The Poetry Of Southey
Keen as an eagle whose flight towards the dim empyrean
Fearless of toil or fatigue ever royally wends!
Vast in the cloud-coloured robes of the balm-breathing Orient
Lo! the grand Epic advances, unfolding the humanest truth.
poem by George Meredith
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Poetry
THE POETRY OF CHAUCER
Grey with all honours of age! but fresh-featured and ruddy
As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard has thrice heard Chaunticlere.
Tender to tearfulness-childlike, and manly, and motherly;
Here beats true English blood richest joyance on sweet English ground.
THE POETRY OF SPENSER
Lakes where the sunsheen is mystic with splendour and softness;
Vales where sweet life is all Summer with golden romance:
Forests that glimmer with twilight round revel-bright palaces;
Here in our May-blood we wander, careering 'mongst ladies and knights.
THE POETRY OF SHAKESPEARE
Picture some Isle smiling green 'mid the white-foaming ocean; -
Full of old woods, leafy wisdoms, and frolicsome fays;
Passions and pageants; sweet love singing bird-like above it;
Life in all shapes, aims, and fates, is there warm'd by one great human heart.
THE POETRY OF MILTON
Like to some deep-chested organ whose grand inspiration,
Serenely majestic in utterance, lofty and calm,
Interprets to mortals with melody great as its burthen
The mystical harmonies chiming for ever throughout the bright spheres.
THE POETRY OF SOUTHEY
Keen as an eagle whose flight towards the dim empyrean
Fearless of toil or fatigue ever royally wends!
Vast in the cloud-coloured robes of the balm-breathing Orient
Lo! the grand Epic advances, unfolding the humanest truth.
THE POETRY OF COLERIDGE
A brook glancing under green leaves, self-delighting, exulting,
And full of a gurgling melody ever renewed -
Renewed thro' all changes of Heaven, unceasing in sunlight,
Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed in the beams of the holier orb.
THE POETRY OF SHELLEY
See'st thou a Skylark whose glistening winglets ascending
Quiver like pulses beneath the melodious dawn?
Deep in the heart-yearning distance of heaven it flutters -
Wisdom and beauty and love are the treasures it brings down at eve.
THE POETRY OF WORDSWORTH
A breath of the mountains, fresh born in the regions majestic,
That look with their eye-daring summits deep into the sky.
The voice of great Nature; sublime with her lofty conceptions,
Yet earnest and simple as any sweet child of the green lowly vale.
THE POETRY OF KEATS
The song of a nightingale sent thro' a slumbrous valley,
Low-lidded with twilight, and tranced with the dolorous sound,
Tranced with a tender enchantment; the yearning of passion
That wins immortality even while panting delirious with death.
poem by George Meredith
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The Birds
Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God.
~ Luke, xii, 6.
TRIBES of the air! whose favored race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky;
In form, in plumage, and in song,
What gifts of nature mark your throng
With bright variety!
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak! how dear
Your wood-note, to the wanderer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove!
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
The mountain-eagle seeks;
Alone he reigns, a monarch there,
Scarce will the chamois' footstep dare
Ascend his Alpine peaks.
Others there are, that make their home
Where the white billows roar and foam,
Around th' o'erhanging rock;
Fearless they skim the angry wave,
Or sheltered in their sea-beat cave,
The tempest's fury mock.
Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The ostrich haunts the desert sands,
Parched by the blaze of day;
The swan, where northern rivers glide,
Through the tall reeds that fringe their tide,
Floats graceful on her way.
The condor, where the Andes tower,
Spreads his broad wing of pride and power,
And many a storm defies;
Bright in the orient realms of morn,
All beauty's richest hues adorn
The Bird of Paradise.
Some, amidst India's grove of palm,
And spicy forests breathing balm,
Weave soft their pendent nest;
Some, deep in western wilds, display
Their fairy form and plumage gay,
In rainbow colors drest.
Others no varied song may pour,
May boast no eagle-plume to soar,
No tints of light may wear;
Yet, know, our Heavenly Father guides
The least of these, and well provides
For each, with tenderest care.
Shall He not then thy guardian be?
Will not his aid extend to thee?
Oh! safely may'st thou rest!?
Trust in his love, and e'en should pain,
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
Know, what He wills is best!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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My Mom’s Epic
My mom is so epic,
My kin doesn’t know what to do,
She handles things her own way,
She is a tree, mighty and strong,
Like an eagle, mess with her babies,
Let’s say you will go down heavy,
She fights her own mêlées,
She cares for others,
By no way is she introverted,
She’s elation to my life,
Cautious and valiant is just the tip of the ice berg to portray her,
She’s interminable,
She’s been with me ever since I could remember,
I will always love her,
For she is MY EPIC MOM!
poem by Qeeony Luv
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A Million Murders
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Stones and steel rising from soil.
The coloured peoples gaping in envy
wishing they could be the whites in jealousy:
Oh, if only we had such beautiful buildings
Oh, if only our country was as inspiring.
Yet, in the ground, a buried irony—
For azalea red runs blood and ruby—
For beneath the stoic, impassioned gargoyles—
Behold! The tears of those who toiled.
Their monuments built with Asian antimony—
Their statues and artifacts, African ivory—
Their advanced machines by Eastern oil—
A thousand thefts, a people despoiled.
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Bones and steel rising from soil.
poem by Ong Kar Jin
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To The Men Of England
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.
Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Song To The Men Of England
I.
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
II.
Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?
III.
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
IV.
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
V.
The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.
VI.
Sow seed,-- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth,-- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes,-- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.
VII.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
VIII.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Eagle wasn't always the Eagle. The Eagle, before he became the Eagle, was Yucatangee, the Talker. Yucatangee talked and talked. It talked so much it heard only itself. Not the river, not the wind, not even the Wolf. The Raven came and said The Wolf is hungry. If you stop talking, you'll hear him. The wind too. And when you hear the wind, you'll fly. So he stopped talking. And became its nature, the Eagle. The Eagle soared, and its flight said all it needed to say.
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eagle night
Eagle night and seen by sea
A distant call, in sonnet key
In any moment, place or time
A distant call is sent from high
Eagle night, i swear I’ve sawn
Eagle flight with salty winds
By the pinnacle of water and land
Where sea winds crash and struggle the sand
Call again, from a place that’s near
Always close, so one can hear
Or so can be thought the truth of such things
Resonate from eagle wings
Never foreboding the loss of a call
Never shorn for a sighting once more
The discontent of the mind is evaded
And all the wanting of life unladen
The call, one call, one sight, any wind
Reminds the heart of the sweetest thing
Deep remnants of a time unkempt
And narrowing from this lively nest
Illusioned by dreams of taste and touch
But grasped in song by night eagle clutch
poem by Julia Grandi
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To me, 'Fearless' is not the absense of fear. It's not being completely unafraid. To me, 'Fearless' is having fears. 'Fearless' is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, 'Fearless' is living in spite of those things that scare you to death.
quote by Taylor Swift
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Eagle Watch
The morning came, the eagle stirred, one leap to fly again.
The tourists smiled to watch this bird, the envy of all men.
For who has not at one time slept and sometime in the night,
Believed that if they also leapt, they, too, could rise in flight?
Within one dream, atop a hill, I ran and ran and ran...
And all at once I felt the thrill when my first flight began!
I left the hill, I left the Earth, to glide upon the sky...
It was as if my soul gave birth to something that could fly!
No holding back, I had to hurl myself upon the wave!
Like Superman and Supergirl, I flew as if by faith!
I knew just how the eagle felt, designed for higher things...
A better hand I had been dealt, transforming hands to wings!
Each time I see an eagle soar to heights beyond my eyes,
I realise what dreams are for, to simply mesmerise.
Today, each pilot flies above, content to do his best...
Just like the eagle that I love... God help them to be blessed...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eagle Watch'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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An Alpha Light
The whirl and pain from beneath the sky
Now taken and healed and never denied
Loved bloom cherished all souls broken free
Smiled at the clouds a farewell ‘remember me’
Moving around the treestop’s aureole
An eagle circled mountain air laps
Shadowed cloudward flight filling all
Sky spelled letters to fill in the gaps
Alphabets stood scattered
In scrypts of an eagle flight
And it no longer mattered
All sucked in an alpha light
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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First I shall name the eagle, of which there are three species: the great grey eagle is the largest, of great strength and high flight; he chiefly preys on fawns and other young quadrupeds.
quote by William Bartram
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truth is
Truth is often far from sight,
Truth is seldom without blight,
Truth is in the dark of night,
Truth is in the hand of right,
Truth is that most noble Knight,
Truth is that which drives their fight,
Truth is all that brings us light,
Truth is all that gives us flight.
poem by Arik Fletcher
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He who puts giants to flight rapidly advances.
Epic Smile
Time slows;
then stops.
You have an epic smile,
shining brightly to challenge the sun.
You laugh with your soul,
eyes sparkling in the light.
You have an epic smile,
one I will never forget.
My heart leaps at your voice,
a smile shattering the gloom of life.
You have an epic smile,
brighter than a thousand suns.
I will think of you often,
though truthfully I already do.
You have an epic smile, my muse,
one that will always be with me.
poem by Brian Hinckley
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Truth-Bank(1)
Blue sky
Wandering clouds
White poetry magnificent
Breeze on the cutting-edge of the cloud
Singing the song of the future
Investing truths royally
Branches of the light of a grass
Green green fresh fresh
Sharing clarity all over the sky
In the truth-bank
Invest for the future
Infinity of the power of supply and
Invisible poetry
Blue sky
First Encounter - Imamura Shohei
Imamura Shohei
that love of the orient
shines through his face
Imamura Shohei
our meet marked by
mutual love for the orient
The late Imamura Shohei won the Grand Prix Award for the Cannes Film Festival for the film Narayama Bushiko many years back. The film depicts the strange custom of a Japanese village where old folks were
sent to mountains to die to solve food problems. The most touching scene was that of an old woman waving to her reluctant son to go after he had brought her to the mountains. Imamura was in Malacca in the 80s to film his other film Zegen when we met up. He greeted me like a friend, an outpouring of his love for the orient. Zegen did not make it to the box office but his recognition as one of Japan best directors surivives.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Eagle Spirit
eagles soar
on high thermals
fly through
such wonderous
freeborn skies
a multiversality
kaleidoscopic
sensual
spiritual
ever changing
seasons
nest on highest
most noble
sun eclipsed
inaccessible crags
or vibrant
living temples
trees raising
towards heaven
growing upwards
into host life
giving light
range soar
across desolate
canyons
holy places
where Native
Americans
built pueblo
adobe houses
care houses
upon spiritual
sun paths...
piercingly
beautiful
sky images
celebrating
auras
earth heat
thermal
energy fields
keen eyes
pierce heat
waves
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
The four individual elements of this mosaic concept are also posted separately as the poem ‘Eagles Soar On High Thermals’, ‘Eagle Eyries’, ‘Eagle Flight’ and ‘Eagle Sight’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Epic Men
Epic men of flesh and stone
Travel where are found no bones;
The deepest, where no man before
Could open hope's remaining door.
The men of constellation's fame
Borrowed time, their epic names,
To fight odd battles in the sky
That no one now remember why.
Still there's a corner, not forgot,
An alien, though homelike plot,
Where men of flesh and stone will lie
In state, the doomed spaceship's flight.
They'll rest forever on the cusp
Of magic finds, made in our trust,
So teach the young their names instead
Of ancient heroes, too long dead.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Nixon Whitehouse had a just-in-case statement
ready for deployment, in 1969, composed by speechwriter William Safire, in the event that the astronauts met an unhappy or unanticipated
end, during their monumental space flight.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Links
The little and the great are joined in one
By God's great force. The wondrous golden sun
Is linked unto the glow-worm's tiny spark;
The eagle soars to heaven in his flight;
And in those realms of space, all bathed in light,
Soar none except the eagle and the lark.
poem by Emma Lazarus
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