At Carmel Highlands
Below the gardens and the darkening pines
The living water sinks among the stones,
Sinking yet foaming till the snowy tones
Merge with the fog drawn landward in dim lines.
The cloud dissolves among the flowering vines,
And now the definite mountain-side disowns
The fluid world, the immeasurable zones.
Then white oblivion swallows all designs.
But still the rich confusion of the sea,
Unceasing voice, sombre and solacing,
Rises through veils of silence past the trees;
In restless repetition bound, yet free,
Wave after wave in deluge fresh releasing
An ancient speech, hushed in tremendous ease.
poem by Janet Lewis
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Related quotes
The Lake, The Fountain
by the lake so still so calm
sky-blue cloud-white
more sky than water this autumn day
the air so still above
there a tree leans over the water
as if in thanks
and here a gathering of stones
awaits the offhand lapping of the wavelets
bringing out the many colours of the stones
that remember mountains edging the horizon
with light and shadow through the day
over there a fountain plashes over worn carved stone
fed by a mountain waterfall wild fountain tamed
throwing up a million new-mined diamonds
droplets sparkling like a chandelier
the sun catches turning air and water
into unceasing dance of somehow joy
the still lake the dancing fountain
telling with water two stories
stillness in joy
joy in stillness
as two white-robed nuns who whisper laughing
laughing whisper
in the cool of the evening
beside the fountain
before prayer
and holy silence
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Through Repetition
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petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
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Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
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through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Sparrow Hills
Breasts beneath kisses, as though under a tap!
Summer’s stream won’t run for ever.
We can’t pump out the accordion’s roar
night after night, in a dusty fever.
I’ve heard of age. Terrible prophecies!
No wave will lift its hands to the stars.
They say – who believes? No face in the leaves,
no gods in the air, in the ponds: no hearts.
Rouse your soul! Make the day, foaming.
It’s noon in the world. Where are your eyes?
See there, thoughts in the whiteness seething,
fir-cones, woodpeckers, cloud, heat, pines.
Here, the city’s trolley-lines end.
Beyond there’s no rails, it’s the trees.
Beyond – it’s Sunday, breaking branches,
the glade running off, sliding on leaves.
Scattering noons: Whitsuntide: walking,
‘The world’s always like this’, says the wood.
So the copse planned it, the clearing was told,
So it pours, from the clouds, towards us.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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The Swan
This laboring of ours with all that remains undone,
as if still bound to it,
is like the lumbering gait of the swan.
And then our dying—releasing ourselves
from the very ground on which we stood—
is like the way he hesitantly lowers himself
into the water. It gently receives him,
and, gladly yielding, flows back beneath him,
as wave follows wave,
while he, now wholly serene and sure,
with regal composure,
allows himself to glide.
translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Changed Voices
Last night the seawind was to me
A metaphor of liberty,
And every wave along the beach
A starlit music seemed to be.
To-day the seawind is to me
A fettered soul that would be free,
And dumbly striving after speech
The tides yearn landward painfully.
To-morrow how shall sound for me
The changing voice of wind and sea?
What tidings shall be borne of each?
What rumour of what mystery?
poem by William Watson
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Here on this ring of grass we have sat together, bound by the tremendous power of some inner compulsion. The trees wave, the clouds pass. The time approaches when these soliloquies shall be shared. We shall not always give out a sound like a beaten gong as one sensation strikes and then another. Children, our lives have been gongs striking; clamour and boasting; cries of despair; blows on the nape of the neck in gardens.
quote by Virginia Woolf
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sea Of Time.
On that strange sea
Where Man's bark moves as toward eternity,
What sails put forth that are not seen again!
.... Joyous it may be, or in pain,
The mariner doth drive still on and on
Beneath no mortal star,
And to no mortal port — as one
Who may but anchor somewhere so afar,
Not himself recks if he shall reach no more
In that tremendous sea another shore:
He is so like a wave himself at last,
He would toss through the future as the past —
But tethered as a whale is to a wave,
So he might still the one life have
Through all the changes that may be
On that tremendous sea!
poem by Robert Crawford
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At The Linn-Side
O LIVING, living water,
So busy and so bright,
Aye flashing in the morning beams,
And sounding through the night;
O golden-shining water--
Would God that I might be
A vocal message from His mouth
Into the world, like thee!
O merry, merry water,
Which nothing e'er affrays;
And as it pours from rock to rock
Nothing e'er stops or stays;
But past cool heathery hollows
And gloomy pools it flows;
Past crags that fain would shut it in
Leaps through--and on it goes.
O fresh'ning, sparkling water,
O voice that's never still,
Though winter lays her dead-white hand
On brae and glen and hill;
Though no leaf's left to flutter
In woods all mute and hoar,
Yet thou, O river, night and day
Thou runnest evermore.
No foul thing can pollute thee;
Thy swiftness casts aside
All ill, like a good heart and true,
However sorely tried.
O living, living water,
So fresh and bright and free--
God lead us through this changeful world
Forever pure, like thee!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Now Im Nothing
I smashed myself to pieces
I am gonna f**k myself up
Im sifting through the ashes
Oh what I have become
I gave myself away now Im nothing
I let it slip away now Im nothing
All that I can do is break myself in two
I f**ked it all away now Im nothing
Wave wave wave wave goodbye
Wave wave wave wave goodbye
Written and performed by: trent reznor
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Joy
Past the broken dreams
Far past fountains of sorrow
No foul bird flies free
Hope is an endless tomorrow
Lay your fears by the way side
Diamond shores in the regal sun
Golden smiles from eternal sky
Today my journey has just begun
Soft voices from the tall pines
Summer roses in the heart of faith
Everything is growing deep inside
I know I shall be shown the way
Fountains flow in secret praise
The land of gardens opens wide
My soul transcends a world of pain
I see blossoms of yellow and white
Have you heard the stars singing
Song birds nest in every tree
In the valley the bells are ringing
My spirit has been set free
The moon shines like a mystic friend
Dawn is a sanctuary of eternal life
Over the mountains hope rises again
The darkness flees before the light
Living joy comes to the broken night
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Wave Of Mutilation
Cease to resist, giving my goodbye
Drive my car into the ocean
Youll think Im dead, but I sail away
On a wave of mutilation
A wave
Wave
Ive kissed mermaids, rode the el nino
Walked the sand with the crustaceans
Could find my way to mariana
On a wave of mutilation,
Wave of mutilation
Wave of mutilation
Wave
Wave of mutilation
Wave
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Explorations: XXXIX
when this body
gets back to its
original form-
fluid dissolves in fluid
skin and bones
merge with the earth-
i may not be there
to perceive the truth...
my friend,
understand this reality
of our connect to the earth
and pass it on...
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Art Of Scribbling...
to scribble
in symbols, some lines
drawn by the sharpness of
a knife
upon a bark of a tree
or this steel chisel
upon a rock
some dashes of
my stick
upon the sands
i ponder upon these truths
it is raining again
slowly some lines shall be taken away
the sea rises and its tongues of waves
lick the smooth thigh of the shore
romance, and love
lines that are dissolving upon the water
and the gentle rain
that robs me slowly
of what i remember
silence sits upon my lips
longer
and i do not wish to drive it away
somehow
it is making me happier
the deep sea
settles upon my forehead
sinks there
like a boat where all the passengers
scream
only for a while only to be swallowed
whole
by that big mouth
of emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brothers, let us glorify freedom’s twilight
Brothers, let us glorify freedom’s twilight –
the great, darkening year.
Into the seething waters of the night
heavy forests of nets disappear.
O Sun, judge, people, your light
is rising over sombre years
Let us glorify the deadly weight
the people’s leader lifts with tears.
Let us glorify the dark burden of fate,
power’s unbearable yoke of fears.
How your ship is sinking, straight,
he who has a heart, Time, hears.
We have bound swallows
into battle legions - and we,
we cannot see the sun: nature’s boughs
are living, twittering, moving, totally:
through the nets –the thick twilight - now
we cannot see the sun, and Earth floats free.
Let’s try: a huge, clumsy, turn then
of the creaking helm, and, see -
Earth floats free. Take heart, O men.
Slicing like a plough through the sea,
Earth, to us, we know, even in Lethe’s icy fen,
has been worth a dozen heavens’ eternity.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Mid-life
she wakes up at 3 a.m.
with a nightmare: she is on a bridge
below her the flood, waters raging
carrying driftwood, some houses, people calling for her,
deaf she moves on to the other side
on white gown less the bouquet
a man in black suit waits for her
the water rises and then all the screams are gone
the man becomes a mist
her hands tremble
her diamond ring falls to the water below
the water rises up to her waist
she shouts for help
there is no boat and the other side dissolves with the man
a mist covers her
she closes her eyes and then she is taken away by some hands.
she wakes up grasping for breath.
her pillow is wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speech Of Gold!
If silence is to silence
the beautiful song of a day,
I prefer not that silence
I prefer a speech of gold
than a smoky silence
of a cloud of conflict;
or a wave cause only
troubles to a sea shore,
I prefer a word to transform
into a song for a day
and that day will break
the shells of silence
in one dawn of life.....
September 7,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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The river and its waves are one
The river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?
When the wave rises,
it is the water;
and when it falls,
it is the same water again.
Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave,
shall it no longer be considered as water?
Within the Supreme Brahma,
the worlds are being told like beads:
Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.
Choked
Trees above her, below her, to each side of her
Fog obstructing her view, where should she be?
She cannot tell what day it is any more than she can tell what time it is
Which way should she turn?
The fog swallows her feet
When she thinks she has found the right path, she sees an opening...
Then the fog swallows it
She has been misled again
...and again
......and again
She screams, she’s tired; she is choked by the fog, betrayed by the trees
Feels like she’s been here forever
Trees that don’t talk back anymore
No one is there to guide her
She is lost
The trees and fog are making her second guess every step she makes
Mocking her, humiliating her, laughing at her
At one time she thought they would lead her
Following each way the breeze decided to sway the trees
Going with the fog because where there is fog there is water
Water leads her to place she needs to be
If only the fog was not so thick
if only the trees would talk again
If....If....IF! !
If only she was not lost
The trees and the fog swallows her
Then spits her out when she is nothing more
Nothing is left
Besides a new start
God! Please help me!
poem by Ashley Joyce Forbus
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Past and a poet
a dark avenue bordered by trees
a man walking on the asphalt alone
nearing an art village ancient
only a horse somewhere
breaking the silence
a horse unseen
keeping
its wild
and undissolved resolution
to cross the time
rhyming with
warm and
speed
foggy stars somewhere above
trees talking perhaps each other
leaves are still but wind brings
its touch of no fear rather fire
illumines with an essence of past
stones caves sculptures a far near
and sudden crashed with uncertain
all the dark vanished a white apron
flying madly to cover to touch the walker
man stands free as if thousand years he passed
his feet stands above the wave of time
and the nymph from inside the apron
came close to tell the beauty of ignition
to show the truth behind chiseled sculpt
and past meet the present and present
prophesying the future to keep its spark
where dark is no more dark to breed
the lamp to lit in solitude to shelter
the certain leaps through beauty of lust
Pranab k c
09/12/2001
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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