The Hand Rising From The Grave!
are we then love's refugees?
cursed, without a land...
are we the only ones still bleeding,
infidels by choice!
whose house and whose light,
whose name on the box?
will the soldiers then come,
and bury what we've been?
when feeling departs,
another intimacy begins...
too often lost in the waves,
and insects that sing of night.
have we lived our life,
to be flashlights and rubber boots?
doth not this ache strip silence,
to that which is raw and beneath?
and nothing i say,
nothing that i choose to leave behind...
can touch the edge of this blade,
can name the hand rising from the grave!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Barcarolle
The stars are dimly seen among the shadows of the bay,
And lights that win are seen in strife with lights that die away.
The wave is very still -- the rudder loosens in our hand,
The zephyr will not fill our sail and waft us to the land;
O precious is the pause between the winds that come and go,
And sweet the silence of the shores between the ebb and flow.
No sound but sound of rest is on the bosom of the deep,
Soft as the breathing of a breast serenly hushed with sleep:
Lay by the ear; there is a voice at heart to sing or sigh --
O what shall be the choice of barcarolle or lullaby?
Say shall we sing of day or night, fair land or mighty ocean,
Of any rapturous delight or any dear emotion,
Of any joy that is on earth, or hope that is above--
The holy country of our birth, or any song of love?
Our heart in all our life is like the hand of one who steers
A bark upon an ocean rife with dangers and with fears;
The joys, the hopes, like waves or wings, bear up this life of ours --
Short as a song of all these things that make up all its hours.
Spread sail! For it is Hope today that like a wind new-risen
Doth waft us on a golden wing towards a new horizon,
That is the sun before our sight, the beacon for us burning,
That is the star in all our night of watching and of yearning.
Love is this thing that we pursue today, tonight, for ever,
We care not whither, know not who shall be at length the giver:
For Love, -- our life and all our years are cast upon the waves;
Our heart is as the hand that steers; -- but who is He that saves?
We ply with oars, we strive with every sail upon our mast --
We never tire, never fail -- and Love is seen at last:
A low and purple mirage like a coast where day is breaking --
Sink sail! for such a dream of Love is lost before the waking.
poem by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
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H's Soul
I wonder what happened to Hitler's Soul
As children cursed it around the world
At breakfast tables, under hidden floors
And at the oven doors
Lovers cursed it in their ecstasy throes
Soldiers cursed it, spitting on their boots
Marching in life and death parades
As their mothers cursed him too
Begging his Soul to be damned in Hell
Consigned with Generals that cursed it well
Where did it go, that very special Soul
Was there a space, a prison cell
Padded by the silence of his screams
That echo in our darkest dreams?
poem by Frank Bana
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Halo
And its always little things
That to the surface brings
The comfort in the pain
The fear behind the smile
We lose along the way
The things we leave behind
Along the precipice
Of things we should not climb
And Im the first in line
Theres an anchor around my heart
Dragging me down
Beneath the waves in silence I fall
Theres a halo above my head
Spinning me round
cause I dont know if Im alive or dead
A dagger in my hand
Bleeding me dry
And its always little things
That to the surface brings
The space you need to breathe
Before the curtain call
The light that leads the way
Before you hit the wall
The mountain that you climb
Just to take a fall
For blind among the blind
Theres an anchor around my heart
Dragging me down
Beneath the waves in silence I fall
Theres a halo above my head
Spinning me round
cause I dont know if Im alive or dead
Theres a dagger in my hand
Bleeding me dry
And all we have to lose is time
And what lose we leave behind
Stay around and we will shine
song performed by by Oleander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Excursion
I wonder, can the night go by;
Can this shot arrow of travel fly
Shaft-golden with light, sheer into the sky
Of a dawned to-morrow,
Without ever sleep delivering us
From each other, or loosing the dolorous
Unfruitful sorrow!
What is it then that you can see
That at the window endlessly
You watch the red sparks whirl and flee
And the night look through?
Your presence peering lonelily there
Oppresses me so, I can hardly bear
To share the train with you.
You hurt my heart-beats’ privacy;
I wish I could put you away from me;
I suffocate in this intimacy,
For all that I love you;
How I have longed for this night in the train,
Yet now every fibre of me cries in pain
To God to remove you.
But surely my soul’s best dream is still
That one night pouring down shall swill
Us away in an utter sleep, until
We are one, smooth-rounded.
Yet closely bitten in to me
Is this armour of stiff reluctancy
That keeps me impounded.
So, dear love, when another night
Pours on us, lift your fingers white
And strip me naked, touch me light,
Light, light all over.
For I ache most earnestly for your touch,
Yet I cannot move, however much
I would be your lover.
Night after night with a blemish of day
Unblown and unblossomed has withered away;
Come another night, come a new night, say
Will you pluck me apart?
Will you open the amorous, aching bud
Of my body, and loose the burning flood
That would leap to you from my heart?
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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A Soldier's Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
and on the wall pictures of far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought came to my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,
the home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
'Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.'
the soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
and we both shivered from the cold evening's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, 'Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure.'
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
'Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.'
poem by Wade Blade
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Numbers game
If you want to meditate
You should do it alone
If you want to study
Choose only one partner to consult
To debate to exchange notes
If you want to sing a song
Choose two others
To sing in chorus in harmony
If you want to go on tour and travel
Choose at least three to four persons
For security and comeraderie
If you want to cultivate agricultural land
Choose five at least to help
In cultivation works
If you want to fight a war
Choose to keep many soldiers with you.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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I Begged God for My Life
I cursed the birds
Their droppings soiled my clothes
I cursed the animals
Their droppings soiled my feet
While walking on the beach
I cursed the insects
For eating flowers in my garden
I took a gun
Killed the birds and the animals
Sprayed deadly poison
On the the insects
I was feeling happy
As if I had conquered the world
I heard god’s voice
What should I do with you my son?
You soiled my world
By killing my
Birds, insects and animals
For your greed and lust
I begged god for my life
Promised him to
Treat man, animals alike
Preserve his world
With all my might
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Voices Of Infinity
i dance with animals in the night,
run naked with trees,
and drink strong moonlight.
i sing with the rocks,
and crow with the dawn....
i beat the drum primeval!
i rush with the waves
to strip the shores,
of all vestiges of passing.
i howl with the wind,
i dance with shadows and sounds,
and lay naked on the cool earth.
i am the ache inside the shell,
the hand that sprinkles dust...
come walk with me,
let us taste the very darkness,
let us call for the light
with the voices of infinity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Life Of Love
The day is gone
A light is shattered
My heart falling to the ground
The love so cold it hurts to breathe
I fear my love is gone for good
My life splits, i start to bleed
A light in the distance calls my name
I see my baby in the sky
Our hearts collide my love returns
My bleeding heart begins to heal
At the heart love begins and ends
One day ended my life is gone
A night begins my life returns
poem by Kerrie Maurer
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To Say Before Going to Sleep
I would like to sing someone to sleep,
have someone to sit by and be with.
I would like to cradle you and softly sing,
be your companion while you sleep or wake.
I would like to be the only person
in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.
And would like to listen to you
and outside to the world and to the woods.
The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
and one can see right to the edge of time.
Outside the house a strange man is afoot
and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.
Beyond that there is silence.
My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Our Deliverance
now we can say
that nothings lost
and only change
brings round the prophecy
well now it's melting
the solid frost
was once a veil on greener landscapes
we would see
beneath my surface
the water's heating
and steam comes up and out the tears
you see me shine
for every strange and bitter moment
there was never a better time
for every pleasure
exacts its pain
how you hurt me
how you were good to me
beneath my window
a mournful train
that makes me smile
at my bad poetry
but beneath my surface
a song is rising
and it may be simple
well it hides its true intent
we may be looking for our deliverence
but it has already been sent
it's in the night fall
when the light falls
and what you've seen
isn't there anymore
it's in our blind trust
love will find us
just like it has before
they're sending soldiers
to distant places
x's and o's
on someones drawing board
like green and plastic
but with human faces
and they want to tell you
it's a merciful sword
but with all the blood
newly dried in the desert
can we not fertilize the land with something else
there is no nation
by god exempted
lay down your weapons
and love your neighbor as yourself
it's in the night fall
when the light falls
and what you've seen
isn't there anymore
it's through our blind trust
love will find us
just like it has before
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between A Sunrise And A Sunset
between sunrise and sunset
if i were to choose
i shall choose the sunrise
for in there everything is lighted
like the way you tell me about
the truths about your life
you're so warm and endearing
and all giving and
i have nothing more to ask
for i have become so complete
but then do we have a choice?
for after all these
time knows that there is something
inevitable
the sunset of my life comes always with
a big reminder
the slow fading of the brighter colors of my life
the creeping show of gray skies
the closing in of the lights
and the windows
the silence of the night and i make the last word
what choice do i have except perhaps to say
'Darkness, Come, let us dance the last steps of life! '
and i shall say ' Death, you're so cool! '
do i have a choice, my love?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is My Land
Bill dees
The sun on the rim of the view overlooking all that I love
Lights up every leaf and blade, birds circling high above
With trembling hand I reach down and say this is my land
This land will pass on to my child, when hes grown
To love it as much as i, for all the sons gone by
And when hes a man hell do what he can
For this, my land, this is my land
When young men die in glory and for freedom take their stand
May they sing this same proud story, this is my land
Life fade away, and my body is laid to rest on the ground
May this comfort fill my soul more on the land, I know
That those after me say with much dignity
This is my land, this is my land
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Chief Woolley Bosher
In the land they call the west
On the praries virgin crest
Lived a great man and his braves
And he led them to their graves
Big chief plays with baby son
The work of the indian today is done
Life is easy, life is grand
til there is white man, gun in hand
Started out when settlers came
And built their homes on the indian range
Big chief woolly bosher liked it none
Traded with a bad man for a gun
Big chief looks out at his great land
Locomotive on the prairie stands
Life that leak from the city in the east
Let us destroy that iron beast
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Tread the land for which he must fight
In their fight for love and glory
Some indians were saved
They lived to tell the story
And woolly bosher prays
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Soldier boys marching in the morning light
Bring the guns, bring the bows
Lets blow them into heaven lets see if God knows
One hundred men must have to die
When a thousand soldiers look you in the eye
Big chief sees his men fall round
The soldiers kill and the bugle sounds
In their fight for love and glory
No indians were saved
And big chief woolly bosher
Had written on his grave
He has done no wrong
Except being bold
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evening
The moon begins her stately ride
Across the summer sky;
The happy wavelets lash the shore,--
The tide is rising high.
Beneath some friendly blade of grass
The lazy beetle cowers;
The coffers of the air are filled
With offerings from the flowers.
And slowly buzzing o'er my head
A swallow wings her flight;
I hear the weary plowman sing
As falls the restful night.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Four Poetic Points For The Neighborhood To Ponder
i
it is that particular moment
when your tongue tastes the skin of the wind
and it shall tell you too about its long
and unfinished journey
it is this intimacy with the hands of the wind
the talk that both of you do more often under the moon
ii
it is when you sit on the floor
your back rests on the wall
it is this intimacy of self-talking upon itself
when the wall begins to respond
when the floor finally makes its comments
iii
the neighborhood begins to doubt you
but you have no doubt about yourself or the floor's sincerity
or the door's indulgence
or the intimacy with the wind and the wall
which offers you a buffer between emptiness and
chaos
eventually everything has come
smooth and natural
well folded like the waves
well covered like the mist on the tree tops
iv
what you have to serve to all these inquisitors
is an empty glass upon an imaginary tray
which they still have to figure out
why you are serving them the perfect drops of silence
for all their thirsts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am.... (Disgust)
i am the soldier,
crying in his helmet.
i am the gas pump,
guarded by guns.
i am the foreclosed house,
weeping and vacant.
i am the oil rig,
convicted of murder.
i am the big truck,
parked in disgust.
i am the nursing home,
with grave like beds.
i am the field,
unplowed and untended.
i am the bowl,
filled with empty.
i am the boots,
left by the door.
i am the ache,
the want and the need.
i am the hand,
reaching for your breast.
i am the paper, the pen,
the letter never written.
i am the empty bed,
beneath the willow tree.
i am the darkness,
that comes and devours.
the chill of distance,
the tears of an angry god!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Moon To Weep
be it the petal of the flower...
or the edge of the blade.
love demands all,
and takes no prisoners.
be it the tongue,
or the pounding heart...
we leave no trace,
when the wave is gone!
whose history etched in silence?
choirs mourn without sound.
be it shadows or angels,
or demons set free...
they call it the last war,
will there be survivors?
who hears the oak tree fall,
in the deserted woods?
letters written by breasts,
whose milk gone bitter.
the soft light of the lamp,
shudders and caws.
small things bury strangers,
but thunder buries mountains.
and the scar on the sky,
causes the moon to weep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dig Your Grave
We were shootin' at a mound of dirt.
Well nothing was broken, nothing was hurt.
But I probably really should have been at work.
But if my freetime's gone, would you promise me this?
That you will please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well sure as planets come, I know that they end.
And if I'm here when that happens, will you promise me this my friend?
Please bury me with it!
I just don't need none of that Mad Max bullshit.
Well the suit got tight and it split at the seams.
But I kept it out of habit and I kept it really clean.
But if it's getting' faded, if it's runnin' outta thread,
Could you just do this for me my friend?
And please just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well we moved to the left and moved to the right.
And sure as hell we stayed out almost every single night.
But if the party's over, if the fun has to end,
could you do this for me my friend?
Would you just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Good news for people who love bad news.
We've lost the plot and we just can't choose.
We are hummingbirds who are just not willing to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we will not move.
We have good news for anyone who loves bad news.
We were aiming for the moon. We were shooting at the stars.
But the kids were just shooting at the busses and the cars.
So don't drink the water, don't you breathe the air.
If it's gotten to that point then I have to declare:
That you please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
Well fads they come and fads they go.
And God I love that rock and roll!
Well the point was fast but it was too blunt to miss.
Life handed us a paycheck, we said, "We worked harder than this!"
Please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
We are hummingbirds who are just not going to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we well not move.
We have great news for anyone who loves bad news.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bury Me With It
We were shootin' at a mound of dirt.
Well nothing was broken, nothing was hurt.
But I probably really should have been at work.
But if my freetime's gone, would you promise me this?
That you will please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well sure as planets come, I know that they end.
And if I'm here when that happens, will you promise me this my friend?
Please bury me with it!
I just don't need none of that Mad Max bullshit.
Well the suit got tight and it split at the seams.
But I kept it out of habit and I kept it really clean.
But if it's getting' faded, if it's runnin' outta thread,
Could you just do this for me my friend?
And please just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well we moved to the left and moved to the right.
And sure as hell we stayed out almost every single night.
But if the party's over, if the fun has to end,
could you do this for me my friend?
Would you just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Good news for people who love bad news.
We've lost the plot and we just can't choose.
We are hummingbirds who are just not willing to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we will not move.
We have good news for anyone who loves bad news.
We were aiming for the moon. We were shooting at the stars.
But the kids were just shooting at the busses and the cars.
So don't drink the water, don't you breathe the air.
If it's gotten to that point then I have to declare:
That you please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
Well fads they come and fads they go.
And God I love that rock and roll!
Well the point was fast but it was too blunt to miss.
Life handed us a paycheck, we said, "We worked harder than this!"
Please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
We are hummingbirds who are just not going to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we well not move.
We have great news for anyone who loves bad news.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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