Fog-Horns, Even Bow-Bells
Nautilus on a cargo vessel, to avail,
devoid of an older route, and drift
his beats of abreacted pulse, to trail,
his home-land on cloudy forms, to lift.
Long locked in dreams, assemblage,
soul sails forward, spilled life's wine,
in Nordic Northern seas, God Brage,
unworldly lyrics to compose, in brine.
I reckon he befits an Angel, alone,
he plays a harmonica in broken notes,
a song for loners or friends, gone,
mistral petals him along, as boat floats.
I reckon he remembers her, a Naiad,
the sun crowns his head, far setting,
a dalliance, a harbor song, her bard,
depicting of his solitude's odd wedding.
In dark she comes, from away shore,
along windy fog-horns eerie call, in air,
she gliding sails, comely to invite afore,
Nautilus and drifting souls in despair.
She comes as bow-bells ring, and sings:
'Enfold me in your lone heart, and I,
shall lift your soul, with halcyon wings,
to fly in incipient stills, to imbue of nigh.'
She sings along, as drifts of mist repeat:
'Enfold me in your lone heart, and I,
shall lift your soul, with halcyon wings,
to fly in incipient stills, to imbue of nigh.'
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Floating Brim
An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.
The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.
On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.
A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.
A ghostly port to stop, at Cape Coast,
a shinning and all was a dim past,
an end aghast, a thorny crowned post
to visit my sleep, for I remained last.
Our cargo slowly cuts on a bluish drape,
our diesels hum a besetting rhythm
in mists, as we envision a dark gate
that opens to engulf our floating brim.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Dark Grace
Was it a dream? All my roads were broken,
and I, being alone, of what to think? I distune
my thoughts; am I one in the ash of molten,
out of the world, abolished dreams, buffoon?
The Mistral blows, (my soul) , to my direction,
it's a world stuck (welded) , this strange year,
in a deep dream, I foresaw, my suspension,
and I was again a buffoon protector of my tear.
My vain efforts may become a threaded toy,
of your wind, a song benign in your tale,
thrown unerringly by ghosts, foolish decoy..
And I, windy tall, here I 'll be, in this wail.
So, be in Mist! A cold drift will be your next,
upon a sculptured bark, vision of lone beauty..
Was I handsome in your eyes and my text
a dropping dropp of lifeless Ocean, and a treaty?
My soul trembles (I said) cause I see an empty,
vulgar destiny where your beauty passed,
alone in a dim cloud of years, a crowned pity,
and I was a tear in a world of foolish caste.
Of Angels was this masquerade, broken wings,
(as I said) , with my buffoon's colored face
A Mistral wind, and I, a puppet, without strings
after aphotic eyes stared in me, in dismal grace.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I Dream of a New Land
my soul chained with fears
caged in a dark place
cries with sorrowful tears
down my pale, hollow face
the notes of my song die
before even being born
my broken wings cannot fly
deep in my heart, I can feel
this sharp, constant thorn
I dream of a new land
the land of the blue skies
-the land of the free-
across this desert,
across this dry sand
across this stormy sea
will I dare to act on my dreams?
will I dare to rise and break my chains?
will I dare to free all the inside screams?
will I dare to reveal all my pains?
my soul without any fears
flies free in a colorful place
cries with new happy tears
down my bright, beautiful face
a new song is born in an instant
I carry it on my new silver wings
there’s no time and no distance
I’m born in the eternal existence
my heart forever sings
I dream of a new land
the land of the blue skies
-the land of the free-
across this desert,
across this dry sand
across this stormy sea
poem by Alexandru Marius (3 February 2021)
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Sun Song
Today is the day to take it to the top
So head for the sun and don't you stop
Until you find the place where you belong
Let your life sing the sun song.
Rivers run dry, a beach is sand
Open your mind and try to understand
Spread your wings and fly to your sun
All you've gotta do is stand up and run.
Gain some speed
Run in the right direction
Open your wings
And fly at the suns reflection
It reflects onto you so you can shine
And beams down light so you can see the signs
It heals your soul with ultra violet rays
It sings your song do you hear what it says?
Can you hear it singing the sun song
Can you feel it, its been shining to you for so long
So why don't you just fly into its open arms
Don't lose your souls sun, your suns soul charms
Of your sun song.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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Thessaloniki
Who would that be with the scaled tail?
A Gorgon maybe, or a Medusa?
A precognition of a roughened wild sea,
a challenge to any nautilus wail,
or a dithering of a lonely soul's plea?
She raises her hand to grasp of the side,
your boat's that edges away, breast rail,
she woes to thee to adherent abide,
your empty soul's anxiety's lone trail,
many that tried to disclaim her - died.
It could be a mermaid that wanders
on every ship's route or path surmised
to ask of how her dear brother died
and she, her once royal pretty fingers
lifts, to ask: Is king Alexander alive?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Voyage
We planned a glorious voyage, my Captain bold and I,
To sail in bliss on summer seas while halcyon days went by;
And underneath a speckless sky in a little dancing breeze,
We decked our craft with roses, and launched it on the seas.
Yes - we would sail together, my Captain gay and I.
Past miles and miles of blossomed shore, with sheltering harbours nigh;
We would not tempt the trackless seas, nor roam the waters dark,
Les Love, the tricksy pilot, should e’er desert our bark.
Alas! For all our planning, my Captain brave and I,
We drove before a whistling gale beneath a lowering sky;
For the fierce storms came up on us scarce half a league from home,
And flung our crimson roses in the bitter blinding foam.
Silent our lilting love songs, untouched our gay guitar,
As side by side we toil and strive where raging tempests are;
But though in ceaseless labour our earnest days are spent,
A voiceless song is in our souls – a song of glad content.
For Love, the tricksy pilot, still at our helm he sings,
Our darkest night is luminous with torchlight from his wings;
Loudly he sings and sweetly above the whistling gale,
And with Love’s music in our hearts, how could we turn or quail?
Content we sail together, my Captain true and I,
Unheeding of the raging waves, or of the threatening sky;
With His strong hand to guard us, and Love to guide the boat,
The happiest pair of mariners that God has set afloat.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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The Trail Of No Return
So now I take a bitter road
Whereon no bourne I see,
And wearily I lift the load
That once I bore with glee.
For me no more by sea or shore
Adventure's star shall burn,
As I forsake wild ways to take
The Trail of No Return.
Such paths of peril I have trod:
In sun and shade they lay.
And some went wistfully to God,
And some the devil's way.
But there is one I may not shun,
Though long my life's sojourn:
A dawn will break when I must take
The Trail of No Return.
Farewell to friends, good-bye to foes,
Adieu to smile or frown;
My voyaging is nigh its close,
And dark is drifting down.
With weary feet my way I beat,
Yet holy light discern . . .
So let me take without heart-break
The Trail of No Return.
poem by Robert William Service
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Siren Song
It seems that a wind is pushing us together
towards a snaky road that effuses in Chaos
and one ribbon of mystery dark, and tender,
of magical tales I heard before, a glee endow.
So, maybe was something your voice said
whispering in my ear as dusk descended
and it was my promise to invite you as a wed,
in my solitude I wore your glance attended.
Cause you are distant; Far in a pasture ghostly,
spirits of darkness in scriptures apocryphal,
as Aglaope's astounding face, bends softly,
to guile me in carnivorous feast, Leucosia lethal.
A song of longing by Himerope, in Molpe music,
buckling my heart, as Parthenope my maiden is,
and Ligeia shrills fear, Teles perfect acoustics,
Raidne improves our bond, and Peisino persists.
Thelxepeia, Thelxeteira, Thelxiope sooth me,
my soul hurts; a beatitude deathly assemblege
Aglaophonos angelic song, a mind's eloquence
they beckon, faces of Eden, wet eyes glaze..
They bind me in eternal paths to come closer,
a blandiloquent reason in caliginous nightly calls,
to bestow, my aching soul, a solitude border
to surpass, and reach for an unknown cockle.
So, I loved you all, your comely invitation to dark
I loved; comeuppance beauties will devour flesh
and drink, drink Crimson spilled, their eerie hark,
I enfold, as it transfuses to a malevolence I bless.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I Hear Wedding Bells
I hear the wedding bells ring,
they are like a song that sings from the heart,
My father takes my arm and whispers in my ear that i am beautiful,
I am slowly walking down the ale,
I look at the man that i will love forever,
He has tears in his eyes, then i start to cry too,
I wonder what he is thinking of me,
I wonder if I will make a good wife and a mother to our children to come,
I hear the wedding bells ring,
they are like a song from the heart.
poem by Katie Lathrop
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An Oarsman
Where is the coast?
Just in the boat
With no one around
He sings even a song!
In western horizon
The king 'Sun' sleeps alone
Merry clouds go brown
(So far) He sings the song!
A shower of rain
Can't let him pain
Miss.Windy starts to frown
(So far) He sings the song!
With force of angry waves
Even rocks can be damaged
How about his wooden bound?
(So far) He sings the song!
His old rudder shapes him solo
How to manage to and fro
Further rowing, no allowed
(So far) He sings the song!
Oh, my dear oarsman!
I wanna know your song
Give people to be strong
Like you, never down! !
poem by Eindaray Kyaw
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Loboc River Cruise
we finally huddled in a boat
well decorated with some flowers
like the one in the Rose Parade
the boat slowly sails in the River
with a matching band of guitars and
animal skin drums
a woman sings another woman dances
as we see how the brown river is sliced
by the boat on the water
until we arrive at the end of this journey
where there is a waterfall
and then we turn back
to our way again
not really monotonous
and not a waste of time
been here i think seven times
but the river still sings
a lonely song
in my
heart
legend says....
there was once a beautiful maiden....
her heart was broken...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dear In The Headlines
Still in moonlight the scarlet sings
silver and black like piano keys
somewhere an angel gets her wings
call her for supper
and other things
still the the moonlight the scarlet sings
candy wrappers voices
pinned to the screens
somewhere an angel gets her wings
caught in the arms of a speakeasy
still in the moonlight the scarlet sings
bathing in the flashbulbs
and the legalese
somewhere an angel gets her wings
breathless and smoking chambers sings
of pages of magazines
stillin moonlight the scarlet sings
somewhere an angel gets her wings
poem by Patricia Schooff
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Long Enough
My heart is like a bird that sings
and soars with outspread wings.
My heart is like a flute that plays
a lilting song that sings.
It knows no sorrow when you're near.
It only knows my dear
that however long you are with me
It will never be
long enough.
My heart is like a rose in bloom
whose scent fills every room.
My heart is like a chandelier
with crystals oh so clear.
It knows no pain on any day.
It only knows the way
you make me feel when you're with me,
and it will never be
long enough.
Then what is long enough you ask?
Long enough to bask
in the warmth of all my love for you,
long enough for two
to never question or wonder why
my heart is yours then sigh.
'Forever, forever
That's long enough.'
I cry.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Wings of an Angel
To sweep down like an angel
and enclose the heart of a soul,
lost and lonely and aching,
praying to be whole,
portrays a picture so lovely.
I can feel those wings on me.
Let those wings carry me
to a place that's far from here.
For I am that soul that's pleading.
The sound of your wings are clear.
Approaching me with care,
I appeal to you in prayer
to sweep down like an angel
with gossamer wings so strong,
Filmy and silky and beautiful
and carry me along
to the place where angels sing a song
and care for souls like me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Enfolds me aptly
A wind runs on my face - a billow of rain.
and I to blunt the cold - a glassy cockle
it is a comely face in my mist, and pain,
and to conflate 'em with glance, in focal..
So it was you, absently, to speak, in mind
was it my drift, a dalliance, but dead,
to go under a snowy quilt, dull and blind,
maybe to stop my messaging, that bled.
I felt, my ebullience was a Naiad's bliss,
expanded in ethereal, nightly backdrops,
her tales brought to me a kind Abyss,
full of caresses, dulcet treats an' nyctalops.
To disinherit this entropy of bluish grip
around my wrist; also diffused in waves,
she ruled my foolish notions ever since,
with an urge to embrace again - in grave.
A spilled flow of Crimson log, my loss,
oblating to empty dreams, I exit lines,
of horizontal destinies in darkened chaos,
her windy tears of solitude, in brines.
So, I open my glassy sails in bridal space
so happy is my heart and beating madly,
a cold wind is blowing, icy on my face,
an open Chaos under me enfolds me aptly.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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She Still Calls His Name (1992 Demo Session)
Summer moonlight shines
On a midnight train
Lost in emotion she cries
To the wind and the rain
In silence she feels the breeze
No mercy tonight
The passion and promise has made
Life broken inside
She stills calls his name
She cant get home
She stills calls his name
Broken hearted
Another town rolls by
As a distant rose
And wonderin what she will find
When she gets home
You, theres a part in flame
But a careless heart
Dreams are an open game
Will tear you apart
She stills calls his name
Shes out of control
She stills calls his name
Broken hearted
One love comes of the rest
A bed of roses was a bed of nails
Dont take the blame forever
Just give it time
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Still Calls His Name
Summer moonlight shines
On a midnight train
Lost in emotion she cries
To the wind and the rain
In silence she feels the breeze
No mercy tonight
The passion and promise has made
Life broken inside
She stills calls his name
She cant get home
She stills calls his name
Broken hearted
Another town rolls by
As a distant rose
And wonderin what she will find
When she gets home
You, theres a part in flame
But a careless heart
Dreams are an open game
Will tear you apart
She stills calls his name
Shes out of control
She stills calls his name
Broken hearted
One love comes of the rest
A bed of roses was a bed of nails
Dont take the blame forever
Just give it time
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alter Nigh
Guiding mizzen, curved, waves,
my route beyond gray horizon,
spells dim, sails unfold to dawn
my soul is dull and misbehaves..
Weedy paths spiral in distance
spirits broken expend to waste,
eschew encomium for instance
lost lives-souls in caves, etiolate.
Sea streams, envy my cause,
a twinge starts on mistral whiffs,
poems will describe fall leaves,
lonely is the reason to applause..
Delphian paths do know so well,
a lissome figure in winds to cry,
the mist will sink in a sip of rye,
beyond horizons I shall dwell..
A man must know if he is chosen,
to quill darkness in nocturnal fog,
villages are distant in this bog,
and his remote death is frozen.
Solitude feelings up proudly fly,
a bitter freedom, to winds offer,
my poetry books, in an old coffer,
your away stars shine alter nigh..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Root Like A Rose
There's a green, green palce
Where you lift your face
To the sound of the waves and the wind
Down by the shore
Where my soul does endure
Where the mother sea ends and begins.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse.
Though I wander afar
The same sea, the same stars
Still shine to the tears in my eyes
They take me home to a land
That my soul understands
Where the heart of the rose never dies.
Take me home
To the sand and the foam
Where my dreams walk in the mist
I'll fall to the earth and root like a rose
In the salt land
That gave me my verse...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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