The Cliffs
They sing of the grandeur of cliffs inland,
But the cliffs of the ocean are truly grand;
And I long to wander and dream and doubt
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out and out.
To the northward far as the eye can reach
Are sandhill, boulder, and sandy beach;
But southward rises the track for me,
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out to sea.
Friends may be gone in the morning fair,
But the cliffs by the ocean are always there;
Lovers may leave when the wind is chill,
But the cliffs by the ocean are steadfast still.
They watch the sea and they ward the land,
And they warn the ships from the treacherous sand;
And I sadly think in the twilight hour
What I might have been had I known my power.
Where the smoke-cloud blurs and the white sails fill,
They point the ships to keep seaward still;
And I think—Ah, me!—and I think—Ah, me!
Of the wreck I’d saved had I kept to sea.
Oh! the cliffs are old and the cliffs are sad,
And they know me sane, while men deem me mad.
Oh! the cliffs are firm and the cliffs are strong,
And they know me right, while men deem me wrong.
And I sometimes think in the dawning gray,
I am old as they, I am old as they;
And I think, I think that in field and town
My spirit shall live till the cliffs come down.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Impassive Resistance.
I've seen the power of the sea
When it's attacking savagely.
The basalt cliffs which bar its path.
Which are contemptuous of its wrath.
The basalt cliffs resist the sea.
Though it attacks them ceaselessly
As long as these proud cliffs still stand.
The sea cannot invade the land.
The cliffs are rooted solidly.
A bulwark and a boundary.
The angry waves are powerless
against the might of this fortress
Which has endured for centuries
And still they stand triumphantly.
Saturday,23 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Exposed on the cliffs of the heart
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial. - But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Yin And Yang
the tall cliffs
and the rough stones
and boulders
by the sea
the males
the waves bashing
and dashing
with tongues licking
the bodies of stone
and rising cliffs
towards the skies
the females
yin and yang
in nature.
the feet that the sea licks
the waves as tongues
and the tall cliffs as
symbols
the phallus and the tongue
the rocks and the waves
male and female
and then the outbursts of morning light
spilling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A WayFarer
The cliffs are the edges of paper--
That time has torn away...
Eroded rock-solid paper...
Jagged reminders of yesterday;
Once a diary of stone-hearted entries--
Surfaced as hardened clay...
But worn away from the Springtime downpours...
And collapsed in Wayfarers Bay;
Pages and pages of dogeared cliffs...
Hanging with no support in mid air...
Rock solid words of our ending---
Oh, the stories the sailors do bear;
Longings from eternities upon the ocean...
Needs that we all have been known to share...
Are written upon the cliffs of yesterday---
Eroded in rock solid despair;
The Essence
July,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Sea Loving People
The true sea loving people never live far from the sea
They pine if the ocean they can't hear or see
The feel of the sea spray where the wild breakers roar
Where huge waves pound the stony cliffs overlooking the shore.
They can only live near to where the surf waves roll
And to them the breath of the sea air is good for the soul
In towns by the ocean they grow old and gray
From salt-water they could not live far away.
The sea loving people enjoy the coastal sunshine
Inland from the ocean they surely would pine
To live two miles from the ocean for them does seem far
Though in distance that only a short drive by car.
The sea loving people love the rumble of the big surf waves
In cemetery close to the cliffs are their ancestors graves
They would pine if they could not hear the sea breakers roar
They only could live in towns near the Sea-shore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Impenetrable
The bleak black basalt cliffs which form.
A barrier to Atlantic storms
Which sweep in from the open sea.
Are not a place I'd choose to be
When winter storms are at their height
and batter them without respite.
The basalt rocks are obdurate
They stubbornly accept their fate
Although the storms may rage and roar
The cliffs have seen it all before.
Wind driven waves have small effect.
On basalt cliffs which still protect.
Old Ireland from the angry sea.
they do their duty faithfully.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Clover Over Dover
I'm on the white cliffs of Dover
Thinking it over and over
But if I jump it's all over
A cautionary tale for you
I'd like to roll in the clover
With you over and over
On the white cliffs of Dover
And then I let you push me over
If that is the fact
Then in actual fact
I'm not where it's at
And it's over
Oh
song performed by by Blur from Parklife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There There Child
There there child, there there child
Dont it make you feel alright
There there child, dont it all look good tonight
And you feel like going but you gotta stay
Aint no time for to hop on a freight train
And you feel like laying in the morning hay
cause its time for a nap now, before rain
There there child, dont it make you satisfied
There there child, you can rest your weary eyes
And you feel like walking on a mountain top
Or a ride on a boat up the river
And the last lonely sheep has returned to the flock
As you wing over the white cliffs of dover
There there child, theres a glint in your eye for surprise
There there child, are you ready to don your disguise, yes you are
Sun goes down across the pond and the wind, wind is blowing wild
And the swallow soars and the lion roars
Outside your front door, by the oak tree in the meadow
There there child, there there child
Are you ready to don your disguise
There there child, theres a glint in your eye for surprise
Do you feel like walking on a mountain top
Or ride on a boat up the river
And the last lonely sheep has returned to the flock
As you wing over the white cliffs of dover
As you wing over the white cliffs of dover, straight ahead
As you wing over the white cliffs of dover, straight ahead
You wing over the white cliffs of dover
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wreck Of The `Derry Castle
Day of ending for beginnings!
Ocean hath another innings,
Ocean hath another score;
And the surges sing his winnings,
And the surges shout his winnings,
And the surges shriek his winnings,
All along the sullen shore.
Sing another dirge in wailing,
For another vessel sailing
With the shadow-ships at sea;
Shadow-ships for ever sinking --
Shadow-ships whose pumps are clinking,
And whose thirsty holds are drinking
Pledges to Eternity.
Pray for souls of ghastly, sodden
Corpses, floating round untrodden
Cliffs, where nought but sea-drift strays;
Souls of dead men, in whose faces
Of humanity no trace is --
Not a mark to show their races --
Floating round for days and days.
. . . . .
Ocean's salty tongues are licking
Round the faces of the drowned,
And a cruel blade seems sticking
Through my heart and turning round.
Heaven! shall HIS ghastly, sodden
Corpse float round for days and days?
Shall it dash 'neath cliffs untrodden,
Rocks where nought but sea-drift strays?
God in heaven! hide the floating,
Falling, rising, face from me;
God in heaven! stay the gloating,
Mocking singing of the sea!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Climbing Is Absurd
May the Earth move sideways and relax,
The ground will hit your eyes and sight is restored.
The manager of faces climbs the mountain
And the cliffs are like it.
He relaxes forever when he jumps
Hitting the ground to let the earth quake like him.
The cliffs are a soundness, what are they?
They are sound, healthy pinnacles of performance
But to risk life is absurd,
It is abhorrent and you will die from that height.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Volcano puffs steam
bird's eye view of ocean and
rocky island cliffs
haiku by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
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Monologue #6
the world is not a big white plain
not all green grass where your eyes would dance singing and
delighted
like a Mary Poppins.
there are so many mountains, sand dunes,
pits, volcanoes.
not all rivers have bridges.
so you leap.
and no matter how you try to avoid cliffs
the come to you.
and you fall.
and you die,
but if you do not die
then by all means
heal yourself
live....
broken, limping, hurt, so hurt,
and you want to die again.
the cliffs laugh at you
they do not come like servants
when you need them
most.
do you not envy me? look at me. All the pores of my skin
are smileys.
am i not funny?
you complain, you shout at me.
Liar! liar!
are you not too? You lie in order to heal.
you heal yourself.
Liar! Liar! Liar!
hello brother.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old Ocean
Old Ocean
They break up big boulders, near the houses where I live,
what I see used to be the bottom of an old ocean.
The stones break easily, pieces glitter as crystal in the sun.
I pick up a splinter, lick it and can taste the cool, clear sea.
My inner ear picks up the sea’s ripples on the strand, but
also, the contented hum of an ocean alone. I also hear its
ire as waves upon waves, futilely, crashes on to jagged
cliffs of perpetuity. Overcome by awe I’ve tasted eternity,
It’s salty; and if you get too obsessed about it, can give you
fatally high blood pressure.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Magna Est Veritas
Here, in this little Bay,
Full of tumultuous life and great repose,
Where, twice a day,
The purposeless, gay ocean comes and goes,
Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,
I sit me down.
For want of me the world's course will not fail:
When all its work is done, the lie shall rot;
The truth is great, and shall prevail,
When none cares whether it prevail or not.
poem by Coventry Patmore
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Past Days
I.
Dead and gone, the days we had together,
Shadow-stricken all the lights that shone
Round them, flown as flies the blown foam's feather,
Dead and gone.
Where we went, we twain, in time foregone,
Forth by land and sea, and cared not whether,
If I go again, I go alone.
Bound am I with time as with a tether;
Thee perchance death leads enfranchised on,
Far from deathlike life and changeful weather,
Dead and gone.
II.
Above the sea and sea-washed town we dwelt,
We twain together, two brief summers, free
From heed of hours as light as clouds that melt
Above the sea.
Free from all heed of aught at all were we,
Save chance of change that clouds or sunbeams dealt
And gleam of heaven to windward or to lee.
The Norman downs with bright grey waves for belt
Were more for us than inland ways might be;
A clearer sense of nearer heaven was felt
Above the sea.
III.
Cliffs and downs and headlands which the forward-hasting
Flight of dawn and eve empurples and embrowns,
Wings of wild sea-winds and stormy seasons wasting
Cliffs and downs,
These, or ever man was, were: the same sky frowns,
Laughs, and lightens, as before his soul, forecasting
Times to be, conceived such hopes as time discrowns.
These we loved of old: but now for me the blasting
Breath of death makes dull the bright small seaward towns,
Clothes with human change these all but everlasting
Cliffs and downs.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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My Life Portrays An Ocean
My life portrays an ocean
So powerful, so strong
Breaking the sharp cliffs into rocks
As I go on
I am smooth yet I am gentle
Flowing with a smooth pace
Cutting off the sharp rocks
Into smooth round face
Ocean is a reassuring friend
And an unbeatable foe
So gentle, it tickles
So strong it breaks through
My life portrays an ocean
So powerful, so strong
Changing the face of world
As I go on.
poem by Myra Ahmad
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Ceaseless Power
The sea invades the coastal cliffs,
Battling against its stalwart stone,
Devouring its surface bit by bit,
And leaving it gullible and prone.
The rocks hit back with warlike will,
Facing the churning water's rage,
With ceaseless power, the ocean spars,
And tries, at all times to upstage.
So firm and strong the crags were formed,
And tough and sheer its rock face stands,
But slow erosion there will always be,
As the bluff gives way to the deep's demands.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Gannets
I've never once seen them on land though from the shore I see
Them with folded wings from dizzy heights diving into the sea
And then they rise out of the waves and upwards again fly
These hunters of the ocean who stalk their prey from the sky.
To watch gannets fishing is an amazing sight
They fly above the ocean and dive from a great height
I once see one dead on a beach it was washed in by the tide
Born on a cliff ledge overlooking the sea and out at sea it died.
The gannets are true fishing birds on humans for food they don't rely
They roost and breed on remote ocean cliffs and of human kind are shy
They are birds I don't often see they are seldom close to the shore
Though I recall I once watched them fish for a half an hour or more.
True ocean birds born by the sea and out at sea they die
With folded wings they dive for fish like rockets from the sky
A guttural noise the only sound they make they do not have a song
They take their living from the sea and to the sea they belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In these cormorant hours
I’ve never begun to understand,
The sea changing patterns beholden,
With holding onto a woman’s hand,
No matter how many times
Unwilled she can be emboldened.
The ever changing wind still chimes
With me!
The ever changing green sea grimes
Deep in the deepest blue coral waves
Of the world,
In the darkest barroom grave
With me!
Just to be hurled,
Unbroken like a bird like a wave
Sucked out on a storm just to be free!
In these cormorant hours spent swift
On the wind like a sparrow hawk
With the thoughts of these old lovers up lift
On these wings I still feel strong, but hark
I still feel in my heart
The emptiness of the dark
As a marginal, migrant, migrating
Longing to go back into the virginal bay
I left battered and bereft
A long, long, long time away!
Looking further from my lovers reach
Back along the stony cliffs
Unto the foaming beach
In a whirlpool of memory I’m split into fifths
Like the lemming jumping off the cliffs
I high tale because I can’t be beholden
To an emboldened smile
No matter whomever you think you are!
This time! or any time my cormorant star!
16
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Sea is a Salty Road
Come with me to Calico Beach
Where Peppy Creek runs down to the sea,
Where squawking flocking seagulls screech
And powerful pompous pelicans preach:
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
There's a tangerine sun over Calico Beach
Where walloping waves strike snaggletoothed cliffs,
Where gadabout gulls get about all day
And tangled spangled seaweed drifts,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
We shall roost on a rock that the tides cannot reach
While a prominent porpoise delivers a speech
About chasing the tuna and hunting the squid
Whose inky secretions keep her well hid.
We shall squawk at the gulls and bark at the sea lions
Who waddle about on the calico sands,
For they tell tall tales to the penguins and puffins
While chasing the ocean away from the land,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road!
Oh we shall have an entertollicking time
By the hooligan cliffs on Calico Beach
After the plump sun plops in the bay
And the marigold moon pops up to play.
The ocean fandagoes, the starfish cavort!
With vociferous vigor, we’ll wobble and snort,
Hopping and clapping by the zestful sea,
Sipping our frisky phenomenal tea,
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
Next day we'll embark in our Bumblebee boat.
On the merry melodious sea we'll float,
Where breakers loom and surf-flowers bloom
And whales and seals and dolphins zoom.
Up and down and around and around
Where mountains and fountains of waters abound,
Swigging our bubbly broth as we brave
The tempusterous blusterous flusterous waves,
How gleeful and freeful and wild will be we,
Riding the turbulent tides of the sea
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
poem by Norm Milstein
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