Motion Of An Ocean
Broad sweep of branches, how they dip and swirl.
Contrasting trees, in unison they whirl.
Waves passing through these naked stalwart boughs,
The gale with all its wiles, fair sighs and soughs.
Turbulent sea, the air plying its trade.
Invisible source, always on parade.
Invading, rushing, over and between,
Driving itself, no one can intervene.
It’s just amazing this impressive sight,
Like motion of an ocean, air in flight.
Zephyrs moving fast, buffeting free,
An action viewed with awe, fait accompli.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Free Flight
Head on down the highway
Across the county line,
Ive had my fill of small town thrills
Gonna leave it all behind.
Free flight, free flight.
Im careless in my loving,
Shameless in my style,
If I get caught by the short n curlies
Ill just hide out for awhile.
Free flight, free flight.
On an on the road goes on
Itll go on forever,
An just the same Ill live my life,
Hell bent for leather.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling inside.
Heaven knows its in my blood
As long as I try, I just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Head on down the highway
Suitcase in your hand,
When you get down with your feet on the ground
I know youll understand.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling thats driving me wild.
Heaven knows its in my blood,
Fool if you try, you just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
(solo)
Free flight, free flight, free flight...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A River Flows
Where does the river flow
if not to you?
How deep its depths
if these
are not yours?
How broad is the river bank?
Broad enough
for the tug-boats
to push my heart along.
If there are fish in the river,
they sing your name
open-mouthed,
fish-style,
making tiny bubbles float
up, up to the river surface
where they pop
spread
announcing to the Firmament
that Love lives just below
the deep river flows.
Yes, you and I
are the river;
we flow,
run deep
down to that
ocean-mix
in which
our souls
swirl.
Mix me then
in depths deep.
Mix you then
amid this ocean sweep
and all else,
for me
becomes meaningless
so great
is our Soul Mixed
Ocean Bliss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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These Days're Fast in Their Passing
These days are fast in their passing!
And unforgiving.
Time spent in scheduling events,
To decide which ones...
Should be given more attention,
Is something done that has had its welcome.
But today,
Winds come to blow...
Do not slow to bestow,
Consideration given.
These days are fast in their passing!
And unforgiving.
Finding time to procrastinate,
Is like hoping what is felt...
Is not an Earthquake that shakes.
Or a tornado that doesn't sweep,
Everything away...
With a flash before surprised eyes.
These days are fast in their passing!
And unforgiving.
And if one is not proactive...
Any delayed action at all,
May be cause for one's quick demise.
These days are fast in their passing!
And unforgiving.
Satisfying those with their eyes open.
And not those with their eyes half closed.
If one needs to ask just how fast...
These days already here to experience and live,
Have begun to slip from their grasp!
With a speed that has blurred their vision.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Light Perceptions
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measurements behind, mocks time's forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs. Past’s sting
engulfed in night-tide’s swing swirl sings delight.
No frontiers twixt the tears of joy, soul's flight,
and wonder as the sight spans - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon the pattern paints a second state...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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We are on pace this year to have a trade deficit that is larger than $800 billion. We have never faced that before, but we continue to put forward trade agreements like these that leave us naked to competition that is neither free nor fair.
quote by Xavier Becerra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Phantom of Time
Many years ago
I imagined time flowing
Like a river without banks.
Then I read some books
Of science and they said
That time is an irreversible arrow,
A relentless, unhaltable train,
That moves irresistibly, like fate.
It travels from Past to Future
On invisible wheels
Neglecting to stop
At the railway station
On the road, called Present.
But I was not absolutely sure
That this was all true.
So I watched the clocks
And I saw their hands moving,
Undoubtedly showing,
And with mechanical precision,
The exact hours every day and night.
And I was very impressed that
The scientists had the evidence:
Time was really moving unstoppably.
However, if you think carefully
You will notice that the clock-hands
Do not actually show time, because
What they show is movement in space.
So I have had a question.
If time is indeed in a state of flux,
Flowing like a river without banks,
Or moving and passing
Like an undeviating train;
Then what is its speed?
And since
We measure speed
By the ratio of traveling distance
To the periodic motion of the clock,
How are we supposed to measure
The velocity of time?
By time itself?
Thus,
I came to the conclusion
That the flow of time
Is just a blooming metaphor,
A prosperous illusion:
The years do not pass by.
We pass through the years.
Time does not really exist!
And nevertheless, it does.
It is its own phantom.
For practical purposes,
We need the clock, of course.
Yet, at root, the notion of time
Appears to emanate from
A completely static cosmic womb
Of the universe.
A boundless Sea of Eternity,
Time stands still.
And thus,
In our transient boats
We sail perhaps in quiet waters
From one port to another,
Or navigate perchance
Through turbulent waves
In the Ocean
Of Infinite Duration.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The City Tree
I stand within the stony, arid town,
I gaze for ever on the narrow street;
I hear for ever passing up and down,
The ceaseless tramp of feet.
I know no brotherhood with far-lock'd woods,
Where branches bourgeon from a kindred sap;
Where o'er moss'd roots, in cool, green solitudes,
Small silver brooklets lap.
No em'rald vines creep wistfully to me,
And lay their tender fingers on my bark;
High may I toss my boughs, yet never see
Dawn's first most glorious spark.
When to and fro my branches wave and sway,
Answ'ring the feeble wind that faintly calls,
They kiss no kindred boughs but touch alway
The stones of climbing walls.
My heart is never pierc'd with song of bird;
My leaves know nothing of that glad unrest,
Which makes a flutter in the still woods heard,
When wild birds build a nest.
There never glance the eyes of violets up,
Blue into the deep splendour of my green:
Nor falls the sunlight to the primrose cup,
My quivering leaves between.
Not mine, not mine to turn from soft delight
Of wood-bine breathings, honey sweet, and warm;
With kin embattl'd rear my glorious height
To greet the coming storm!
Not mine to watch across the free, broad plains
The whirl of stormy cohorts sweeping fast;
The level, silver lances of great rains,
Blown onward by the blast.
Not mine the clamouring tempest to defy,
Tossing the proud crest of my dusky leaves:
Defender of small flowers that trembling lie
Against my barky greaves.
Not mine to watch the wild swan drift above,
Balanced on wings that could not choose between
The wooing sky, blue as the eye of love,
And my own tender green.
And yet my branches spread, a kingly sight,
In the close prison of the drooping air:
When sun-vex'd noons are at their fiery height,
My shade is broad, and there
Come city toilers, who their hour of ease
Weave out to precious seconds as they lie
Pillow'd on horny hands, to hear the breeze
Through my great branches die.
I see no flowers, but as the children race
With noise and clamour through the dusty street,
I see the bud of many an angel face--
I hear their merry feet.
No violets look up, but shy and grave,
The children pause and lift their chrystal eyes
To where my emerald branches call and wave--
As to the mystic skies.
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Gasoline
You need fuel to get where you're going,
A source of combustion in the engine
That circulates how energy's flowing—
Fluidly in a fast forward motion.
You need fuel to achieve the high speeds,
The rushing feeling of never stopping—
Progress eternal—consumption exceeds
While the necessity of it's dropping.
We have better, quicker, new addictions
Advertised as things you must have to live.
The motivation of constant action
Plugs you in at the pump—stay submissive,
Hooked on personal, commercial vaccines:
Fill up on your fuel, your gasoline.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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From this High Window
From this high window
the invisible wind
moves silent trees:
motion without sound,
dance without song.
Behind painted walls
and heavy curtains,
I cannot not hear
the tumult,
but opening the heavy door,
at last I hear the trees sing,
stirred to passion
by unseen hands
waving branches
swept up
by the compelling wind,
and drawn outside,
exposed and complete,
finally I face the clear maelstrom,
my own hair flying free,
and gaze at the trees,
wild men
dancing as they chant
savage hymns
to their howling god.
poem by Steven Federle
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Glorious Flight
The wind it whistles wild and bold,
Blossoms tumble with its force.
And daffodils bend their heads of gold,
As off it travels on its course.
With power it holds all in its sway,
The trees they stand so strong and tall,
But even their branches have to obey,
This turbulent unrelenting squall.
You sense it in a petal's fall,
And in the compression of the grass.
Yet you don't see the wind at all,
Invisible. Though you feel it pass.
It can be gentle for a spell,
With soft carresses, soothing, cool.
But once enraged, it's hard to quell,
And has its own established rule.
Depending on its strength and might,
All things are submissive to its will.
The wind in all its glorious flight,
Is something, we can never still.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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By the Side of a Brook
On the bank of a rushing brook
I sat for hours watching its course.
Peered into the clear gurgling mass
That cascaded down from a mountainous source
Like a slithering snake, it slinks and slips
It babbles downhill night and day
Rolling and gliding thro plains and dales
It winds its way to the wider bay.
Dipping my fingers in its icy chill
How my hand got repelled as from a shock
In the ripples stirred by the kissing breeze
I saw trees, clouds and the jutting rock-
All floating in queer, fanciful shapes,
Shuddering, trembling and standing still
And the fishes leaving zigzag trails,
Swishing and swimming in the winding rill.
As I quietly watched her speedy flight
With her bosom rising in mournful heaves,
In my ears fell her whisperings soft
Orchestrated by the rustle of quivering leaves
I hardly knew the time speeding by
Nor noticed the birds' homeward flight
Or the Sun moving to the west end side
And the Sky reddening at his sight
As the brook thus continued her headlong ride
To be mingled finally with the ocean wide
I walked, brooding over man's relentless stride
To be merged eventually with the Cosmic Guide.
poem by Valsa George
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J'ai Fait Tout
(Emmylou Harris)
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
Ce que j'ai pu
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
Ce que j'ai pu
I have seen some trouble
Been around the way
Rode the streetcar of desire and I paid
And if you want a witness
I will testify
To what I saw through a wandering eye
'Cause nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
I heard all about it
You don't need an alibi
There was no medicine I did not try
You lost your Mona Lisa
Got burned by Jezebel
You can always draw water from my well
'Cause nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
J'ai fait tout. j'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
I will give everything I am to you
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout.
You know it's true
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
You can go and leave me
But you'll come back for more
I know where all your old secrets are stored
My history is written
My heart is still pure
You crave redemption and I got the cure
'Cause nobody loves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
Nobody laves you like I do
Nobody loves you like I do
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
Ce que j'ai pu
J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
Ce que j'ai pu
J'ai fait tout. j'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Xlix.
Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well I say to thee
I’m off to see what I see by ocean
Breeze that blows, ocean breeze through me see
That rhythm me rock me motion, motion
I’m bate my hook with a crocked look, look
I’ll cast my line against the motion of time
The ocean so wide I will over look
More then half its half measure, its rime
I will feast upon my poetic catch
Of rime and meaning now much refined
No moralizing within here attach
Just knowledge of itself assigned
The ocean’s deep that we must daily sweep
But let me now to that deep glory leap.
poem by David E. Patton
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A Matter Of Perspective
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measured time behind, mocks tight forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs, sees past's sting
engulfed in night-tide swing swirl, sings delight.
No frontiers stand between joy's tears, soul's flight,
and wonder as sight spans light - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon fey pattern weave paints second state...
robi03_1159_robi03_0000 ASX_NXX
previous title Sunset Pattern Paints
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Waves
Rushing, dashing, clashing each on their way
To another city to another bay.
Large swallow weaker, bounding evermore
Till each is consumed by a soverign, sandy shore.
Lunar orchestration ocillates sea’s symphony,
As countless waves appear, singing joyously.
Sounds are unforgettable, though instantly are gone.
New sharps, flats and quarter notes emerge to carry on.
White cap dances surrender with explosive rings.
Sounds and sights intoxicate witness to such things.
An incarnate moon reincarnates each once more,
Thus another journey to one more marauding shore.
Ions ago a marriage twixt the heavens and the sea
Spawned a splendiferous skyline in all its majesty.
Then waves started to recede and mountains expand
So life forms could leave waters and populate the land.
A living entity is this endless sea.
A world all its own, so very very little known.
A mystery in motion is this swaggering, swaying ocean.
With a parade of waves to see; that’s how it will always be.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Prosperous Voyage
THE mist is fast clearing.
And radiant is heaven,
Whilst AEolus loosens
Our anguish-fraught bond.
The zephyrs are sighing,
Alert is the sailor.
Quick! nimbly be plying!
The billows are riven,
The distance approaches;
I see land beyond!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Train Of Love In Motion
(all aboard)
Train of love in motion
Heading for the ocean
Its powered by emotion
Train of love in motion
Put on your best dress
Were travelling light before the dawn
And where were going
Im not really sure
But there is one thing that I know
It is time for us to go
So all aboard
Let your feelings show
Here we go now
Train of love in motion
Heading for the ocean
Its powered by emotion
Train of love in motion
It doesnt matter
Whereever we should choose to meet
This locomotion
Will sweep us up on out feet
There is one thing that I know
This trains about to go
So all aboard
Let your feelings show
Here we go now
Train of love in motion
Heading for the ocean
Its powered by emotion
Train of love in motion
Heading for the ocean
Its powered by emotion
Train of love in motion
Heading for the ocean
Its powered by emotion
Train of love in motion
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Feel Like The Sea-Gull
I feel like the sea-gull
That wanders the ocean-waves calm or tossed
With tempests in mid-Ocean or sea-shore:
I am the sea-gull
That with parched throat
Cries his piercing cry across the landscape
Where sea and sky are only and they meet
In my lone call:
I am the sea-gull that protests
And speaks injustice and its pains
And that is why
My throat is parched – yet I am free
Free in my flight across the air
Flipping around my wings; moving
Flying miles and kilometers moving
Flying near to land as much as can I
For I must bespeak – people must hear me.
My call I know will pierce
And the hearts
That lie now frozen by unjust hands
Will feel the warmth of summer in their innocence
Their throats no longer will be parched
Nor will they thirst
But by the springs of paradise will slake their thirst:
And they will have justice.
And the earth will flower again, no longer groan
Under its burdens
And I
And I, the lonely sea-gull of the ocean-winds
Will cry my eerie cry no more
My deed done my heart can break
And I
The lonely sea-gull will float
Float speechless on the Ocean’s bosom to the skies.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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A Passing Ship
A passing ship
I have found the open ocean
Give me no lip
The waves roll by as I pass on
A snulit sea
On the first day of april
How fresh the wind
Will you miss me when Im gone
How many words
How many songs still unwritten
How many ships
Of the line have come and gone
In the good old days
May they never be forgotten
They had heavy wind
Or they had no wind at all
A passing ship
It is midnight on the ocean
Had a real long trip
I have been at sea all winter
When my ship came in
I was givin up the ghost
I think I should be
Leavin those passing ships alone
When the sea runs high
The sea runs wild and Im unsteady
And I think of you
In the warmth of your home and family
When love is true
There is no truer occupation
And may this gale
Blow us to the ones we love
Another day
Another ocean
Give me no lip
But stand aside as I pass on
A sunlit sea
On the last day of october
How fresh the wind
Will you miss me from now on
I guess I should be
Leavin passing ships alone
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One thing I've learned over these last 30 or 40 years is that people make history. There's no fait accompli to any of this.
quote by Jeremy Rifkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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