Edelweiss
THERE grows a white, white flower
By the wild Alps of romance;
And who would reach its dainty leaves
Takes life and death in chance.
There is a dark, dark cavern
Where a woman goes alone,
Takes hope and peril in her hand
And fights Death on his throne.
To our heart’s breathless calling
She comes from the cavern wild,
Holding in her exhausted arms
A small, white, blossoming child.
poem by Frank Wilmot
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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A thought after Yeats
When youth was life and life was youth
and life was love and love was life,
I thought love came and went;
its coming, overwhelming; and its going,
death of spirit; then, as if
the wild white swans had flown away
and left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.
But now I know it’s not like that:
love that, guarded, never flies from here in heart
to where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;
ungiven every livelong day
it turns to rags and dry old bones,
confiscated in the heart.
Better now, be with those wild white swans
which on a dark cold icy winter’s day
gather at the water’s edge to stretch
for yesterday’s warm loaf still fresh;
then turn, swim, lift strong wings and fly
one knows not where, and may not ask;
watch them then, into the distance;
hear the flap of wings grow into silent air;
pause still a little while;
then turn, one’s living breath
white in that winter air;
then back to warmth of home and love and peat fire
glowing in the hearth of heart renewed.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Battleground
Black nigger white nigger standing in the dark
Listen to the rhythm of the bass boom
Black nigger takes a hit sending up a spark
In the dark heat
Swaying a little to the bass beat
White nigger takes a hit takes money out
Says this is what its all about
Rots your brain - who cares
Black nigger stares
White nigger sighs
I like your music
I like your style
I crack a joke so why dont you smile
White nigger dancing out on the floor tonight
The bands not good but the beat seems right
The bands all black and the floors all white
Clenching fists unite and fight
Rock agianst racism rules tonight
But in the real world
No-one rules
But fists are clenched all right
Down in the underground
Out in the playground
The common ground
Is a battleground
Now you dont have to be black to be a nigger no more
The writings on the wall
Say - black is power
White is flower
Diveded we fall
And behind the wall
Behind the door,
In the dark heat
In the rhythm of the bass beat
Something is wrong
And no-one is taking the blame
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drinkin' Dark Whiskey
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
One leads to another
On a Saturday night
Don't ya cross your heart
Unless you hope to die
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
Well, the first drop burns
But the second one goes down smooth
Then that old black label
Gets a hold of you
It loosens your tongue
But it never tells the truth
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
One leads to another
On a Saturday night
Don't ya cross your heart
Unless you hope to die
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
When the bottle starts talkin'
Be careful what he might say
He talks in the dark
Like he never would in the day
Then he gets in trouble
Just as soon as he gets away
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
One leads to another
On a Saturday night
Don't ya cross your heart
Unless you hope to die
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
Well a little white lie
Don't mean anyone no good
When it's makin' the rounds
All over the neighborhood
Next thing you know
You're all misunderstood
When you're...
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
One leads to another
On a Saturday night
Don't ya cross your heart
Unless you hope to die
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies
Drinkin' dark whiskey
Tellin' white lies..
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Can Come In Many Ways
Death by murder
Death by chance
Death by secert night romance
Death by number
paint the liner
Death in color or in black and white
accidental
planned
prolonged
De ath by always doin wrong
Death by slef
and timeless art
Death by one last broken heart
poem by Miranda Shaffer
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Red
There are three colores,
Each a meaning,
in its own,
a little more important,
Than the rest.
White is calm, white is blank,
white is pure and white is clean,
white is the color of doves,
white is the color of here and there,
white is pure.
Black is dark, black is full,
Black is absent and black is stained,
Black is the color of night,
Black is the color of life and death,
Black is dark.
There is one other to say,
The one that flows within,
This color is not white,
but it is pure,
this color is not black,
But it is dark,
This color is all,
It is calm, it is blank,
It is dark, it is full,
both pure and stained,
clean and absent,
it is life it is death,
it is here and it is there,
this is the color,
of everything,
It is red.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Design
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
poem by Robert Frost
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White Comedy
I waz whitemailed
By a white witch,
Wid white magic
An white lies,
Branded by a white sheep
I slaved as a whitesmith
Near a white spot
Where I suffered whitewater fever.
Whitelisted as a whiteleg
I waz in de white book
As a master of white art,
It waz like white death.
People called me white jack
Some hailed me as a white wog,
So I joined de white watch
Trained as a white guard
Lived off the white economy.
Caught and beaten by de whiteshirts
I waz condemned to a white mass,
Don't worry,
I shall be writing to de Black House.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Dark Of Night
IN THE DARK OF NIGHT , YOU REACH OUT TO ME , AS I TAKE YOUR HAND, YOU DRAW ME CLOSER AND TOGETHER WE STAND.THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES, THE TOUCH OF YOUR KISS, OUR HEARTS BEAT IN RYTHEM WHEN YOU HOLD ME LIKE THIS, THE TOUCH OF YOUR FINGERS AS THEY SEARCH AND EXPLORE, LEAVES ME BREATHLESS AND WEAK AND YEARNING FOR MORE, THE FEEL OF YOUR BODY PRESSED TIGHT AGAINST MINE, WE ARE LOST IN EACH OTHER, AS THE DARK OF NIGHT TURNS BACK TIME.I REACH OUT TO YOU TO DRAW YOU NEAR, ONLY TO WAKE TO FIND YOU ARE NOT HERE, .IM HOLDING YOUR PILLOW, AND HOLDING IT TIGHT, AS MY CRIES OF SORROW PIERCES THE QUITE, I CALL OUT YOUR NAME IN THE DARK OF NIGHT, I ASK FOR ONLY, ONE LAST CHANCE TO TOUCH YOUR FACE, TO HOLD YOU CLOSE ONE MORE TIME IN THE DARK OF NIGHT. .THE ONLY ANSWER THAT I HEAR, IS THE SHATERING SOUND OF A BREAKING HEART, AND THE ROARING SOUND OF THE SEA OF TEARS , AS I BEGIN FALLING APART., MY FINGERS KEEP SEARCHING THE EMPTY SPACE , WISHING FOR ONE LAST CHANCE TO REACH OUT AND CARESS YOUR FACE.THEY ONLY FIND YOU ARE NOT THERE, THE COLD ROUGH SHEET AWAITS THEM THERE, AS THEY KEEP SEARCHING IN THE DARK NIGHT AIR.
poem by Judy Compton
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In White
A dented spider like a snow drop white
On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth -
Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? -
Portent in little, assorted death and blight
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth? -
The beady spider, the flower like a froth,
And the moth carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The blue prunella every child's delight.
What brought the kindred spider to that height?
(Make we no thesis of the miller's plight.)
What but design of darkness and of night?
Design, design! Do I use the word aright?
poem by Robert Frost
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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The Call Of April
April calling, April calling,
April calling me!
I hear the voice of April there
In each old apple tree:
Bee-boom and wild perfume,
And wood-brook melody,
O hark, my heart, and hear, my heart,
The April Ecstasy!
Hark to the hills, the oldtime hills,
That talk with sea and sky!
Or speak in murmurs with God's winds
Who on their bosoms lie:
Bird-call and waterfall
And white clouds blowing by,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
The April's cosmic cry!
There runs a whisper through the woods,
The word of bough to bough,
A sound of dead things donning green,
Of Beauty waking now:
Fern-bower and wilding flower,
Each like a prayer or vow,
O see, my heart, O look, my heart,
Where Earth crowns white her brow!
And far away, and far away,
Yet nearer than she seems,
Look where she takes the oldtime trail
And walks again with dreams:
Bird note and blue remote
And laughter of wild streams,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
And follow where she gleams!
Earth has put off her winter garb
Of gray and drab and dun,
And robes herself in raiment green
Of love and laughter spun:
Wood-bloom and wood-perfume
And colors of the sun,
O hark, my heart, O hear, my heart,
Where her wild footsteps run!
O April, mother of my soul,
Take to your heart your child:
And let him lie a little while
Upon its rapture wild:
Lean close and near, and let him hear
The words that once beguiled,
And on his eyes the kiss again
Of longing reconciled.
O kiss, that fills the fields with flowers
And thrills with green each grove,
Dream down into this heart again
And grow to songs thereof:
Wild songs in singing throngs,
That swift shall mount above,
And, like to birds, with lyric words,
Take Earth and Heaven with love.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Black and White
They fights their fights and they hunt their game,
As they did before the white man came,
Far in the unexplored Outback,
Where still Australia's mostly black.
They little know of white men's laws,
Or of Australia's cherished cause,
Or any of that bag of tricks
Of policies or politics.
Yet, tho' they little dream of it,
Our wild black brothers do their bit;
For while they hanker for a fight
They help to keep Australia white.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh
It is snowing and death bugs me
as stubborn as insomnia.
The fierce bubbles of chalk,
the little white lesions
settle on the street outside.
It is snowing and the ninety
year old woman who was combing
out her long white wraith hair
is gone, embalmed even now,
even tonight her arms are smooth
muskets at her side and nothing
issues from her but her last word - 'Oh.' Surprised by death.
It is snowing. Paper spots
are falling from the punch.
Hello? Mrs. Death is here!
She suffers according to the digits
of my hate. I hear the filaments
of alabaster. I would lie down
with them and lift my madness
off like a wig. I would lie
outside in a room of wool
and let the snow cover me.
Paris white or flake white
or argentine, all in the washbasin
of my mouth, calling, 'Oh.'
I am empty. I am witless.
Death is here. There is no
other settlement. Snow!
See the mark, the pock, the pock!
Meanwhile you pour tea
with your handsome gentle hands.
Then you deliberately take your
forefinger and point it at my temple,
saying, 'You suicide bitch!
I'd like to take a corkscrew
and screw out all your brains
and you'd never be back ever.'
And I close my eyes over the steaming
tea and see God opening His teeth.
'Oh.' He says.
I see the child in me writing, 'Oh.'
Oh, my dear, not why.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Mesmeric
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
So mesmeric in blue,
Are they to cut me down to size
So that I might fear you?
Or are they there to gain my trust
That friendship grows and grows?
If so, then why am I nonplussed,
Can't move my legs, feet, toes?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
If only you would blink!
I'd get a chance to realise!
I'd get a chance to think!
What lessons could you teach my soul?
What blessings for my heart?
Or would you quickly take control
And then tear me apart?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
What secrets lay behind?
What wonders lay in dark surprise
To captivate my mind?
Despite your gracious majesty,
You're getting on my wick!
First chance I get, I must break free,
Turn tail and scarper quick!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mesmeric'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Wild Things Run Fast
He came
She smiled
She thought she had him tamed
But he was just as wild
Eating from her hand at last
Wild things run fast
In the dark
He could see
The trap that was lying in her
Sweet company
Eating from her hand at last
Wild things run fast
Winter beat the pines about
He heard the heater
Cutting in and out
While she dreamed away . . .
In the night
It snowed
Fast tracks in the powder white
Leading out to the road
Winding from her tender grasp
Wild things run fast
Wild things run fast
Wild things run fast
What makes you run?
Wild thing
I thought you loved me
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Death
Everyone goes through dark death
It's painful, cruel, and somehow blue
Everyone suffers until last breath
Somewhere the will find a clue
Death is something you can't escape
Sooner or later you'll have to face it
Death is scary and dark like a black cape
You can't see it coming, it'll just hit
Dark death is sometimes sweet
people like it because it takes away he misery
People shoot, hit, and beat
They'll rot away like celery
Dark death is sometimes cool
but it's mostly always cruel
poem by Maria Lara
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Tuning Into Something Wild
Key:-
"a" - anita
"r" - ray
A: tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: you're feeling something wild now!
R: hey precious, hey burning child
Time to tune to something wild
It's new, it's hot, it's all you're not
Don't turn back, it's all we've got
You're breathless, you're out of step
Time to learn just what is hip
If you think you're in a jumble
That's the way the cookie crumbles
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
R: wilder and wilder
A; you can feel it coming!
R: well, maybe so-- we're in a mess
World gone wrong but don't forget
There's a groove that makes you wonder
How the hell they sample thunder
It's glorious, it's boom, boom, boom
Bless the noise that shakes the room
If you think we're getting milder
Brace yourself for something wilder
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: hey yeah
R: brace yourself!
Brace yourself!
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth--nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
thefield by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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