Related quotes: I gazed across the continent...

Love Letter to Poland from one Long Escaped....

I gazed across the continent
From where the lines of footprints came
Red blood buried in the soil
Topped with winter frost and all
The rivulets of sweat and screams
That tore the life from childhood dreams

The migrants knocking now again
Another band of fugitives
Stand exiled at the swinging door
Piteous and proud, the young men's faces pale
With tools and attitudes, muscles for sale

Torn tongues and morals frayed, running
From times of terrifying choice
These migrant armies, partisans
Drawn to the scent of money, not the cause
Their brothers left without a voice
Performing all it costs them to survive
And cling onto the ledges of a life.

Leaving a land where romance is defiled
Indifferent to suffering
Where poets lie with no translation
Fault lies in another place
The nightly search for solace
And graves to desecrate
Where hope strikes nothingness
Full in the face

Where the victim never can be sure
That heart and blood are his, are pure
Fearing the phantoms he conspired
To conjure up, the ones that stay
To laugh at him inside his mind
Demons appear, deny him breath
Too fleeting to be caught and put to death.

poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

First Love

I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Your Footprints

You left your footprints across my life

I hate to see your photographs:
passing history impossibly frozen,
demanding out-of-date thoughts.

You left your footprints on my life

I hate it when people talk of you:
as if they were asking for my blood
to warm their own false memories.

You left your footprints through my life

I hate it when I find a letter from you:
I read a richness and a loss in them
and am torn apart by myself

You left your footprints in my life

Footprints claim nothing, offer nothing;
they do not ask to be preserved, or to be erased;
they are clean, yet they are there;
where they lead, I have yet to find

You left your footprints across my life

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Love

At first, what I thought was love had a smiling, gentle face.
All too soon it hemorrhaged like blood flowing through lace.

This life blood flowed from my heart; then drowned my mind,
Leaving only debris of stark loneliness behind.

Romance was torn asunder as I now try to recall
If what, at first, seemed a wonder was anything at all.

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Phantom In The Mediterranean

a phantom is haunting the mediterranean sea
it is the phantom of an italian soldier
his jacket with torn out buttans on his back filthy
his flesh pierced into pieces
and his temples bloody
fearing to fall intoı the space
his voice is echoing
he is screaming in the mediterranean
and he embraces the sun at daylight
then embraces the stars at night
ı know this soul
he was a fugitive soldier when alive
if he had not been shot to death
he would have lived for many many years now
this is the soul ı know
he fled in arduva from the war-front
he ran away in haste
leaving his fire-arm behind
like an animal running away from fire
neither for his ideas
nor for his claims righteous
he ran away only for not bto die
but only to survive
till then he did not know anything about death
he never read hamlet nor a poem fron dante
he had not ever a slight idea about death
about the mystery of it described in the books
when he was being shot to death
suıddeenly a wedding prayer has come tpo his mind
and he began to recite that prayer
when the guns aimed to him fired
he was not fearing from death
he was fearing from being dead
he wanted most
only to li, ve..only to survive
above all..above everything
he only wanted to survive
with women
without women
satisfied..fed up
or hungry
he only wanted to live
like an ordinary tree
ordinary bird
ordinary cloud
ordinary fish
to live like
water in a glass
or oil
like fistful of soıl
he was fearing from being dead
wanting not to be dead
but he wanted only to survive
only to live a life ordinary
on one morning
when a flower was sprotıng and blooming on his stem
he was being shot to death unknowing and unaware
now
it is his phantom
haunting the mediterranean
him..nobody nobody knows and feels
but only ı can feel and see
nazım HİKMET
translatıon Metin ŞAHİN

poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nashville

As I drive
From your pearly gates
I realize that I just cant stay
All those mountains
They kept you locked inside
And hid the truth
From my slighted eyes
I came to you with a half-open heart
Dreams upon my back
Illusions of a brand new start
Nashville
Cant I carry the load
Is it my fault that
I cant reap what I sow
Nashville
Did you give me half a chance
With your southern style
And your hidden dance away
You dance away
And you dance away
All these voices
They whisper through my walls
They talk of falling fast
They say Im losing it all
They say Im running blind
To love of my own
But Ill be walking proud
Im saving what I still own
I fell on my knees to kiss your land
But you are so far down
And I cant even see to stand
In nashville
You forgot the human race
You see with half a mind
What colors hide the face
Nashville
Id like to know your fate
Id like to stay a while
But Ive seen your lowered states today
Ive seen em today
Honey I swear Ive seen em today
Now Im leaving
Ive got all these debts to pay
You know we all have our dues
Ill pay em some other place
Ah I never ask that you pay me back
We all arrive with more
I left with less than I had
Your town is made for people passing through
A last chance for a cause
I thought I knew
But nashville
You tell me what you are gonna do
With all your southern style
Itll never pull you through
Nashville
I cant place no blame
But if you forget my face
Ill never call your name again
No never again
No never again
I fell on my knees to kiss your land
But you are so far down
And I cant even see to stand
In nashville
You forgot the human race
You see with half a mind
What colors hide the face
Nashville
Id like to know your fate
Id like to stay a while
But Ive seen your lowered states today
Ive seen em today
Honey I swear Ive seen em today
Im running away Im running away
Im running Im running
Im running away

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Or Death?

Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?

poem by Triauna Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Rant, Part Two... (For Greg And Terence)

socialism, existentialism,
the pages are revealed.
patriot lies, god dies,
unmarked graves in a field.
the addict weeps, cold hard streets,
poverty has a heavy hand.
discrimination, salvation,
leaving footprints where we stand.
single mothers, live for another,
food stamps and minimum wage.
desperate young men, without a friend,
commit acts of senseless rage.
the prisons turn, the money earned,
fills the bellies of greed.
children taught to kill, against their will,
to survive, to feed the need.
those who slept with goats, and came in boats,
to steal the land of the free.
buried the bones, beneath time and stone,
became written history.
now the sins of the past, come due at last,
the slaves rise against the lie.
feet cross the line, eyes read the signs,
for it's liberty or die!
the farms foreclosed, bankers pick their noses,
the factories shut down...
streets filled with ghosts, businesses closed,
nothing left but the sound.
of family trees, brought to their knees,
and babies born in empty rooms.
where roaches crawl, blood spattered walls,
black eyes, needles and spoons.
while Bibles scream, in human dreams,
of the gospel of flesh and bone.
suicides, mass genocides,
stones stacked upon stones.
hungry faces, leave human traces,
on words spoken without a voice.
beneath the gun, dare we stand or run,
we stand before our choice.
Fox News, for those who refuse,
to feel anything at all.
whose bloodless hands, sign time's demands,
on the dawning of the fall.
the guns of war, as ignorance roars,
but who falls victim to this day?
backs turned too long, hearts turned to stone,
is it too late to pray?
nay, i say! another way!
one chance to make a difference...
for it is this act, taking dignity back,
that is the cost of our forgiveness!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Scent

Your scent encases me
My second skin
It permeates everything
All at once satiating
While leaving me hungering for more
Leaving me open
Right down to my very core

Your scent encases me
Driving out the demons of memory
For new paths to be formed
Along their wake
Cementing new paintings in place
Ignoring the gossamer wings of time
So easily torn

Your scent encases me
My every breath waiting
To be set free
Time obliging, abiding
My whim
To be within your breath
Within your arms
Surrounded by the trail of your secret, your soul

Your scent encases me
Holding fast their silken bonds
And, oh rapture
To be held by such luxurious tethers
Held fast to your lust, your need
Only matched by the flames within my breast
The fires that only moments ago were mere embers
Slowly, your breath on my skin, your scent in my hair, come to life

Your scent encases me
I am left in darkness
No light does penetrate
My only salvation, your whispered words
I follow those sounds, those wisps of pure lust
My every breath taking in sweet passion
Your passion, my passion, our passion, as one we are once more.

poem by Joy Vanderhelm
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Love

lucky age
at least
now it leaves
a space
to remember
first love
for romantic verses
this age
young girls
and boys
senses triumph
over love
the old days
it took months
for that first letter
to be written
today, the bedroom
for courting
is just days away
from that first meet
the more adventurous ones
took liberty on first meet
exploring each other
the way a blind man
makes out his way
on the street
lucky age
i was born in
the pauses,
the rapt intermission
in a piece of music
the door to someone's heart
always gentle as the flower blooms

First Love
I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start -
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I Thank You...

A young soldier takes a deep breath before battle,
Now millions of miles away from the golden plains and the cattle,
Fearing for his life, and another battle loss,
He closes his eyes, and grips tight on his golden cross.

The sergeant yells, and he gets into line,
The troop marches to the battlefield, early morning, about nine,
With sweat running down their faces, and dirt in their hair,
The men look to the sky, and say a silent prayer.

A grenade explodes and the troop scurries on the run,
The young soldier hides in a foxhole, griping onto his gun,
He pops up, but too much smoke he can’t see,
Squinting as hard as he can to find the enemy.

The day is gone, and the young soldier still holds his gun to his shoulder,
Bruised and battered, he feels the night become colder,
As he looks to his left, he wants to break down and cry,
Because he had to watch his best friend get shot, and then he died.

The stale scent of tragedy in the air hovers,
Because this young soldier lost many of his band of brothers,
And now the enemy has fallen back with a retreat,
Because they now know that they have been beat.

You fought for the red, white, and blue,
And for this I greatly thank you,
You fought to allow me to speak my mind freely behind this ballpoint pen,
So once again I thank you, my hero, my dear veteran.

poem by Ryan McNicholas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A brief tribute to George Seferis, poet

When the gods allot
a time, a place, to those so mortal
mortals whom they love to test,

is it a greater gift they give to poets,
to live in a land of honeybees
and sun and sea and heroes sung, a land
assured, content, of gods and marble,
temples, amphitheatres, history,

or in that land in times of tragedy,
starvation, misery, division,
internal war and conquered servitude?

Ultimate, the irony – how can the gods
think up such things? – to be
ambassador, to represent a land
from which to have been exiled half a life;
exiled from within and exiled from without.

The love the gods bestow (the Chorus cries)
is terrifying; strange; to be hard learned.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The dark night of the soul

Not death - no poem's yet been writ
on that - but that dark door and passage
where everything, all that one knows of life
must be surrendered, in the service
of a brighter light, a brighter life...

Only those who apprehend the soul
in all her glory, must submit
when time calls time, and there descends
that total darkness of the mind
which wipes out any thought of things
created; any sense of former life;
any creature that might say
I’ve done my best, so take me, God…
no, there’s nothing left, when hope
is as it never were; or ever named;
truth no longer means a thing beyond
this total darkness, which could not be more true;
eternity, pure timeless state of nothingness,
nightmare without movement, frozen heart..

how can those with nothing to hold on to,
no hands to hold, no reason to hold on…
what can they do, but curl up in a ball
like nature’s creatures faced with stranger, death,
that never spoke its name to them?

One thing only, mercy then will grant:
you will survive… pale, humbled, weak,
wondering what is left, to try to build
a pale approximation to a life
which now, you have no taste for…

and in the coming days, as if
you tasted water for the first time in your life..
you sense a strange new cleanliness..
there’s some new life awaiting, there,
wherever ‘there’ is.. to be lived…
perhaps a new created world
may come of soul’s dark void..

Who can understand, prepare themselves for,
this strangest blessing from the gods?
But that’s the package: unpreparedness is all..

Imagine, now you’re high and dry,
gasping above the sandy waterline, a shivering wretch –

imagine all the glories of a summer’s day;
all the stirring of the blood in Spring;
all the miracles that burst from earth…
an equal miracle, it must be,
the miracle of winter, stealing from us, leaf by leaf,
all we never owned…
this winter’s tale, the heart must kneel and praise;
as marvel; wonder; see as holiest whole -
this timeless, darkest, hopelost, night of soul.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love, Grief, Death, Peace and Life Make War

Love, grief, death, peace, and life make war.
Within the grasps of victory, here lies grief.
Striving to keep a soul alive, thriving for life
whispers of sanity fade from the sight of death.
An outstretched limb pleading for a touch of peace
as a memory of happiness fills the heart with love.

Controlling senses fester upon a long lost love,
breathing in deep, it’s the smell of a war.
Muffled cries creep into your soul, pleading for peace.
You lick your blood stained lips, tasting the bitter grief.
piercing voices thunder upon the ground, accepting death
as a memory of loneliness fills their heart with an absence of life.

Tears of blood come forth into a dimension of twisted life.
The air, heavy and hot, hover over you ridding the land of any former love.
A chorus of saints and sinners sing to you, singing the song of death,
”O come ye child, come into my arms and rid yourself of this war.
Gather your mind and venture to the morrow, leaving behind this haunting grief,
for it is not your fault that this world does not know peace.”

You close your eyes, feeling the sensation of eternal peace.
You can not move any aching limb, within an inch of life
you follow the scent of reigning mud, caking itself to the world’s own grief.
Wandering past the forgotten lives to seek the one true love
that carries upon it’s shoulders, a burden of war.
This land can no longer hold itself with peace as all the peace has turned to death.

Forging itself upon your spirit, the lies no longer live, now it is only death
that caresses your body like a mother so tender, illuminating the one and only peace.
Taunting you to go and be afraid no more, taunting and taunting, this is war.
With one last plea, you beg and cry for the voices to take your life
as you know that the searching prisms of hope will find your love
and they will abolish the need of any misery and any grief.

Once more do the saints and sinners sing of your grief
only this time, there is no mourning of war and death.
They’ve come to pour into your heart, a sound so divine. It is love.
”Dear child, dear child, no more shall you weep, we are here, we’re your peace.
Come with us to a land so pure, where love is eternal and death is not near. We will give you life.
With a trust so deep, take our hands and no more, no more, shall this be your burden of war.”

In times of sorrow and fear, lost is the value of love and peace.
All is forgotten while caged by grief and watching the slaughter of life.
You watch your fallen brothers, reaching for help, you hear the despair in all their voices.
You’re the saint and sinner, giving them hope.
You cease your thoughts, you must fight on.
You aim your gun, praying for death. This is war.

poem by Mason Letoto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blood Brothers (published in 'secrets of the heart')

Golden Demons spred
tearing light
causing furosious fright
frozen, held to tight
a Yen from when demons took part
so then and after us
we are brothers by blood
as blood binds brothers
our shadows shift darker
death comes bear and black
So now my brother can you
hold a yen so proud
and find us after
my twin man my brother
I want to be by you
fighting my friend
together my twin
my blood man
my brother

poem by Rob Francis Parsons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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