
poem by Louise Bogan
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Loose Change
I built a house of cards
Built a house of rain
Built a house of love
Its hard to build again
Built a road to reason
Built a road to fate
Built a road to the promised land
Right up to the gate
Loose change in my pocket
Future in my hand
Too many distractions
For me to understand
Too many distractions
Got to get back home
Get into something solid
Get out of the zone
Some roads bring renewal
Some roads hide and wait
Some roads promise everything
And steal your fuel away
Loose change in my pocket
Future in my hand
Too many distractions
For me to understand
Some roads I been flyin
Some roads I crashed
Some roads I been sleepin on
Some roads I got back
Some roads I been runnin
Some roads I was stopped
Some roads I been walkin down
Some roads I was lost
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Of The Unlocked Door
It is raised up from the dust this earth of the silver maker,
her for me it was higher than the arm could and yet
infused as the rose I scented, starry nights stretch out.
O dresses flowing silver, towards me, therein you reach
and it faces to each of us.
There is the petaled flower of which,
and you open freely as the sun without obstacle.
May the white leaf, the flower did not run off nor divide the silver
from that kind of rare silver; O it is white, it does become you,
your cluster, thickly with the veined branch,
summer of the unlocked door
and it has the fruit which it matures, do.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Harvestsong.
The last apple in the garden,
Fell unnoticed.
While I was away,
Making hay.
From August to December.
From rain to mid-never.
So cold as
'Shiver me timbers'.
The last apple,
Tasted bland and damp.
The fruit of all God,
For all to see.
Natures` harvest replenishing
Wild and ever free.
The last apple was mine,
For the first time,
Falling from August
To gone Christmas morn on,
From sunshine, rain
And fall, through winters`
Seemingly (forever)
Without a snowdropp to recall.
poem by Peter Vealey
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The Little Roads
The great roads are all grown over
That seemed so firm and white.
The deep black forests have covered them.
How should I walk aright?
How should I thread these tangled mazes,
Or grope to that far off light?
I stumble round the thickets, and they turn me
Back to the thickets and the night.
Yet, sometimes, at a word, an elfin pass-word,
(O, thin, deep, sweet with beaded rain!)
There shines, through a mist of ragged-robins,
The old lost April-coloured lane,
That leads me from myself; for, at a whisper,
Where the strong limbs thrust in vain,
At a breath, if my heart help another heart,
The path shines out for me again.
A thin thread, a rambling lane for lovers
To the light of the world's one May,
Where the white dropping flakes may wet our faces
As we lift them to the bloom-bowed spray:
O Master, shall we ask Thee, then, for high-roads,
Or down upon our knees and pray
That Thou wilt ever lose us in Thy little lanes,
And lead us by a wandering way.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Fairy Tale (age 14)
'Above the shadow is the moon no further then the sun
As I sit under the big willow hoping a Fairy Tale has begun
Giant stars flutter through the sky as graceful as a dove
Hoping the everlasting Elf will find his true love
The wind shoves the Fairy dust around making it a sparkly night
As I fall in love with the Elf and his everlasting life
The sweet falling rain collides on us again
As our lips touch so softly making a Fairy Tale begin
But all the Fairies wonder refusing our desire
Judging every step we take putting out our fire
We will fade from this dark magic this sprinkle in the sky
As we swear upon each other to love until we die
Forgetting the world around me leaving without a trace
I’d do anything to keep the silky motions of your face
The velvet rose brings out the softness in your skin
I want you to hold me forever as we whisper to the wind
Forever is forever with a twinkle in the eye
Hoping the Fairy Tale we made will never ever die
The green leaves and white lilies rush down the falls
We are free from all the thorns and the tall rock walls
Beneath the moon is where the Fairy Tale began
Flying in the air freely hand in hand
Love of silver fire shimmers in our eyes
For the world of free affection is where the Fairy Tale truly lies! '
© 2006 JESSICA C. GALVAN (All rights reserved)
poem by Jessica C. Galvan
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The Silver Fairy
The Silver Fairy, under flowers
Stands; holds apples, hidden powers.
Adam his rib, Eve the fruit.
Gone, rejected bible loot,
The Preachers, selling hours
The Silver Fairy, in her bower
Sits; mild and docile, hidden flowers.
Waiting till there’s no-one, mute.
Her wings of silver, still.
The Silver Fairy, apples sour
Lies; beating breast in sorrow,
Moving towards her freedom fluted,
Noted for her silvered beauty.
All asleep, reprised, astute.
Her wings of silver, still.
poem by Alice Anne Gordon
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Song
YOU are as gold
as the half-ripe grain
that merges to gold again,
as white as the white rain
that beats through
the half-opened flowers
of the great flower tufts
thick on the black limbs
of an Illyrian apple bough.
Can honey distill such fragrance
as your bright hair-
for your face is as fair as rain,
yet as rain that lies clear
on white honey-comb,
lends radiance to the white wax,
so your hair on your brow
casts light for a shadow.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Nevertheless
you've seen a strawberry
that's had a struggle; yet
was, where the fragments met,
a hedgehog or a star-
fish for the multitude
of seeds. What better food
than apple seeds - the fruit
within the fruit - locked in
like counter-curved twin
hazelnuts? Frost that kills
the little rubber-plant -
leaves of kok-sagyyz-stalks, can't
harm the roots; they still grow
in frozen ground. Once where
there was a prickley-pear -
leaf clinging to a barbed wire,
a root shot down to grow
in earth two feet below;
as carrots from mandrakes
or a ram's-horn root some-
times. Victory won't come
to me unless I go
to it; a grape tendril
ties a knot in knots till
knotted thirty times - so
the bound twig that's under-
gone and over-gone, can't stir.
The weak overcomes its
menace, the strong over-
comes itself. What is there
like fortitude! What sap
went through that little thread
to make the cherry red!
poem by Marianne Moore
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Once More—To Gloriana
Girl with the burning golden eyes,
And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
I bring you gold and silver moons
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
I bring you prairie skies to-night
To feebly praise your golden eyes
And red-bird song, and throat so white.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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To Gloriana
Girl with the burning golden eyes,
And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
I bring you gold and silver moons,
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
I bring you prarie skies to-night
To feebly praise your golden eyes
And red-bird song, and throat so white.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Birds' Nests
he summer nests uncovered by autumn wind,
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark,
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.
Since there's no need of eyes to see them with
I cannot help a little shame
That I missed most, even at eye's level, till
The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.
'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests
Still in their places, now first known,
At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,
Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.
And most I like the winter nests deep-hid
That leaves and berries fell into:
Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,
And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Winter Comes
As the Angel of Winter comes down to earth
fairy white dust from the enchanted lands
cascades over the lily white hills as snow
With a snowdrift of whitest hair
she dons a silver mantle of dreams and snow
given to the fairy that wears the crown
Snowflakes swirl in the air
pristine and iridescent, sprinkled by magical hands
like an ice glazed crown upon a rose
With silvery white snow falling everywhere
I peek at the valley down below
where the beauty and magic of winter abounds...
I open my eyes and garner insight rare
listening to the moon sprites as their laughter sounds
lost for the moment in another time and place
Stars twinkling bright on this silent winter's night
caressing the landscape in a brilliance below
sending chills down my spine as I stop and stare
A glistening beauty that astounds
a deceptively deadly beauty, frozen, an innocent lure
floating down without a care
Shivering as the cold wind blows
Blurring together in a whirl of white as I stare
I hear a whisper...
Pray, cherish my memory when I am gone, don't let me
fade completely away...
poem by Sheri Hockman
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The Court
Marked, you see me as you wish to
But that’s not all that is in my being
Mocked, you find humor in my faults
Only because you are insecure
Tried, placed before a court of skeptics
I fight my case but all in vain
Judged, you have perceived the way I am
Time to reveal what I have become
Arrested, placed in isolation
I can not escape my monochrome prison
Sentenced, I am given my fate
Your system unfair, I stop fighting it
Punished, I will get what I “deserve”
My sins have caught up with me, and I will pay
Killed, I sink into darkness
And look back to what could have been
poem by Macklin MacKenzie
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Silver Rain
Silver rain
Coming down in white streaks
Forming diamond droplets
Hanging from the green shrubs
Puddling in the street.
Silver rain
Making a peaceful sound
Entering my consciousness
Soaking white sidewalks
Singing its tinkling song.
poem by Jeanne Mason
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