En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sirmio

Sirmio, you jewel of all peninsulas
and all the islands of the crystal lakes
and the great oceans Neptune circles,
how delightedly, how gladly, I return,
hardly believing myself I’ve safely left
Thynia and those Black Sea shores behind.

What is better than to be free from care
when the mind throws off its load and, at last,
from foreign journeys, we reach our own home,
sink back to rest on the one bed we longed for?
This is reward enough for all our efforts.
You, welcome sight, O lovely Sirmio, be happy,
and you too, Lydian Lake Garda’s waters,
laugh, with whatever gleaming laughter you have.

poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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Catullus: XXXI

(After passing Sirmione, April 1887.)

Sirmio, thou dearest dear of strands
That Neptune strokes in lake and sea,
With what high joy from stranger lands
Doth thy old friend set foot on thee!
Yea, barely seems it true to me
That no Bithynia holds me now,
But calmly and assuringly
Around me stretchest homely Thou.

Is there a scene more sweet than when
Our clinging cares are undercast,
And, worn by alien moils and men,
The long untrodden sill repassed,
We press the pined for couch at last,
And find a full repayment there?
Then hail, sweet Sirmio; thou that wast,
And art, mine own unrivalled Fair!

poem by Thomas Hardy
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I Wish I Had My Home

Home

Brandon

Home

What is a home?

Where is home?

When can I go home?

Home is a place where you can feel safe

Home is a place where you can break down in the free

Home is the place where you feel joy happiness and whole

Home is a place where you lay your heart in

I have laid my heart in three different places

(What) My first home is a place everywhere

All I need is a basket and a ball

All I did was give a ball love and I got something better in return

A ball gave me hope, understanding and appreciation for true love

I have never put more hours into one thing than it

It was always my top priority and I was it’s top priority

Better than any girlfriend and any friend

Home

Brandon

Home

What is a home?

Where is home?

When can I go home?

Home is a place where you can feel safe

Home is a place where you can break down in the free

Home is the place where you feel joy happiness and whole

Home is a place where you lay your heart in

I have laid my heart in three different places

(What) My first home is a place everywhere

All I need is a basket and a ball

All I did was give a ball love and I got something better in return

A ball gave me hope, understanding and appreciation for true love

I have never put more hours into one thing than it

It was always my top priority and I was it’s top priority

Better than any girlfriend and any friend

It only treated me great when I treated it great

I could never leave my hear with it because it put it’s heart in mine

I wish I had my home

(Where) My home is a place where dreams are rested and free and comfort

I feel safe, I feel that I can get some sleep and I feel that Im at home

When my body needs a rest it has hammocks for me

When I need a place to think and collaborate it always had a quite spot with a beautiful view for me

When I need a place to escape to, it welcomes me with open arms and I can stay as long as I like

I have made my imprint in the Cayman Islands and It has left its imprint in me and have left one part of my life in it and

I wish I could go back home.

(When) I miss her so much and I would do anything to see her again

I miss her humbleness, her laugh and her comfort when I need to break down

I miss her when I need her there or when there is a good moment

I miss my home because my home is in her

She is my home but it is a place where I cannot stay

Instead of me leaving my home, my home left me and I forgot something inside

I know she can take care of my home but I hope she takes care of my heart

If it has too I know it will bleed for her and it would become hers

All I want is to know when I can go and see my home where my heart lays

poem by Buddha Love
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Journeys End For The Poet

i am at my journeys end
looking back at my life, family, friends.

all my life i tried to be, smiling, happy, and carefree.
but! at times life throws you a curve ball
just to see if you have the gall.

to turn your life completly around
and to see if you have found.
all the beauties that GOD has given to us.
if in him we put our trust.

the curve ball is not to strike you out
but to see if you'll fight that bout.

the fight is not physical
but a raging war within you
so that you may see, right from wrong
and to grow big and strong.

this is the life that i am seeing
and this is the life that i'm not believing.
so many times i had the chance to
pick up the slack.
but i refused, and turned my back.

what must it take for us to see
the love from our family.
in life we all need a helping hand
let's just stop and take a stand.
we can not do everything in life alone
that is something that is shown.

even CHRIST needed help
so to the apostles, the cards he dealt.
he showed the apostles that if their belief is great.
the words they teach, is not too late.

like everyone else, i see the journeys end
but! through my poetry- i found my friends.
we do not have to do special deeds
' just help someone that's in need'.

this is what GOD wants us to learn
it is time we take our turn.
let us keep the children in sight
when we pick up our pens-' and start to write'.

if we could save just one child through our words
then we'll know that we've been heard.
' poetry is the key'
to set a childs mind free.

poem by Louis Rams
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Nora, the Maid of Killarney

Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Off times I have met my own dear Barney,
In the sweet summer time of the year,
In the silvery moonlight so clear,
I've rambled with my sweetheart Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.

The Lakes of Killarney are most lovely to be seen
In the summer season when nature's face is green,
Especially in the beautiful silvery moonlight,
When its waters do shine like silver bright;
Such was the time when me and my Barney
Went to walk by the purty Lakes of Killarney.

My Barney was beautiful, gallant, and gay,
But, alas, he has left me and gone far away,
To that foreign country called Amerikay;
But when he returns we will get married without delay,
And again we will roam by the Lakes of Killarney,
Me and my sweetheart, charming Barney.

And until he returns I will feel rather sad,
For while walking with Barney I always felt glad;
May God send him home again safe to me,
And he will fill my sad heart with glee,
While we walk by the Lakes of Killarney.

I dreamt one night I was walking with Barney,
Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
And he said, "Nora, dear Nora, don't fret for me,
For I will soon come home to thee;
And I will build a nice cabin near the Lakes of Killarney,
And Nora will live happy with her own dear Barney."

But, alas, I awoke from my beautiful dream,
For, och, if was a most lovely scene;
But I hope it will happen some unexpected day,
When Barney comes home from Amerikay;
Then Barney will relate his adventures to me,
As we walk by the silvery Lakes of Killarney.

We will ramble among its green trees and green bushes,
And hear the sweet songs of the blackbirds and thrushes,
And gaze on its lovely banks so green,
And its waters glittering like crystal in the moonlight's sheen;
Och! how I long to be walking with Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.

Of all the spots in Ireland, Killarney for me,
For 'twas there I first met my dear Barney:
He was singing, I remember, right merrily;
And his singing filled my heart with glee,
And he said, "Nora, dear Nora, will you walk with me,
For you are the prettiest girl I ever did see."

"Now, Barney," I said, "you are just mocking me,
When you say no other girl like me you can see";
Then he said, "Nora, you are the only girl I do love,
And this I do swear by the saints above,
I will marry you, dear Nora, without delay,
When I come home from Amerikay."

But when Barney landed in Amerikay,
He courted another girl without dismay,
And he married her in the month of May,
And when I heard it I fainted away;
So maidens beware of such men as Barney,
Or else they will deceive ye with their flattering blarney.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Sik Road for C.P.Sharma

Silk Road.

I will remember ‘til I die,
the crowded caravanserai
Where weary travellers spent the night
and tried to sleep until day light.

The camels voicing their complaint
would try the patience of a saint.
Our journey started in Cathay
we very slowly made our way.

With bales of silk we would exchange
for foreign treasures rare and strange.
A camel driver’s life is hard
we risked our lives for small reward.

The greedy merchants stayed at home.
It’s only fools like me that roam
and dare the dangers of the road
to protect our precious load.

We traversed over desert sands
until we reached the greener land.
The rugged mountains of the west
but still for us there’s little rest.

For brigands dog us all the way
We have to keep watch night and day
until we reach our journeys end.
We must be ready to defend

ourselves against the outlaw bands.
Who roam at will in the wild lands,
where they sell for easy prey
unarmed travellers to way lay.

But we are many and well armed
allowed to go our way unharmed.
Until we reach our final goal,
though we must pay the city toll.

Before we sell our merchandise
to anyone who has the price.
Fine silk a rare commodity
their merchants will buy readily.

When all is sold then we can rest
before we face the final test
Of getting safely home again
a happy band of weary men.

I am grown old my hair is white
but I remember with delight.
The great adventures that I had
while I was still a growing lad.

The old Silk Road still calls to me.
Because of my infirmity
I am too old and weak today.
I cannot go so I must stay.

I watch the caravans pass by
no longer touched by jealousy.
I know my travelling days are done
and that quite soon I will be gone.

Far, far beyond the yellow springs
to where the golden dragon sings
his song of welcome from the skies
for every son of Han who dies.
30-Apr-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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On Catullus

Tell me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalia’s son
Such stains there are—as when a Grace
Sprinkles another’s laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.

poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Take Off That Load For A While

I see,
Your problem is heavy
I can feel its load
And I too cannot carry it,
But if you are kind to yourself
Like a friend
Why not take that load off
A while
And take your rest
Breathe deeply as you take
A walk around
This peaceful lake
Try meeting the
Colored fishes
In the transparencies
Of its waters
Touch a tree
Feel the strength
Of brown barks
Climb if you want
And see some
Nests with eggs
Hear the songs
Of birds on this
Hilltop and then
Walk again around
This lake

Let us see if the
Load is really
That heavy
Afterwards

You may come
Back tonight
And see the
Full moon
Sailing on
The placid water

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Winter Lakes

Out in a world of death far to the northward lying,
Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day;
Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying,
Wan and waste and white, stretch the great lakes away.

Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer,
Never a dream of love, never a song of bird;
But only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber,
Wherever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard.

Crags that are black and wet out of the grey lake looming,
Under the sunset's flush and the pallid, faint glimmer of dawn;
Shadowy, ghost-like shores, where midnight surfs are booming
Thunders of wintry woe over the spaces wan.

Lands that loom like spectres, whited regions of winter,
Wastes of desolate woods, deserts of water and shore;
A world of winter and death, within these regions who enter,
Lost to summer and life, go to return no more.

Moons that glimmer above, waters that lie white under,
Miles and miles of lake far out under the night;
Foaming crests of waves, surfs that shoreward thunder,
Shadowy shapes that flee, haunting the spaces white.

Lonely hidden bays, moon-lit, ice-rimmed, winding,
Fringed by forests and crags, haunted by shadowy shores;
Hushed from the outward strife, where the mighty surf is grinding
Death and hate on the rocks, as sandward and landward it roars.

poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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A Lovely Lake

She is the lovely lake
and I the dingy boat
cork-strewn upon her surface,
moving in her eddies unnoticed
rocked by every movement
she makes.
sinking so easily beneath her notice.

I dip my oars and row away
but lakes are large, sometimes turbulent
sometimes glassy;
always edgy for the dingy man
who must keep abreast of the weather
least it change
and a brilliant smile illuminate and blind
me, the oarsman
who will, in all events, willingly crash upon her lovely shores.
One oar floats away-I row in circles until
I become stranded leeward on her sandbar
whilst all around she flows and flows.

I dive in
and swim with her.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Your in my state of Mind

Happiness is a state of mind,
It's hard to get,
but easy to loose,
Smile I say,
Don't let that teardropp fall,
But all of a sudden
Those memories come back,
And old feelings start rushing back,
Wait...
Stop...
Just take a minute to think about this,
There's no time left for thinking,
Laugh to keep from crying,
Laugh until it all goes away...
Until everything goes
BLACK

('It is better to write of laughter, than of tears, for laughter is the property of man'-Francois Rabelais(French Author)

poem by Shae Omani
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Going Home

Writers: leo sayer & alan tarney
No crying no sighing Im going home
Im leaving no grieving Im going home
And theres no one here
And theres nothing here gonna turn me around
Been a lifetime here full of doubt and fear
Been the talk of the town
Im going home
Im going home
Im going home
Im smiling Im flying Im going home
No sad face no suitcase Im going home
And Im thinking back
To the girl I left is she waiting for me
When I left my heart wasnt in my hands
Is she waiting home for me
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
I know my friends will be there
And they will welcome me
Ill wash away these memories
From these dirty streets
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
Im dreaming Im scheming Im going home
Im racing times wasting Im going home
And I see my home and I see my dream
I see everyone there
Going right back down to when I was free
And I hadnt a care
Im going home
Im going home
Im going home
And in my babys eyes
I see joy and pride
Uncover all those lies
That I left behind
When I get home
And I see my home and I see my dream
I see everyone there
Going right back down to when I was free
And I hadnt a care
When I get home

song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Facing West From California's Shores

FACING west, from California's shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the
land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western Sea--the circle almost circled;
For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia--from the north--from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south--from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands;
Long having wander'd since--round the earth having wander'd,
Now I face home again--very pleas'd and joyous;
(But where is what I started for, so long ago? 10
And why is it yet unfound?)

poem by Walt Whitman
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At dusk as I urged the fish too bite

I remember the lake light shining
Like a disk as I fished for perch or pike
At dusk as I urged the fish too bite!
Bite a spoon of shimmering bait…

I remember bats flitting and circling
Like the insects they longed to catch…
And the ripples left by fish, that had.
I remember the blunt roll-call home…

The boathouse like a sarcophagus…
With its two well rotten doors
Gaping open; like malnourished jaws.
Awaiting, deaths ferrymen back.
Back to them; keep net shores.

I remember the rolling. Fog, rising
About the gnarled chestnut trees
Billowing-out; into brackish reeds…
And then a slice of moon leaping,
Frantic; pulling line from my spool.

I remember the lake light shining
In the scales of a real; living ghoul
Plucked out of the waters fighting…
Was a fish that wasn't preschool.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Lake Marie

Chorus:
We were standing
Standing by peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Many years ago along the illinois-wisconsin border
There was this indian tribe
They found two babies in the woods
White babies
One of them was named elizabeth
She was the fairer of the two
While the smaller and more fragile one was named marie
Having never seen white girls before
And living on the two lakes known as the twin lakes
They named the larger and more beautiful lake, lake elizabeth
And thus the smaller lake that was hidden from the highway
Became known forever as lake marie
Repeat chorus:
Many years later I found myself talking to this girl
Who was standing there with her back turned to lake marie
The wind was blowing especially through her hair
There was four italian sausages cooking on the outdoor grill
And man, they was ssssssssizzlin
Many years later we found ourselves in canada
Trying to save our marriage and perhaps catch a few fish
Whatever seemed easier
That night she fell asleep in my arms
Humming the tune to louie louie
Aah baby, we gotta go now.
Repeat chorus:
The dogs were barking as the cars were parking
The loan sharks were sharking the narcs were narcing
Practically everyone was there
In the parking lot by the forest preserve
The police had found two bodies
Nay, naked bodies
Their faces had been horribly disfigured by some sharp object
Saw it on the news on the tv news in a black and white video
You know what blood looks like in a black and white video?
Shadows, shadows thats exactly what it looks like
All the love we shared between her and me was slammed
Slammed up against the banks of old lake marie, marie
We were standing
Standing by peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Aah baby, we gotta go now

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Aberfoyle

The mountains and glens of Aberfoyle are beautiful to sight,
Likewise the rivers and lakes are sparkling and bright;
And its woods were frequented by the Lady of the Lake,
And on its Lakes many a sail in her boat she did take.

The scenery there will fill the tourist with joy,
Because 'tis there once lived the bold Rob Roy,
Who spent many happy days with his Helen there,
By chasing the deer in the woods so fair.

The little vale of Aberfoyle and its beautiful river
Is a sight, once seen, forget it you'll never;
And romantic ranges of rock on either side
Form a magnificent background far and wide.

And the numerous lochs there abound with trout
Which can be had for the taking out,
Especially from the Lochs Chon and Ard,
There the angler can make a catch which will his toil reward.

And between the two lochs the Glasgow Water Works are near,
Which convey water of Loch Katrine in copious streams clear
To the inhabitants of the Great Metropolis of the West,
And for such pure water they should think themselves blest.

The oak and birch woods there are beautiful to view,
Also the Ochil hills which are blue in hue,
Likewise the Lake of Menteith can be seen far eastward,
Also Stirling Castle, which long ago the English beseiged very hard.

Then away to Aberfoyle, Rob Roy's country,
And gaze on the magnificent scenery.
A region of rivers and mountains towering majestically
Which is lovely and fascinating to see.

But no words can describe the beautiful scenery.
Aberfoyle must be visited in order to see,
So that the mind may apprehend its beauties around,
Which will charm the hearts of the visitors I'll be bound.

As for the clachan of aberfoyle, little remains but a hotel,
Which for accomodation which will suit the traveller very well.
And the bedding thereis clean and good,
And good cooks there to cook the food.

Then away to the mountains and lakes of bonnie Aberfoyle,
Ye hard-working sons and daughters of daily toil;
And traverse its heathery mountains and viewits lakes so clear,
When the face of Nature's green in the spring of the year.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Jewel Eyed Judy

Written by danny kirwan, mick fleetwood, and john mcvie.
Moonshine time
Thoughts of you
Spinning round
As thoughts do
I just wondered if
Your eyes still shine
As they did
When you were mine
I can see
In a dream
Thougts so clear
And jewels that gleam
Would your eyes
Still sparkle then
If we were, once again
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Lovely judy
Can you see
Where it is
Youre meant to be
Where you lay
Your head tonight
May the stars
Find your light
So am i
Sitting here
Moonlight glistens
On my tears
Is this all
That we could find
Chains of memories
Left behind
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone
Jewel eyed judy please come home
Jewel eyed judy dont leave me alone

song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Defector

Orbison/dees/angie morrow
It's the bonnie and clyde days
Where the girls wear curls and lace
And the boys can't stand the pace of war
It's not the war but the cause the country's fighting for
The seed of discontent is sown
They're burning card back home, back home
The old folks just can't ignore
The posters with ink anymore
I'm not sure what to think
Now i wonder why i'm on this foreign shore
To find peace of mind
For now i walk alone
Amd it's no better to leave than stay
And give more than i had to give
My life was not my own the wife i've never known
I may never know i may never go back home
To the land of the free, back home
To the land of the free back home
Would there be a place for me back home back home?
Well i always wonder why
Will they take me when i die back home

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea-Shore Musings

How oft I’ve longed to gaze on thee,
Thou proud and mighty deep!
Thy vast horizon, boundless, free,
Thy coast so rude and steep;
And now entranced I breathless stand,
Where earth and ocean meet,
Whilst billows wash the golden sand,
And break around my feet.

Lovely thou art when dawn’s red light
Sheds o’er thee its soft hue,
Showing fair ships, a gallant sight,
Upon thy waters blue;
And when the moonbeams softly pour
Their light on wave or glen,
And diamond spray leaps on the shore,
How lovely art thou then!

Still, as I look, faint shadows steal
O’er thy calm heaving breast,
And there are times, I sadly feel,
Thou art not thus at rest;
And I bethink me of past tales,
Of ships that left the shore,
And meeting with thy fearful gales,
Have ne’er been heard of more.

They say thy depths hold treasures rare,
Groves coral—sands of gold—
Pearls fitted for a monarch’s wear
And gems of worth untold;
But these could not to life restore
The idol of one home,
Nor make brave hearts beat high once more
That sleep beneath thy foam.

But I must chase such thoughts away,
They mar this happy hour,
Remembering thou dost but obey
Thy Great Creator’s, power;
And in my own fair inland home,
Mysterious, moaning main,
In dreams I’ll see thy snow-white foam
And frowning rocks again.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Ships Passing In Night Born

ships are sailing upon turn tide flowing river waters
light is dance happy mellow yellows closing long day
soon sunset will add flame reds fingers yellow gold
sun sets sinks into still sea upon horizon home shores
dust light fades shadows creep in stealth murky images
suddenly black dawns night deep darkness speaks in glory

starlight sparkles upon enchanted waters river ebbs flows
passage across bar out into ocean waves rocks emotions
soon short journeys made upon ocean waters salts senses
watch shoreline beach grey sands invisible stretch wet away
waters dark painted ocean oil black sparkles in flow waves
beach sands perfume night with residue heat breeze vapours

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Evening Dip

The tiger traipsed towards the lake,
Fatigued, no longer proud,
Plum tuckered out, for goodness sake,
His roar not quite as loud...
His long tail swished from left-to-right,
Less gusto than he hoped
And while he tried with all his might,
He'd wondered how he coped...

Ah, there it was, the lake so wet...
So cool his dip would be...
Where he would soak, relax, not fret,
His long legs dangling free...
With toasted tootsies soon to rest,
With whiskers floating there...
With him content and somewhat blessed,
To drift without a care...

He licked his lips while leaves passed by,
With long breaths in and out...
He was so happy he could cry!
Yes, that's what life's about!
Of course, he knew it couldn't last...
The first chill told him so,
That's when he left the lake quite fast,
For somewhere else to go....

poem by Denis Martindale
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