A Day With A New Morn (Luc-Bat)
The wind whispers in rage
while with time I do age each day
when mere fate havoc play,
and I was on my way; was wet
the day that we had met,
my life was already set by grace
with a smile on your face,
we went to a new place for fun,
the day did just begun,
was hot with the bright sun, was fair
with colour in your hair,
a thing was in the air and gone,
like a sweet kind of tone
that had just moved on a page.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Farewell Lay For Minette
I
Minette, the wind now whispers, are sometimes raging
as if its calling your name while I am aging
and forever you will be sweet and young,
sometimes it feels as if around me a war is waging
while I am trying to find my way
in a world where destiny sometimes havoc play
are looking for answers to the questions of life and living
while my life passes without you day after day.
II
Far too happy was the day that we met
as if by some fiddling of destiny it was set
and while I stopped to give you help
with tears your cheeks was wet,
but the smile that came upon your face
said thank you with a kind of amazing grace
while I changed your car's tire
from sudden nervousness my hands felt out of place.
It was as if the morning sun
had suddenly risen before the day had begun
and although we did not say a single word
your company was loads of fun.
In my car's four sharp head lamps your golden hair
was pretty and you were more beautiful than just fair
while on the wind I caught a whiff of your scent
it felt as if your presence was predetermined to be there.
III
That summer was a really lovely one
even the breeze had a joyous tone
while we laughed fell in love almost at a whim
and far too quickly our time together was gone.
You were so part of me you were in my heart and head,
in quick understanding few words were ever said
but our loving, our companionship and understanding was intense
and together we could only see great things lying ahead.
IV
Standing at your grave I saw the wind
turning the red sand into clouds of dust,
coming strong from behind
and at your death broken
there was no answer that I could find.
Maybe we had to much sheer happiness
found a lifetime's joy in our moments of bliss
as we thought that the rest of our lives
would simply be like this.
V
At times I have tried to forget you
have tried to paint my life a different hue,
forget the way it was between us
but some memories always stay true
and memories at times brings everything back
when you return with an uncanny knack
and in lonely evenings
when the sky is black
I dream of you joining me
and like always you look happy and free
while from each other we are separated
and there's an inadequacy
a dividing thing between the living and the dead
and sometimes our meetings come with a kind of dread
while you stay part of me
and it's a strange, strange life to lead.
VI
Minette, the wind howls, there's rain
coming down while lightning bolts flash again and again
and it's almost as if I can touch you, catch your essence
but my heart is full of pain
and maybe its time to say goodbye,
in this rainy, stormy weather
to really again live in a place where the sun shines
when the sky glows within its ether.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Discouraging Model
Just the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing,
With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing,
Tilted up at one side with the jauntiest air,
And a knot of red roses sown in under there
Where the shadows are lost in her hair.
Then a cameo face, carven in on a ground
Of that shadowy hair where the roses are wound;
And the gleam of a smile, O as fair and as faint
And as sweet as the master of old used to paint
Round the lips of their favorite saint!
And that lace at her throat-- and fluttering hands
Snowing there, with a grace that no art understands,
The flakes of their touches-- first fluttering at
The bow-- then the roses-- the hair and then that
Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat.
Ah, what artist on earth with a model like this,
Holding not on his palette the tint of a kiss,
Nor a pigment to hint of the hue of her hair
Nor the gold of her smile-- O what artist could dare
To expect a result half so fair?
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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There She Goes
There she goes, the one that I love
The one Ive been waiting for
The one Ive been dreaming of
There she goes, but shell never be mine
Wasted all of my chances
Run clean out of time
There she goes with the wind in her hair
And a smile on her face
She doesnt know what Id give just for one moment
To be in his place
Anyway
Take a look, there she goes
Take a look, there she goes
There she goes with the wind in her hair
And a smile on her face
She doesnt know what Id give just for one moment
To be in his place
Anyway
Take a look, there she goes
Take a look, there she goes
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fair Go Of Anyone We Should Not Deny
Those who judge people by their colour or their creed or their race
The spirit of the fair go could never embrace
But eventually the reality they have to face
That in the twenty first century for their sort of thinking there isn't a place.
Of what I say here to all races apply
A fair go of anyone we should not deny
Those who are prejudiced towards others in their ways are small
Long live the great beauty in a fair go for all.
As we know prejudice and racism is only based on ignorance and fear
And of such negative stuff I don't wish to read of or hear
Their thinking is out of touch and it would seem fair to say
That it is out of place in the World of today.
One fact in black, brown and white and facts never lie
Is that we are mere mortals and born to die
And whoever you are you deserve a fair go
And may happiness and luck in your life you do know
poem by Francis Duggan
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If I had [De-aş avea]
If I had a pretty flower
Fresh and sweet and full of power
Like all those that bloom in May,
Charming daughters of the day,
Growing on a grassy field
Where the grass is moved by wind,
And where people hear above
Gentle whispers full of love;
If I had a little flower
Nice and younger than the hour,
Dressed like lilies at their best
And white like the snowy breast,
Sometimes with a shade of pink,
Sometimes purple like a drink,
Like a song one hears above
Soft like whispers full of love;
If I had a dove as white
As a girl's face shining bright,
A meek girl, a lovely thing,
Like a sunny day of spring,
I would sing her all day long
The traditional folk song
And the notes will rise above
Soft like whispers full of love.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Sir John de Vere
Sir John de Vere has took a quill
And set himself to sit and write
The sweetest love that is of men
To take unto his heart's delight.
And he has took a damsel fair
That flitteth by, beseemingly,
And with a strand of golden hair
Begun to weave her mystery.
The hair it flows from quill to sheet
In whorls and ripples it doth flow,
In twists and bends it eddies forth
To settle on the sheet below.
The hair is sweet in light perfume,
The quill it flows from page to page,
The lady's love has settled there
For all to read and all to know.
The lady's hair has bound her love
With golden tresses to the line,
Her heart is caught, it knows not where,
But may not move, and may not go.
Her skin, that of the lightest hue
Is soft to touch and soft to dare,
Sir John de Vere reveals anew
The secrets of her every where.
The more the pen skims on the page
The tighter are the bonds that bind,
The lady swoons in righteous rage
At whorls and eddies in her mind.
In whorls and eddies it doth flow
The golden hair, a flowing stream,
The cheek is caught and now the thigh,
Imprisoned for the world to know.
'You've made my love a whore', said she
'For all to come and take their sup,
My mind is open, disarrayed,
And so my thighs, my kirtle's up'.
Sir John heard not his lover's plea
But worked from day to night his joy
And took another golden strand
To work his quill another ploy.
And so his muse grew forth apace
His verse became a mighty work
And when his quill had run him dry
He went to seek his lover's face.
He sought and searched him far about
But never no sight of her did see,
Then mused apace before he turned
To seek the pages of his creed.
Among the parchment of his room
He found his love within the scrip',
And all the art and all the grace
He'd taken from his lover's lip.
And all the life and all the joy
Imprisoned on the churley sheet
To leave the shadow of his love
Bereft, and for the world to meet.
Sir John de Vere took on the thread
And pulled it from the final line,
That words that tumbled from his head
Should never not, nor now to bind.
And as the muse its thread was broke
A sigh came from his shadow love,
And colour caught in both the cheeks
And life came back in all the blood.
The arms he loosed then gripped him fast
And lips that whispered him to hear,
He will not write his love at last
Nor never again, will John de Vere.
25 April 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Captain America
Captain America is that you
Flying down the highway
In your red white and blue
You remind me of the days
In that infamous war
When we werent quite sure
What we were fighting for
I see you again and it makes me think
About just who I am
Is there someone in charge
Who can lead the way tonight
Who knows the plan
Where theres love
There is grace
Theres still hope left in this place
And the smile on your face
Gives me faith in the human race
Captain America what do you see
Millions of your brothers say theyll fight to be free
Who could have known you would be the chosen one
To kick start our dreams
The cycle of life goes around and round again
Tell me what does it mean
Can it be true
Where theres love
There is grace
And theres hope left in this place
And the smile on your face
Gives me faith in the human
If we could trade all of our tomorrows
For the best of our yesterdays
Erase all the pain and the sorrow
Would there have to be a high price to pay
Hey Hey
We run for our lives
And were searching for shelter now
From the coming storm
Are you the man who can lead us once again
So come on, suit up, lets go
Where theres love
There is grace
And theres hope left in this place
And the smile on your face
Theres not a damn thing we cant face
Where theres love
There is grace
And theres hope left in this place
And the smile on your face
Gives me faith in the human
Faith in the human race
Yeah, I got faith
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kite The Wind Took As If A Poem
You bought the kit,
couldn’t wait for Mum to clear the table
to spread its bits and pieces out
didn’t your Dad help you? Yes, of course –
those were the good times..
‘your Dad’… do we ever really realise
they had a life of their own,
not merely extras in the drama
of your life?
the wooden struts cut to length,
the careful, don’t hurry Michael cotton wound
around the glue, and then more glue,
put the top back on again Michael
or you’ll be sorry when you come to use it again…
what’s again, in a boy’s life? …
that special waterproofed paper
finally in place; Mum’s hair-dryer
cautiously used to tauten
the bright kite’s sail
not too near Michael,
read the instructions…
it’s alive now, the kite,
the two of you waiting
to learn about wind, even
what you thought a mere light breeze…
what strength! on that first outing
on the beach or in the park;
the mere light breeze
which as your kite sailed up there in the sky,
dipping, soaring around the other kites
like a half learned, half graceful dance
which the wind wrote
but you did not listen fully to:
a sudden pull of wind, a parting
somewhere between string and kite…
no longer your kite; now
it’s the wind’s kite
sailing off into the blue
to meet the clouds perhaps
was it your Dad, after
he too had been silent-sad,
or was it Mum as she wiped your face who said
the wind, the sky, loved it too much
to give it back
and so with poems.
Throw away the box and stuff
but keep the glue, it may, like memory,
come in useful
next time
and so with poems.
The wind, the sky,
deserve them for their own;
they can go further, faster, they’re more strong
than you;
let go the string, now, as it falls to earth;
watch the bright kite
till it's out of sight;
was it ever yours?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Forget-Me-Not Wishful Thinking
Forget-me-not seems wishing well
of wishful thinking, all eyes dim,
leaves fall, the seasons pass, red rim
sees eyes once bright before time fell
on expectations bright to tell
all's wishful-thinking. To the brim
drink deep life's draught, the odds are slim
that age page fills for fame's brief spell
soon sinks, leaves only heads to swell,
oblivion to all is grim
fate shared, despair for harlot, prim.
Life's page - joy, rage, - may living hell
appear to some, to others dream
phantasmogorical false gleam.
(18 August 2011)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fiddle Riddle
Once stood a man on my face
Ooh yeah, on my face
Gobbled him up cause my taste
Leaves nothing to waste
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
Piano it marks the good pace
Ooh yeah, the good pace
Dont know if its right, but I like the bass
So turn up the bass
Hear the fiddles as they play
Hear the fiddles as they play
What is fair is fair
And the guitar player
No metal, no brick, was no trace
Oh, no, was no trace
But machines moved on and still chased
No particular place
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Definition of happiness
ITS A place we have all been to:
a place were difficulties are forgotten
were only joyful events are certain
its a place you cant go to everyday
when you get there not long enough you can stay
a place safe and secure
a shield that deflects any bad thing that could accrue
a place were poise and pride are not neglected
a place were negative thoughts, ideas are not selected
a place far away from here
a place that does not recognize fear
a place that needs along time to get to
yet you arrive and forget any negative thing you have been through
a place that effects so deep
a place were you cant fall asleep
a place that does not exist
yet we have all been there I still insist
a place that’s not defined as a dream or a fantasy
a place that is only called happiness and ecstasy
Yet it is the most beautiful place
where sound of laughter and shape of smile race
on ones face like it would be in grace
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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Amazing Grace
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound!
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
was blind, but now I see.
Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
and grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear,
the hour I first believed!
Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come.
Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,
and grace will lead me home.
When we've been there ten thousand years,
bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's grace,
than when we first begun.
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind Whispers
The wind whispers to me,
It tells me things,
Things about you that I didn’t know before,
It reminded me of all the good times we had together,
It makes me sad to think that you’re not here any more.
The wind whispers to me,
It reminded me of the day we met,
Out in the rain, soaking wet,
You offered me your umbrella,
And I fell in love with you that night.
We had lots of fun days after that,
Until you went and said goodbye,
I never saw your face again,
And I never will,
Until I die.
The wind whispers to me,
It sounds just like you did,
Happy, all the time,
Until that day three months ago,
When you died.
The wind whispers to me,
And tells me that all is well,
It tells me that your happy,
And I can sleep at night,
Knowing that you didn’t end up in hell.
The wind whispered to me again last night,
And told me to be happy,
It said, even though your gone,
I should continue with my life,
But I will love you until the end of time.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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Sonnet IX
TO THE COUNTESS HELÉNE ZAVADOWSKY.
WHEN our young Queen put on her rightful crown
In Gothic Westminster's long-hallow'd walls,
The eye upon no lovelier sight look'd down
Than thou, fair Russian! Memory still recalls
The soft light of thy sapphire-colour'd eyes,
The rich twine of thy simply-braided hair,
And the low murmur of the crowd's surprise
To see thee pass along so strangely fair.
Nor didst thou charm by looks and smiles alone,--
Thy 'broken English' had its share of grace;
For something in thy accent and thy tone
So match'd the beauty of thy gentle face,
We seem'd to hear our old familiar words
Set to some foreign lute or harp's melodious chords!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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A Blind Child's Plea
What is the colour of the wind, Daddy?
Said the child so small
What is the colour of the wind?
For i can't see it at all
It is the colour of freedom, my child
Said the man to his son
It is the colour of all
The specks of light in the rainbow
That is the colour of the wind
What else, Daddy? What else?
Begged the child
Explain to me more
For you can see what i can not
The sun
The sea
The Earth
And more
It is the colour of beauty
Of peace and light
It is the colour of love
And of day and of night
It feels so free
Said the child
With arms outstreached
I never would have guessed
The colour of the wind
It is the colour you want it to be
And it doesn't matter if you can't see
For the wind is your friend
And you alone
Know the colours of the wind.
poem by Lucy Westmacott
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When From The Sod The Flow'rets Spring
When from the sod the flow'rets spring,
And smile to meet the sun's bright ray,
When birds their sweetest carols sing
In all them morning pride of May,
What lovelier than the prospect there?
Can earth boast any thing more fair?
To me it seems an almost heaven,
So beauteous to my eyes that vision bright is given.
But when a lady, chaste and fair,
Noble, and clad in rich attire,
Walks through the throng with gracious air,
As sun that bids the stars retire,--
Then, where are all thy boastings, May?
What hast thou beautiful and gay
Compared with that supreme delight?
We leave thy loveliest flowers, and watch that lady bright.
Wouldst thou believe me,-- come and place
Before thee all this pride of May;
Then look but on my lady's face,
And, which is best and brightest? say:
For me, how soon (if choice were mine)
This would I take, and that resign!
And say, 'Though sweet thy beauties, May!
I'd rather forfeit all than lose my lady gay.'
poem by Walther von der Vogelweide
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Sunshine
Dum dum dum be dum be doo
Dum dum dum be dum be doo
Dum dum dum be dum be doo
Dum dum dum be dum be doo
With a smile she brings me light
She can make my whole world bright
She brings out the sun at night
Shes my sunshine
Life would be full (? ? ? )
Sailing on the sea
In a boat
Just a (? ? ? ) knee
And propose
That shell be my only one
She can make you feel so fine
Like to love her all the time
Its the reason Im a-pleasin my sunshine
Some-a-day im
Gonna marry her
Some-a-way im
Gonna carry her
To a place where we can play in the sun
Like a full moon shinin bright
Shell light up the darkest night
Will she squeeze me
How shell please me
Sunshine
Some-a-day im
Gonna marry her
Some-a-way im
Gonna carry her
To a place where we can play in the sun
Never felt a kiss so sweet
Never could I ever meet
Someone even half as sweet as my
Sunshine
Some-a-day im
Gonna marry her
Some-a-way im
Gonna carry her
To a place where we can play in the sun
Dum dum dum be dum be do
Dum dum dum be dum be do
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall
Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall,
Sunday evening-date to fix-
Fifteenth April, sixty-six,
Speech reported and redacted
By a fellow much distracted.
I
Who lectures? No mere scorner;
Clear-brained, his heart is warm.
She sits at the nearest comer
Of I will not say what form.
II
The Conflict of Opinions
In the Present Day, saith Chair.
What muff in the British dominions
Could dispute that she is fair?
III
Mammon-worship is horrid,
Plutocracy is base.
Dark hair from a fine small forehead;
I catch but the still side face.
IV
We wallow in mere dimension,
The Big to us is Great.
If she stood at her utmost tension
She might pass four feet eight.
V
We lay on colour in splashes,
With a mop, or a broom for brush.
How dark are her long eyelashes!
How pure is her cheek's slight flush!
VI
But we have no perception
For form-the divinest-now.
Each curve there is perfection,
In nostril, chin, and brow.
VI
Our women are good kind creatures,
But they cannot dress at all.
Does her bonnet grace her features?
Clear blue with a black lace fall.
VIII
Low Church-very low-in the gutter;
High Church-as ven'son high.
O'er the flower of her face gleams the flutter
Of a smile like a butterfly.
IX
Herder, Wieland, Lessing;
Bossuet, Montalembert.
Fine names, but the name worth guessing
Is the name of the sweet girl there.
The individual; true man;
Individuality.
A man's but one half, some woman
The other half must be.
XI
Persistent valour the sternest,
With love's most gentle grace.
How grand is the eye fixed earnest
In the half-seen up-turned face!
XII
'How did you like the lecture?
Was it not beautiful?'
I should think she was! 'I conjecture
That your brains have been gathering wool!'
P. S.
The Chairman was a rare man;
At every telling point
He smiled at his post like a jolly host
Carving rich cuts from the joint;
Which the name he bore was Richard Moore
Whom Heaven with grace anoint!
That conflict of opinion
It had its counterpart
In conflict for dominion
Between my head and heart.
poem by James Thomson
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Life's Lesson Book
Life is a ponderous lesson-book, and Fate
The teacher. When I came to love's fair leaf
My teacher turned the page and bade me wait.
'Learn first,' she said, 'love's grief';
And o'er and o'er through many a long tomorrow
She kept me conning that sad page of sorrow.
Cruel the task; and yet it was not vain.
Now the great book of life I know by heart.
In that one lesson of love's loss and pain
Fate doth the whole impart.
For, by the depths of woe, the mind can measure
The beauteous unscaled summits of love's pleasure.
Now, with the book of life upon her knee,
Fate sits! the unread page of love's delight
By her firm hand is half concealed from me,
And half revealed to sight.
Ah Fate! be kind! so well I learned love's sorrow,
Give me its full delight to learn tomorrow.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Weather love
The wind, the rain, the sunset
all in one place,
is it possible for such thing to be seen all at once?
seems to me like it is every time we have those occasional small talks
when the wind comes through
it probably means your words will be cold even if its June
but they glide by my side because
i know those harsh words don't come from your sweet heart
it cant be possible for you to be kind when you're feeling cold inside
let me warm you up
you shove me aside and say no
that's when it starts to pour
the rain falling down my face
because god knows how much it hurts
to be neglected and rejected
by the person who you'll give your life away
and when it rains it thunders
and life keeps getting colder
the wind and the rain threw me over
but next day it was over
the sunset took over
this must means you're okay
no more sadness or confused face
and you take me with you once again
and we are happier than yesterday
but who said its staying this way
the weather always changes
its an unpredictable world that i face everyday
but you're worth it
you're worth the chills, the pain, the pouring rain
and you're worth everything
when the sunset is visible again.
poem by Melissa Lora
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