Sailor's Harbor
My thoughts, like sailors becalmed in Cape Town harbor,
Await your return, like a favorable wind, or like
New tackle for the voyage, without which it is useless starting.
We watch the sea daily, finish our daily tasks
By ten in the morning, and with the day to waste,
Wander through the suburbs, with quiet thoughts of the brothels,
And sometimes thoughts of the churches.
In the eating-houses we always contrive to get near to
The window, where we can keep an eye on the life-
Bearing sea. Suddenly a wind might blow, and we must not miss
First sight of the waves as they darken with promise for us.
We have been here too long. We know the quays,
And the streets near the quays, more than should ever be necessary.
When can we go on our way?
Certain we are of this, that when the wind comes,
It may be deceptive and sweet and finally blow
To shipwreck and ruin between here and the next port of call.
At all times we think of this. At last we have come to know
The marine charts can safely assure us of less and less
As we go farther south. So we cannot go out on the boulevards
Or climb Table Mountain,
Though if we had certainty, here there might be delight.
But all that is world in itself, the mountain, the streets,
The sand-dunes outside the town, we shyly and sadly return from.
They are too much to bear. And our curiosity
Lies alone in the over-scrubbed decks and the polished brasses
(For we have to look trim in the port) and in
The high-piled ambiguous cargo.
poem by Henry Reed
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My Lost Youth
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the black wharves and the ships,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o'er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering's Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Romany
(jennings)
Take me home
Sailing on with romany
To and fro on a icy morning
Feeling calm to have an old friend round
Feeling warm to see the wind blow down
Take me home
Where saints and children laughing
Tell the dutchman ships are passing
Feeling safe to reach the harbor sound
Feeling warm to see the wind blow down
Take me home
Leave the galley sailors talking
Leave the bridge and captains walking
Feeling naked on the covered ground
Feeling warm to see the wind blow down
The wind blowed
Down in the moonless light
The sea was dark
The breeze was light
Everyones thoughts were their own
Caught by the ocean thief
The bow hit on a coral reef
Romany sank like a stone
Chorus
Verse 1
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hurricane
Written by dan peek, 1977
Found on harbor.
Sailin down the coast of mexico
With a person I loved since long ago
Into a place nobody wants to go
Into a hurricane
Whoa, hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
Heard people screamin and the sky was torn
I looked around and the faces were so forlorn
No relief, only scorn
In a hurricane
In a hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
Hurricanes just another name
For the torment in a mans soul
His mind is gone
And he starts to lose control
In a hurricane
Oh, the hurricane
Somell be taken
Somell remain
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Everybody talks; nobody really knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Shoo-ba-ree-ba, shoo-ba-ree-ba
Nobody knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Everybody talks; nobody really knows
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?
Shoo-ba-ree-ba, shoo-ba-ree-ba ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nostalgic wind takes me homebound
Facing strong wind and heavy rain today.
All the vessels in the harbor secured safely.
And the Tugs are in their weather-watch
in case of emergency.
Like a tigress the horrible wind comes
how soft when she is normal
chime like wind bells.
I heard a ship was calling from afar
she is heading to another port
humbly request a shelter in anchorage
until the bad weather get settled.
Though I am alert in the port
I feel like a ship in her pitching & rolling
in the deep sea.
And the the strong wind take me home.
Oh! my loved ones at shore
and I can see them waving happily.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A WIND SWEPT DAY DEDICATED TO AFZAL SHAUQ /heather wilkins
As I pen my thoughts,
and dreams,
Words I cannot say,
I bear my heart to the
wind,
On a wind swept day.
May I take a dream, or
two,
My dreams involving you.
Blow them to the wind,
Make my dreams come
true.
I bear my heart to the
wind,
On a balmy day,
May it catch on fire,
And blow your love,
my way.
HEATHER WILKINS
© Heather Burns
wwww.postpoems.com
poem by Afzal Shauq
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The Piper On The Hills
A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.
And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Clones Cannot Escape Windows
clone people have sold access
to knowledge beauty pain bliss
in pursuit of electronic clone lives
playing enslaved computer games
wearing out eyes tired body sitting
emotions adrenaline buzz running
knowing nothing of call wild places
experience dating freedom thoughts
even in a simple field of green grasses
wind kisses every leaf or insect passes
in journeys soft whispering singing
come run dance with me adventures
await in every sunbeam illuminating
hold as a child pick dandelion spheres
ghost frail transparent potentialities
are illusions life seeds promises sails
await lips to soft blow feathered leaves
tiny seed-bearing parachutes scattering
blow hard blow cotton seed wind snows
fertile wind will blow forth life stems
even if clones cannot escape windows
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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O' Wind Beautiful Wind
O' wind beautiful wind
I want to see you
Where you come from where you go
You bring his thoughts while you blow
I grow weary for I miss him
Bring the message of my dreams
O' wind beautiful wind
I want to see you
I can feel you but wish to touch you
I can hear you but wanna talk to you
When you pass by me
I feel my love’s touching me
O' wind beautiful wind
I want to see you
poem by Joanna Kantharia
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Sleepless in suburbia
Sleepless in suburbia
~
quiet little thoughts
play out in a suburban town
hours pass by unnoticed
day becomes night
and thoughts continue
sounds of strangers passing
beyond the window
beyond the walls
traffic and daily life
a crescendo of noise
fills out the soundtrack
a handful of stories echo
into their own lives
pieced together not entirely
by a restless mind
sleepless and listening
sleepless and imagining
while suburbia is thriving
quiet little thoughts
prevent sleeping
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Wind
I felt the wind come in today
and felt the gusts that blew.
I thought of warmth and summer
and then I thought of you.
No leaves are left upon my trees.
The wind has blown them away.
And as it blows unmercifully
my thoughts have gone astray.
I must gather them in once again
and let them keep me warm.
If but for no other reason
than to quiet my mental storm
that is just as ferocious as the wind
and chills the thoughts that appear.
I can't figure out which is worse,
the thoughts or the wind that's here?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sunset On L. A.
Blow east wind blow
Blow as you may
Wish I had the power
To take your breath away
This life is golden
But its only deep as the skin
Feelin much colder
Though Im standin in the warm desert wind
Gotta leave this town
Else Ill go crazy if I stay
If I see one more sunset on l.a.
Ill miss you blue sky
But not so much
Too much of a good thing
Keeps this old soul out of touch
Sometimes youre empty
Though your dreams they all seem fulfilled
Youre cool on the outside
Though the real you is slowly being killed
Gotta leave this town
Else Ill go crazy if I stay
If I see one more sunset on l.a.
Left a girl lyin neath an old willow tree
At times I think shell still be waitin there for me
Gotta leave this town
But its always one day away
Just saw one more sunset on l.a.
Gotta leave this town
Else Ill go crazy if I stay
If I see one more sunset on l.a.
One more sunset on l.a.
Dont want to see
One more sunset on l.a.
Baby wait for me
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Climb
Step by step
I've come closer to reaching the top
Every step must be placed so that I don't fall off
Looking down to see about how much higher I am
Another cool wind comes through and brushes my skin
The harder I push the tension does grow
I gather my thoughts the further and further I go
With some luck I just might keep on climbing
So better to climb than to face a fall
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Pulling myself up by a rope
I better my view
The only thing in sight is what I must do
As I turned I could see myself falling
Which in return save me strength for the climb
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Although many failed I must now prevail with no question
Have no time to stop
Onward to the top of the mountain
And I can't turn back now
Its so very high but I can't turn back now
If I keep it up
song performed by by No Doubt from Tragic Kingdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born To Be Together
I want to star in your life
And on the stage of your dreams
In your beginning and your end
And every place between
To open the door of your secret soul
Steal in and stay forever
The streets of you heart are laid with gold
And we were born to be together
Lets build a ship and set sail
Through seas of love well go
To unknown lands and hidden bays
And when theres no wind Ill blow
And when the waves get high and the broadsides fly
I will be your port in stormy weather
Ill rock your bow and show you how
We were born to be together
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watch The Wind Blow By
Creek goes rippling by
Ive been barefoot and all day with my baby
Brown leaves have started falling
Leading the way
I like it best just like this
Doing nothing all the way
So lets lay down in the tall grass
Dreaming away
And all I wanna do is let it be and be with you
And watch the wind blow by
And all I wanna see is you and me go on forever
Like the clear blue sky
Slowly, theres only
You and i
And all I want to do is watch the wind blow by
Girl, you know you told me not so long ago
To let it come, then let it pass
And all your troubles and your sorrows
They wont last
So let me kiss you now, little darling
Beneath this autumn moon
Cold wind, another season
Will be here soon
And all I wanna do is let it be and be with you
And watch the wind blow by
And all I wanna see is you and me go on forever
Like the clear blue sky
Slowly, theres only
You and i
And all I want to do is watch the wind blow by
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valparaiso
Chase the dog star
Over the sea
Home where my true love is waiting for me
Rope the south wind
Canvas the stars
Harness the moonlight
So she can safely go
Round the cape horn to valparaiso
Red the port light
Starboard the green
How will she know of the devils Ive seen
Cross in the sky, star of the sea
Under the moonlight, there she can safely go
Round the cape horn to valparaiso
Valparaiso
And every road I walked would take me down to the sea
With every broken promise in my sack
And every love would always send the ship of my heart
Over the rolling sea
If I should die
And waters my grave
Shell never know if Im damned or Im saved
See the ghost fly over the sea
Under the moonlight, there she can safely go
Round the cape horn to valparaiso
Valparaiso
Valparaiso
Valparaiso
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roses Of Summer (Song Lyric)
Where are the roses, the roses of our summer?
The North wind has come and taken them away.
Blow, then, O thou Southern wind;
Blow, then, without ceasing,
Till the roses of summer have come back again.
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Blow, then, O South wind;
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Till the roses of summer come back again.
Where are the roses, the roses of our summer?
For to make a garland for mine own true love?
There are none: none to make a garland rare,
Not a single rosebud for her hair:
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Blow, then, O Southern wind;
Bring the roses of summer back again.
South wind, blow!
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Wild Is The Wind
She run away from home
When she was only 16
She said, she was going
To follow the wind.
I seen the wind blow in our town
I've heard the wind blow in our town
But I never saw her.
Many Moons I have seen
Since she left us
And one day
She came home.
Mama was surprised to see her
And said 'you are one wild child.'
But she just smiled and said
''Wild is not me mama,
Wild is the wind.'
poem by Arsiema Berhane
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Morning thoughts
Morning thoughts
~
A sun rises over roof tops
Greeting the cold morning air
A wind blows heavy, swaying trees
The branches stripped bare by winter
The world is slowly waking
And the picture beyond my window
Emerges to life once more
I lay motionless in silence
Nursing warm coffee in my hands
Early thoughts begin to stir
My pen yet to be put to paper
I think back to dreams
The night passed what they brought
I think to the day ahead
What will it bring
Thoughts of love and romance
What could I write of them
I watch a world waking
A sun rising over rooftops
And I listen to my thoughts
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Amalfi. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth)
Sweet the memory is to me
Of a land beyond the sea,
Where the waves and mountains meet,
Where amid her mulberry-trees
Sits Amalfi in the heat,
Bathing ever her white feet
In the tideless summer seas.
In the middle of the town,
From its fountains in the hills,
Tumbling through the narrow gorge,
The Canneto rushes down,
Turns the great wheels of the mills,
Lifts the hammers of the forge.
'T is a stairway, not a street,
That ascends the deep ravine,
Where the torrent leaps between
Rocky walls that almost meet.
Toiling up from stair to stair
Peasant girls their burdens bear;
Sunburnt daughters of the soil,
Stately figures tall and straight,
What inexorable fate
Dooms them to this life of toil?
Lord of vineyards and of lands,
Far above the convent stands.
On its terraced walk aloof
Leans a monk with folded hands,
Placid, satisfied, serene,
Looking down upon the scene
Over wall and red-tiled roof;
Wondering unto what good end
All this toil and traffic tend,
And why all men cannot be
Free from care and free from pain,
And the sordid love of gain,
And as indolent as he.
Where are now the freighted barks
From the marts of east and west?
Where the knights in iron sarks
Journeying to the Holy Land,
Glove of steel upon the hand,
Cross of crimson on the breast?
Where the pomp of camp and court?
Where the pilgrims with their prayers?
Where the merchants with their wares,
And their gallant brigantines
Sailing safely into port
Chased by corsair Algerines?
Vanished like a fleet of cloud,
Like a passing trumpet-blast,
Are those splendors of the past,
And the commerce and the crowd!
Fathoms deep beneath the seas
Lie the ancient wharves and quays,
Swallowed by the engulfing waves;
Silent streets and vacant halls,
Ruined roofs and towers and walls;
Hidden from all mortal eyes
Deep the sunken city lies:
Even cities have their graves!
This is an enchanted land!
Round the headlands far away
Sweeps the blue Salernian bay
With its sickle of white sand:
Further still and furthermost
On the dim discovered coast
Paestum with its ruins lies,
And its roses all in bloom
Seem to tinge the fatal skies
Of that lonely land of doom.
On his terrace, high in air,
Nothing doth the good monk care
For such worldly themes as these,
From the garden just below
Little puffs of perfume blow,
And a sound is in his ears
Of the murmur of the bees
In the shining chestnut trees;
Nothing else he heeds or hears.
All the landscape seems to swoon
In the happy afternoon;
Slowly o'er his senses creep
The encroaching waves of sleep,
And he sinks as sank the town,
Unresisting, fathoms down,
Into caverns cool and deep!
Walled about with drifts of snow,
Hearing the fierce north-wind blow,
Seeing all the landscape white,
And the river cased in ice,
Comes this memory of delight,
Comes this vision unto me
Of a long-lost Paradise
In the land beyond the sea.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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