En.Citatepedia^®.ro

I Saw You By The Clyde

I met Scott Walker by the river,
his Golden Retriever unwinding
amongst the trees and the winterblown grass;
and I was whistling Angels of Ashes -
discordant, untrammelled, in low, slow mist
creeping between the cold deeps of grey water
and the saturated wishes written
on the faded leaves still holding,
loyal and fast, to a season we’ve lost.

And we stopped mundanely, compulsively,
and talked of venom and of gentleness;
and I couldn’t help but say that we’d lost ours.
We used to walk and he would race
around and across, nose deep into spring,
into ancient commitments
and thrill, like freedom should be,
through the nettles and budding foxgloves,
trailing his infectious atmosphere
through all the woods, and all the lochs
and all along the ragged ocean’s edge.
And I couldn’t help but see him
in that bounding song
that old repeating rhythm
on a riverbank we never shared.

And his eyes were bloodshot from the cold
and he listened as if he lived it (and he would in time) :
his smile was honest, on a knife edge like De Niro’s,
but he was gone before I realised,
through knee-high mist and haggard trees
with that blonde happiness unleashed
like random star trails darting wild,
along another riverside.

(For Don)

poem by Jim Hogg
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The Dreams

Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
Figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
These dreams in the mist
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
Is it cloak n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
There's something out there
I can't resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There's something out there
I can't resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I've ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away

song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge

ON THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE

On the edge of the edge of the edge
There is nowhere to go-
Home is lost,
And all the distances have broken down-
One cannot move
One can only fear-

On the edge of the edge of the edge
Falling is fear-
And holding one’s ground
One step at a time
Is a small miracle
One is not sure
One can make alone.

On the edge of the edge of the edge-

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Down in the deep water..

Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I ponder my life
Just how did I get to this

Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where the waterfall of dreams
Sweeps away what’s left to the abyss

Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where time stands still
just only forever.

Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I buried all
That was ever my childhood

Where I let it go,
Where it bends and meanders,
Twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
Were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current

Down in the deep water,
I left the edge of the river,
As I looked down
For my soul at the bottom.

Deep in the deep water
Swept away by the river

I drowned in life,

......Sinking forever.

poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Lystrata

On the outer edge of darkness,
On the other side of sleep,
And beyond the mist, the starkness
Of the landscape makes me weep,
For Lystrata, like a phantom
Glides and shimmers through the trees,
As her hair trails out behind her
At the slightest subtle breeze.

But the sun has not yet risen
So the shadows there are dim,
And the voices in the distance
Mutter words that sound like ‘R.E.M.',
But Lystrata leads me further
Through that one repeating myth,
Where we leave the trees behind us
At the stark edge of the cliff.

I can hear the breakers rolling
On the beach, so far below,
As Lystrata turns toward me,
Cries forever: ‘Now you know! '
But I reach on out to touch her
Almost blinded by my tears,
When her shadow fades before me
As she turns, and disappears!

And I'm driving through the night
Toward some future, cold and bleak,
With her sitting close beside me
Though we very rarely speak,
While the anger and the hurt has
Ravelled, rabid at my brain,
When she said: ‘You know it's over! '
Then I knew - I was insane!

For the darkness closed around me
On that narrow strip of road,
And this dream that would confound me
Kept repeating, like some ode,
That the world had somehow narrowed
To the pinpoint of a beam,
So I swerved into the darkness
And I heard Lystrata scream!

There are phantoms moving greyly
At the other side of sleep,
And their voices still dismay me
As I make that final leap,
For ‘How long? ' would seem to echo
And re-echo through my tears,
As another phantom whispers:
‘Well, it's all of twenty years! '

And Lystrata stands before me
As the blood runs down her face,
‘Once you said that you'd adore me,
But you leave me little grace! '
Then she leaves me in the darkness
And the mist, for me to weep,
At the outer edge of darkness
On the other side of sleep!

David Lewis Paget

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Budding

The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.

The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.

The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.

And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.

As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My dearest friends..when i am gone..1949..?

My dearest friends 1949.........when i am gone

As my eyes stretch and dip into the distant, I do clearly see
The many shadows silently and surely fast approaching me.
To those dearest friend i leave behind I want you to know
You were the best of blessing from Heaven above and more.
You've always shared my every single deepest thoughts,
And in my struggle confusion its just you I finally did, sought.
Yes... now i am old and wise to words that means little to me
As the cold biting winds carelessly blow right through me.
And someday soon in the mist of the fast moving time
They surely will boldy ask you if you knew the long gone me
Please smile and say that you were the greatest friend of mine
I can see and feel the dark shadows now fast enveloping me
As insensitive words, mails were frequently tossed around me
And the sadness cannot be lifted from my tired and ageing eyes
Though my days are numbered I have still not stopped the cries
I want you to know you've shared my confused saddest hours
Have been the steadfast loyal and the most strongest power
Lifted me high when i was lost alone. stumbling, nowhere to go
You helped me travel this far and i surely did calmly make it so
Please remember that you were a greatest friend of mine
You filled the journey with a radiance that was ever so fine
Soon the final curtain will fall before my very weary eyes
Remember you were a loyal friend who made me smile and rise!

poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Among the Trees

I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for

I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone

I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way

I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light

I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone

I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one

I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................

poem by kelly Martini
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Sinking..

Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where I ponder my life
just how did I get to this

Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where the waterfall of dreams
sweeps away what’s left to the abyss

Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where time stands still
Just only forever.

Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where I buried all
that was ever childhood

Where I let it go,
where it bends and meanders,
twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current

Down in the water,
I left the edge of the river,
as I looked down
for my soul at the bottom.

Deep in the water
Swept away by the river

I drowned in life,

......sinking forever.

poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The River's Arms...

I Rushed Into The River’s Arms
It Carried Me Away
Within Its Strong, Swift Current
Amid Foam and Sunlit Spray

It Wetly Glossed My Skin
Dripping Diamonds … and Dipping Me
Close Down To The Riverbed
Deep and Wild and Murky

At First, Its Cold Nature
Shocked and Intimidated
Until I Learned Its Flow
Sweetly Invigorated …

Every Splash Upon My Flesh
Was Playful and Caressive
Every Plunge and Every Pull
Held Me Curiously and Possessive

My Body Buoyed and Bounced
Floating On Smooth Liquid
Every Sprinkle Was Sparkling
Each Velvet-Lapping, Vivid

Where Dreams Un-Drowned Had Mixed
With Waves Rimming O’er and Spilt …
Rippled and Spinned Around Rocks That Skipped
Were Danced Down Into Silken-Silt

I Kept Rising By Riverside
Thru Every Dunk and Every Dive …
Every Surge Felt So Alive
Every Soak So Synchronized

Like A Saturday Baptism
My Saturated Soul, Glistened
An Enraptured, Reborn Vision
Fresh-Rinsed … and Arisen

I Let The River Steer
So Symbolic and So Sure
It Carries To Something Greater
I’ll Find Out Just What Later …

“ River Long and River Wide
My River Song On Riverside
Traveling On The River Tides
River’s Arms Is One Sweet Ride ”

It Is Not A Pot Of Gold
But A Jade River That Flows
At The End Of A Rainbow
(Every Forest Creature Knows)

Now Sitting On Riverbank
Watching This Swishing Water-Tank
Don’t Know How I Didn’t Sank …
But I Do Know Who To Thank! …

“ River Long, Oh River Ride
My River Song … On Riverside
Traveling On Your River Tides
River’s Arms Was Open Wide

… I Rushed Into The River’s Arms and … “

Written & ©: 7/13/10

By: The MoonBee

poem by MoonBee Canady
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Autumn In The South

In April when the first cool days
Foretell of winter's coming frost,
And waning sun's soft golden rays
Shine weaker now that summer's lost;
When morning mists, in veils of grey,
The trees along the river cloak,
Until the breezes blow away
The clinging mist, like clouds of smoke.
Then under skies of palest blue,
In these clear days before the cold,
The trees that shed their gowns bestrew
The fading green with flecks of gold.

© Dennis N. O'Brien,2011 - 2012

poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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The Green Bowl

This little bowl is like a mossy pool
In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow
Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees;
A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,
Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song
And murmur of the never resting sea.
'T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup,
But coming Spring guided your eager hand
And round the edge you fashioned young green leaves,
A proper chalice made to hold the shy
And little flowers of the woods. And here
They will forget their sad uprooting, lost
In pleasure that this circle of bright leaves
Should be their setting; once more they will dream
They hear winds wandering through lofty trees
And see the sun smiling between the leaves.

poem by Amy Lowell
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A Walk In Vienna Woods

In the Vienna Woods, I took a walk
A March dampness in the air
The trees were still Winter bare
Standing stoic as if in silent talk.

Sunless snow caked in crevices and cracks
Biding the time that would bring
Mortal melting from the Spring
As I plodded onwards down trodden tracks.

In the gloomy skies no birds could be seen
And there was no wild life here
No lizard, squirrel or deer
Nothing to bear witness that I had been.

These woods have made music and ancient tales
But I heard no songs this day
Just leaves dropping in the way
Like fluttering souls caught on windy wails.

Countless numbers have passed this path before
But each as I, walked alone
Aging muscle, thinning bone
Failing flesh that ends at the seasons’ Fall

On sodden soil I walked with weary tread
Through mist where I couldn’t see
Past the shadow of each tree
Yet, a beautiful city lays ahead.

poem by Roy Lee
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Wish You Were Here

So
So you think you can tell
Heaven from hell
Blue skys from grey
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail
A smile from a veil
Yeah do you think you can tell
Did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts
Hot ashes for trees
Hot air for a cool breeze
Cold comfort for change
Yeah and did you exchange
A walk on part in this war
For a leading role in a cage
How I wish, how I wish you were here
Were just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Were running over the same old ground
What have we found
The same old fears
Well I wish you were here
I said I wish you were here yeah
Oh how I wish you were here
How I wish you were here
Hey and I wish you were here
Hey my rock star
How did you get so turned around
My rock star
How you did you get so turned around
Oh my rock star
(how did you get so turned around)
Did you get so turned around
Hey my my rock star
(how did you get so turned around
Inside out
Cut it all out now
Cut it all out now
Cut it all out now
Cut it all out now
Cut it out now
Cut it out now
Cut it out now
Cut it out now
Cut it all out now
Cut it all out now
Cut it all out

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From the Chinese perhaps

This winter day
the wind is making ripples
even between the stones at the water's edge
and the mist almost hides the tops
of the mountains

only I am listening to the heron's cry

I brought my brush and pen and paper and ink block
but there is no poem here;
Nature is hiding her secrets today
like a silent woman in her winter coat.

I could write how last summer
we stood here laughing together
at the reflection of the moon
trembling in our bowls of rice wine
while the candles drifted down the river
in their paper boats

like this memory

but I shall walk back now
through the winter woods
where the thin trees
are secretly, secretly
preparing for Spring.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Misty River

This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Torture

The mist is low, drifting like smoke
As a shroud, envelopes him
Wrapped in a cloak
In his mind, he carries his sin.
Forehead creased in a frown
Trees, leafless, ahead
Eyes cast down
Pointing to a trail of dread
thoughts whirling in his head
words mumbled, nothing said
Through this greying cloud
A song once sung
Words tumble, not out loud
cold mist in his lungs

Sightless, groping
For the future
Hoping
Slow walk, torture
Trees old and gnarled
Bowed by winds
Under breath he snarled
Yelling at the tree
Shifting listless
What is life to me?
Falling into the pits
Darkness surrounds
Where the devil sits
Heartbeat pounds

poem by Robert Green
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0106 Winter Sunlight in China

The cry of the stork echoes
from the cold cliff where the mist
is clearing for an hour or two
this winter morning
so that when nature has found a place
among the stones at the edge
of this broad slow river
for this empty
Coca Cola bottle
it may catch the sunlight
between the clear water and wet stones
and find itself beautiful

poem by Michael Shepherd
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A measured beauty: the Japanese mind

Between the high grey residential block
and the busy, noisy Japanese street
there’s a small park: three tall trees
in a broad bed of grey slate chips;

this autumn afternoon, the trees
have shed their golden-yellow leaves
over the grey ground; the gardener
has carefully brushed them with his wooden broom
off the chips, and into tidy golden rings
around the bases of the trees;

as if the leaves were gathered in some joyful ceremony
of gratitude, respect, and friendship; not farewell,
but time dissolved into a circled beauty;

the passers-by note this timeless act of worship;
share this with the others as they pass,
politely glancing towards strangers;
meeting, respectfully, not their eyes,
but, as leaves to trees, their heart.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Windows To The Soul

Nature opens,
her eyes are bold.
Two opaque puddles reflecting on the floor.

Her smile's afixiated.
without feeling at all,
a white rip in the sky,
and entangled vine hands
seem to hold my attention
long enough to gaze,
to be lost in her eyes
and see the scene of her choice.
Upside down copper trees
and dark,
brass colored leaves.

So inviting,
soothing, is her voice,
greeting you, passing through
to the scene of her choice.
The aridness of the air,
a small hill
and the crispness of the grass.
Stopping at the edge of the woods.
Distinguishing all from what is and what should.

poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Grey

Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.

Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.

poem by Diana Rosser
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