Autumn
In the evening, when the bells ring peace,
I follow the wonderful flights of birds,
That in long rows, like devout processions of pilgrims,
Disappear into the clear autumn vastness.
Wandering through the garden closed for the night
I dream after their brighter destinies
And hardly feel the motion of the hour hands.
Thus I follow their journey over the clouds.
Then a breath of decay makes me tremble.
A bird complains in defoliated branches.
The red wine sways on rusty trellises.
Meanwhile like the death-dances of pale children
Around dark fountain edges that weather,
Shivering blue asters bend in the wind.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Related quotes
Flower-De-Luce: The Bells Of Lynn. Heard At Nahant
O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!
O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn!
From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted,
Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn!
Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight,
O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn!
The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland,
Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lynn!
Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward
Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn!
The distant lighthouse hears, and with his flaming signal
Answers you, passing the watchword on, O Bells of Lynn!
And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges,
And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Lynn!
Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations,
Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn!
And startled at the sight like the weird woman of Endor,
Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells of Lynn!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Brothers Under The Sun
I had a dream - of the wide open prairie
I had a dream - of the pale morning sky
I had a dream - that we flew on golden wings
And we were the same - just the same - you and I
Follow your heart - little child of the west wind
Follow the voice - that's calling you home
Follow your dreams - but always, remember me
I am your brother - under the sun
We are like birds of a feather
We are two hearts joined together
We will be forever as one
My brother under the sun
Wherever you hear - the wind in the canyon
Wherever you see - the buffalo run
Wherever you go - I'll be there beside you
Cos you are my brother - my brother under the sun
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grodek
At evening the autumn woodlands ring
With deadly weapons. Over the golden plains
And lakes of blue, the sun
More darkly rolls. The night surrounds
Warriors dying and the wild lament
Of their fragmented mouths.
Yet silently there gather in the willow combe
Red clouds inhabited by an angry god,
Shed blood, and the chill of the moon.
All roads lead to black decay.
Under golden branching of the night and stars
A sister's shadow sways through the still grove
To greet the heroes' spirits, the bloodied heads.
And softly in the reeds Autumn's dark flutes resound.
O prouder mourning! - You brazen altars,
The spirit's hot flame is fed now by a tremendous pain:
The grandsons, unborn.
poem by Georg Trakl
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The winter eve is clear and chill
The winter eve is clear and chill:
the world of air is folded still;
the quiet hour expects the moon;
and yon my home awaits me soon
behind the panes that come and go
with dusk and firelight wavering low:
and I must bid the prompting cease
that bids me, in this charmed peace,
— as tho' the hour would last my will —
follow the roads and follow still
the dream that holds my heart in trance
and lures it to the fabled chance
to find, beyond these evening ways,
the morning and the woodland days
and meadows clear with gold, and you
as once, ere I might dare to woo.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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The Death Bird
The death bird screams in the chill of the night
Flying through the tree branches
Making themselves scarse
Wind blowing through his wings
The moon being covered bu the clouds,
like a knight in shining armor
As the church bells ring, the towns people sleep in fear
Gentlemen stumble drunken giddy with the sweet intoxicating life and alcohol
Their bodies numb with joy
The people do not know the death bird sings for a lost soul
The man on the streets who has never found love
His blood pumps feriously through his body
A thousand thougths running through his mind
As the death bird screams above his head
Just waiting for death to cross over the dark fearful man
poem by Shelby Jasmin Estrada
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Follow The Wind
Im so weary from holding this load
But its only , love for you, that I walk this lonely road
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
And the wind will take me hold before the cold
Evry stay I have counted
Each flower I have seen
But the place where Im going , theres no grass as green
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
And the wind will take me home where I can dream
In the hour I am lonely, youre love will be mine
I will stay in your arms dear, until comes the time
I must be on my way for my home is anywhere
I have no time to stay , I have no time to care
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair
(break)
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Johnanna
Often I hear your steps
Ring through the alley.
In the small brown garden
The blueness of your shadow.
In the dawning bower
I sat in silence with the wine.
A dropp of blood
Sank from your temple
Into the singing glass
Hour of unending gloom.
From stars a snowy wind
Blows through the foliage.
Any death, the night
The pale man suffers.
Your purple mouth
Dwells a wound in me.
As if I came from the green
Fir hills and legends
Of our homeland,
Which we long forgot -
Who are we? Blue lament
Of a mossy forest spring,
Where the violets
Secretly scent in spring.
A peaceful village in summer
Once sheltered the childhood
Of our race,
Dying off now at the evening-
Hill the white grandchildren
We dream the terror
Of our nightly blood
Shadows in stony city.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
Follow me, follow my soul breaking this darkness
Can you see it, can you feel me close to you now?
If you're scared, touch me, I've never been so real
all around us makes sense in this sleepy journey
Crazy odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
sometimes they shine like childish eyes at the zoo
sometimes they weep like old people on a bench
the morning is so tired to start
the night is so short to end
The sun, the moon and the stars
the wind, the sea across the earth
we can go everywhere, we can do everything
all I want is breathing in your breath
Crazy odd thoughts crowd into my mind at night
premonition of good and bad news
bridges between our present lives
stairways to our impending future
silently I'm gathering my broken pieces
Oh please, don't let me down!
can't you see how beautiful is in here?
I wore my hair in a bun for you
I put my evening dress on for this feast day
I'm looking at you and I smile
The sun, the moon and the stars
the wind, the sea across the earth
we can go everywhere, we can do everything
all I want is breathing through your breath
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very Early Spring
The fields are snowbound no longer;
There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green.
The snow has been caught up into the sky--
So many white clouds--and the blue of the sky is cold.
Now the sun walks in the forest,
He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers;
They shiver, and wake from slumber.
Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls.
Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears....
A wind dances over the fields.
Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter,
Yet the little blue lakes tremble
And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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A Tryst Of The Past
what i have been
telling you
here is actually
different from what
i am seeing,
i just can't tell what
it is
that makes me
happy for now
when i tell you
that trees are growing
on rows along
a country road
where the skies are
blue and the sun
is warm
where dusts follow
a truck
where birds fly
towards the lake
to feed on fish
perhaps i am
hallucinating on
what is not there
i am having the
arms of someone
that you
have not met even
once
in a secret garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Secret Selves
The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . .
It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls
Down golden-windowed walls.
We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain,
We do not remember the red roots whence we rose,
But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while
We shall lie down again.
The snow floats down upon us, we turn, we turn,
Through gorges filled with light we sound and flow . . .
One is struck down and hurt, we crowd about him,
We bear him away, gaze after his listless body;
But whether he lives or dies we do not know.
One of us sings in the street, and we listen to him;
The words ring over us like vague bells of sorrow.
He sings of a house he lived in long ago.
It is strange; this house of dust was the house I lived in;
The house you lived in, the house that all of us know.
And coiling slowly about him, and laughing at him,
And throwing him pennies, we bear away
A mournful echo of other times and places,
And follow a dream . . . a dream that will not stay.
Down long broad flights of lamplit stairs we flow;
Noisy, in scattered waves, crowding and shouting;
In broken slow cascades.
The gardens extend before us . . . We spread out swiftly;
Trees are above us, and darkness. The canyon fades . . .
And we recall, with a gleaming stab of sadness,
Vaguely and incoherently, some dream
Of a world we came from, a world of sun-blue hills . . .
A black wood whispers around us, green eyes gleam;
Someone cries in the forest, and someone kills.
We flow to the east, to the white-lined shivering sea;
We reach to the west, where the whirling sun went down;
We close our eyes to music in bright cafees.
We diverge from clamorous streets to streets that are silent.
We loaf where the wind-spilled fountain plays.
And, growing tired, we turn aside at last,
Remember our secret selves, seek out our towers,
Lay weary hands on the banisters, and climb;
Climbing, each, to his little four-square dream
Of love or lust or beauty or death or crime.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain
The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . .
It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls
Down golden-windowed walls.
We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain,
We do not remember the red roots whence we rose,
But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while
We shall lie down again.
The snow floats down upon us, we turn, we turn,
Through gorges filled with light we sound and flow . . .
One is struck down and hurt, we crowd about him,
We bear him away, gaze after his listless body;
But whether he lives or dies we do not know.
One of us sings in the street, and we listen to him;
The words ring over us like vague bells of sorrow.
He sings of a house he lived in long ago.
It is strange; this house of dust was the house I lived in;
The house you lived in, the house that all of us know.
And coiling slowly about him, and laughing at him,
And throwing him pennies, we bear away
A mournful echo of other times and places,
And follow a dream . . . a dream that will not stay.
Down long broad flights of lamplit stairs we flow;
Noisy, in scattered waves, crowding and shouting;
In broken slow cascades.
The gardens extend before us . . . We spread out swiftly;
Trees are above us, and darkness. The canyon fades . . .
And we recall, with a gleaming stab of sadness,
Vaguely and incoherently, some dream
Of a world we came from, a world of sun-blue hills . . .
A black wood whispers around us, green eyes gleam;
Someone cries in the forest, and someone kills.
We flow to the east, to the white-lined shivering sea;
We reach to the west, where the whirling sun went down;
We close our eyes to music in bright cafes.
We diverge from clamorous streets to streets that are silent.
We loaf where the wind-spilled fountain plays.
And, growing tired, we turn aside at last,
Remember our secret selves, seek out our towers,
Lay weary hands on the banisters, and climb;
Climbing, each, to his little four-square dream
Of love or lust or beauty or death or crime.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The journey...
Death is not the end of lifes adventure
It is merely a confirmation of lifes innocence
In our youth death is one of our darkest fears
With each breath we outrun the spectre of death
But death stalks us at every turn of life
With age comes wisdom and the truth becomes clear
Death is not the end but is just a comma in our journey
It can bring an end to pain and mark a new beginning
For none can halt our return to this mortal coil
Death is merely a moment standing still for all eternity
When we say goodbye to those who share our journey
Just remember this is not the beginning of the end
It is merely the end of the beginning, the journey goes on...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Indian Summer Wonder
What is this field of flowers?
With cover of blue sky & Autumn sun?
Roses still abloom aplenty
Even as frosty day has begun
Marveling at the forms and shapes of it all
I wander myself down the violet lane
Noting the perfection of this Indian Summer
The self-blazing flowers call out my name
The motion of the wind in the tree branches
Dress up this discrete journey i am on
Caterpillar moves slowly along one of its leaves
As the Warblers break forth in new song
Glorious-glorious Autumn simply dances
As delicious pumpkin and spice fill the air
Indian Summer romances this Earths landscape
While i kneel for a: Thanksgiving Prayer
Praying for all of this goodness to always be
Asking for many a glorious days noon
Basking in this hour of breath-taking splendour
While embracing a most brillant Harvest moon
By, Theodora Onken (Theo)
October 22,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells yea heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on it's side
And time is running backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells!
Ring them bells Saint Peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
That the rush hour is now on the wheel and the plow and the sun is going down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells Saint Martha for the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with little lost sheep
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few who would judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
song performed by by Heart from Desire Walks On
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm
Stillness; as if blind people sank down by autumnal wall,
Listening with rotten temples to the flight of the ravens;
Golden stillness of autumn, the countenance of the father in the flickering sun
At evening the old village decays in the peace of brown oaks,
The red hammering of the smithy, a pounding heart.
Stillness; in slow hands the maid hides the hyacinthine forehead
Under fluttering sunflowers. Fear and silence
Of extinguishing eyes fulfills the dusking room, the halting steps
Of old women, the escape of the purple mouth which slowly expires in the darkness.
Taciturn evening in vine. From the low rafters
A nocturnal moth fell, nymph buried into bluish sleep.
In the courtyard the farm boy slaughters a lamb, the sweet smell of the blood
Clouds our foreheads, the dark coolness of the fountain.
The gloom of dying asters regrets, golden voices in the wind.
When it becomes night you look at me from moldered eyes,
In blue stillness your cheeks decayed to dust.
So quietly a weed's fire expires, the black hamlet in the ground falls silent
As if the cross climbed down the blue hill of Calvary,
The silent earth ejected its dead.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Follow the Wind
Follow the air.
Follow the wind.
Release what you have sinned.
The wind is your savior.
Tell him what happened with
your every behavior.
Follow the air.
Follow the wind.
It will get you out of your every
sin.
Follow the angel.
Follow your God.
It is not very odd.
Follow his words.
Follow his advice.
Eventually, you will be very nice.
poem by Casey Jarrell
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Evening Star
(Written by Barry and Maurice Gibb)
If you never rode West of the Arizona border
You can turn the other way boy but you never get far
You be living a lie if you wanna see the wonders of the age
You must follow the evening star.
Chorus:
Evening star
Shine a little Heaven
On a stranger with no dream
Where you are.
You can see the loneliness I mean and if I gotta fight
I can never play somebody else's game
I can follow the evening star
Starlight, you never need somebody else's name
If you follow the evening star.
Have you ever known a sunset when the sky's on fire
How you end another day boy you've been searching too far
Like the desert I rode on any memory is lost in the restless wind
I just lie beneath the evening star.
Chorus:
Evening star
Shine a little Heaven
On a stranger with no dream
Where you are.
Have you ever held a woman in the California moonlight
Put your money on a good night if you never been there
It's a sight for sore eyes if you wanna see the wonders of the age
Making love beneath the evening star.
Chorus
Evening star
Shine a little Heaven
on a stranger with no dream
Where you are.
You can see the loneliness I mean and if I gotta fight
I will never play somebody else's game
I can follow the evening star
Starlight, you never need somebody else's name
If you follow the evening star...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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