Winter Heavens
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
poem by George Meredith
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Death
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh
This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;
That sometime these bright stars, that now reply
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;
That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,
And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;
That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite
Be lapped in alien clay and laid below;
It is not death to know this,--but to know
That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves
In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go
So duly and so oft,--and when grass waves
Over the past-away, there may be then
No resurrection in the minds of men.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Vain Death
ALL the first night she might not weep
But watched till morning came,
And when she slept at dawn, she heard
The dead man call her name.
The second night she watched and wept
And called on death for grace,
And when she slept before the dawn
She saw the dead man’s face.
The third night through she laughed as one
That knows her way to bliss,
And in the instant ere she slept
She felt the dead man’s kiss.
She rose and faced the flickering fire
(And oh, but she was fair!),
Like a wild witch behind her danced
The shadow of her hair.
She took her penknife from its sheath,
The tender blade she kissed,
And by the firelight’s dying leap
She bared her little wrist.
And where the vein ran large and blue
She cut, once and again,
Yet ere she swooned from life, she knew
Her death had been in vain.
For while life thundered in her ears,
Ere yet her pulse might fail,
Far off across the kindless night
She heard the dead man’s wail,
And knew her doom was one with theirs
That kill the life God gave,
And that she might not leave this earth
Her soul alive to save,
But ay must dwell within that house
As in a living grave,
While he for whom she died might ne’er
Win to her in that place,
But must for ever make his moan
Ranging in agony alone
The trackless void of space
poem by Archibald Thomas Strong
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Suttee
LAMP of my life, the lips of Death
Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath;
Naught shall revive thy vanished spark . . .
Love, must I dwell in the living dark?
Tree of my life, Death's cruel foot
Hath crushed thee down to thy hidden root;
Nought shall restore thy glory fled . . .
Shall the blossom live when the tree is dead?
Life of my life, Death's bitter sword
Hath severed us like a broken word,
Rent us in twain who are but one . .
Shall the flesh survive when the soul is gone?
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Barnacles
My soul is sailing through the sea,
But the Past is heavy and hindereth me.
The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells
That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells
About my soul.
The huge waves wash, the high waves roll,
Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole
And hindereth me from sailing!
Old Past let go, and drop i' the sea
Till fathomless waters cover thee!
For I am living but thou art dead;
Thou drawest back, I strive ahead
The Day to find.
Thy shells unbind! Night comes behind,
I needs must hurry with the wind
And trim me best for sailing.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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At The Last.
The sky grows white with the moon,
And the sea yearns up to the night
As the soul to an unknown height,
Drawn thence by a starry rune.
Only a lost wind strays,
Like the breath of Passion blown
In the vault of the night unknown;
And the heart in me sobs and says:
'After a while we, too,
Shall rest as the stars above,
When we have no more to do
With the dream of life and love.'
O Time! thy feet that run
Over the hills and waves,
Over the cradles and graves,
From the first to the final sun!
Some day thou too shalt cease —
Some way there'll come to thee
Death's white tranquility,
The boon of an awful peace —
When the latest grief shall flow
With the surge that drifts away,
And the Night shall no more go
In her endless chase of Day.
Then shall the worn heart rest,
Then shall the sad Sea yearn
No more for the Moon's return,
Like a bird on its frozen nest
Dead, with her young ones dead
Under her breast on the bough,
Where nothing can wake them now —
Not the Dawn with its golden tread:
Where Death has been good to all,
Good to the mother and young,
And the dreams are beyond recall,
And the songs have all been sung.
So, at the last, to sleep!
So, at the last, to be
Still as the dead still sea!
Never to wake and weep,
Never to know Love's pain,
Never to yearn on for
What is gone for evermore;
To be as we were again
Ere we came o'er the bourne of birth,
Ere we knew of the fading flowers,
Of love and of life on Earth
And the hearts that were not ours!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Where Does It Go?
As I watch the
Night Sky
I think of you.
The one I grew
Up with,
The one I always
Talked to,
The one I never left.
I watched the sky
On theanniversary
Of you death.
I feel that in times
Nature atunes to
Our emotions.
I watched the
Night sky.
Your death
Was so abrupt
Everyone was
Shocked.
I watch the
Night sky
As all the
Stars cry.
I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.
The sky bleeds
It's crystal
Tears.
Dead in the winter
A death had
Occured,
People cry for
The lost,
They cry for
The pain.
Now they weep
For my soul
For it is lost.
I can't join
The dead for
It wasn't my
Time, but
I can't be
Alive for my
Body is dead.
I'm lost between
Worlds.
I want to
Sleep.
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
When I return to the
Scene where I wept
Crimson tears
Every night of the anniversary
The story replays,
But no living soul
Can see it.
Wrong conclusions
Drawn by human thoughts
And yet if they could
See what I do,
Then all will be
Explained
As the night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
As I watch the
Night sky
And all the stars
Cry,
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine,
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
I live on.
poem by Sans Serif
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A Child Remembers His Mother's Death...
She passed one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day...when it was...
Long from now...
A vague remembrance...of charcoal burning...burning slow anxious pain...
It was one full moon night...
When I had not slept...it was the first night before which, sleep had taken me in her warm feathers...
Where she fled from that night...
My eyes o’er the sleepless stars...
Sought her return...
The night when fear was known to me...
The greatest fears of all...
Fear of losing...
It was one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day
I had grown in a night...
My amuse...
She passed and I just looked...
And looked
Passed to where...
Know I not...
Full moon night ‘t was...
Like today...
Its consistent routines...
Slipped she to irregular tracks..
Past pale radiance
Pale radiance to shine o’er faint nostalgia...
(Woke from innocent carelessness...
To what...I amused... it was uncomfortable...awkward...just too bad to be real.)
poem by Lama Abbas
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The Killing Frost
There is an enchantment in the Killing Frost
It's the most magical night of the year
When the abundant blooms of Summer
Are put to sleep by Frost's frozen tears.
The Killing Frost arrives here silently
Flying in ahead of Winter's incoming wrath
Covering all things that are of the earth
Putting to sleep all flora in her path.
As the late Autumn sun sinks below the horizon
On this Special Night of the year
Plants which were all alive this past morn will be no more
It's time to make way for Winter's Cheer.
Everything Frost kisses will be put to eternal repose
Adorned by Frost's magical breath during the night
All will be dripping in Diamonds in the Morn
With which to dazzle by soft Morning's light.
Winter will be arriving shortly now
And Frost will take her leave
To make way for fluttering snowflakes
Which will come to dance during the long Winter's Eve.
poem by Christine A Kysely (29 December 2010)
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If I Knelt Before You
if i knelt before you,
and opened my heart
like a gift without any strings...
would you listen?
if i sold all my dreams
to give you one moment
when you knew you were loved...
would you care?
if i gave up my life
to help you find wings,
and pushed you to the edge
of the nest... would you fly?
if i knelt before you,
a man loving a woman,
and nothing more...
would you take me?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Death’s Anger
Death creates anger to some who think it,
It married your flesh to your eternal spirit.
Life carries my burden as long as I comb
The hair of breath and breadth, under the dome.
May the angels of death cause our bereavement
When it happens, an event of the soul, the achievement.
Let anger make you strong, fatality comes,
Towards our star departs our Fate, it benumbs.
The premises so attached to me and my body
Are linked to the mind if it rests, becomes droopy.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Isles Of Sleep.
The opiate isles upon time's sea
In the dream-dark
Rise with their harbours silently
Before each day-abandoned bark,
And the worn mariner anchors there
Till thought, new-waked in the dewy air,
Sings like a lark.
The silent isles with their dream-shores
On the waves float,
Whereto the faint-eyed mariner oars
Within the dusk his eerie boat;
All care put by, like one who knows
No tide there turns and no wind blows,
Near or remote!
From day to day upon time's main
We sail on so,
Sure every night some port to gain
In the dream-dark where no winds blow;
Until we too this sea have cross'd
E'en like the galleons that were tost
Here long ago.
Some seem each day to sail so far,
They reach that shore
So very soon where all things are
As they will be for evermore;
Some for so many a night and day
Have to drift on their lonely way
Ere all is o'er.
But all sails touch the land at last:
The slowest come
As in a mist out of the past —
The last dream-isle fades on the foam,
The last stars rise, the last stars set,
And there is but the last day yet
'Tween them and home.
poem by Robert Crawford
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A Northern Soul
This is a tale of a northern soul
This is a tale of a northern soul
Looking to find his way back home
Looking to find his way back home
Hes coming from that same old road
Hes coming from that same old road
You know the one your folds dont know
You know the one your folds dont know
I want to see if you know me
I was born in a rented room
I want to see if you know me
My mother didnt get no flowers
I was born in a rented room
Dad didnt approve of me, do you?
My mother didnt get no flowers
Dad didnt approve of me, do you?
Im alive with something inside of me
And I dont think Im coming back
So come on come in inside of me
Im alive with something inside of me
Lets spread it all around
And I dont think Im coming back
So come on come in inside of me
Give me your powder and pills
Lets spread it all around
I want to see if they cure my ills
Ive no time for love and devotion
Give me your powder and pills
No time for old fashioned potion
I want to see if they cure my ills
Ive no time for love and devotion
Take a look into my eyes
I tell you so many lies and then Ill let you go into the night
And I dont think Im coming down
No time for old fashioned potion
Im alive with something inside of me
And I cant seem to get it out
Take a look into my eyes
Im gonna die alone in bed
I tell you so many lies and then Ill let you go into the night
This is a tale of a northern soul
And I dont think Im coming down
Looking for his way back home
Im alive with something inside of me
And my friend said, come in side of me
And I cant seem to get it out
And your speakers are telling the truth
Coming through and into your room on a river of sound
This is a tale of a northern soul looking for his way back home
Im gonna die alone in bed
This is a tale of a northern soul
And if he sees it I know Ill know (repeat)
Looking for his way back home
And my friend said, come in side of me
And theres fighting on the street below
And your speakers are telling the truth
I know theres fighting on the street below
Coming through and into your room on a river of sound
But I dont care cause Im a northern soul
And Im looking for a way back home
Too busy staying alive (repeat)
This is a tale of a northern soul looking for his way back home
Too busy living a lie, too busy living my life
Too busy staying alive
And if he sees it I know Ill know (repeat)
And theres fighting on the street below
I know theres fighting on the street below
But I dont care cause Im a northern soul
And Im looking for a way back home
Too busy staying alive (repeat)
Too busy living a lie, too busy living my life
Too busy staying alive
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afterglows
goodnight
my expectant
love
will sleep
soon
in expectation
and
afterglows
of your thoughts
your mind
will swim
in my soul
sweet lady
I do see
I do know
sometimes
you are
afraid
to feel
and
your spirit
your soul
were meant
to sparkle
and glimmer
in radiance
sweet dreams
sleep in
radiance
warm waves
of peace
eternal
everlasting
as everlasting
as my love
that never dies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Night
Fair is the wedded reign of Night and Day.
Each rules a half of earth with different sway,
Exchanging kingdoms, East and West, alway.
Like the round pearl that Egypt drunk in wine,
The sun half sinks i' the brimming, rosy brine:
The wild Night drinks all up: how her eyes shine!
Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The throbbing of the hearts of half the world.
I hear the cries that follow Birth and Death.
I hear huge Pestilence draw his vaporous breath:
"Beware, prepare, or else ye die," he saith.
I hear a haggard student turn and sigh:
I hear men begging Heaven to let them die:
And, drowning all, a wild-eyed woman's cry.
So Night takes toll of Wisdom as of Sin.
The student's and the drunkard's cheek is thin:
But flesh is not the prize we strive to win.
Now airy swarms of fluttering dreams descend
On souls, like birds on trees, and have no end.
O God, from vulture-dreams my soul defend!
Let fall on Her a rose-leaf rain of dreams,
All passionate-sweet, as are the loving beams
Of starlight on the glimmering woods and streams.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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When The Dead Whisper To The Living
When the dead whisper to the living
That they can’t go home again
The living wonder and wait and have no answer
They want to help but they cannot-
The dead whisper and whisper and whisper again
And then cry out at night in the screams of dreams of nightmares everlasting
They ask they demand
But no one ever answers them.
‘You can’t come home again’ says the cliché
And the dead know the meaning of this on their flesh
If they have any flesh left-
They want to return
They want to touch this place again
But they cannot-
How gone are we all then and will we by when we say goodbye forever
To this dear earth and small home
Which we sometimes love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fredericksburg
The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,
And on the churchyard by the road, I know
It falls as white and noiselessly as snow . . . .
'Twas such a night two weary summers fled;
The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow
Where the swift currents of the river flow
Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red
With sudden conflagration; on yon height,
Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath;
A signal rocket pierces the dense night,
Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath;
Hark! -- the artillery massing on the right,
Hark! -- the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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The Voice
Atoms as old as stars,
Mutation on mutation,
Millions and millions of cells
Dividing yet still the same,
From air and changing earth,
From ancient Eastern rivers,
From turquoise tropic seas,
Unto myself I came.
My spirit like my flesh
Sprang from a thousand sources,
From cave-man, hunter and shepherd,
From Karnak, Cyprus, Rome;
The living thoughts in me
Spring from dead men and women,
Forgotten time out of mind
And many as bubbles of foam.
Here for a moment's space
Into the light out of darkness,
I come and they come with me
Finding words with my breath;
From the wisdom of many life-times
Seek for Beauty, she only
Fights with man against Death!"
poem by Sara Teasdale
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To O.E.A.
Your voice is the color of a robin's breast,
And there's a sweet sob in it like rain--still rain in the night.
Among the leaves of the trumpet-tree, close to his nest,
The pea-dove sings, and each note thrills me with strange delight
Like the words, wet with music, that well from your trembling throat.
I'm afraid of your eyes, they're so bold,
Searching me through, reading my thoughts, shining like gold.
But sometimes they are gentle and soft like the dew on the lips of the eucharis
Before the sun comes warm with his lover's kiss.
You are sea-foam, pure with the star's loveliness,
Not mortal, a flower, a fairy, too fair for the beauty-shorn earth.
All wonderful things, all beautiful things, gave of their wealth to your birth.
Oh I love you so much, not recking of passion, that I feel it is wrong!
But men will love you, flower, fairy, non-mortal spirit burdened with flesh,
Forever, life-long.
poem by Claude McKay
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Marilyn
She lies
Upon her bed so still
unable to summon up the will
to get out and face the day
as time slowly slips away.
She shies
From the inevitability
not accepting reality.
For Death is approaching fast!
How much longer will she last?
Her eyes
Look around at the family
gathered so uneasily
as they gaze helplessly on
knowing she will soon be gone.
She tries
To fight for her very life
to remain there as his wife.
But she's unable to speak
and her body is so weak.
She sighs
Exhaling her final breath
and her body gives in to death.
The finality of death is felt
by her bedside as they knelt.
She dies
Breathing out lifes last breath
and succumbing to her death.
Lying there upon her bed
all motionless. She is dead.
She flies
Her soul to worlds unknown
and he's left there all alone.
Helplessly looking at her there
beyond the reach of his care.
He cries
Gazing upon her lifeless face
and holding her in his embrace.
Unable to prevent the flow
of his deep sobs of sorrow.
'Arise'
She is summoned before God
to account for the paths she'd trod.
Stands alone before Him there
as her life's deeds are laid bare.
Surprise
Our turn too will quickly come
when God shall call our soul home.
We too must pass through death
when we draw our final breath.
Be wise
Let's kiss God's Son while we may
to survive that judgement day
then through Jesus we'll be forgiven
and allowed to enter into heaven.
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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