En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Jump

He is standing at the open door of the aircraft
and see his life flashing past,
while strong winds are pulling
on his face and jacket
and the light keeps on flashing green
and somebody taps him on the shoulder.

It’s like a explorer
walking into an new world,
with the earth rushing past beneath him
and he is almost above the horizon.

It’s as if for moments
he is hanging and feeling insignificant
and he is thought struck
while he falls at terminal velocity,

the wind is whistling in his ears
and it is then that he locks his thoughts,
knowing that man is but paltry
and seconds drags on like hours

before he pulls the string,
the parachute rushes open,
breaking his fall with force
and he is gliding like an eagle

while he’s riding the wind,
getting breathtaking views
of the scenery
that stretches out far below him,
drawing a picture
up to the horizon.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The parachute

I get a brown parachute
and make sure that it’s folded right,
strap it to my back
and feel that it fits well.

You must make certain
that a parachute
can carry weight,
if it’s a parachute

I accompany a troop of soldiers
into a aeroplane
that takes of roaring from the runway
and we fly higher and higher
until the light first flashes red
and then green
and the aircrafts engines stop
while my heart beats in my throat

I get my turn
to stand at the open door
and see how the landscape
flashes past like a picture
beneath me.

Then I break through the wind
and count wordless
before my hand finds the pull string
and I fly on wings of silk
that folds open and draws me up.

The world lies small beneath me
and the wind swishes gale strong
and in my thoughts I fly up into the sky
past other parachutes
and the aircraft
while the clouds fold around me
and I go through the stratosphere

Later it gets chillier
and I can hardly breath
and I must be near
the mesosphere

In the vacuum around me
the earth lies
like a blue-white ball
at my feet
and I am past the thermosphere
and around me I see the universe
with stars and planets without number.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Rain drive

I see a big storm
hanging dark against the sky
and lightning bolts,
that hit smashing to the ground.

There are big drops
that hit whipping down
and the black road
wet and somewhat slippery.

There’s no way
to ride away from the storm
and the traffic
stand still in front of me,
but with a motorbike
you can cut past cars.

It’s as if clouds of steam
rise out of the hot tar road,
but the screen
of the helmet
is covered by the rain
that I have difficulty seeing
to were to go
and which cars are moving or standing.

With Soutpansberg avenue that lies open before me
I open the throttle
and there’s wind, rain
and thunders that fall flashing blue
around me
and resound somewhere behind the motorbike
and the rain on my hands
hits like hail.
.
The leather jacket keeps the top of my body dry and warm,
but the bottom
is soaked and wet
and I feel the coldness
rising from below.

There’s busses coming from the front
that throws water whipping
as far as they go
and somewhere in the left lane,
there’s cars stopping for a pothole
and my motorbike catches speed
past in the right lane.

poem by Gert Strydom
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HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) freefall insertion (Terzanelle

Falling through space with rushing air
you dropp from a plane as if flying on wings
with wind blowing everywhere, sweat in your hair

with the morning glow radiating between things
and the sun creeping over the horizon in a red ball
you dropp from a plane as if flying on wings

with oxygen feeding through the mask you feel small
seeing the earth rushing in at great speed
and the sun creeping over the horizon in a red ball

and your eyes watch the altimeter spinning, taking heed
trusting implicitly on the gear
seeing the earth rushing in at great speed

you are falling at terminal velocity with fear
and sensing the distance
trusting implicitly on the gear

and you pull the drawstring, expecting enemy resistance,
falling through space with rushing air
and sensing the distance
with wind blowing everywhere, sweat in your hair

poem by Gert Strydom
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Seen from the sky

Farms lie patched in blocks
of brown and green squares
with maize and sunflower
and other crops.

There are houses and silos
like castles protecting
here and there
with windmills
standing like bishops
wailing against the wind
guarding waterholes

and farmers, workers
and cattle, sheep
and other animals
like knights
and pawns everywhere

and God plays
against the evil foe
on a giant chessboard
seen in mid game.

Buildings, pivot points, tractors
men and animals
and everything below
becomes insignificant and miniature
and specs in time and space

and the board never ends
and stretches without boundaries
on past the next horizon
to continents across the globe
to include anywhere

and at times
life and death balances
on where destiny falls
or the next move
if there is one at all.

poem by Gert Strydom
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To Soar

to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
giving way to the blackness around
to soar among the heaves
wind rushing past
the uncertainty of tomorrow t
he wisdom of yesterday
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
through the galaxies
small spots of color appear
helping peace fill the void
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
a smallflutter in my chest begins
the colors all around brighten
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past
the flutter becomes a beat
then a pulse
sound all around
music
to soar among the heavens
wind rushing past.

poem by Lauren Kiczula
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Table Bay [2]

I can hear the waves roar,
slamming shingle on the rocks, the beach
drawing in and out
on Bloubergstrand
and the cadence is a age old shuddering
of waves breaking, continuing like before

and in the distance Table Bay
lies stretched out specked with
hundreds of little lights
like a enormous crown

with the flat mountain top
on display, etched against the night sky
and its full tide, the moon is full
yellow and magnificent

and the place of good hope,
lies on the shore
with waves breaking forever more
and lonely the beach stretches out before me,
in a long white ribbon
and the dark water goes out to the horizon,
almost as far as I can see

and the sea wind is fresh and new
and there's no light in sight
on the wavering ocean
just a darkness that envelopes me
as the waves
are throwing pebbles out
and drawing them in
before breaking on the beach

and there's nobody to be true to,
nobody to trust, only the reality of the here and now
and all hope, all promises, all joy and pain
remains the same
swept in and out of a confused world
forever breaking, forever rushing in.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Two Days From Knowing

(gillian welch/matt rollings)
Now the nights turned pink
On the eastern edges
But the sky is cold and still
And I wonder if its the sunrise
Warning the desert
Or the lights of tucson from over the hill
Its a hard way to love you
This long distance romance
Always stopping and starting again
I dont mind the miles
When im out on the highway
But even when im with you the miles just dont end
And im two days from knowing
Whether I can be strong
If I spend one more night in your arms
So ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure
As the night closes down
It fills the horizon
And stretches it out at the seams
And im not sure if tomorow
Im gonna be any closer
To closing the distance between you and me
And im two days from knowing
Whether I can be strong
If I spend one more night in your arms
So ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure
Well ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure

song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beginning and End (Again)

faded lines, greying hair,
life spillt from a cup.
even stars fall down,
nothing ever falls up!

world changes, still the same,
or maybe getting worse.
vanity of vanities
riding in a hearse.

and the truth kills the lie
with a savage swing.
but there's a place
inside our dreams....

a door only time can open,
a peace beyond all our hoping.
where beginning and end begin again.
the home of lightning and howling wind!

faith burned, anger earned,
fists against the wall.
you cant see what can be
when you cant hear the call.

the house you built, the spirit killed,
the love that in the end devours.
when seconds turn into lifetimes
in your final hours.

and the truth kills the lie
with a savage swing.
but there's a place
inside our dreams...

a door only time can open,
a peace beyond all our hoping.
where beginning and end begin again.
the home of lightning and howling wind.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Holding

Im standing here and hoping for you
Holding my door open for you now
Ask just what you will of me
Ill bend just like a willow tree
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open to the wind
Well seven times she came to me
And each time seemed the same to me
She knows just what to ask me now
And I cant help but wonder how
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open before the wind
I wrote my name upon the sands
With questioningly weary hands
The tide arose and answered me
And washed my name into the sea
And now Im holdin
Holdin my door open before the wind

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parachute jump

While I stood at the door
I noticed
how the depths can suck you in,
can paralyse your heart and soul.

With parachute
strapped to me I learnt
that there are things
much deeper than fun
and that pain and pleasure
has a very fine dividing line
and that reality
is the master of situations

but that the heart
talks its own language
sometimes past reason
and almost unwilling
I was dragged along,
did I dare me
into your depths

to fall into you
past slippery cliffs
and read the wind, the weather,
the change of atmosphere
deep in your eyes
and you converted me
from explorer, scout and soldier
and taught me something about life
while I tried
to make a safe landing
and we were still
lying in each other’s arms.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Available Light

Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
The restless wind
Has seen all things
In every kind of light
Rising with the full moon
To go howling through the night
The sleepless wind
Has heard all things
Between the sea and sky
In the canyons of the city
You can hear the buildings cry
Oh the wind can carry
All the voices of the sea
Oh the wind can carry
All the echoes home to me
Run with wind and weather
To the music of the sea
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Chase the wind around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Play of light
A photograph
The way I used to be
Some half-forgotten stranger
Doesnt mean that much to me
Trick of light
Moving picture
Moments caught in flight
Make the shadows darker
Or the colors shine too bright
Oh the light can carry
All the visions of the sea
Oh the light can carry
All the images to me
Run to light from shadow
Sun gives me no rest
Promise offered in the east
Broken in the west
Chase the sun around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Shadows hide the play of light
So much I want to see
Chase the light around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Ill go with the wind
Ill stand in the light

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Japanese Wood-Carving

High up above the open, welcoming door
It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.
Once, long ago, it was a waving tree
And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves
Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.
The winter snows had bent its branches down,
The spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers,
Summer had run like fire through its veins,
While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs,
And strewed the leafy ground with acorn cups.
Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
Its branches, breaking here and there a limb;
But every now and then broad sunlit days
Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves.
Yes, it had known all this, and yet to us
It does not speak of mossy forest ways,
Of whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch;
But of quick winds, and the salt, stinging sea!
An artist once, with patient, careful knife,
Had fashioned it like to the untamed sea.
Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue
And breaks it into gleams and sparks of light.
Among the flashing waves are two white birds
Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy
At the wild sport. Now diving quickly in,
Questing some glistening fish. Now flying up,
Their dripping feathers shining in the sun,
While the wet drops like little glints of light,
Fall pattering backward to the parent sea.
Gliding along the green and foam-flecked hollows,
Or skimming some white crest about to break,
The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop
And play with ocean in a summer mood.
Hanging above the high, wide open door,
It brings to us in quiet, firelit room,
The freedom of the earth's vast solitudes,
Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll,
And seabirds scream in wanton happiness.

poem by Amy Lowell
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Truth Of My Youth

There was a time and place
Where I never thought
I'd leave my own home town
But those days are finally
Dead and gone
It was never my intention
To stay there oh no
There was a conscious effort
Played by me
To disown anything I see
There was a girl I knew
Way back when
Who says she doesnt know me anymore
These are the lies
The things you never mention
These are my past mistakes
I'll stay away from
These are my thoughts
Written down on paper
Its my only savior
For not saying
What I want to say
These are the thoughts
That are on my mind
Moments that havnt yet been defined
And I dont know if you
Could ever understand
These are the things I cant say
When we're alone
There were countless hours
On the telephone
My ears were ringing
From the dial tone
There was flashing lights
People staring
There was nothing I could ever do
These are the lies
The things that you never metion
These are my past mistakes
I'll stay away from
This is the truth
The only time you'll hear it
I'll write it down
Because it seems so hard to say it
These are my thoughts
Written down on paper
Its my only savior
From not saying
What I want to say
These are the thoughts
That are on my mind
Moments that havnt yet been defined
And I dont know
If you could ever understand
These are the things I cant say
When we're alone

song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beds of Fleur-de-Lys

HIGH-LYING, sea-blown stretches of green turf,
Wind-bitten close, salt-colored by the sea,
Low curve on curve spread far to the cool sky,
And, curving over them as long they lie,
Beds of wild fleur-de-lys.

Wide-flowing, self-sown, stealing near and far,
Breaking the green like islands in the sea;
Great stretches at your feet, and spots that bend
Dwindling over the horizon’s end,—
Wild beds of fleur-de-lys.

The light keen wind streams on across the lifts,
Their wind of western springtime by the sea;
The close turf smiles unmoved, but over her
Is the far-flying rustle and sweet stir
In beds of fleur-de-lys.

And here and there across the smooth, low grass
Tall maidens wander, thinking of the sea;
And bend, and bend, with light robes blown aside,
For the blue lily-flowers that bloom so wide,—
The beds of fleur-de-lys.

poem by Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman
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In the Highveld

(after Toon van den Heever)

I

In the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open
where rock rabbits, steenbok and baboons revel,
you see the wind skipping through the long grass
and you can still believe in God and His angels,

the rain gathers with thunder
where through the open spaces you can see far into the veldt,
you are astounded by the beauty of flowering proteas
and you still can realize your dependence

but when the city’s rumbling becomes too much,
the jacarandas start flowering in the streets,
buildings of steel and concrete start to curtail you,
you dream about wild flowers appearing everywhere

and it’s the places of a child that you miss,
in the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance.

II

In the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance
and the wind rollicks through the grass
the sky is pure blue and you can look for hours at it,
there you can find freedom from the city’s imprisonment.

When the wind rustles through the march you loose all sadness,
you see the African red-knobbed coot gathering her chickens,
you can hear the finches’ caper, branches full together,
you see every great small happening,

how wild flowers of every imaginable colour
grow as if planted in secret
(and I will go back if I only could)
where I can find some serenity, can have peace
where I will know about God’s heritage;
there the sun shines.

III

There the sun shines
where proteas and aloes flower wildly,
bright up to the horizon
coming out of the earth by themselves

with violets growing purple-blue right through the marsh,
with daisies stretching white over the veldt,
with long tailed widow birds flapping their wings
and the earth is covered with long green grass.

To this piece of ground I am trapped
even when my days are drawing to their end,
it goes even to my heart’s deepest yearning,
with every plant, bush and flower

as it’s bought with sweat and blood,
nobody can strip it from me.

IV

Nobody can strip it from me,
I have to go back to where the sun hangs golden
in the sapphire heaven, I have got to strip the city from me
(but if I only could)

the big desire stays and out of the town I must go
away from the ambulance and police sirens that cuts through everything,
trains whistling almost endlessly,
I have got to go to where only the frog choir and crickets sing.

Again I have got to get the smell of sugar bushes,
smell the rain, spring, summer and even autumn
I must get away from a world where tinned pleasure seduces,
where people use other people for their own pleasure.

I want to stand in the green fields of grass,
when the day dies.

V

When the day dies
letting its last rays fall,
with the birds flying to their nests
darkness comes to this part of the universe,

the doves at dusk still call to each other
as if their voices bind them in the darkness,
you can see the moon sailing golden-yellow through the sky,
you are sometimes blinded by the bright rays,

the city lights glitter far away
in all the colours of the rainbow,
here you want to bond your life to a loved one,
catching her moments long in your eye

when people come together here,
the madness of the human existence is exorcised.

VI

The madness of the human existence is exorcised
even in later years past your own youth,
when you are in the world that your heart desires,
you want to invite the new spring to stay with you

shaking out that which bothers and torments to the early summer wind,
feeling the effervescence of new life,
blinded by the sun you want to find healing
while the whole of spring washes through your life

with the light, air, the flowers, birds and sun splashing down
as if your autumn is only in your imagination,
you want to wash yourself clean from old age,
you are searching for exorcism from the darkness

there are still flowers sprouting out everywhere,
when the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees.

VII

When the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees
with branches being full of coloured leaves,
the sun is still heating as in summer
before the first biting winds begin to whine.

I see opened pod upon opened pod
that lays brown scorched without any signs of seeds,
the dull blue sky has clouds in milky white,
trees become a wild watermill

that is halfway skeleton, halfway still carrying leaves,
afternoons are still drawn out
and even when days earlier end in winter
it’s a time without equal,
as if the summer can last forever,
in the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open.

poem by Gert Strydom
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How Shall I Remember You?

How shall I remember you
searching memory’s dark, dry rooms?

Under high ceilings and dim attic lamps
I hear only echoes of my childhood’s lost past.

You’re calling me outside, past the dark screen door
onto the back porch, to watch the gathering evening storm,

and there I see the willow tree, dancing in the wind
its long green leaves thrashing the sky, its supple branches bend

when following its sure, straight path, the lightning struck it down
and, like all things ultimately, smashed it dying into the ground.

Although I’ve searched these dry, long years after both of you had died,
my tears are done, I see the sun, and my flashing anger is now satisfied.

poem by Steven Federle
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Wallaces Warrior

Early mornings crisp cool sun illuminates the enemies Armour
His stallions breaths jars the air with snorts of deep anticipation
Thoughts race between victory, defeat, life and finality of death
Survive,
Thrive
The moment is nigh
Heart beat strong
Mind race fast
Remember everything
Forget nothing
Flags pushed by a forceful wind whip his nerves of excitement

Silence

The warrior scream
The surge is as waves eroding the shore of bounteous green
Thunderous thighs pound beneath quivering forelocks
Cool air exhaled rushes past and is left
Past tense
Breath

Eyes to the left
Raging eyes pierce from pale blue paint as scarlet screams
The thunder rolls, swords glisten as enticing Sirens
Contact, a force filled clash of wills and minds plus strength
Clashing swords, ideas beliefs blood plus guts and gore
Dust is kicked and raises past falling victims
Thuds as spuds in sacks
(Land)
Is what it all is for
Face down awkward or upon the broken backs

No time to realise that one who falls is he
Who thought and fought with all his will for all his life
And now just leave him be...

poem by Karen Sinclair
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One Way Ticket

(judy rodman/keith hinton)
Standing on the border
Looking out into the great unknown
I can feel my heart beating faster as I step out on my own
Theres a new horizon and the promise of favorable wind
Im heading out tonight, traveling light
Im gonna start all over again
And buy a one way ticket on a west bound train
See how far I can go (because I can)
Im gonna go out dancing in the pouring rain
And talk to someone I dont know (because I can)
I will face the world around me
Knowing that Im strong enough to let you go
And I will fall in love again
Because I can
Gonna climb the mountain
And look the eagle in the eye
I wont let fear clip my wings and tell me how high I can fly
How could I have ever believed
That love had to be so blind
When freedom was waiting, down at the station
All I had to do was make up my mind
And buy a one way ticket on a west bound train
See how far I can go (because I can)
Im gonna go out dancing in the pouring rain
And talk to someone I dont know (because I can)
I will face the world around me
Knowing that Im strong enough to let you go
And I will fall in love again
Because I can
Well, I have walked through the fire
And crawled on my knees through the valley of the shadow of doubt
Then the truth came shining like a light on me and now I can see my way out
Im gonna buy a one way ticket on a west bound train
See how far I can go (because I can)
Im gonna go out dancing in the pouring rain
And talk to someone I dont know
Im gonna buy a one way ticket on a west bound train
Gonna have my breakfest with some pink champagne
Im gonna sail the ocean, Im gonna spread my wings
Im gonna climb that mountain, gonna do everything

song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reincarnation

Somewhere
I think of you
Somewhere
I remember you

You are with me like the wind
From a faraway land and I know it is you
The way you kiss me still makes me quiver
Wind-lips touching my cheeks my neck
Wind hands caressing my arms my hands my chest
Wind-body hushing pressing against my body today

There is a sense of longing about two
Past bodies,
Two past warm bodies pressing to
Past warmth and past time somewhere
Only that it is too hard to remember the details
Of that past love, past the season, only that it is hard
To remember why that love died untimely

Now we are here, I am in this present body of a writer
For some reason you read me in your present body of a reader

You are telling me that something in my poem catches
The eye of your soul and you begin to remember
This is him, this is him, he was there with me before

Your way of telling me without seeing me is a feeling too
We were there before we were together we just can’t remember the details.

Today you are the thought that touches me like the wind-mind
So gently, a thought comes to my brain, a feminine thought claiming
A right that was there before, and which today vehemently denies.

The present seals it with birth.
Locked.
Another death is needed to open it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Face The Wind

Face the wind
Feel the pressure
It blows me away
It rushes past to God knows where
When I turn my self to stand in its path
Feel it Almost like
Radiant fingers Invigorating
Strokes energy through my flowing hair
Filling with joy my heart
Soul overflows with passion I feel
I hear nothing but the wind
It is everything in my ears
And when I finally speak
Words leave my mouth
And all leave presence
As wind captures them and
Steals them from the listening
To hoard them in its vast secret place
Far away beyond most imagination
Feel the wind
Speak into it your secrets
Taste, Smell its messages
Hear voices it carries
From animals and trees and
Storms and lovers
See it, watch its patterns
Where it comes from and goes to
Look at its journey, its traveling
But can’t
You can’t see it
But you can feel it
Somewhere it is deep
And its colours would be beautiful
Face the wind
Full-force you feel it and
It blows you away
Feel its soothing power
Breathe in life
Feel
Face the wind.

poem by Zoe MacRae
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