Related quotes: The house, on which the...

Young Men in Maun

The house, on which the moonlight fell
Leaving a ghostly shadow mark
Had a porch, a low white wall
On which my Norwegian friend
Perched with the trophies of his hunt

He worked in the village hospital
A laboratory technician, he knew
Exactly who had tested and for what
But it was not so bad, those were
The years before the HIV

Once a month, just after pay day
When the moon was full over the plains
We'd open the door
Loudly unleash
My late 70s dance mix tapes

And invite the council workers in,
The nurses and the Danish volunteers
He bought the beer, I bought the bream
From the fisheries depot, cooked it up
With lemon juice in thick wide pans.

Six days a week John drove to work
Never bringing his lab tests home
Preparing for his doctor's life
He stocked the fridge with kudu meat
I cooked quietly, not touching his peace

Far from perfect, but beautiful
Ruled by the codes and by the moon
Like the lovers of our nights, with whom
We visited the riverside
Drank beer and coke and watched for birds

And that house - still standing, probably
These twenty-five years on
Protected district property
Its small garden of moon
Drunk dry by brazen sun.

poem by Frank Bana
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Related quotes

The Mounlight Dance

The moonlight dance
I will dance with the mooninthe sky
Moonlight dance
Moonlight dance
I am crazy also about the moonlight dance
And I am also crazy about the moon
Also I believe that I am falling in love with the moon
While I am dancing the moonlight dance
Moonlight
I find you amazing
And you shine so bright inthe sky
Moonlight dance
Moonlight dance
Moon it is getting late
And soon it will be time for us to go to sleep
Moonlight dance
Moonlight dance
It is now time to say good night to each other
Because we need to sleep
And I need to go home now

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Moonlight Dance

poem by Aldo Kraas
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And I Under The Moon

The jug and I under the moon
and my lips around the neck of the bottle of wine,
by the moon light is it full of the flowers dew,
I pour the scarcity of each dropp and it's association
against the bamboo and I watch to need the heron it's
crest off i see it go by as a dragons shadow independently.
Moving off, 'Therefore before the lifting of the glass,
I invite you because of our friendship,
revalations are made as to my shadow which then makes up
the moon myself and it's our three.
Is it not known my shadow follows each movement of my body
swaying as the leaves from which the rice it makes is simply.
Moon of moon shining down between shows us company
and my shadow because I am by you for wine maintained,
as to the spring flowing forth nothing is forever
and would be assisted wise are you adjusted too practice
each our lips the neck of the bottle of wine our pleasure.
As for me and as for you the moon I who am I have begun
babmboo in sleep before I go, the stand gently rising,
you dance and the shadow it moves strangely
and with you including swan song.
I' Between; Still you be looking up at the dark sky
moon smiling down and of which you are consciously, moving.
Afterwards, and you rejoice mutually; exclusively then thus do I
and Each one tried where it was, we laid down our heads
friend of moon, knew us drunk to go off searching for the shadow of your friend. Passion is less this night when travelling.
Under the moon and friends are friends, permits that fact, we are.

l.p.

poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drinking Alone in the Moonlight

Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;

in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.

Version 2
Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine,
No friends at hand, so I poured alone;
I raised my cup to invite the moon,
Turned to my shadow, and we became three.
Now the moon had never learned about drinking,
And my shadow had merely followed my form,
But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow;
To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.

Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me;
Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild.
Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together;
Drunk, then each went off on his own.
But forever agreed on dispassionate revels,
We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.

poem by Li Po
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The Silver Lily

The nights have grown cool again, like the nights
Of early spring, and quiet again. Will
Speech disturb you? We're
Alone now; we have no reason for silence.

Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises.
I won't see the next full moon.

In spring, when the moon rose, it meant
Time was endless. Snowdrops
Opened and closed, the clustered
Seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts.
White over white, the moon rose over the birch tree.
And in the crook, where the tree divides,
Leaves of the first daffodils, in moonlight
Soft greenish-silver.

We have come too far together toward the end now
To fear the end. These nights, I am no longer even certain
I know what the end means. And you, who've been
With a man--

After the first cries,
Doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?

poem by Louise Gluck
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Standing On The Moon

Standing on the moon
I got no cobweb on my shoe
Standing on the moon
Im feeling so alone and blue
I see the gulf of mexico
As tiny as a tear
The coast of california
Must be somewhere over here - over here
Standing on the moon
I see the battle rage below
Standing on the moon
I see the soldiers come and go
Theres a metal flag beside me
Someone planted long ago
Old glory standing stiffly
Crimson, white and indigo - indigo
I see all of southeast asia
I can see el salvador
I hear the cries of children
And the other songs of war
Its like a mighty melody
That rings down from the sky
Standing here upon the moon
I watch it all roll by - all roll by
Standing on the moon
With nothing else to do
A lovely view of heaven
But Id rather be with you
Standing on the moon
I see a shadow on the sun
Standing on the moon
The stars go fading one by one
I hear a cry of victory
And another of defeat
A scrap of age old lullaby
Down some forgotten street
Standing on the moon
Where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon
But I would rather be with you
Somewhere in san francisco
On a back porch in july
Just looking up to heaven
At this crescent in the sky
Standing on the moon
With nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven
But Id rather be with you - be with you

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory

Late, late last night, when the whole world slept,
Along to the garden of dreams I crept.
And I pulled the bell of an old, old house
Where the moon dipped down like a little white mouse.
I tapped the door and I tossed my head:
"Are you in, little girl? Are you in?" I said.
And while I waited and shook with cold
Through the door tripped me---just eight years old.
I looked so sweet with my pigtails down,
Tied up with a ribbon of dusky brown,
With a dimpled chin full of childish charme,
And my old black dolly asleep in my arms.
I sat me down when I saw myself,
And I told little tales of a moonland elf.
I laughed and sang as I used to do
When the world was ruled by Little Boy Blue.
Then I danced with a toss and a twirl
And said: "Now have you been a good, good girl?
Have you had much spanking since you were Me?
And does it feel fine to be twenty-three?"
I kissed me then, and I said farewell,
For I've earned more spanks than I dared to tell,
And Eight must never see Twenty-three
As she peeps through the door of Memory.

poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Amidst The Flowers A Jug Of Wine

Amidst the flowers a jug of wine,
I pour alone lacking companionship.
So raising the cup I invite the Moon,
Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us.
Because the Moon does not know how to drink,
My shadow merely follows the movement of my body.
The moon has brought the shadow to keep me company a while,
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring.
I start a song and the moon begins to reel,
I rise and dance and the shadow moves grotesquely.
While I'm still conscious let's rejoice with one another,
After I'm drunk let each one go his way.
Let us bind ourselves for ever for passionless journeyings.
Let us swear to meet again far in the Milky Way.

poem by Li Po
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Harvest Moon (live)

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say
Just like the children sleeping, we could dance the sun away
But there's a full moon risin', let's go dancin' in the night
We know where the music's playin', let's go out and feel the night
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
When we were strangers, I watched you from afar
Then we were lovers, I love you with all my heart
But now it's getting late, and the moon is climbing high
I want to celabrate, see it shining in your eyes
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days Of Summer

-artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 6 in 1963
-words by charles tobias and music by hans carste
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Dust off the sun and moon and sing a song of cheer
Just fill your basket full of sandwiches and weenies
Then lock the house up, now youre set
And on the beach youll see the girls in their bikinis
As cute as ever but they never get em wet
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Youll wish that summer could always be here
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Dust off the sun and moon and sing a song of cheer
Dont hafta tell a girl and fella about a drive-in
Or some romantic moon it seems
Right from the moment that those lovers start arrivin
Youll see more kissin in the cars than on the screen
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Youll wish that summer could always be here
Youll wish that summer could always be here
Youll wish that summer could always be here

song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Fete

I take a bottle of wine and I go drink it among the flowers.
We are allways three ... counting my shadow and my friend the shimmering moon
Happily the moon knows nothing of drinking, and my shadow is never thirsty
When I sing, the moon listens to me in silence. when I dance, my shadow dances too.
After all festivities the guests must depart. this sadness I do not know.
When I go home, the moon goes with me and my shadow follows me

song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Omens

A single sheaf of large shrivelled
Teak leaf glided uncannily to the
Ground with a tap and continued its
Forlorn dance across the road below
A lone street lamp - right in front
Of me as I was cycling by troubled
By an upcoming undertaking.
The dropping Of a leaf as if portending some untoward
Happening coming my way, telling me
Not to go foward with what I had decided;
Nature's way of telling me to be careful,
That dangers lurked ahead; analoguous
To Caesar's wife's disturbing dreams
Of his coronation murder. I continued
The journey back home and was again
Greeted by a large black cat dashing
Across just as I was making my way to the porch.
I shivered, feeling lost for a second,
Sighed, laughed and went straight into
House with a lighter chest.

INSPIRED BY

Amidst the Flowers a Jug of Wine
------------
Amidst the flowers a jug of wine,
I pour alone lacking companionship.
So raising the cup I invite the Moon,
Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us.
Because the Moon does not know how to drink,
My shadow merely follows the movement of my body.
The moon has brought the shadow to keep me company a while,
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring.
I start a song and the moon begins to reel,
I rise and dance and the shadow moves grotesquely.
While I'm still conscious let's rejoice with one another,
After I'm drunk let each one go his way.
Let us bind ourselves for ever for passionless journeyings.
Let us swear to meet again far in the Milky Way.

Li Po

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Expatriates

My dear, it was a moment
to clutch for a moment
so that you may believe in it
and believing is the act of love, I think,
even in the telling, wherever it went.

In the false New England forest
where the misplanted Norwegian trees
refused to root, their thick synthetic
roots barging out of the dirt to work on the air,
we held hands and walked on our knees.
Actually, there was no one there.

For fourty years this experimental
woodland grew, shaft by shaft in perfect rows
where its stub branches held and its spokes fell.
It was a place of parallel trees, their lives
filed out in exile where we walked too alien to know
our sameness and how our sameness survives.

Outside of us the village cars followed
the white line we had carefully walked
two nights before toward our single beds.
We lay halfway up an ugly hill and if we fell
it was here in the woods where the woods were caught
in their dying and you held me well.

And now I must dream the forest whole
and your sweet hands, not once as frozen
as those stopped trees, nor ruled, nor pale,
nor leaving mine. Today in my house, I see
our house, its pillars a dim basement of men
holding up their foreign ground for you and me.

My dear, it was a time,
butchered from time
that we must tell of quickly
before we lose the sound of our own
mouths calling mine, mine, mine.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Crooked Around

Crooked, door, core, rock, red, coke, dock, roe, ore, re, doe, cooked;
But crooked around in the name of your muse!
For the moon is now watching your moves in the land of peace and joy.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hairfall And Photocopies

You will chance upon
The secret black and white codes
Of my being
Lying anywhere

In the bedroom, or the kitchen or in the lavatory
In the classroom, in the train compartment
Between the keys of a keyboard
On the mouse-pad
In the staffroom, in the caves on the moon
In the snake hole
In our house, in their house
In his house, in her house
In my home, in your home
In the gaps between the words
Among the pages of a book
That makes you scratch your head
Anywhere just anywhere

Obviously I know
Where this road leads
But don't forget
That in my every hair
Is my DNA

Or whatever

After thousands of years
In some rocks
A scientist will discover
My fossilised hair

He can generate
Yet more photocopies of me.

poem by Sachin Ketkar
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Christmas Eve Presumption

I remember years past at this time
joining with friends sublime
A-caroling we did go from house to house
of those old alone people sitting inside at home
“We’re bringing some holiday cheer to the old shut ins”
I remember the 30ish leader saying with a grin
At one house surrounded by trees we stood at front door
singing loudly song after song with smiles and glee
The house door flew open to reveal a thin elderly man
who waved at us to go away and leave him be
But singing we continued with conviction and fervor
to bring hope and joy to this sad lonely figure
Then the slippered old man stepped out into the snow
and stuffed bills in the pocket of the nearest fellow
And on Christmas eve, this lonely old man yelled
“Get off my property! ”
I guess he was quietly resting, or writing, or enjoying a good read
or maybe watching his favorite Christmas show on TV

poem by William Waterway
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Food

There's a ghost in my fridge I hear a hum
When I open the door there is no one
No matter how hard I look
There's nothing there except some food long time cooked
Happiness can come in many ways
Mine's a cold beer on the second tray.
For I daren't touch the food you see
Its got hair all over it and growls at me.

poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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This House is no Longer a Home

As I walk down the lonely street
Knees get weak, can barely keep my feet
I see the fence, the gate, the porch
From where you gazed and lit my torch
I see the house, the room, the bed
Your voice still ringing in my head
You said you didn't love anymore
And you walked out the door
The walls were painted antique white
Semi-gloss to bring in the light
Pictures hung on every wall
With memories of us all
Now the fence is falling, the flowers dying
Tears fall through the cracks from all the crying
The gate is broken and no one can come in
It's a shame even the birds won't sing
But this house is no longher a home
You chose freedom, you chose to roam
This house is no longer a home
Like a beer without foam
A classic car without chrome
You chose to roam
Now this house is no longer a home
I recall that first night
We made love in the full moonlight
Tfhe air was filled with ecstasy
Our moans sang a symphony
Our bodies became one
As we ventured till the morning sun
But love doesn't live here anymore
I can still hear the slamming of the door
I can feel the vibration of every picture frame
As I stand here wondering who's to blame

poem by Alfred Ramos
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A Husband's Regret

she got pregnant only once
on the third month yet
they still made love on the
hard floor of the house
and the lights were on
to see their beautiful
bodies soaked with sweat
and she moaned and blood
flowed and what she got
was not an orgasm but
an abortion

she recovered in the hospital
after a papsmear
and he bought a puppy all
white to mark the beginning
of his regret
on that sad day

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moon Tonight

The turn my car took on Bandra flyover
Helped me see the part of sky with Moon.
And she looked round-faced – full Moon?
Chauffeur had steadied the car, I was not sure.

Mind went back a few years to my Delhi home
I had counted the full moons to my retirement:
Tried to go up on my terrace in Lodhi Garden
On every bright moon-lit night, alas, alone.

Now I wonder how many full moons before death?
But I don’t know how to time the interval between
Now and Death’s arrival for me: why not every one?
Perhaps there can be no better addition of riches to life.

From home, I put off TV, wore shoes, closed door,
And went down to walk under the Moon: she was
On the East at an angle: only if I walk East I see her.
Now I pass the lane between FDA and Artek Nagar.

I see the bits of broken Moon through the dark foliage
Of the trees, sometimes branches, some leaves in pairs
Asleep, while palm leaves swaying a lullaby gently,
Brushing on, without ever touching, the distant moon.

As I went on the main BKC road, I could see the full
Moon on this clear November sky in broad gaps
Where there were no cassia or queen’s tree, and
No star near, or even far, to distract my attention.

I enjoyed seeing the moon, rather self-consciously,
Keeping track of whether anyone passing by
Is watching me watch the Moon, to think “Is he
A poet or just lunatic, about to fall into a pot-hole? '

Before I turned homewards, I felt sad, very sad
To think that the full Moon is absolutely lost
In the lit streets with headlights and neon-lamps
That one has to search for the moon to see her.

poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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