Within The Waves
Along vast beaches the rippling tides
to strong stone promenades duly proceed.
Taking with them pre-washed shingle that glides,
in a to-and-fro act of endless speed.
The sea bombards the shore, hour by hour,
churning up polished granules in its wake.
Myriads of grains feeling its power,
pile thus against a high concrete windbreak.
Forces within the waves, one cannot quell,
no one can calm the waters constant flow.
It is an endlessly repeated swell,
like music in ‘moto perpetuo’.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Man Parts the Water
The man parts the water with a simple stone,
turning when the laughter
of a child retraces the shattered waves.
The man remembers with a smile
the days when he walked the shore,
dancing with silver-eyed seagulls, and he
was always looking ahead as he
stands and tilts releasing stone,
watching it sail through the misty shore.
The child parts the water with shrieking laughter,
and dreams about the day he will knowingly smile
as his cocked man-hand reaches the stormy waves.
Watching the moon pull the scornful waves
that kick the sand onto the shore, now he’s
the ghost of a child that stands with a smile.
He parts the water with a simple stone,
listening to the moon’s blue shaken laughter
at a man awaiting his golden hour upon the murky shore.
The grains whisper into the wind. And the shore
is crowded with memories of waves,
filling a young boy’s face with laughter.
It permeates the darkness, yet he
still craves the stone
to bring the man’s euphoric smile.
Caught in a moment without laughter or smiles,
walking along the shore
he wishes upon a simple stone
for another chance to play and frolic in waves.
The child sees his reflection with an anxious smile, and he
becomes a man between the laughter.
And he will always remember the laughter,
and he will always long for an innocent smile
of waiting for the day that unknowingly he
could never return to the shore.
Churning as it breaks the waves,
the past is left in simple stone.
But for now there is laughter upon the shore,
riding along the whispering waves,
the child’s future still a simple stone.
(- for Nicolas Mathew)
poem by Matt Ullman
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Passive Resistance.
Beneath the sky, the restless sea
Was lapping at the shingle shore.
As it had often done before.
The shingle resists stubbornly.
It won't surrender easily.
And when tide ebbs will restore
The pebbles from its endless store.
Kept in reserve permanently.
The shingle beach lies passively
The sea is forced to come and go.
Although it act aggressively
When the tide is in full flow.
It will retreat reluctantly
When tidal energy runs low.
Wednesday,29 February 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Soul searchin
Isolation from the truth
Got me deep in their lies
So I close my ears shut
Stare deep in their eyes
But I don’t see clear
So proceed with my mind
Only to learn we can’t connect
I’m deceived by their kind
At times I wish I could just
Flow with the breeze
I’m gone with the wind just
Blow on the trees
No hesitation to make moves
Finally free
But my souls stuck in this body
Till freedoms achieved
At times I wish I become
One with the waves
One with the ponds with the rivers
Or the lakes
One with the ocean or seas
No debate
I’m alone in the streets
I need the keys to the gate
But every time i spend a couple of
Hour’s with nature
a feeling of fulfillness
Begin to take over
But I guess this is what you call a
Spiritual healing'
Accompanied by calm waves
Call it mutual feeling
poem by Habib Noori
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Mid-Winter Dream
You are gone
From where my feet
Once stood
Shining sand torn and devoured
By crashing angry waves
Of a churning sea...
Icicles hang daintily from stark brown
Crippled stump arms
Left behind naked
My fear gathers
With dust-enveloping droplets
In the gray sky of storm,
My loss overhangs
A deep and restless beach
Where memories of quiet beach lying
Are washed away with Time’s smooth pebbles
I picked from your clear waters
Your anger perplexes me.
Perhaps your fear of immobilizing ice
Releases within you
A cold stream of rebellion
And you pick apart
The swimming pools and tennis courts
You hate upon your beaches
Leaving twisted steel
And broken concrete frames
As a silent reminder...
Perhaps you fear a loss
Of warm evening dreams
And sunny children's splashing feet
Wading in calm-water days
As I slowly dread the loss of you
poem by E.e. Wilholt
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Oh Sea
Oh Sea, why do you deliberately pound the rocks along the bay,
Sending showers of white foam up, in a cascade of spray,
Can you not cease your travels, churning incessantly,
Surging back and forth, always longing to be free.
Oh Sea, why do you keep hold of such impatience, in your hands,
Forever turning restless, racing for the sands,
Then teetering up the shingle, and rushing back again,
Shifting shells and pebbles, and layers of sandy grain.
Oh Sea, why draw it all towards you, like some almighty tongue,
Devouring it in mouthfuls, then spewing it among
The coves, caves and crevices, which are found along the cliffs,
Dispersing all the creatures, living in the rifts.
Oh Sea, you are gigantic, so powerful and so wild,
And yet at times you're gentle, just like a little child,
You command our admiration, your vastness is immense,
But you are so unpredictable, your energy intense.
Oh Sea, you are the great expanse, of the oceans of the world,
We treat you with respect, when your anger is unfurled,
Your boundless depths are fathomless, holding secrets still,
Your waters are so mecurial, subject to your will.
Oh Sea, It is a pleasure when your tides flow, to and fro,
To sit and watch the sunsets, over waters all aglow,
To know your restless feelings, to accept your endless task,
And yet to try and understand, what you keep behind your mask
Oh Sea, who owns the tranquil blues and greens, and violets too,
That in your watery world to us, gives such a wondrous view,
We know your unleashed mighty force, the course you have to take,
The storms, the squalls, the hurricanes, these terrors make us quake.
Oh Sea, we know of other words like tranquil, calm and still,
Times when you are peaceful, with no need to thrill,
Contrasts are your constant plan, your order of the day,
And admiring you, we would not have you, any other way.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Tides of Life
As the tides of life ebb and flow, you dear friend, may never know,
What the tides will bring your way, as they change from day to day.
This life and all its uncertainty, can change the path of you and me,
And as we journey upon life’s tide, we need an anchor by our side.
You need an anchor in your heart, for your soul that will not depart,
An anchor for every single tide, that keeps you secure deep inside.
Life’s tides can become high or low, no matter where in life you go,
This life can even bring a drought, filling a heart with fears or doubt.
Even when life brings a high tide, one needs to have an inner guide,
One guide to lead you from above, should the tide become a flood.
Friend, during any flood in your life, you can rely upon Jesus Christ,
Who calmed the wind and the sea, can calm a heart for you and me.
He can save you from all harms, taking you in His everlasting arms,
As God places both you and me, upon Christ, The Rock of Eternity.
The Rock that anyone can know, wherever the tides of life may flow,
As it is The Lord’s amazing Grace, that reaches down to every place.
God will save you from life’s flood, through the power of the blood,
Shed for all nations by Jesus Christ, to purchase for all Eternal Life.
And it is that tide from Calvary, which reaches men like you and me,
So that we can live forevermore, upon Christ’s golden Eternal shore.
(Copyright ©07/2007)
How can you sleep like sleeping?
You can not ever sleep like sleeping
Only seeing in the deep and endless sky
Taking deep sigh and drinking poison
With your all arrogance and pride high
In your eyes I see the waves of the ocean
Making low and high tides with the sound
Of roaring and with a raw burning, the Pacific
Left calm less and to raise trouble ruffled
Writhing with unbearable pain heart and spleen
How can you sleep like sleeping?
When you close your eyes you see the bird
Can not fly with an arrow pierced the heart
On the ground helpless lie, when you open
Your eyes, see, pain has been washed away
By the little drops of the dew of the night.
The more unknown becomes the world,
The known face moves strange around.
From the wounds blood still dripping
How can you sleep like sleeping?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Power Of Love
Love lives and gives itself to us all!
Love lives and gives itself to us all!
Teaching us what to do!
Helping us every hour!
Yes, that's through the power, the power of love!
Love grows and throws itself to the wind!
Love grows and throws itself to the wind!
Then it heads for your mind!
Then it aims for your heart!
Yes, that's just the start, the start of love!
Love glides and slides itself in your soul!
Love glides and slides itself in your soul!
That's how it fills your dreams!
That's how it makes you strong!
So welcome the song, the song of love!
Love cares and shares itself with the world!
Love cares and shares itself with the world!
That's why it fills your thoughts -
Seeking some sacrifice!
Yes, that's called the price, the price of love!
Love lives and gives itself to us all!
Love lives and gives itself to us all!
Teaching us what to do!
Helping us every hour!
Yes, that's through the power, the power of love!
Teaching us what to do!
Helping us every hour!
Yes, that's through the power, the power of love!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sorrow Rebirth Thinks Of Beauty
a huge knowledge of sorrow
must always think of beauty
memories running over themselves
are fires burning tortured souls
rebirth is born in rhythm ocean waves
wavelets are tender finger ripples
stroking skin of land shorelines
strong fingers massage knotted rocks
rubbing down into sand heartaches
baked on long hot wave eroded days
summarize ebb flow coastal beaches
beauty haunts all tidal manifestations
wind wave bird song sing salt choruses
each sunrise sunset paint shades of skies
beauty awaits in promise discoveries
washed up upon shore is storm sorrow
but in waste wake awaits hope tomorrow
tides clean sweep sand tide moon margins
search out treasures in childhood memories
sea calls in every salted shell rejoice hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Is It a Dam or a Violent Sea? (Tungabadra-Andhra-India)
The waves were waltzing in the Dam
of Tungabadra, the vast sea to entice all eyes.
The people are fenced from touching the waves
as the yawning watery grave is lying in wait to devour,
sending these waves, the wicked fairies to lure
those who are bewitched by their charms.
The rays of the evening Sun made the watery surface gleaming!
I was catching the ebb and flow of the tides by a camera.
The flowing water in the canals,
the blooming heavens of the gardens,
the skating rush of water through the sluice gates
and the eateries along the mound nearby
are not drawing the crowds.
The people were watching the waves with wonder and calm.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew off the waves to rise high
and leap over the fence to rinse us and my camera!
Oh, the marvel of Tungabadra has blessed me
to wake from the agony set in mind recently in public service
and sing about the drizzle flushing through the bamboo grove
and the setting Sun fainting over the watery surface far off!
--------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Hour Of Need
(myles goodwyn/additional lyrics by lisa blond)
Published by mfg sing sing music/socan - ascap
Shadows closin in on me
But through the darkness I can see
Your face is harder than stone
I wish I may, I wish I might
Turn this darkness into light
Im blind and yet I see, I love you
But Im a man, I must be strong
Ive let these feelings tear me apart for far too long
But in my darkest hour of need
In my darkest hour of need
Will I ever love again
Or will it always be pretend
Its my heart that needs to know
What can it be, that you and i
Cant give it one more try
But I know that that wont be, and I love you
But Im a man, I must be strong
Ive let these feelings tear me apart for far too long
And in my darkest hour of need
In my darkest hour of need
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Blue Hour Comes
Orbison/ crowell
The good times are all gone
The night keeps coming on so strong
You cant hold on, no matter what you do
Will there be someone who cares for you
When the blue hour comes?
When the blue hour comes?
And when your restless heart
Tears your world apart
And everywhere you turn
Its falling down on you
Will there be a light that shines for you?
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
Good times dont last forever
Sometimes its now or never
Darling, reach out for me
You know where Ill be
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
I will always be there
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes....(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Which Me am I?
I'm not always the same,
I change from hour to hour.
The change is almost instant,
Yet only if you are looking.
With music I am free,
Other times I am chained.
I have nothing to call my own,
Except my music.
If you see me playing music,
I seem calm, at ease,
But take away my security blanket,
And I am just lost and confused.
With my music I can be free.
With my music, I am me.
© 2005
poem by Maria O'Connor
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Moon-Light
COME, gentle muse! now all is calm,
The dew descends, the air is balm;
Unruffled is the glassy deep,
While moon-beams o'er its bosom sleep;
The gale of summer mildly blows,
The wave in soothing murmur flows;
Unclouded Vesper shines on high,
And ev'ry flow'r has clos'd its tearful eye.
Oh! at this hour, this placid hour,
Soft music, wake thy magic pow'r!
Be mine to hear thy dulcet measure,
Thy warbling strains, that whisper, pleasure;
Thy heavenly airs, of cadence dying,
And harp to every zephyr sighing;
When roving by the shadowy beam,
That gilds the fairy-bow'r and woodland-stream!
But all is still! no mellow sound
Floats on the breeze of night around ;
Yet fancy, with some airy spell,
Can wake 'sweet Echo' from her cell;
Can charm her pensive votary's ear,
With plaintive numbers melting near;
And bid celestial spirits rise,
To pour their wild, enchanted melodies.
I love the rosy dawn of day,
When Zephyr wakes the laughing May;
I love the summer-evening's close,
That lulls the mind in calm repose;
But sweeter far the hour serene,
When softer colours paint the scene;
When Vesper sheds a dewy ray,
And o'er the sleeping wave the moon-beams play.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The Speed Of Love
Maurice white, wayne vaughn, wanda vaughn & tony haynes
You cant stop me
I was born to be with you
Your loves my center point of view, every day
You cant stop me
Gonna stand right next to you
Until I know that I was made for you
Let me bet you, Ill never come in second place
I know I got what it takes for you
Hey love -- moving at the speed of love
Love -- livin with the need of love
Hey love -- burnin in the heat of love
I need your power in the midnight hour
The best is yet to come
Once youre in my arms
Let ma take control at the speed of love
If you let it
Love will be your stepping stone
One that Im depending on, to shine
And thats the bottom line
Love is magic
Created in a special place
Moving in and out of space for you
Let love take us
To a land of pearly skies
A wonderland that never dies
Hey love -- moving at the speed of love
Love -- livin with the need of love
Hey love -- burnin in the heat of love
I need your power in the midnight hour
Lets take circumstance
By design or chance
Makes no difference at the speed of love
Emotions wont slow down
Hearts are upward bound
Passing lights and sound at the speed of love
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts Volume Spun Quantum
heavy duty speed rapid writes
hour upon hour speed writes
poem immediately upon poem
until after 3 am wrote prism
light spectrums split awesome
thoughts volume spun quantum
till energy eclipsed sun passed
optics engulfed mind opens vast
sleep begs visions cannot last
till morning sleep dawn well past
morning wake heavily encrusted
in mind that ran flood fast tired
Dedicated to the painter poet Hosney Soliman.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sullen Girl
Days like this, I dont know what to do with myself.
All day - and all night.
I wander the halls along the walls and under my breath.
I say to myself.
I need fuel - to take flight -
And theres too much going on.
But its calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion.
Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.
Is that why they call me a sullen girl - sullen girl.
The dont know I used to sail the deep and tranquil sea.
But he washed me shore and he took my pearl -
And left an empty shell of me.
And theres too much going on.
But its calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion.
Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.
Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.
Its calm under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Army Surgeon
Over that breathing waste of friends and foes,
The wounded and the dying, hour by hour,-
In will a thousand, yet but one in power,-
He labours thro' the red and groaning day.
The fearful moorland where the myriads lay
Moved as a moving field of mangled worms.
And as a raw brood, orphaned in the storms,
Thrust up their heads if the wind bend a spray
Above them, but when the bare branch performs
No sweet parental office, sink away
With hopeless chirp of woe, so as he goes
Around his feet in clamorous agony
They rise and fall; and all the seething plain
Bubbles a cauldron vast of many-coloured pain.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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