En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Side The Riverbreak

Standing 'side the riverbreak,
watching water move like lightening,
flowing fast, white, narrow brook,
'tween the legs of the Douglas trees.
And these streams have curves so crooked,
subluxed....in serpentine,
'til they merge...become one river, and then -
it spirals to the riverbreak.....,
kissing the fork, seperating the surge.

And, there be majic, in the riverbreak;
its' speed and strength dictates the flow,
of white-capped ripple o'er deep-blue current.....,
where the principals copulate.

Stimulating....the force of the riverbreak;
no virgin surf, this channel, be;
must be the sight of the rapids front.....,
that excites, compels the serfeit fawning.

Ahhh, the rush of the riverbreak,
with the rage and softness of a woman,
spreading her majesty,
coursing, delivering,
'into the rise of the riverbreak;
the fork, its' presence, not be moved...
spreading the river,
like eagle's wings, or two young limbs,
thrusting, flowing.....fertilely,
against the fork, they call.... the riverbreak.
And, the climax be.....the confluence;
and the confluence....be unequivocal;
unequivocal...this liquid rush;
then silence...Sssssh... of quelling waters...
resume their course side the riverbreak
two streams quiet 'til they meet again.

poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Watching Me Watching You

I sit by the cutting on the beaconsfield line.
Hes watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
And pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
Making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
At the cocktail party with a bucks fizz in my hand
I feel him watching me watching the girls go by.
And they move so smooth without even trying.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the crowd thins and he moves up close but he doesnt speak.
I have to look the other way.
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek:
Got two drinks in his hand --- see his lips move ---
What the hells he trying to say.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching
The trains go by.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Great Things Can Be Missed

So narrow’s gap between one’s love and lust!
So brittle’s line between world’s war and peace!
’Tis photo-finish ’tween second and first!
A trifle separates labor from ease!

So narrow’s zone ’tween contempt and friendship!
A hair’s breath decides human love from hate!
Narrow’s the gap ’tween stranger and sib-ship!
A trifle’s ’tween God’s providence and fate!

One mouth of air decides one’s life and death!
A wrong premise turns believer, atheist!
’Tween birth and death, ’tis hair-line in its breath!
The hand that saves can turn into a fist!

But wide’s the gap between Heaven and Hell;
You choose just one and hang onto it well!

poem by John Celes
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Because Of You

I was so hypnotized
By the smile in your eyes today
Flying free as a bird
Caught inside every word you say
I want everyone to see...
This is big time
This is larger than life
See the sparks fly
When you're standing by my side
Every step, every move, everything I do
Life is beautiful because of you
Every breath that you give
You're my sweet oxygen my friend
You made me follow it fast
So my dreams could get past the end
I want everyone to feel...
This is big time
This is larger than life
See the sparks fly
When you're standing by my side
Every step, every move, everything I do
Life is beautiful because of you
How did I survive before you came into my life?
Now I'd do anything at all, anything at all
For you
This is big time
This is larger than life
See the sparks fly
When you're standing by my side
Every step, every move, everything I do
Life is beautiful because of you
Oh all because of you
Because of you
Bacause of you
Everything I do
Life is beautiful because of you
This is big time
This is larger than life
See the sparks fly
When you're standing by my side
Every step, every move, everything I do
Life is beautiful because of you
Because of you

song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Standin In My Light

(ian hunter)
Well I finally found you out
All through your mess of dreams
You wont make it to the night
And your standing in my light
You know youve been bad for me
You aint got the weight to hate
But you aint no pretty sight
And your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light (yeah)
Move over cause your standing in my light
Now when your old man beats the drums
Gotta run run run thats dumb
A little less ego a little more fight
Move over cause your standing in my light
Things go bad and the risks get high
Sweeping dead bodies cross an open sky
You took my pictures from your walls
Aint gonna trade with the pain of the new york dolls
Move over cause your standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause your standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause you standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause you standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light yeah.......alright
Move over cause your standing in my light
I wish you luck on your very last chance
Cause I knew you blew it at the song and dance
You froze my feelings, but thats alright
And your standing in my light

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streams Of Whiskey

Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of lifes philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
Theres nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yellow Billed Spoonbill

By the lake shore in the shallows where the waters are still
He walks in water to his knees the white bird with yellow legs and long yellow spoon like bill
With his bill in the water as he walk moving from side to side
His prey water insects, crustaceans and tiny fish in the water weed hide.

He and his partner build their nest on a high branch of a tree
On her nest of sticks she lays four white eggs though sometimes two or three
They both take care of their young a bird devoted to fatherhood as well as to his mate
Food from their stomachs to their nestlings they do regurgitate.

On river rapids never seen the still waters they need
Birds of the inland lakes and dams in the shallows they feed
Of humans 'twould be fair to say they have a healthy fear
To a human standing on the shore they never venture near.

Yellow billed or yellow legged spoonbill are names they are known by
On the lake I see one yesterday he did seem rather shy
With his long yellow bill moving from side to side in the shallows he shuffled up and down
The shiest of the water birds in the big park by the Town.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Deodorant

Shampoo and deodorant,
The arcade and the pizza parlour;
Being merciful to him and her,
But it all came to pass! !

Do not worry about it,
For he or she does it all the time;
And your whisper is like a shock to me.

Flowing tap,
Flowing water,
Flowing stream,
Flowing river;
Elegance to the muse of your love,
But the heavens and the earth are watching us.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Move On

Some chickens crossed the road, straying far from the hen
Five reached the side one step below zen
One was a female, four were mad-men
Who moved on, moved on move on
Standing in line and falling asleep
Building a fence while were counting the sheep
Wed let you help out but our projects are too deep
Move on, move on, move on
You have to understand that when it comes
To making music
We meshed the styles of five alive and
Intertwined and fused it
Life comes from life and through our strife we
Strove to make the sound true
Compelled to spell it out, in search
Of what we must do
Our house was to small so we had to move
The neighbors had much doubts so we had to prove
That our soulful dimensions were true to the groove
We, moved on, moved on, moved on
Water the music, plant the seeds in the pot
Music is life flowing through... is it not?
Dont forget your roots, but also dont rot
Just move on, move on, move on dont be afraid, let your feelings show
Wear your heart on your sleeve, and let yourself glow

song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is So Much to Say

There is so much to say
With complicated reasons
And the varieties of way
In new and yearly seasons

We have but a little while
To say our thoughts and mind
To walk the distant mile
Before those hours are behind

Blessed are the interrelations
Of every village and tree
There is so much graduation
In there thoroughly to see

Where brook is flowing freely
Breezing whispering leaves
Water streams colors steely
The greenery fields and sleeve.

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The River of Rivers in Connecticut

There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.

In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,

No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He could not bend against its propelling force.

It is not to be seen beneath the appearances
That tell of it. The steeple at Farmington
Stands glistening and Haddam shines and sways.

It is the third commonness with light and air,
A curriculum, a vigor, a local abstraction . . .
Call it, one more, a river, an unnamed flowing,

Space-filled, reflecting the seasons, the folk-lore
Of each of the senses; call it, again and again,
The river that flows nowhere, like a sea.

poem by Wallace Stevens
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Fighting For Night

Sitting and watching the sun rise
knowing time is near
time to laugh
time to smile
time to cheer
Sitting and watching the sun rise

Lyeing and watching the sun sway
over the puffy white clouds
over the bright blue sky
over a home town
Lyeing watching the sun sway

Standing and watching the sun fall
down to the ground
down to the greenest of grass
down to meet your tears
Standing and watching the sun fall

Leaning and watching the moon climb
up past the stars
up past the sun's lost glem
up to where it shins too full
Leaning and watching the moon climb

Swaying
not watching
not breathing
not hearing
not frowning
Swaying

Laughing from below
watching your body away
watching the rope in the moon light
watching gathering people
watching them cut you down
Laughing from below

Sitting and watching the sun rise
Lyeing and watching the sun sway
Standing and watching the sun fall
Leaning and watching the moon climb
Swaying
Laughing from below
Laughing
from
below

poem by Kathlyn Grace
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A Chant

'WHILE the trees grow,
While the streams flow,
While the winds blow,
We will be free:
Free as trees growing,
Free as streams flowing,
Free as winds blowing,
Evermore free.'

poem by James Thomson
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In Search Of The Sensual Pleasures Of Art

my mind overflows, this search for
the sensuality of art,

the curves, luscious mouths, soft arms,
white legs, hair flowing

as though the rains from the
emerald forest do not stop

a shower of the blessings
of the flesh

shapes and forms of love
speaking and caressing
in whispers,

my poetry desires all of them
... that night when i was so young
and spirited and so secretive
about the what the dark
night gives me
in full
gear

and no one is talking.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Calling Of The Trees

The wind.
The calling of the trees,
Whose leaves flow
Endlessly through the wind,
Calling the sound,
Of water,
Like waves
Of the beach.
Beyond.
The row of trees
Standing in line
Along the shore,
Through them
Pass to where
Green grey water
Meets the sand,
In constant push
Through the shorebirds legs.
Crows call, geese horn
And the wind
Flows steady, strong and sure.
The wind smelling of salt and green.

(7.18.7 The View)

poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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The Game Of Fame

'GOLF-THE GAME OF FAME'


I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow
I had been waiting here to see
Who shall the winner ultimately be?
My two sons were participating, and were outside
There were competing against each other, side by side
First session ended, and the players are now in the second half
I was watching them through the window, including the club staff
Everyone was trying their very best and hard
Well it's not an easy game, just like playing cards
I saw some players taking a short nap
This was some relief time for them and for I, after a gap
The third session of the game goes worst
Till the end of the game, we didn't knows who will be first
The game has begun to ooze
I was still watching them through the window, "Who is go'na loose? "
My two sons were slowly picking on the game
My thoughts were, "Who will earn the coveted fame? "
Opponent players were also moving off at last
I saw my younger one ‘playing pretty fast'
My elder one was rushing down the lane
Why his game slowing down the lane
The competition has become intense and difficult to bear
So, the victory time is getting close and near
Now the game has become fast enough
Oh! My younger son has now found a fluff
Players have now quickened and have hurried by
They seem to be working fast, as if to fly
At last, someone has to be won
Nobody else, it's my younger son
I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow

BY SAMRA HAQ

poem by Samra Haq
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The Red House

On the wide fields the water gleams like snow,
And snow like water pale beneath pale sky,
When old and burdened the white clouds are stooped low.
Sudden as thought, or startled near bird's cry,
The whiteness of first light on hills of snow
New dropped from skiey hills of tumbling white
Streams from the ridge to where the long woods lie;
And tall ridge-trees lift their soft crowns of white
Above slim bodies all black or flecked with snow.
By the tossed foam of the not yet frozen brook
Black pigs go straggling over fields of snow;
The air is full of snow, and starling and rook
Are blacker amid the myriad streams of light.
Warm as old fire the Red House burns yet bright
Beneath the unmelting snows of pine and larch,
While February moves as slow, as slow
As Spring might never come, never come March.

Amid such snows, by generations haunted,
By echoes, memories and dreams enchanted,
Firm when dark winds through the night stamp and shout,
Brightest when time silvers the world all about,
That old house called _The Heart_ burns, burns, and still
Outbraves the mortal threat of the hanging hill.

poem by John Freeman
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Snowthunder

White on the ground and cicles
from the roof
Trees of ice and vehicles are

one inch solid
All is white
From building top to ground
No breeze or no sky or no birds

or no sound
All is still
With a sudden crack the lightening
splits the sky
In many directions roaring
From one side of the sky to the other

Shaking of the ground
Ice shatters from trees and roofs and
from everywhere
Hitting the ground

Sounds echo of popping and snapping
and cracking
Sheets falling off of sides and tops
Sounding like a war is on us

The ground and sky shakes and roars
No safe place to step
A bird flies through the sky screeching
Flying in waves and screaming
Beware the snowthunder comes

poem by Sarah Stites
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Watching For Pa

Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Twist And Turns

on the twists and turns
of my life, when i tumble and i fall,
when i rise and claim
my due, when i do not surrender
even a toe,
when with dignity i raise my head
and keep my arms
on my side
when i decide to calm down and
simply watch the flowing day
like a rush of the water on the mountainside
or the creek
when the ferns keep on creeping
on the side of the trees
what silence is there
left for me to sip like a strawberry juice
inside my glass

i lay my fingertip on the side
and try to hear
if the song of the wind is still there

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jane and You and the Hollow Tree.

Jane waited for you
by the narrow road
that led to Linch farm

the water tower visible
against the afternoon sky
of pale blue and white

cold clouds
she was dressed
in a grey coat

and her dark hair
was pinned back
with grips

you noticed
blueness
about her lips

the cold taking toll
wasn't sure
if you would show

she said
the coldness
and such

I said I would
and I say
what I mean

you replied
once you were close to her
she took her hands

out of the coat pockets
and linked her arm
through yours

where shall we go?
she asked
you know it better

around here than I do
you choose
you said

let's go up
the dust track
to the hollow tree

on the way up
to the Downs
she said

ok
you said
and so you walked along

and up the dust track
side by side
and she talked

of the wintery trees
and what birds
there were still about

and how she liked
spring best with the coming
of flowers and birds nesting

and you listened
looking at her
as she spoke

watching her lips move
how when she spoke
her white teeth showed

and now and then
her tongue would show
and it reminded you

of that kiss she gave you
up by Diddling church
as you stood looking

at the grave stones
and she gazed at you
and then kissed

and her tongue
touched yours
and it was like heaven

as if someone
had opened up
your heart

and stuck
their tongue in there
and as you thought

about that kiss
she talked of some girl
of a cowman

who'd got pregnant
and how did that happen?
she asked

and you said nothing
but listened on
and then you reached

the hollow tree
and climbed inside
and sat down

looking out
of the hole
in the side

and it felt cosy
in there
like a small home

and she leaned
in against you
and there was silence

and you looked at her
at her eyes
and hair

and how her lips
were parted
and her white teeth

showed and her tongue
waiting to speak
and you wondered

about that kiss again
and whether
it would happen this time

there in the hollow tree
out of sight
of others

and she showed you
tucked between
her small breasts

a small locket
which used to be
her mother's.

poem by Terry Collett
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