Here, At A Meagre Earth
Here, at a meagre earth, despondent
And listless stare the dull grey skies,
And, as if plunged in leaden slumber,
A eary nature moveless lies.
Alone the few pale birches, gleaming
Mid greyish moss and stubby brush,
Like visions born of fevered dreaming
Disrupt the lifeless, eerie hush.
poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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Related quotes
Myself
As i lay here listless or lifeless
Well lifeless cause i'm not sure what listless means
Feelings of emptiness and sorrow
Excuse me are you listening do you have some life i can borrow
Trying to find wheres my place
Enough is enough can i remove this mask from my face
I want to be some one different now
I have tried this one far to long
Can i play another song
One that's words i can sing along
Now that life you said you would lend me
You said today cause you have plenty
Stand back and brace
For i am about to reveal wait there is no haste
So where is this life you said i could borrow
Don't make me wait it will be raining tomorrow
For i am lifeless you see
I want what you promised not your sympathy
Questions are running through your head
A voice cries i thought you were dead
So where is this life you promised me
Was it just words you said to me
Time has come to show my face
Will i be excepted by a race
A race that was lost when i masked my face
So maybe i am lifeless not listless
And maybe not only lifeless
But no i'm just myself
Love Magical
IF you had been where I have been
(Grey, grey the skies above),
And you had seen what I have seen,
You would not laugh at love.
Seek, seek till you find a rose
Red all through to its petal-tips,
And you shall know the curve of her mouth,
The scent of her breath and the red of her lips.
If you had heard what I have heard
(Dull, dull the beat of the sea).
Your heart would leap like a singing bird
Troubled and thrilled by ecstasy.
Stars sing in the dark o' the night,
Birds sing in the gold o' the noon;
Melody reigned in her speech a queen,
The song of the stars and the birds' tune.
The rose is dead that was her mouth
(Pale, pale on the earth it lies),
And East and West and North and South
The world is full of weeping eyes.
A noon is dark, a star is gone,
A rose is dead, a bird is mute;
And love that made sounds magical
Is silent like a broken lute.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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There May Be Chaos Still Around the World
There may be chaos still around the world,
This little world that in my thinking lies;
For mine own bosom is the paradise
Where all my life's fair visions are unfurled.
Within my nature's shell I slumber curled,
Unmindful of the changing outer skies,
Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies,
Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled.
I heed them not; or if the subtle night
Haunt me with deities I never saw,
I soon mine eyelid's drowsy curtain draw
To hide their myriad faces from my sight.
They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe
A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.
poem by George Santayana
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Graves At Christiania
WE bore them their own wild heather
And ash-boughs jeweled red,
There where they sleep together,
Greatest of Norway's dead.
More than the hush of churches
Is the hush where Ibsen lies,
Columned by poplars and birches,
Vaulted by glorious skies.
Over that heart undaunted
Soars a shaft of labrador,
Black yet beauty-haunted,
Marked with the hammer of Thor.
But what memorial lifted
To Björnson, loved of the folk?
We sought till our quest had drifted
Where tender voices spoke,
Where never a rail encloses
That resting-place of fame,
A little plot of roses,
Nameless nor needing name.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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On A Listless Noon
on a listless noon!
&
the noon sits heavily upon the earth-
the sullen wind grumbles through the tired leaves-
the trees droop down their gloomy branches-
the roadside noises punch my aching head;
the clouds are stickily stagnant
as the moss -spread on a soulless lake-
the time fades lazily
as the curling smoke thread from the incense stick-
one by one the black clouds devour the afternoon sun
and the sun wriggles out of their throats sluggishly-
the nature is listless and sober
as my dreams of life!
&
chandra kalaadhar.s.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Sun Is King Of The Skies
Sun is telling us to end microwave waves,
by making sun spots that interfere by it's rays.
Also Sun's sunspots will stop telecommunications
we don't know it but our brains send out vibrations
that are in synch with planet Earth's which is not a tribulation.
The magnetic field that is projected from solar flares
creates a magnetic storm and makes colorful skies
in which to stare.
The Aurora Borealis and Australis is the result of a solar
flare and it can pretty but also beware.
On Earth solar flares can disrupt radio signals and power grids
all satellites orbiting Earth can get hit because of solar winds.
Sun has it's way, does not want humans to have trash
in the skies to this day.
Sun and Earth will always rule in the end
follow the Mayan calendar my dear friend.
Written by Christina Sunrise on May 17,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Born In Time
By bob dylan
In the lonely night,
In the stardust of a pale moonlight,
I think of you in black and white
When we were made of dreams.
I walked alone through the shaky streets,
Listening to my heart beat
In the record-breaking heat
When we were born in time.
Just when I thought you were gone, you came back
Just when I was ready to receive you.
You were smooth, you were rough,
You were more than enough.
Ah babe, why did I ever leave you
Or believe you?
In the rising curve,
Where the ways of nature will test every nerve,
I took you close and got what I deserve
When we were born in time.
Just when I knew who to thank, you went blank
Just as the firelight was gleaming.
You were snow, you were rain,
You were stripes and you were plain.
Oh babe, can it be youve been scheming
Or was I dreaming?
In the hills of mystery,
In the foggy web of destiny,
Youre still so deep inside of me
When we were born in time.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where man has
Where man has conquered nature dies;
We shift some slender-growing pine
From out her own familiar skies
Where-under forests fall and rise,
To pots and gardens, then repine
That where man conquers nature dies.
The atmosphere that round her lies
Bears not the light that used to shine
From out her own familiar skies,
She is a stranger. So our eyes
Run o'er the world and seek a sign!
If where man conquers nature dies
What is our earthly paradise?
Will nature there withhold the wine
That from her own familiar skies
She used to pour? Do we devise
A garden earth and say, in fine,
Where man has conquered nature dies
From out her own familiar skies?
poem by Philip Henry Savage
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Dream - Love
dream - love
his brush
swept
through
the canvas
the skill
of a ballet
dancer
round, twirl,
trailing
my bodice
wave
and wave
of water
colours
a world
livened up
me taking
shape
wave
after wave
of his strokes
i sat
nakedly
amused
at
those
wild strokes
seeking
ways to
preserve
me
for posterity
inspired by
Dream-Love
Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are white.
Soft moss the pillow
For oh, a softer cheek;
Broad leaves cast shadow
Upon the heavy eyes:
There wind and waters
Grow lulled and scarcely speak;
There twilight lingers
The longest in the skies.
Young Love lies dreaming;
But who shall tell the dream?
A perfect sunlight
On rustling forest tips;
Or perfect moonlight
Upon a rippling stream;
Or perfect silence,
Or song of cherished lips.
Burn odours round him
To fill the drowsy air;
Weave silent dances
Around him to and fro;
For oh, in waking
The sights are no so fair,
And song and silence
Are not like these below.
Young Love lies dreaming
Till summer days are gone, -
Dreaming and drowsing
Away to perfect sleep:
He sees the beauty
Sun hath not looked upon,
And tastes the fountain
Unutterably deep.
Him perfect music
Doth hush unto his rest,
And through the pauses
The perfect silence calms:
Oh, poor the voices
Of earth from east to west,
And poor earth's stillness
Between her stately palms.
Young Love lies drowsing
Away to poppied death;
Cool shadows deepen
Across the sleeping face:
So fails the summer
With warm delicious breath;
And what hath autumn
To give us in its place?
Draw close the curtains
Of branched evergreen;
Change cannot touch them
With fading fingers sere:
Here first the violets
Perhaps with bud unseen,
And a dove, may be,
Return to nestle here.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Advent Wreath
The pale sun, gliding low,
refuses to rise into leaden
grey skies, so bleak night
inters our sinful souls.
Oh! break out the candles
and place them around!
See how their fires
consume the dark ground.
Bouquet of flame!
devour our sins,
and ignite winter’s night
in holy conflagration.
poem by Steven Federle
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Dream-Love
Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are white.
Soft moss the pillow
For oh, a softer cheek;
Broad leaves cast shadow
Upon the heavy eyes:
There winds and waters
Grow lulled and scarcely speak;
There twilight lingers
The longest in the skies.
Young Love lies dreaming;
But who shall tell the dream?
A perfect sunlight
On rustling forest tips;
Or perfect moonlight
Upon a rippling stream;
Or perfect silence,
Or song of cherished lips.
Burn odours round him
To fill the drowsy air;
Weave silent dances
Around him to and fro;
For oh, in waking
The sights are not so fair,
And song and silence
Are not like these below.
Young Love lies dreaming
Till summer days are gone,—
Dreaming and drowsing
Away to perfect sleep:
He sees the beauty
Sun hath not looked upon,
And tastes the fountain
Unutterably deep.
Him perfect music
Doth hush unto his rest,
And through the pauses
The perfect silence calms:
Oh, poor the voices
Of earth from east to west,
And poor earth's stillness
Between her stately palms.
Young Love lies drowsing
Away to poppied death;
Cool shadows deepen
Across the sleeping face:
So fails the summer
With warm, delicious breath;
And what hath autumn
To give us in its place?
Draw close the curtains
Of branched evergreen;
Change cannot touch them
With fading fingers sere:
Here the first violets
Perhaps will bud unseen,
And a dove, may be,
Return to nestle here.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream-Love
Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are white.
Soft moss the pillow
For oh, a softer cheek;
Broad leaves cast shadow
Upon the heavy eyes:
There wind and waters
Grow lulled and scarcely speak;
There twilight lingers
The longest in the skies.
Young Love lies dreaming;
But who shall tell the dream?
A perfect sunlight
On rustling forest tips;
Or perfect moonlight
Upon a rippling stream;
Or perfect silence,
Or song of cherished lips.
Burn odours round him
To fill the drowsy air;
Weave silent dances
Around him to and fro;
For oh, in waking
The sights are no so fair,
And song and silence
Are not like these below.
Young Love lies dreaming
Till summer days are gone, -
Dreaming and drowsing
Away to perfect sleep:
He sees the beauty
Sun hath not looked upon,
And tastes the fountain
Unutterably deep.
Him perfect music
Doth hush unto his rest,
And through the pauses
The perfect silence calms:
Oh, poor the voices
Of earth from east to west,
And poor earth's stillness
Between her stately palms.
Young Love lies drowsing
Away to poppied death;
Cool shadows deepen
Across the sleeping face:
So fails the summer
With warm delicious breath;
And what hath autumn
To give us in its place?
Draw close the curtains
Of branched evergreen;
Change cannot touch them
With fading fingers sere:
Here first the violets
Perhaps with bud unseen,
And a dove, may be,
Return to nestle here.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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At Even
Hush ye! Hush ye! My babe is sleeping.
Hush, ye winds, that are full of sorrow!
Hush, ye rains, from your weary weeping!
Give him slumber until to-morrow.
Hush ye, yet! In the years hereafter,
Surely sorrow is all his reaping;
Tears shall be in the place of laughter,
Give him peace for a while in sleeping.
Hush ye, hush! he is weak and ailing:
Send his mother his share of weeping.
Hush ye, winds, from your endless wailing;
Hush ye, hush ye, my babe is sleeping!
poem by Frederic Manning
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Before The Snow
The winter is upon us, not the snow,
The hills are etched on the horizon bare,
The skies are iron grey, a bitter air,
The meagre cloudlets shudder to and fro.
One yellow leaf the listless wind doth blow,
Like some strange butterfly, unclassed and rare.
Your footsteps ring in frozen alleys, where
The black trees seem to shiver as you go.
Beyond lie church and steeple, with their old
And rusty vanes that rattle as they veer,
A sharper gust would shake them from their hold,
Yet up that path, in summer of the year,
And past that melancholy pile we strolled
To pluck wild strawberries, with merry cheer.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Hushabye
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
Hush hush
Hushabye
Hushabye
Hushabye
Oh my darlin dont you cry
Guardian angels up above
Take care of the one I love
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
Hush hush
Hushabye
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
Hush hush
Hushabye
Oooo oooo oooo oooo
Lullabye and goodnight
In your dreams I hold you tight
Lullabye and goodnight
Til the dawns early light
Pillows lying on your bed
Oh my darling rest your head
Sandman will be coming soon
Singing you a slumber tune
Oo ooo oooo oooo ooo ooo ooo
Hush
Hush
Hushabye
Oo ooo oooo oooo ooo ooo ooo
Hush
Hush
Hushabye
Oo ooo oooo oooo ooo ooo ooo
Oo ooo oooo oooo ooo ooo ooo
Ah ah ah ah
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pessimism
I
WHILE baby Spring sticks daisies in her hair,
Or Summer laughs with flushed triumphant face
We crush our heart rebellious at earth's grace,
And smile 'How, like the season, life is fair!'
But when the last leaf falls in the dull air,
And skies grow pale, and fields lie lost a space,
Ere their first furrow ploughs begin to trace,
And pastures shiver desolate and bare--
Oh, then one breathes; at last free from the sway
Of selfish spring--from summer's insolent reign,
One dares to speak the truth--how all life's way
Is blank as autumn skies made grey with rain,
Most blank when most the glad year bade forbear
To mar her grace with our unveiled despair.
II
NOT Spring--too lavish of her bud and leaf--
But Autumn, with sad eyes and brow austere,
When fields are bare, and woods are brown and sere,
And leaden skies weep their exhaustless grief.
Spring is so much too bright, since Spring is brief.
And in our hearts is autumn all the year,
Least sad when the wide pastures are most drear,
And fields grieve most robbed of the last gold sheaf.
For when the plough goes down the brown wet field,
A delicate doubtful throb of hope is ours--
What if this coming Spring at last should yield
Joy, with her too profuse unasked-for flowers?
Not all our Springs of commonplace and pain
Have taught us now that autumn hope is vain.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Night workers..
Night is frozen and full of dust,
Nocturnal creatures are out on lust,
Trainee painters colored the earth,
Using the shades of grey at the brush,
A few take the paint in the bucket,
Splatter the darker grey on the forest,
They think to color the rivers of blue,
Adding the grey to the blue, make it dark,
How hard they paint the civilization black,
The lights of men make it bright,
Bored of painting on the roads,
back alleys are pained with what they have,
Forgotten the painting of the sea,
They throw their balance paint and brush into it,
Before they finish the job and get paid,
The cleaner of the earth arrives from the Vacuum,
Sucked in all the dust from the horizon,
The perfectly visible earth emerges,
After the thawing of its all nightly desires.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sherbet Skies
sherbet skies
against city lights
swimming in oceans of purple clouds
fields of daisies
dance around me
memories of the past surround me
lingering as long as time allows
the snapshot fades
to dull shades of grey
as the heavens become a black, starry hole
sherbet skies
speak the truth within lies
and the beauty has been burned in my soul
poem by Cheyenne Ringuette
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The Blue Kingfisher
Where the little river gleaming
Thro' its shadows green and cool
Broadens to the quiet dreaming
Of a little shady pool;
There an azure jewel burning
O'er the waters you may spy,
Never moving never turning:
'Tis the silent fisher,
Head aloft above the river,
With an apathetic air,
Not the smallest quirk nor quiver
Warns you of my presence there.
Mayhap you will thnk me sleeping -
Dreaming summer days away -
Till you mark a keen eye peeping
Where the tell-tale ripples play.
Now a dive, a sudden darting,
Now a flash of gold and blue,
And the placid waters parting
Let my gleaming body thro'.
Then, long ere the ripples, spreading,
Circle to the pool's green lip
Back to safety I am heading;
And the kill is in my grip.
So I haunt the cool, dark places
By the river, from that hour
When the dawn's bright finger traces
Fairy lights about my bower,
Till the western hilltops redden,
Fade, and vanish I am there,
And the far skies, growing leaden,
Bid me seek my secret lair.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Simplicity Of Thoughts
thoughts are simple
i see them without color
we dress thoughts with words
so the other person we love can see
we add a little touch of the hand
so the other can feel that she is not lonely
that i am can also feel
that i am not alone
but whether we are here or not
lonely or otherwise
thoughts still roam this world
looking for a medium
the tree, the cloud, the moss and the rock
it is my theory have thoughts
the rock is numb the cloud is lifeless
the tree is deeply rooted to the earth
the moss too green sticking to a rock
remembering the rivers that were with it
for centuries, they get tired
and they do not believe in words anymore
too many lies
and verbosity
we are the only ones who still have faith
and too foolish.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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