First Sorrow
Unknown face that you clearly see,
while the night hides the apparition;
Hands outstretched, waves on a quay,
caress your grimace with contrition.
Gifts of the air now define your life,
you have escaped in the morning mists,
Sunday afternoon cuts you like a knife,
Or maybe you answered to the winds?
Suns you transformed to rain oracles,
in airy corridors amid winds blither,
distant stars of solitude and miracles
where your Sundays in coldness dither.
Twas when you packed your own response,
- the roar of the sea, a tear to borrow;
you lifted choices to become ensconced,
- you were of your first life, prime sorrow.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
Red Wine Spill
Red wine spill
Her voice I waited for, amid the foliage shades,
now with the oncoming of her Spring, she fades;
She appeared once; a tear of my soul to dither,
then she lifted in cumulus, where winds blither;
Zephyr was traveling above, my lone assession,
My penitence she kissed along, and aspersion;
A red wine spill betimes, diluted days of rain,
diluted rain's wine spill, of tear drops to attain;
Winds blither - she appeared once; in my tear,
a laughing gust of the wind, my soul to shear;
And then her wraith shadow, guided my hopes,
To laugh again among the winds, and new scopes;
To laugh with me amidst the winds, she 'll come,
Life will reach an apogee, and heart will thrum;
To laugh with me amidst the raindrops, in clouds,
with a boat to float in winds from sails' shrouds;
_________
shrouds = (nautical) a line (rope or chain) that regulates
the angle at which a sail is set in relation to the wind.
_________
Copyright © - G. V.- 03.29.2012
/ PoemH.30459086
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Stars define
I recall trees foliage above
a sky was, 'n' distant stars;
the bitter wind and iron bars,
to keep us locked from love.
Lone echoes from night birds,
to cry in vastness and beset,
my pride's error - eyes wet,
hopes left out, and our words.
wishes that absconded young,
in prime times - of eighteen,
sepia tones, trees evergreen,
in foliage of dark sky among.
Abstinent solitude of then
allows love memories hereby
amidst winds that tear decry,
and crowns solitude to begin;
Stars that know only to shine
in worlds acclaim only of pain
there is no life in merit's gain
as lone stars darkness define.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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And This Rain
You were so simple, on your old balcony,
adorned by white roses, yet down looking,
west's flame encircled in lyrics' euphony,
sea Nymphs' surround was a benign setting.
Your words will glow in my distant trip's links
maybe your reason to escape was false,
and an affection was left in the winds
among your crossed ethereal hands and pulse.
Our time was still, with eyes to gleam, conceived,
and was our company, phase to reckon,
maybe atonement was, a cause bereaved,
and our glances in mists remote beckon.
Caress of sun steppe flower on my face,
will alter a dull course to steady 'ffuse,
our bilged steadfast is in brines to encase,
a summer song of longing to bemuse.
My effort to repent, in winds ascribes
besets our trips on sea to faded strings,
a touch of solitude, and ghostly brides,
caress of Sunday want to face all winds.
............
Perchance you're bending soft on my scriptures,
maybe you left on trip in empty train,
while I recall in dark your kind features,
- we missed our dreamy summer and this rain.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Eternity of my soaring
My whole life I kept for you, a reason
of annunciated dimensions, prorogued;
my turned to the winds hands, a mizzen,
account on dusks of a bitter monologue.
All of my soul's children hunt storms
first sight of our sun, repleted light's wit;
amid winds of ghostly-dreamy forms,
sounded the Bells of our morning reached.
My pulse yon spreads, on church bells,
rhythm of waves inscribed on time's embers,
escorting me on Sundays, a name I spell,
marked with your return, my dream enters.
When friends, on Sundays invite me to feast,
I see the river of our uprising morning,
You are in dim light, adorning my mist
to love me in the eternity of my soaring.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Forelands
A commotion runs amid my mind
a crush was, on the track barrier,
and the flight; with winds to bind,
where our childhood voices alter.
I went high; in paths of negation,
Steady to aim at my engagement,
do not consult your one desolation;
and your lone dark star adornment.
Was it your call? Amid woodlands,
shadows cast your dusk and crying,
stand tall; on conceived forelands,
a pasture you once loved 's undying.
With bells of home Church ringing,
on each Sunday you 'll hold the tear;
twas against a soldier's upbringing,
to let solitude comrade you near.
How far is that trustful apparition,
of words and forms we twined in air,
to write a word string, my ambition,
that led you far from unlit despair?
How far is a holly legion of angels,
a principal star that leads you nigh,
entreats communion in our chapels,
little iced rain and our clouds high?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out of all the masts [Dintre sute de catarge]
Out of all the masts that sail
Far away when the sea raves
How many will be destroyed
By the winds and by the waves?
Out of all the birds that fly
Over lands with their wings
How many will be wiped out
By the waves and by the winds?
If you chase away your luck
Your ideals and your aims
You'll be followed everywhere
By the winds and by the waves.
And your thought remains unknown
When you gently sing your hymns
But is carried all around
By the waves and by the winds.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Spelling My Name
I heard you spelling my name
I answered in the winter winds
the winds that blame
my voice still - your words bid.
My winds shied - a darkened bride.
My winds cried, and then I died.
A call of altitudes waving a hand
A Deadly Nightshade, of Nyx
distance egressed,
a word uphill, your primal twinge.
My voice edges - my call subsides.
Crucifix wedges, my rain decides.
I heard the night calling my worth
I answered in the snowy landscape
your form came forth
a gleam so still, your bluish drape.
Snowy nights, my solitude's witches.
The Hydra's bark like razor etches.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Maid Of Sol
Ideal 'n' unalterable, merit believer,
travels on misty links of a lone soul;
a wraith I am in her mind, a glimmer,
she spells orisons, rainy maid of Sol;
and in a blest of time she descends,
from distant cumulus, collected rain,
amid blessings and dusk lights amends,
amid pensive lines to weave and reign.
Pondering 's the wind, waves foliage;
my sky reflects a deeper blue of sea;
continents away; a ruminative adage,
her lips will sing this ode on our quay.
With smiling face, gallivants in gusts;
quotable's her bestowed love, noble,
amid the upheaval of roiled thrusts,
a voice responds, far away to global.
She comes to encounter years in rain,
amid clouds, of sky turbulent extend,
caressed face, softens my soul again,
My love inordinate in dusk to ascend.
The sky loves her, as darkness cares
to cover us within blasts and billows;
and she extends upwards to sky fares;
and in the winds my voice crossflows.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sunday Bloody Sunday
Well it was sunday bloody sunday
When they shot the people there
The cries of thirteen martyrs
Filled the free derry air
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You claim to be majority
Well you know that its a lie
Youre really a minority
On this sweet emerald isle
When stormont bans our marches
Theyve got a lot to learn
Internment is no answer
Its those mothers turn to burn!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You anglo pigs and scotties
Sent to colonize the north
You wave your bloody union jack
And you know what its worth!
How dare you hold to ransom
A people proud and free
Keep ireland for the irish
Put the english back to sea!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Well, its always bloody sunday
In the concentration camps
Keep falls road free forever
From the bloody english hands
Repatriate to britain
All of you who call it home
Leave ireland to the irish
Not for london or for rome!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Heard You Spelling My Name
I oddly heard you spelling my name
I answered in the winter winds
the winds blamed my voice still -
your words, a gray cumulus became.
A thunder roar, a storm advent
a message to the gods, dim, latent
my souls depict a thunder's wrath
as I expiate in rain drops thrust.
Not an allusion of a Zeus lightning
all there is real, a force blinding
Athermanous, wet flesh enthralled
and rain-scattered feelings exposed.
I love those drops that kiss my face,
in my esteem, a diamonds edge to trace,
accepts the kindness of this storm,
and this adoration becomes a thorn.
that sweetly penetrates my dream
that attentively out traces my smile
that lovingly stings my eyes gleam
and my words for you compile.
I heard you spelling my name; 't was
a dithering in the winds to abide
the winds became then my voice's loss,
my life, a cumulus became and died.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Bits of Life
Life is no sanctuary
Of desire and fulfillment
Each day extends
Vagaries of nothingness
And I go on
Eating solitude and slow time
Bit by bit
With silence.
My walks to the beach
Brings images intermixed
The chopping of waves
The hustling of winds
Amid chicken roasting streets
And I go on
Eating solitude and slow time
Bit by bit
With silence.
I often ask,
Is it my life
For which I pursued forth?
Mind approves…
Heart denies…
And I go on
Eating solitude and slow time
Bit by bit
With silence.
My look to the East
Brings memories on sea waves,
Children, wife, parents,
Kinsfolk, friends, teachers…
Inheriting a loss,
I go on
Eating solitude and slow time
Bit by bit
With silence.
(Composed on15 Jan.2009 in Tripoli)
poem by Vachaspati Dwivedi
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She's Out Of My Life
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry
I don't know whether to live or die
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands
To think for two years she was here
And I took her for granted I was so cavalier
Now the way that it stands
She's out of my hands
So I've learned that love's not possession
And I've learned that love won't wait
Now I've learned that love needs expression
But I learned too late
She's out of my life
She's out of my life
Damned indecision and cursed pride
Kept my love for her locked deep inside
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life
song performed by by Michael Jackson from Off The Wall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eighth of May
Of windy spaces ancestry, form resurrected
in colors of that prime spring, response kind to me
because of me, adoring feast, befell, you felt it
of islands shore foam whiffs, Olympian offspring.
First I was, a celebration visitor, my vows redeemed
glances that searched for you, of our oceans offer
I stayed there, crowned of hymns, blue roses breed
as you descended, of dreams wind, another present.
A distribution of windy forms, upon my souls nod
a visitor of solitude, deities, Eighth of May reign
to be a companion of dew drops, of mornings mode
to see you as my falling drops, of a colossal rain.
Rain drops convene for me, embrace this proposal
your hands upon your facial, for me they wander,
when you recall all of this dusk, our line coastal
for every May of the eighths, your staring to offer.
May you face me of else, the eighth of my winds
days that stayed there for you, along with my heart,
there you lived of words sanctuary, along a start,
that May you will always feel, your stare is of mead.
My gaze returns to the winds, mountain scent of dill
of prime recalled apostasy, faith of rainy oceans
abiding in my inner forms, and absent in a still
my silences recall of you retain of May emotions.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Accord
Very bright tones in the thin winds,
They sing the distant mourning of this day,
That makes us dream after never-felt showers
Completely filled with unimaginable smells.
Like mementos to lost companions
And quiet echo of delights sunken in night,
The foliage falls in the long ago abandoned gardens,
Which sun themselves in the silence of paradise.
In the bright mirror of the clarified floods
We see the dead time strangely animate itself
And our passions in the bleeding
Lift our souls to more distant heavens.
We go through deaths newly transformed
To deeper tortures and deeper delights,
Where the unknown deity governs -
And we are completed by eternally new suns.
poem by Georg Trakl
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I Breathe Her Name
One day she told me that inside me,
North winds abide - and my secrets,
notes of dawn light are and quartets,
to sing again amid black spruce trees.
She came to stand within a faint light,
an apparition brilliant of school years,
when her raven mane waved in piers,
and winds sweeping above that bight.
It was our entreaty that hung in air,
I vanished outside shadows, not nigh,
it was her soul to send me the outcry,
and my interpretation of her despair.
Before I knew, her call was inscribed,
in my lines and beyond, into my voice,
herald of solitude twining that choice,
to stay in soul, tear-sting an' imbibed.
Background of aphotic dusk - became,
so as to embrace us while the windings,
of frozen roads, with pennant bindings
I breathe in sovereign woods her name.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Cruel Winds of Winter
Got up this morning, no sun in my eyes,
The house is so cold, no warmth to the fire,
My love is gone, he took all my desire,
And cruel winds of winter howled all night.
My love could warm me in the coldest time,
Bring the light of day to the darkest night,
As tears of my sorrow fall from my eyes,
The cruel winds of winter cry in delight.
Pull on my coat, keep the chill from my side,
I walk by the sea, the salt stings my eye,
The caps are all gray, like clouds in the sky,
And with those cruel winds of winter, I cry.
As tears of my sorrow fall to the sand,
My love is not here to warn my cold hand,
He’s gone like the sun from this harsh, gray land,
And only the wind seems to understand.
This endless winter has replaced his light,
My sweet love gone, no warmth in my sight,
I drift lost and lonely, no sleep I find,
Still those winds cry with me deep in the night.
My heart so heavy, life has no delight,
And the cruel winds of winter, torment my night.
poem by Teresa Dearing
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Sheffield knife
On equinox coastal unguarded brims,
forever far spent beacon's life,
small imperfection, a riddance still,
moon-flash on a Sheffield knife.
I hear his voices in this mauve dawn,
a resolution of his life's altruism,
the images he left before gone,
of odd Styx rife adventism..
One instant of hypothesis his glance,
a tragic wilt, distance of stare,
it was a never equation to solve,
a wine's spill, dim marquee of despair.
I 'll go away from that coastal of Aden,
assuming earth will be mine,
Sunday's sweet, mane of a maiden's mist
and a recall of a wilted sign..
An image of a kid in Sundays feasts,
with my voice of our friendship's skies,
of those that escaped in high mists,
sad advent will be, our shipmate's eyes.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Santa Ana Winds
Here in sothern california there is a weather condition known as the
Santa ana winds.
Fire wind oh desert wind
She was born in a desert breeze
And wind her way
Through canyon way
From the desert to the silvery sea
In every direction
See the perfection
And see the san gabriel mountain scene
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Fill my sails
Oh desert wind
And hold the waves high for me
Then I will come
And test my skill
Where the santa ana winds blow free
In waves of elation
My part of creation
Becoming one with the boundless sea
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
I am the wind
Oh desert wind
On my pilgrimage to the sea
I will prevail
I will not fail
To bring life into humanity
My song is creation
(? ? ? )the nation
Whispering the wisdom and its purity
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds keep blowin across my eyes
Santa ana winds...
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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