While I Am Still Far Over The Hill
When life takes me
over ghastly paths with a precipice
I want to stray into the darkness
but still your heaven is stretched out blue over me,
with the sun burning intense warm white
and I look at the moon where it's high,
or low in a variety of
yellow, white and even silver colours
and when the wind rises cruelly to devour me
You are always there with arms wide open,
like a father coming to the rescue,
who is already running
while I am still far over the hill.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Colours Of Life
Sunny morning, golden noon, rose pink twilight, silver moon.
Grey black cloud, creamy sea, lightning bright, green brown tree.
Yellow with age, white with fright, red with rage, black as night.
Green with envy, rainbow hue, in the pink, sky of blue.
Countless colours running rife. These are the colours of our life.
poem by Rod Morris
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Somewhere Beyond A Old Gold Mine
Somewhere beyond a old gold mine,
probably planted there by a bird,
I saw you reaching high against the blue sky,
with blossoms folding open in purity,
bursting open snow white,
at a rusted wheel that gnashed as it turned;
as a almond tree on top of a yellow-brown mine dump
while I was walking around curious.
Your branches were like angelic wings, white and pure,
was circled by the bright sunshine,
that splashed down your wide open branches,
where like fingers they were reaching for heaven,
your glory went to the depths of my soul
where very high you stood above everything.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Life of a Flower
As the snow melts with upmost intensity
Out of the white field under the blues sky a green spot rises
The rise of a legacy of a summer, a legacy of blooms
The sun rises and white is no more
White once now is green, green signs of life
Life that will live for a summer time, summer that never ends
From green to yellow, yellow that perfects the view
View out of sight, so far away you can see the Earth curves
From yellow that blinds the eyes to cloudy skies
Now is time again, say good bye till summer comes back
From brown, the name of a legacy that lasted a life time
Brown surrenders to white, so smooth takes it by force
And Earth sleeps again under the white blanket
Forever and ever life lives and dies
Perfection is all.
Hope or despair?
It is November,
clamness rules.
After an arduous chase,
the black horse eventually stops.
Still, only its shadow follows behind.
The gigantic tree,
acting like a shadowy shelter,
the black horse is standing underneath,
weeping.
The wind is blowing heavily,
scourging the black horse cruelly,
tormenting it toughly,
a dire punishment.
A precipice is nearby,
the black horse is gawking at the edge of it,
without closing its eyes for a night,
a desperate look.
The sun is rising very slowly,
coming up over the horizon,
shaking out light to the cloudless sky gradually,
the pale white and the deep blue combine and the clouds turn blue.
Leaves on the trees sparkle,
down below a flower shines,
eyes of beasts glitter,
neigh of the black horse breaks out.
The world emerges from darkness,
every cloud has a silver lining,
even a ray of hope,
come on, don't give up.
(18th of August,2004)
poem by Trino Chan
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Christmas night legend
When the aurora borealis on Christmas night
throw magical lights over the north pole,
Lucifer rises out of his hell domain
to look at the outside world.
A single night away
from the terrible fire
can feel as it last a eternity
and when the ice glitters silver white,
he stares over the pure ice fields.
There are guilt thoughts
that rises ghostly out of the silver white
and overwhelming
are for a moment in his heart.
Above him the northern lights gives magic to the night
and reminds of a place
with glowing precious stones,
where he once were
when without fault in his construct
he gathered with the sons of God.
Magical colours are reflected on the ice fields
around him
from lime green to sapphire blue,
canary yellow to crimson
which vanishes into purple.
l’Envoi
He remembers the coming
of the almighty God
as a baby child,
the strange star,
archangels appearing rejoicing
to the shepherds
and children’s cries
disappearing in the dark.
He lifts his fist clenched
against the Creator of the universe
in a sign of opposition
and trembles when a lightning bolt claps near him.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Meditation. for Sonny Rainshine
The shifting blues of soft twilight, precursor to the fall of night.
From palest blue to indigo the colours waver come and go
.No earthly artist though they try can possibly identify
the boundaries between the hues which swirl and blend just as they choose.
Before they’re overtaken by darkness of night that rules the sky
Until the Moons serenity appears on high for all to see.
Here in the quiet countryside I meditate each eventide
Upon the qualities of light which alter with the fall of night.
Though it grows dark I still can see my eyes can work efficiently adjusting to the changing light though colours fade to black and white. An interlude a passing phase which flees before the silver rays
the newly risen moon supplies. Colours return delight our eyes
Though there’s a subtle difference the colours now are less intense
than those seen by the light of day. As if they’re altered in some way
Although I’m forced to recognise this may be due to tired eyes
I’m half convinced against my will that moonlight can and does instil
some new dimension to how we see.Adding some new delicacy
to our perception of the light. Perhaps we achieve clearer sight.
28-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Colours
Green is the carpet that covers the hill
White is the sheep who is eating his fill,
Blue is the curtain that hangs overhead
Black is the darkness that's better not said.
Purple is kingly and rightly should be
Brown is the earth as it holds you and me,
Yellow is summer and warm like the sun
Red at the end of the day when it's done.
Grey is a bleak day and filled with the rain
Always uncertain and so to remain,
Silver is quickly, and costly is gold,
But lovely are poems
When once they are told.
Written Feb 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Black & White
Long before you ever saw your chances
You were going to burn this city down
Tired of the fashions and the dances
Tired of the people standing around
Ticking like a bomb in the night
And you knew you were right
Black and white
Blame it on the time it took to leave here
Blame it on the ones who slowed you down
Blame it on the kind of friends you knew here
Blame it on the sickness going round
Going round and round in the night
With your heart out of sight
With your world burning bright
Like a moth round a light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the search you half remember
Setting out on at the start
Is burning like an ember in your heart
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out
Tell them that youve gone to find a person
Someone you lost track of long ago
Tell them that its someone you need worse than
Anybody else youll ever know
Ticking like a bomb in the night
You were strong, you were light
You were fast, you were bright
Then you were gone in the light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the high ideals and the promise
You once dressed the future in
Are dancing in the embers with the wind
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Running
By the side of the tracks where the train goes by
The wind and the rain will catch you, you will sigh
Deep in your heart
Then youll come a-running to me
Youll come a-running to me
Well you watch the train go round the bend
Play in dust and dream that it will never end
Deep in your heart
Youll come a-running to me
Youll come a-running to me
Said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
Said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
With your hound dog by your side
And your arms stretched out open wide
I wanna keep you satisfied in the morning sun
By my side, come on, come on run
And you kick the sand up with your heels
You think to yourself how good it feels
Put away all your walking shoes
Then you come running to me
Now you come running to me
I said, hey, come a-running to me
Oh, come a-running to me
Hey, yeah, come a-running to me
You gotta rainbow if you run to me
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And White
Long before you ever saw your chances
You were going to burn this city down
Tired of the fashions and the dances
Tired of the people standing around
Ticking like a bomb in the night
And you knew you were right
Black and white
Blame it on the time it took to leave here
Blame it on the ones who slowed you down
Blame it on the kind of friends you knew here
Blame it on the sickness going 'round
Going round and round in the night
With your heart out of sight
With your world burning bright
Like a moth 'round a light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the search you half remember
Setting out on at the start
Is burning like an ember in your heart
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out
Tell them that you've gone to find a person
Someone you lost track of long ago
Tell them that it's someone you need worse than
Anybody else you'll ever know
Ticking like a bomb in the night
You were strong, you were light
You were fast, you were bright
Then you were gone in the light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the high ideals and the promise
You once dressed the future in
Are dancing in the embers with the wind
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon's Pilgrimage...
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Across The Sky To Praise
The Maker and All His Wondrous Ways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Rises High, In Grace
Yet, Still In A Humble – Pilgrim’s Place
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Will Not Betray
All The Moonlight, GOD Lets Display
Tho’ She Moves In His Cosmic-Stage-Play
From His Theme-Theatre, She Will Not Stray
My Pilgrimage … Thru Deep, Dark Space
With Silver-Wings and Beams, I Chase
The Unknown and Known Questions Raised
Will Be Answered, When The Maker Says …
My Pilgrimage … To Touch Heaven’s Face
That Beauteous, Elusive, Mysterious Trace
Borne At The Blessed-Beginning’s Base
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pray …
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pay –
My Vows, My Voice, In Vesper-Vase
As This Moon, Is In Harvest – Phase
And Beams Brighter Now … Tho’ Slanted-Gaze
… The Moon … Glowing Ochre-Gold Or Silver
The Moon … Is Making Pilgrimage, Remember
The Moon … Is Trying To Help Deliver
Lost-Souls, Who Can Not Find … Moon River …
… Moon’s Pilgrimage … Keeps Steady Pace
Even Climbing Thru Dense, Cloudy-Lace
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Is Like A Dance, That Sways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Into The Night’s Embrace … …
(… and A Pilgrim’s Lips, Will Bring An Eclipse Soon –
In A Pilgrimage – Across The Moon …)
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Shouting words down the sidewalk while watching the moon
Moon beams!
pouring out light like streams of crystal
onto black ice cracked streets!
There are no birds
tonight
Hello Moon!
white
yellow
epiphany that shed form
Circumference of sky
falls sweetly into the arms
of the moon
and I walk
back down the sidewalk
to a home I hardly know
& to a home- soon I see
the Sky is waiting infront of me
and that is the home
that I know!
Goodnight
white
yellow
Moon!
poem by Steven Adelman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Would You Like To Be There
Somewhere the evening sun
Is falling down, the day is done
How i'd like to be there, how i'd like to share
Somewhere the darkness frowns
And hides behind the ones in doubt
Would you like to be there, would you like to share
With me, 'cause my arms are stretched a mile wide
Under the ocean floor, the sand is crawling up the shore
How i'd like to be there, 'n how i'd like to share
Under the western sky, the days are slowly passing by
Would you like to be there, would you like to share
With me, 'cause my arms are stretched a mile wide, yeah
The more you see, the more you know
The more you see, the more you know
The more you see, the more
Somewhere the songbird sings, but hears there's no-one listening
How i'd like to be there, 'n how i'd like to share
Out in the blackened sea, there's unison and harmony
Would you like to be there, would you like to share
With me, 'cause my arms are stretched a mile wide
The more you see, the more you know
The more you see, the more you know
The more you see
song performed by by Ugly Kid Joe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Margate
The curtains in the bedroom
are drawn close
and you lie
in semi-darkness.
Through the open window
I can smell the sea
and hear waves breaking
beyond the road.
The wind pulls at the curtains
and every now and then
the white beach
and the blue ocean peeps in.
We came to Margate
for a holiday at the sea
to bathe is shallow waters
to swim with the surf,
to have some fun
and tan in the hot sun,
but darkness hangs
like a shroud over you
while the white beach,
the bright blue sky
and the dark blue ocean waits
on us to come.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Coming Home
I've wandered far away from God
Now I'm coming home
The paths of sin too long I've trod
Lord, I'm coming home
I've wasted many precious years
Now I'm coming home
I repent with bitter tears
Lord,I'm coming home
Coming home
Yeah,I'm coming home
Nevermore to roam
Open wide thine arms of love
Lord,I'm coming home
Coming home
Yeah, I'm coming home
Nevermore to roam
Open wide thine arms of love
Lord I'm coming home
Coming home
Yeah,I'm coming home
Nevermore to roam
Open wide thine arms of love,
Lord I'm coming home.
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Indian Hunter
When the summer harvest was gathered in,
And the sheaf of the gleaner grew white and thin,
And the ploughshare was in its furrow left,
Where the stubble land had been lately cleft,
An Indian hunter, with unstrung bow,
Looked down where the valley lay stretched below.
He was a stranger there, and all that day
Had been out on the hills, a perilous way,
But the foot of the deer was far and fleet,
And the wolf kept aloof from the hunter's feet.
And bitter feelings passed o'er him then,
As he stood by the populous haunts of men.
The winds of autumn came over the woods
As the sun stole out from their solitudes;
The moss was white on the maple's trunk,
And dead from its arms the pale vine shrunk.
And ripened the mellow fruit hung, and red
Were the tree's withered leaves round it shed.
The foot of the reaper moved slow on the lawn
And the sickle cut down the yellow core--
The mower sung loud by the meadow-side,
Where the mists of evening were spreading wide,
And the voice of the herdsmen came up the lea,
And the dance went round by the greenwood tree.
Then the hunter turned away from the scene,
Where the home of his fathers once had been,
And heard by the distant and measured stroke,
That the woodman hewed down the giant oak,
And burning thoughts flashed over his mind
Of the white man's faith, and love unkind.
The moon of the harvest grew high and bright,
As her golden horn pierced the cloud of white--
A footstep was heard in the rustling brake,
Where the beech overshadowed the misty lake,
And a mourning voice, and a plunge from shore,--
And the hunter was seen on the hills no more.
When years had passed on, by that still lakeside
The fisher looked down through the silver tide,
And there, on the smooth yellow sand displayed,
A skeleton wasted and white was laid,
And 't was seen, as the waters moved deep and slow,
That the hand was still grasping a hunter's bow.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A spring evening
Outside the irises flower yellow and purple
and I haven’t seen a red one yet
and there are some pink and white blossoms
on the fruit trees
and the streetlights burn continually
glowing orange-yellow
all day and all night
as if the municipality
does not know how to do things right
and in the fading evening light
the moon is full and white
and the evening star is already shining bright
and a hot breeze sweeps in
through the open windows
and I wonder when the first spring rain
is going to fall
and in the distance I see thunder
crashing down
in blue-white flashes, but the storm
is blown away and again the sky is clear
and the black speckled by stars.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Do I Have To Say The Words?
Rescue me from the mire
Whisper words of desire
Rescue me - darling rescue me
With your arms open wide
Want you here by my side
Come to me - darling rescue me
When this world's closing in
There's no need to pretend
Set me free - darling rescue me
I don't wanna let you go
So I'm standing in your way
I never needed anyone like I'm needing you today
Do I have to say the words?
Do I have to tell the truth?
Do I have to shout it out?
Do I have to say a prayer?
Must I prove to you how good we are together?
Do I have to say the words
Rescue me from despair
Tell me you will be there
Rescue me - darlin rescue me
Every dream that we share
Every cross that we bear
Come to me - darling rescue me
song performed by by Bryan Adams from Waking Up The Neighbours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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JAZZ and RAINBOWS
What is Jazz - What is a Rainbow?
You can ask the questions - don't expect answers
Jazz is free and yet constrained
Rainbows come and go as they please
Jazz is wild and yet restrained
Rainbow can't exist without rain
Jazz is open and yet contained
Rainbows always have red at the top
Jazz is unscored and yet maintained
Rainbows can be single - double - triple
Just as Jango Rheinhardt said to Segovia
Senor it ees all in ze 'ed
The same is true of rainbows
Zey are all inside my 'ed!
It takes all the colours of pure white sound
To create jazz.
It takes all the colours of pure white light
To create a rainbow.
Jazz and rainbows operate on the same principle
In jazz the tone colours are separated by the players
In a rainbow the visible colours are separated by a raindrop
Jazz and rainbows are boh equally beautiful.
After the rain there are stll some drops in the atmosphere
They refract the white light into R O Y G B I V,
In the same way the 'Jazz Combo' is able to dissect.
The white sound of music is disected by the musicains
On a sunny day - the white light hits the raindrop
The colours are dispersed forming the rainbow.
In jazz - each member if the Combo has a colour!
The double bass has red - the saxaphone is orange!
The percussion is yellow - the brass is green
The clarinet is blue - trhe banjo is indigo
The guitar is violet and the piano is striped!
The combo plays and whiite sound is re-produced.
Because we are humans our senses of life are acute.
Our eyes for colour and our ears for sound.
The quality of this provision enables us to distinguish colour
And to distinguish between all the tones and semi-tones.
So next time you see a rainbow - think jazz
And the rainbow will dance for you
Next time you hear some jazzy jazz - think rainbow
And the tone colours of the jazz will spring out at you.
(John Knight - Colchester - October 2009)
poem by John Knight
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Rainbow Sky
Tonight, I saw a radiant rainbow sky:
Stunning colours, which caught my eye.
Shades of blue, yellow, peach, and red:
Absolutely amazing, it has to be said!
It wasn't very long after the sun had set:
It was an evening sky, which I won't forget.
It was Nature's show, at the close of day,
And I had trouble tearing my eyes away.
I wonder how all those colours appear,
And how they look so bright and clear?
The horizon never looked quite so pretty:
That darkness fell, really was a great pity.
Once darkness fell, there no colours left.
Losing the rainbow sky, I felt quite bereft.
I saw the sky ablaze with colours of fire;
Of seeing such sights, I doubt I'll ever tire.
Away from the horizon, but not too far,
Were a crescent moon, and twinkling star.
This patch of sky had a much darker hue:
I guess some may call it ‘midnight blue.'
In the night sky, the moon and stars shone:
Brighter still, once the daylight had gone.
Tired out, I snuggled down in my cosy bed,
With moon and stars shining over my head.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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