Demystified for M' lady Cate
The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.
The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn
the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.
The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.
It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.
The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear
When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.
The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.
The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.
1-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The glow in the fog and mist
The spectral glow of a bobbing lantern
As if tossed upon a stormy sea
Appearing..then fading anon, absorbed
In foggy essence, to fade again so feebly
Once more, ere sinking in finality
Into the quicksand of mist
Mere glow of candle, so dear to see
Seen now…then not, …with capricious twist
The spectral light, drifts through the night
As a ghost through fog and mist
Through ribs of rain, the tremulous light
Chills the brain, befogs the sight
Dimly lit, by lanterns in the mist
Dark clouds upon the soul this night
Fog is the dark abode of lost souls
Who wander without rest with lantern high
The mist, the breath, of hollow death
The fog, the food, on which to persist
Tis best my friend, not to be, nor ne'r to see….
The glow in the fog and mist
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Changing perspective for bro Colin
A patchwork quilt of sunlit fields
Is visible as grey mist yields
to the majesty of the sun.
The morning mist and night shadows
are well aware that they must go
Now that a new day has begun.
The distant hills which I now see
Become for me reality
Now that the mists have fully gone.
No longer just a fantasy,
a half forgotten memory.
I wandered happily alone.
I did not lack for company
I had my book of poetry.
What more could any poet need
except a quiet spot to read.
31/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Battle Of Fog Wind And Sun
It’s a mysterious morning in the wood as the fogs settled in
Fog dances with the wind through the trees twirling
A hazy white blanket diffusing scattering the light
Everything looks so different tricking your sight
The sun rays pours down breaking through the trees canopy
Linear streaks of light highlighting objects we see
Mysterious fog plays with the light as things it conceals
So when you are only near objects magically reappear
Strange shaped shadows jump out from the teasing mist
And twigs and objects appear that at first you did miss
The gloomy cold fog tries hard to hide the light of the new day
But the darkness and mystery it brings is not there to stay
The wind helps the sun to blow the mist from our sight
And wind sun versus the fog start their regular teasing fight
As normal the fog slowly loses, thins to a light haze in the air
Going patchy with little dancing wisps here and there
The light and the wind always it wins afterall
But the fog would just quickly disappear from us all
But look closely he left a present from his newly departed mist
On foliage are water jewel droplets where it gently kissed
Rondel.
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight
As they drift by in the weird light,
Each on its shadowy career —
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
A dead town were less sad a sight
With its dead men and women here,
So one might see them passing near
Beyond the death of love's delight!
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bloom is not a Bloom
Bloom not bloom
mist not mist
Night half come
heaven bright go
Come like spring dream how long time?
Go like morning cloud not find place The bloom is not a bloom,
The mist not mist.
At midnight she comes,
And goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream -
how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
Good and Evil, Light and Dark
There will be a time.
When good is defeated.
When lights vanish from time
When the sun does not rise to greet the next day
There will be only night
in night there is only darkness
And in darkness there is only evil
There will be a day
When evil dies
When the stars fade away
When the is no moon to light the way
And on this day there will be nothing but mist
In a world without good and evil
There is no reason
There is nothing
But people in the streets trying to find their way home through the mist hiding their way
Why must I? for Cp Sharma
Why must I
The mist is lifting slowly. So
I can see the way ahead.
Although I’m not allowed to know
my future fate. I need not dread.
The Unknown hidden by the mist
evaporated by the sun.
I will go on I will persist
until my distant goal is won.
The quest embarked upon at birth
which will not end until I die.
My sojourn on the planet earth
but always I must question why.
I have no choice but journey on
No one can answer my question.
27/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mist
Through the mist I wander.
With all the time to ponder.
Beasts of such ferocity come at me with such intensity.
I continue on of neccesity,
to find a true philosophy.
The mists so dense.
I need to make recommpence.
For all that's wrong I must confess.
I cannot stand this lonley test.
In the mist and in the midst.
I'm truly blind it gives me fits.
The mist is thick,
it eats you cold and quick.
Beats you madly like a switch.
The mist is dark it kills the heart.
Madly eats you like a shark.
The mist is cold and I grow old.
Hopefully soon I'll find my hold.
poem by Michael McParland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mist
The mist on the water that forms over night
gives an eerie sight to my eyes.
It lingers sometimes for an hour or two
and as it lifts to the skies
I see the lake that's been hidden from view
and all seems right to my sight.
Its rippling movement on breezy days
mirror like imagery at night.
It's home to frogs and ducks at play
and the fish that jump catching flies.
And sometimes when I am lucky enough
much to my surprise
herons and egrets of snowy white
come and land on the banks.
They stalk their prey in stately manner
hoping to pull off their pranks.
So when the mist returns to my lake
I do not get forlorn.
For underneath the mist that's there
is my lake in later morn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love In A Mist
Light love in a mist, by the midsummer moon misguided,
Scarce seen in the twilight garden if gloom insist,
Seems vainly to seek for a star whose gleam has derided
Light love in a mist.
All day in the sun, when the breezes do all they list,
His soft blue raiment of cloudlike blossom abided
Unrent and unwithered of winds and of rays that kissed.
Blithe-hearted or sad, as the cloud or the sun subsided,
Love smiled in the flower with a meaning whereof none wist
Save two that beheld, as a gleam that before them glided,
Light love in a mist.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Safe delivery for M'Lady Tara
Lost in the undecided light
which lies between the night and dawn.
When wisps of mist shine pearly white.
like shredded remnants of fine lawn
The waiting time that hesitates,
uncertain of its future role.
The growing light facilitates
its transformation: Makes it whole.
The sky ignites; a living flame
spreads from the east and fills the sky.
To all the world it stakes its claim.
New life burst forth triumphantly.
A new born babe yells lustily.
Enters the world reluctantly
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Appreciative Audience.
Soft moonlight filters through the trees
Which seem to dance to melodies
Created by the gentle breeze.
The shadows on the ground dance too
Or to my eyes they appear to
Disintegrate then form anew.
Sometimes the clouds blot out the light
The shadows gain a brief respite.
Rejoin the darkness of the night.
But clouds move on and when they do
And once again moonlight shows through.
The trees will dance, the shadows too.
The sun will rise to start the day.
The dancing shadows hide away
But where they hide no man can say.
The sun completes his daily quest.
Journeying from east to west.
Then sinks below the sea to rest.
The moon will rise she rules the night
Then once again to my delight
She bathes the trees in silver light.
The melodies played by the breeze
Will re awake the sleeping trees.
To dance again with practiced ease.
Beneath the trees reluctantly
the shadows still dance gracefully.
I watch in silence gratefully.
I know they do not dance for me
And I am privileged to see
The shadows dance under the trees.
Friday,23 September 2011
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Answers
I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
into points of mystery quivering with color.
I answered:
The whole world was mist once long ago and some day
it will all go back to mist,
Our skulls and lungs are more water than bone and tissue
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers
Go running back to dust and mist.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's up to you for M lady Flora
The mist that crept in from the sea.
Advancing inexorably,
enveloped first the sandy beach.
Then well beyond the high tides reach
Invaded streets and avenues
the thoroughfares that people use.
To go about their business.
A wet and cold unpleasantness.
Which nobody had seen before
at least along that friendly shore.
Exuding sheer hostility
as if the demons of the sea.
Deciding that humanity.
had forfeited their right to be.
Had gathered there with one intent
to prove the sea omniscient.
The villagers were sore afraid
some cursed and swore while others prayed.
Though neither made much difference.
Against such mist there’s no defence.
The village disappeared from sight.
Hid by a mist as black as night.
When morning broke there was no one.
No body left to greet the sun.
Now to this day the village stands
although nobody understands.
What happened on that dreadful night
when the sea fret absorbed the light.
No one survived to tell the tale.
Enough to make the bravest quail.
Perhaps you think I’m telling lies
But you will find to your surprise.
If you should choose to visit me
from my front window you can see.
The evidence that what say
A village empty to this day.
Nobody dares to move into
the empty village and renew
a single house in which to live.
Because of legends kept alive.
By older folks who can recall
the night the demons came to call.
If you should wish to you could buy
the whole village and you could try.
To sell the houses one by one
if you’re convinced it can be done.
I think your work would be in vain
What happened once could come again.
To local folks it is taboo
and there is nothing you can do.
but try to sell to foreigners
Who do not know about the curse.
I own the site and I would sell
quite cheaply and I’d wish you well
If you’re prepared to take the chance
There’s been a change of circumstance.
For there are profits to be made.
Maybe the mist will not invade
maybe the tales I tell aren’t true
what you believe is up to you.
I am too old to change my ways
and I prefer to end my days
believing as I’ve always done.
This village should left alone.
24-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mist and Tears
There's a mist that's forming
over the trees I see.
The sight of it forming
does something to me.
It blurs the vision
in my ageing eyes.
It dulls my senses
and I realize that
mist and tears
that quickly form
are for me the silence
before the storm.
Ah! the storm I say
is making its way
into my wakefulness
on every day.
There's no way to escape
this enveloping mist
unless I feel that
I've just been kissed
by you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shadow Dancers for M 'lady Amy
The shadow which throughout the day
have hidden quietly away.
In nooks and crannies which they know
Day is their time for lying low.
When darkness falls come out to play.
Although the sunlight rules the day.
The silver moon’s in charge by night
and she has granted them the right.
To freely frolic through the night
they do not fear her gentle light.
Though when the sunrise lights the skies.
They hide again if they are wise.
Perhaps the sleep all through the day
I do not know I cannot say.
I only know it’s my delight
to see the shadows dance at night.
They can appear and disappear
but they are far too fast I fear.
For human eyes to clearly see
the shadows dancing gracefully.
Our eyes accustomed to the light
don’t work efficiently at night.
Though sometimes watching quietly
You see them dancing silently.
17-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To
The Day was dying; his breath
Wavered away in a hectic gleam;
And I said, if Life's a dream, and Death
And Love and all are dreams -- I'll dream.
A mist came over the bay
Like as a dream would over an eye.
The mist was white and the dream was grey
And both contained a human cry,
The burthen whereof was "Love",
And it filled both mist and dream with pain,
And the hills below and the skies above
Were touched and uttered it back again.
The mist broke: down the rift
A kind ray shot from a holy star.
Then my dream did waver and break and lift --
Through it, O Love, shone thy face, afar.
So Boyhood sets: comes Youth,
A painful night of mists and dreams;
That broods till Love's exquisite truth,
The star of a morn-clear manhood, beams.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
1692
(copyright nazareth, tiflis tunes,inc.-ascap)
Mist upon the hill can remember murder,
Mist upon the hill that once flowed with blood,
Helped to cover up an approaching army,
Hid the killing lust in the eyes of men.
Sitting by the fire was a sentry sleeping,
Rolled up in their beds were children that play,
Unsuspecting what was to fall upon them,
None of them would see the dawn next day.
Bloody were the blades that fell on children,
Hate the blinding light tried to kill a name,
The mountains only know all the souls that died there,
Glen coe from that day can recall the shame.
The quiet of the night never gave them warning,
The silence of the hills wouldn't let them know,
They'd never rise again on a mist filled morning,
Never see the sunrise above glen coe.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Evil Darkness
Slowly darkness decends as the sensible run and hide,
because with the dark comes the mist, like a dank chilling tide.
The moon shines weakly through the haze as though very afraid,
in the darkness of the night, a new terror will be concieved and made.
The mist moves slowly but for a moment and then is very still,
in the dim light stands a creature, tall and coldly evil.
No form does it have to touch or kill, no way to pull it down,
but ice cold power does it hold, and in your own terror you will drown.
Now one sensless fool puts aside his fear, he will face this evil foe,
this night he will stand his ground, but the out-come would not be so.
Drawn into this evil he was absorbed but for one dropp of blood,
for there upon the ground that night, a new evil grew from the mud.
Now a new evil has been concieved and together on dark nights will roam,
so when it's dark and dank outside.....be sure to stay at home!
poem by Ruth warren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!