After Bank Holiday
Now deserted are the roads
Where awhile the lovers went;
Vacant are the field-abodes
Where a vivid hour they spent:
Solemn dark
Broods again in lane and park.
'Tis no matter where are gone
Those warm lives---to halls, maybe,
Festive, or to lodgings lone:
Of the land their tenancy
Now is o'er;
Earth to earth belongs once more.
Gone are they as hourly goes
From the sombre fields of space
Our world, with its little glows—
Passion's ship that has no place,
Leaves no track,
On time's endless ocean black.
poem by Elizabeth Daryush
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Related quotes
Spark In The Dark
Welcome to the party
Its only me and you
Tell the world to go away, babe
And Ill tell you what to do
Come over here and kiss me
I want to pull your hair
Turn out the lights and hold me
I want to touch you everywhere
We dont need nobody, baby
We dont need champagne
Ill take you to the deepest,
Darkest, hottest, lovers lane
For a little spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter where we sleep
Dont matter where we park
All we need is a spark, spark
Spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Come around midnight
Well be crawlin on the floor
Burnin with the fever
And yellin out for more
But dont you write it in your
Diary, baby
Dont blab it on the phone
Cuz if your mom and dad find out
Theyll skin me to the bone
Now we dont need instructions,
Baby
Dont you be afraid
It takes a little friction
Thats how our love is made
]from a little spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter what you say
No matter what you do
As long as it is me and you
We got a spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark, yeah
We dont need nobody, baby
We dont need cocaine
Ill take you to the deepest,
Darkest, hottest lovers lane
Spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter where we sleep
Dont matter where we park
All we need is a spark, spark
Spark in the dark
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a Resting place
This world does not deserve you,
nor will it be
the place where,
I to earth let them lay you.
When time get to its finality,
I’ll spread the dust that remains
in the air and over land and sea.
No angel was destined
to sleep in the dark cold earth
and for ever
you’ll be part
of the endless wind
and breaking sea
and will be free.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Good Earth
When I was a child and the road was dark and the way was long and alone,
My heart would lift as I turned the bend and saw the lights of home.
Now high above in a silent sky,
In a still and starry space,
A man looks down on the earth below,
And that blue and green and shining glow,
To him is the lights of home.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Its a land of sun and rain and snow,
And mulberry trees and mistletoe,
And burning plains and raging seas,
And sunday morning taking your ease,
Watching your children grow.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth,
Where we fought and loved and killed and died,
And ruined and ravished the countryside,
But now, from a million miles away,
From another world thats cold and gray,
Someone is able to look and say,
Thats the good earth.
So isnt it time we stopped the tears?
Weve lived together for thousands of years,
And whether Im wrong, and whether youre right,
Whether youre black, and whether Im white,
One day well stand on the edge of the world,
And someone will ask us the land of our birth,
And well look into his eyes and quietly say:
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Why cant we be good on the good earth?
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Earth Hour - It's just a click
earth hour
in the darkness
brightness
earth hour
i bask in the energy of love
wrapping round earth
earth hour, just
a click to reduce
mother earth's woes
earth hour
just a click to unite
the world
earth hour
needed - the same spirit
to fight the recession
from MSN:
Do you want to show you care about energy conservation? Simply switch off your lights on March 28 from 8: 30 to 9: 30 p.m., local time.
This is Earth Hour, and Saturday is the third annual worldwide event. Earth Hour is both a symbolic act and the start of a practical habit.
Millions of homes and businesses and hundreds of major landmarks will go dark for one hour to show that energy conservation is important and to send this message to political leaders attending the United Nations Climate Change Conference in December 2009.
At the same time, Earth Hour reminds each of us how easy it is to conserve - just turn off non-essential lights and electronics to reduce our own power consumption.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Guilty Feeling
at dusk a black cat
by chance
happens to meet me
along my path
it stares at me
for a long time
and then runs away
into the dark
dissolving like a black blot
on a dark spot
lost in the ocean of
space
and then up in the sky
a lone star twinkles
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lone Yellow Flower Waves In The Open Fields
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green;
lone yellow flower has no one to blame
and it seeks none to praise
for it knows all life comes in
when the conditions are right;
lone yellow flower knows
death comes in like the wind;
lone yellow flower
is never alone
for it is a part of the expression
of the earth and time and the universe;
lone yellow flower sees what is before and around
lone yellow flower observes what is within and about
and so lone yellow flower lives with no delusions
no beliefs of heaven and hell
fears none and does not live or die
to please or amuse or appease;
and lone yellow flower
blossoms and shines
and shrivels and ceases
in harmony
with what actually is;
lone yellow flower
waves in the open fields
bowing according to the tune
among the sea of green
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Slave Trade
I can remember Years Ago
when i was a teenager, i
wish i listen to her, She
must have river no her eyes
now.Will i ever set my eyes
on her again? now am In chain
inside the ship to unknown
destination.Right inside the
ship i meet my fellow blacks,
we are stripped naked with
nowhere to run to and we
dare not.on our body we
have the map of the world
made from the stroke of
cane.Some of my brother
that could not make it were
throw into the ocean for the
fishes to feed on.Our prayer
was let God sent a moses to
deliver us.Here we are in the
strange land as we are been
brought as commodite, we
work day and night without
resting, who are we to compalin
some die in the field with tears
in our eye we bury our brethen.
Africa i miss your sunshine your
crops.We are free but can't go
back, not knowing the part of
Africa am from.But no matter
were i am, no matter what they
call me because of my skin
colour am proud to be a black
and i will stay black, Cos black
is beatifull.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Summer Night
On a breezy summer night
when love is in the air,
sits a sad and lonely man
with a lonely, lonely stare.
What seems to be vacant eyes
are eyes that remember where
he spent his summer nights in love
and never had a care.
His mind is filled with nights he spent
with the one that was his own.
The summer breezes blew her hair,
the strands of it windblown.
And now the heat is stifling
as he pictures her young face.
Now all his nights are endless,
timeless, endless space.
So he sits on a summer night alone
with memories that won't leave
and stares vacantly at lovers
that makes his heart still grieve.
For summer has never been the same,
nor will it ever be.
It's only for present lovers,
not for he and she.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Little Libbie
One more little spirit to Heaven has flown,
To dwell in that mansion above,
Where dear little angels, together roam,
In God's everlasting love.
One little flower has withered and died,
A bud near ready to bloom,
Its life on earth is marked with pride;
Oh, sad it should die so soon.
Sweet little Libbie, that precious flower
Was a pride in her parents' home,
They miss their little girl every hour,
Those friends that are left to mourn.
Her sweet silvery voice no more is heard
In the home where she once roamed;
Her place is vacant around the hearth,
Where her friends are mourning lone.
They are mourning the loss of a little girl,
With black eyes and auburn hair,
She was a treasure to them in this world,
This beautiful child so fair.
One morning in April, a short time ago,
Libbie was active and gay;
Her Saviour called her, she had to go,
E're the close of that pleasant day.
While eating dinner, this dear little child
Was choked on a piece of beef.
Doctors came, tried their skill awhile,
But none could give relief.
She was ten years of age, I am told,
And in school stood very high.
Her little form now the earth enfolds,
In her embrace it must ever lie.
Her friends and schoolmates will not forget
Little Libbie that is no more;
She is waiting on the shining step,
To welcome home friends once more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Home
I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was
hiding its last gold like a miser.
The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the
widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent.
Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed
the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of
the evening.
His village home lay there at the end of the waste land,
beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana
and the slender areca palm, the coconut and the dark green jack-
fruit trees.
I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight,
and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her
arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mother's
hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that
knows nothing of its value for the world.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Sonnet: True Love
If love be love that’s truly from two hearts,
If love be love that’s born aright in mind,
If love be love that’s full of divine thoughts,
The corporeal need isn’t there, you’ll find!
For, lovers true can live their lives afar,
Their hearts beating in unison as one;
Their thoughts of love, no force on earth can mar;
Their happy past can render mirth when lone!
And love that’s true will not with time abate;
It will remain afresh, always endless;
Though life takes them thro’ roads apart by fate,
Their love will stay in spite of all duress.
Why then worry if love can’t fuse bodies?
True love will grow in minds and never cease!
poem by John Celes
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England dear old England
Fish and Chips
cup of tea
bucket and spade
a dip in the sea.
Walking the dog
a pint and a pie
Cricket in the park
a kite in the sky.
Reading the paper
sat on a bench
fishing in the canal
for Carp and Tench.
Castles and palaces
Dickens and Shakespeare
walking through the fields
country pubs and beer.
This is my England
the place of my birth
and I couldn't live anywhere else
as England is the best place on Earth!
poem by Kevin Halls
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I Wonder Where My Lions Are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
They are safe running in heaven in that beautiful park that God own in Heaven together with the other animals
Also in heaven they are protected by God
Because God doesn't allow any hunters in heaven
Like here on the earth
But there is no animal cruelty in heaven
But the place that have animal cruelty is on the earth
The people that lives in heaven are more educated than on the earth
The people in heaven respect the animals in heaven
The people on earth don't respect the animals on the earth
The people in heaven have a lot of love for the animals
The people on the earth don't seem to have any love for the animals
Even when I sleep I dream of heaven and I see the lions and other Animals
Living free in the park
And I must say that the park in heaven that God made is beautiful
But at the same time I thank God for giving the animals a beautiful Home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Vacant Space
this is the vacant space
of my room, you may come
this is the vacant hour
you may barge and talk simply talk
this is the vacant lot of my being
you may build your home
this is vacant
fill it with space, drag your hours here,
start watering the roses in your garden
beside your house
this is a vacant hole in my ear
talk simply talk
i am always listening
this is my vacant line, please fill in the missing
word
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Escaping gamut of gobalisation
Escaping the gamut of globalization
found a haven in the cradles ofcivilasation
on a lone noon ride
i rode on a lane by the countryside
savannah anthills in unison rise
with towering trees and other soft greenies
in festive and feverish dance mood
to the tunes of gentle storm
that makes mockery of
the blazing heat of the ruler of the day
foliages, branches and leaves
gathering dust, gathering momentum
for a crackling regenerated transition
at a wet cessation permitting a cycle time
of dryness and browness
on the lone lane, lone noon i ride
through Shapade, Ode-Remo, Iperu and Ilisan
A gentle rider and reluctant bike
and a healing gentle storm
my companies to a humble destination.
poem by Ifedayo Oshin
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Divine destruction
I saw the divine creator God
who constructed the stars and space
and set planets in their place
reach out His mighty hand
against His earth,
make the bright moon tremble
go dark and disappear
and the end of earth was near.
The sky vibrated in shock,
forests, trees, flowers and plants
heard his dread command
birds, animals, wicked man
and demons shrieked,
growled in terror and wept
and even the Prince of darkness
was trembling on his knees.
I heard voices from near and far,
voices proclaiming that God is fair and just
and that the hour of his judgment is here.
He raised His hand against the sun
and it shuddered and became more intense
moved from its place in space
swallowing the earth into its fiery globe
and the old earth was destroyed
as if vaporized into naught
even the morning star, son of the dawn
could not repel that fiery hell.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Dark Belongs to the Feral Ones
A lone assistant, an all-night stand
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Flash of a blade behind a door
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Mayhem & menace, muggings & fear
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Drugs and litter and fights, and beer
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Boots that stamp on a victim's face
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Is it the fault of blood, or place?
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gym-slip bride in her council flat
Somebody's daughters and somebody 's sons
She's the local hoodies' welcome mat
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Speed and jellies and hash and smack
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Dealers in playgrounds pushing crack
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gangs, graffiti and poxed-up sex
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Smash society..clear its decks
The dark belongs to the feral ones
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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The Magic Time
Soft guitar music fills the air,
with a lilting romantic tune,
we had never heard before.
Meanwhile a singer sings a song,
of loves first kiss,
and bodies entwined,
within their first embrace.
In the heavens above the moon,
has a smile on his face,
as he looks down on the lovers,
the stars wink,
and leaves rustle in the warm breeze,
as we walk arm in arm,
through the shadows of the trees.
The courting lane where lovers go,
to be on their own,
away from the big angry world.
Somewhere, where they can forget,
all the troubles of the day,
remaining and enjoying the serenity of it all,
locked in each other’s arms.
The magic time,
between the dark and the daylight,
with no faltering paths to cross,
no storm clouds overhead,
just the warm breeze to ruffle the hair,
and loving eyes,
into which to stare.
poem by David Harris
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January in New York
Black ship of night
sailing through the world
& the moon an orange slice
tangy to the teeth
of lovers who lie
under it,
sucking it.
Somewhere there are palm trees;
somewhere the sea
bluely gathers itself up
& lets itself fall again
into green;
somewhere the spangles
of light on the ocean
dazzle the eyes;
but here in the midnight city,
the black ship of night
has docked
for a long, dark stay,
& even the citrus moon
with its pockets of juice
cannot sweeten the dark.
Then the snow begins,
whirling over the Pole,
gathering force over Canada,
sprinkling the Great Lakes with sugar
which drowns in their deep black cups;
it is drawn to the spires of New York
& the flurries come
scampering at first,
lighthearted, crystalline, white,
but finally
sucked into the city
as into a black hole
in space.
The sky is suddenly pink-
pink as flesh: breasts,
babies' bottoms. Night is
day; day is whiter than the desert;
the city stops like a heart;
pigeons dip & veer
& come to rest
under the snow-hatted
watertanks.
poem by Erica Jong
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Song Of Autumn
we have become old...
and have earned this time
of turning... turning wind,
turning leaves.... day turning
to night with a suddeness.
every stroke of color,
every shade of black and white...
and this sudden chill brings
a warmth that our lives define!
our passion is falling
like leaves to carpet the earth....
our bare limbs reach heavenward...
to God, or the next page...
we wait on the snow,
and the small fires the living
build to light the way....
we are the song of autumn...
the wind that fills the empty
pages of forever with human hands....
old warriors, and lovers,
whose touching defines the night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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