Cantlets
The wind is blowing. In my blooming field
fragrant! So, I said, My heart be steady
my solitude blossoms latent to yield
a Sunday noon, dim oracle it was and shady
A lonely song cries, in the wind, I said,
brings a murmurous voice, she comes lithe,
and I respond, it is a feast, my timid wed,
my loneliness, loving was a Hades scythe.
I kindly my wrists, I said, I kindly offer,
to a deity that stares, that stares iced
in Hades, my life then will belong to her,
pastoral, lifeless I 'll wonder and demised.
So, I said, to mountains and clear springs,
I wanted to be free, with her to away fly,
a sempiternal wedding not to accept or rings
not to connect our destinies and see her cry.
I 'll be alone, my soul, I said, I 'll stay
next to melodic flowing sweetest rivulets
next to the greenest field I saw her sway
amid angelic voices, our house's cantlets.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
Lonely, ,
Lonely and alone I am
my soul's always lonesome
in a crowd of loneliness
it sounds sad and lonely
hiding loneliness alone
the lonely lone alone
Lonely is a single traveller
on a dark and winding road.
Lonely is the burden
of carrying a heavy load.
Lonely is a beautiful song
that no one's ever heard,
and lonely is the wait for death
by a broken winged bird.
Lonely is the emptiness
inside my hollow soul,
and lonely is the sound of the wind
blowing through its gaping hole.
Loneliness is second only
to the darkened void of death
and loneliness is taking
that 'Right' to Hell
when I should have made a 'Left'.
Lonely is the sound
of an infant
who sadly cries in vain,
and lonely is his addict mother
shooting poison in her veins.
Lonely is the boy
who will never become a man
and lonely is the brink of disaster
upon which I know I stand.
Lonely is the poem
which has gone on long enough
and lonely is the sympathizers
who say I've, 'had it rough'.
Lonely is my life
lived without family or friend
and lonely is the last word of this poem
because it's always at the...
End.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Melancholy Song
-believing that humans are made in the image of God
has its implications;
living life here, while looking There
brings about the most precarious, melancholy situations-
There's a sad song singing
In the soul of the wind,
And yet a joyful wind blowing
Through every soul's song.
It never stays
And it never goes,
Calling our hearts onward
To wherever it flows.
It's a song of sadness
And of good cheer,
A song of great warmth
And no small fear.
The song of the masses
And the song of one,
The sound of breaking darkness in the night
And the music of the rising sun.
It's the melancholy in me
And great joy,
It's the deep desire to stay
And yet homeward go.
I know this song
And the tears it brings,
I hear this song
Within my heart, where it sings.
It leaves me lonely
But, never alone,
For it's ever with me
Singing of a place, called Home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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So Lonely Alone
So lonely alone am I
My soul's lonesome in the crowd of loneliness
It sounds sad and lonely
Hiding loneliness alone
The lonely lone alone
Lonely is a single traveller
On a dark and winding road.
Lonely is the burden
Of carrying a heavy load.
Lonely is a beautiful song
That no one's ever heard,
And lonely is the wait for death
For a broken winged bird.
Lonely is the emptiness
Inside my hollow soul,
And lonely is the sound of the wind
Blowing through its gaping hole.
Loneliness is second only
To the darkened void of death
And loneliness is taking
That 'Right' to Hell
When I should have made a 'Left'.
Lonely is the sound
Of a lonesome infant
Who sadly cries in vain,
And lonely is his addict mother
Shooting poison in her veins.
Lonely is the boy
Who will never become a man
And lonely is the brink of disaster
Upon which I know I stand.
Lonely is the poem
Which has gone on long enough
And lonely is the sympathisers
Who say I've, 'had it rough'.
Lonely is my life
Lived without family or friend
And lonely is the last word of this poem
Because it's always at the...
…End.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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The wind
(THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, fragrant and full of sweet singing--
Under my tree where I sit cometh the Wind to confession.
"Out in the garden abides the Queen of the beautiful Roses--
Her do I love and to-night wooed her with passionate singing;
Told I my love in those songs, and answer she gave in her blushes--
She shall be bride of the Wind, and she is the Queen of the Roses!"
"Wind, there is spice in thy breath; thy rapture hath fragrance Sabaean!"
"Straight from my wooing I come--my lips are bedewed with her kisses--
My lips and my song and my heart are drunk with the rapture of loving!"
(THE SONG)
The Wind he loveth the red, red Rose,
And he wooeth his love to wed:
Sweet is his song
The Summer long
As he kisseth her lips so red;
And he recketh naught of the ruin wrought
When the Summer of love is sped!
(AGAIN THE TALE)
Cometh the Wind from the garden, bitter with sorrow of winter.
"Wind, is thy love-song forgot? Wherefore thy dread lamentations?"
Sigheth and moaneth the Wind: "Out of the desolate garden
Come I from vigils with ghosts over the grave of the Summer!"
"Thy breath that was fragrant anon with rapture of music and loving,
It grieveth all things with its sting and the frost of its wailing
displeasure."
The Wind maketh ever more moan and ever it giveth this answer:
"My heart it is numb with the cold of the love that was born of the
Summer--
I come from the garden all white with the wrath and the sorrow of Winter;
I have kissed the low, desolate tomb where my bride in her loveliness
lieth
And the voice of the ghost in my heart is the voice that forever
outcrieth!"
(AGAIN THE SONG)
The Wind he waileth the red, red Rose
When the Summer of love is sped--
He waileth above
His lifeless love
With her shroud of snow o'erspread--
Crieth such things as a true heart brings
To the grave of its precious dead.
poem by Eugene Field
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Lake Of Fire
A new fishing well we need
Only vultures belong here
This place is unquenchable
Maggots feast on human remains
Is it Hades? Is it Gehenna?
Our bellies are rotted
We exhale fire
We do not belong here
Not even dogs
Darkness permeates this place
Where is the peace
Where is the quite
Is it Hades? Is it Gehenna?
Men and women
Some old some young
Populate this dump
Skeletons erect
Skins on the ground
There is no water
People drink puss
Even though flesh burns
There is no ashes
Is it Hades? Is it Gehenna?
O God why are we here?
'It's the decisions you made'
Give us another chance
We'll even sing on the choir
Too bad
Too late
This is the lake of fire
2010
poem by Buxton Shippy
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The Wind
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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North Wind
LOUD wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains,
Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea,
Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy fountains,
Draughts of life to me.
Clear wind, cold wind, like a Northern giant,
Stars brightly threading thy cloud-driven hair,
Thrilling the blank night with thy voice defiant,
Lo! I meet thee there.
Wild wind, bold wind, like a strong-armed angel,
Clasp me and kiss me with thy kisses divine;
Breathe in this dulled ear thy secret sweet evangel--
Mine--and only mine.
Fierce wind, mad wind, howling o'er the nations,
Knew'st thou how leapeth my heart as thou goest by:
Ah, thou wouldst pause awhile in a sudden patience
Like a human sigh.
Sharp wind, keen wind, cutting as word-arrows,
Empty thy quiverful! pass by! What is't to thee,
That in some mortal eyes life's whole bright circle narrows,
To one misery?
Loud wind, strong wind, stay thou in the mountains,
Fresh wind, free wind, trouble not the sea.
Or lay thy deathly hand upon my heart's warm fountains,
That I hear not thee.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Ten And Eleven
Here she comes, a flower of the field,
describing glory of the Spring to bloom,
while at noon, when all shadows yield,
light is bright as in ether, love looms.
Here she comes, beloved lines in light;
so as to caress my vision, and to smile,
In an elysian field her grace will ignite,
my confessions as to extend forthright.
She is my call when rose flowers blend,
so I respond in lyrics of heavens music;
perchance an ode will extend and mend,
old wounds and scars, with this acoustic.
An ode lifts our encounter to heavens,
amid field flowers, with love to attune,
a bouquet of roses red, ten and eleven,
gallivants noon-this twenty first of June.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Fly with the wind
I want to be a bird
so beautiful and free
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be a swan
so graceful and pure
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be a hawk
with eyes that see the soul
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be an owl
wise queen of the night
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be a dove
bringing good luck to many
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be a parrot
with colors and wit
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be a nightingale
with the sweetest of voices
i want to fly like the wind
I want to be a raven
Darker than a starless night
I want to fly like the wind
I want to be me
and if I'm accepted
I will fly with the wind
poem by Alexianna Brandhagen
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The Song of the Wind
Have you heard the wind blow
Through the leaves of tress
That sway and bend
In reverence to the wind?
Have you heard the lonely song
Of the wind
As it searches the world
Looking for its love?
Oh, the song of the wind,
A melancholy dirge,
Singing in time
To the funeral march
Of a forgotten soul
And the song of the wind
Howls mournfully...
The song of a heart that is breaking
And can no longer live
Without his love.
poem by Thomas Noel Smith
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An Old Lesson From The Fields
Even as I watched the daylight how it sped
From noon till eve, and saw the light wind pass
In long pale waves across the flashing grass,
And heard through all my dreams, wherever led,
The thin cicada singing overhead,
I felt what joyance all this nature has,
And saw myself made clear as in a glass,
How that my soul was for the most part dead.
Oh, light, I cried, and, heaven, with all your blue,
Oh, earth, with all your sunny fruitfulness,
And ye, tall lillies, of the wind-vexed field,
What power and beauty life indeed might yield,
Could we but cast away its conscious stress,
Simple of heart, becoming even as you.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streams Of Whiskey
Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of lifes philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
Theres nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song In The Wind
There's a wind in the air
Filled with song
A gentle voice
Low and long -
It sings life
And it sings time
It blows so easily through
Hearts and minds -
It's the word of wisdom
And the entirety of the ages
Embracing all being
From the audacious to the sages -
It sings out
Lifelong
Continuously calling
In a soulful song -
It's always there for everyone
Blowing free
Even unto our very last day
As it carries us, one by one, into eternity -
It is the Song in the wind
The Voice of the soul
It's the living sound
Every heart mysteriously, somehow does hear and know -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Sonnet XCVIII: He and I
Whence came his feet into my field, and why?
How is it that he sees it all so drear?
How do I see his seeing, and how hear
The name his bitter silence knows it by?
This was the little fold of separate sky
Whose pasturing clouds in the soul's atmosphere
Drew living light from one continual year:
How should he find it lifeless? He, or I?
Lo! this new Self now wanders round my field,
With plaints for every flower, and for each tree
A moan, the sighing wind's auxiliary:
And o'er sweet waters of my life, that yield
Unto his lips no draught but tears unseal'd,
Even in my place he weeps. Even I, not he.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Wind
The wind will blow another breath for me
As the strom survives it`s trip from the sea
In this life we learn, what will be will be
And as i walk along this empty field
I feel emotions peel away from me
and the faces of what could have been
just blowing in the wind
Just another dream i see
Is there nothing left for me?
When I reach the door
I never find the key
To a future so very hard to see
Like a honey bee searching for a queen
and the beauty that she brings
Into a life thats just a dream
so hard to find the key it seems
As the wind chimes another tune for me
Lifts my sail and takes me out to sea
All my life I`ve been searching for a key
That will open my heart and set my emotions free
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Kindly Keep It Country
If youre gonna play the jukebox
Would you kindly keep it country
cause Im feelin so lonely tonight
Oh please play a sad song about a heart thats just been stepped on
Would you kindly keep it country for me tonight
Id get up off this bar stool if youd play something we could dance to
Oh, a song about a love thats gone astray
Oh I love to hear em sing about the misery and pain
Would you kindly keep it country for me tonight
Oh please play a sad song about a heart thats just been stepped on
Would you kindly keep it country for me tonight
Would you kindly keep it country for me tonight
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vixere Fortes
A crossed path to pass, a false virtue,
a shadow wanders in dreams and cares,
to love my petrified smile of a statue,
and my abstract enigmatic stares.
She will come in stray paths, her soul,
dim time-entity to absorb internal whims,
one more silence will construct a thole,
a burden of tugs, to upwards hymns..
Spirit of solitude, image of form motile,
a double ax, a certainty above my truism,
her visceral caress, conceived but total,
ideal to endorse my sense of equalism.
A third destiny weaves my life's knit;
I recompense for her scythe dissonance,
a platitude to compromise in a gray wit,
my love in mind will be a senses dance..
So comforting was my eternal loneliness..
Presence of absence, an erred propriety,
Marriage proposal, an unfettered emptiness,
I was besieged for all my life to eternity.
And I accepted her, a mortal coil to marry,
This equality closed in, raised a challenge;
her wisdom guided me as I became airy,
to confront Hades burden and deathly wedge..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Persephone
Persephone
Idea aborning in steps of deception,
becomes an aeromancy in free ether,
her airy amble chastens perception,
my image flies amid stratus to dither;
My life flies above landscapes empty;
Sorts out and recreates our embrace;
our Sun died, burden westward hefty;
and she, like twilight joined me, in lace;
Zephyr is blowing, subdued and unfit;
so, I welcome our solitude's amount;
a lone-spirited sentence of life, to emit,
our Idea lightless, of marginal bound;
Zephyr is blowing through our soul;
deception of a smile, glowering nifty;
her playful ample advances to extoll;
Hades is Inspiring my instincts thrifty;
I worship her shadow, as a dark veil;
waves in windy Odes, my heart's gain;
Obliterated I am, in a dance to mislay,
melodious Siren voices, flirt to retain;
Ironlike warrior, defender of her valor;
Equipotent, unassailable, of soul solid;
A deathly philosophy runs my candor;
On Lucent Destiny, from Charon stolid;
Persephone Maiden, warriors' beloved;
awaits on righteous paths, to accept,
my life-spent coerced, her hand gloved,
extends a Skull ring, betrothal to Sept!
Copyright © - G. V.- 02.19.2012
/ © PoemH.29919092
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Soldier of bronze
Bound thoughts transform to trees;
black alders are implanted in forest,
where the winds embrace 'em free
and rain drops pour to their closest.
Winter winds around trees consent,
their foliage sweep, dithering gusts;
as their firm trunks upwards extent,
pointing to skies and selected stars.
Shadows float, as hours thump near,
adjacent to his entity, walking friends,
joyous in a silver solitude to appear,
soothing count that his sins amends.
And while a joyful and moonlit glow,
dances on rhymed cadence meters,
a ghost will stay with flakes of snow,
and fly above the pastoral features.
Maids will pass, in light snow above
amid sky clouds in black agate hue,
daughters of solitude to bestow love,
embracing shapes and kindly imbue.
A soldier of bronze dances his fever
in alder forest to sway his dead life,
thrown in with his song of a griever,
a crown of laurel and his wraith wife.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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