En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Inscription-For the relief by Preston Powers

The Eagle, stooping from yon snow-blown peaks,
For the wild hunter and the Bison seeks,
In the changed world below; and finds alone
Their graven semblance in the eternal stone.

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Makarora

Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.

These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.

Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.

Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around

Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Beaks Of Eagles

An eagle's nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
precipice-footed ridges
Above Ventana Creek, that jagged country which nothing but a
falling meteor will ever plow; no horseman
Will ever ride there, no hunter cross this ridge but the winged
ones, no one will steal the eggs from this fortress.
The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now mated
with a son of hers.
When lightning blasted her nest she built it again on the same
tree, in the splinters of the thunderbolt.
The she-eagle is older than I; she was here when the fires of
eighty-five raged on these ridges,
She was lately fledged and dared not hunt ahead of them but ate
scorched meat. The world has changed in her time;
Humanity has multiplied, but not here; men's hopes and thoughts
and customs have changed, their powers are enlarged,
Their powers and their follies have become fantastic,
The unstable animal never has been changed so rapidly. The
motor and the plane and the great war have gone over him,
And Lenin has lived and Jehovah died: while the mother-eagle
Hunts her same hills, crying the same beautiful and lonely cry and
is never tired; dreams the same dreams,
And hears at night the rock-slides rattle and thunder in the throats
of these living mountains.
It is good for man
To try all changes, progress and corruption, powers, peace and
anguish, not to go down the dinosaur's way
Until all his capacities have been explored: and it is good for him
To know that his needs and nature are no more changed in fact
in ten thousand years than the beaks of eagles.

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Peaks

I saw the mountains,
They seem so strong,
Our fragile existence,
Is defined by the stone,
All love and longing,
Are over bearing here,
Among the peaks,
The peaks of stone,
And desire,
The power of the stone,
Its stronger then my soul,
Its ageless innocence,
Surrounds me,
Making my own innocence clearer,
Their strength seems to never fade,
Mine can only grow.

poem by Agata Konopka
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Less Than Strangers

You and me
Had some history
Had a semblance of honesty
All that has changed now
We shared words
Only lover speak
How can it be
We are less than strangers
Oh it hurts to lose in love
Let anger and cruelty win
Its unfair that you doubt your feelings
And that youll ever love again
I know that hearts can change
Like the seasons and the wind
But when I said forever
I thought that wed always be friends
You and me had some history
Had a semblance of honesty
All that has changed now
We shared words
Only lovers speak
How can it be
We are less than strangers
I thought I saw you yesterday
I thought I passed you on the street
I swear I saw your face
I was not imagining
That you stole a glance my way
You walked away from me
My heart it may be broken
But my eyes are dry to see
You and me had some history
Had a semblance of honesty
All that has changed now
We shared words
Only lovers speak
How can it be
We are less than strangers

song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dzit Bizhi Adini, I

[In the Navajo Language the
title is 'Mountain with no name.']
Part 1

Let us go, you and I,
To the Henry Mountains,
Way up high, tracking bison
At 10,000 feet; purebred bison,
That can hear our bare feet, and scatter.
No one to alarm us,
Since love has been breeding
Like the bison over the continent.
But I have to ask whether I love you:
If you are a calyx I do;
If you are but a shankshaft I don't know; if you are a morel who's to say.
And what if we happen to intertwine,
High on sunlit limestone porches, in those
Nameless Mountains.
Would the bison be
Aware?

poem by Stan Petrovich
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He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.

quote by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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California Saga/the Beaks Of Eagles

An eagles nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
Precipice-footed ridges
Above ventana creek, that jagged country which nothing but a fallen
Meteor will ever plow: no horseman
Will ever ride there, no hunter cross this ridge but the winged ones, no
One will steal the eggs from this fortress.
The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now mated
With a son of hers.
When lightning blasted her nest she built it again on the same tree, in
The splinters of the thunder bolt.
In a broken shack an old man takes his time about dyin
And just at the back a wild flowerbed that hell lie in
In dawns new light a man might venture
A horse drawn stage from monterey.
The she-eagle is older than i: she was here when the fires of eighty-five
Raged on these ridges,
She was lately fledged and dared not hunt ahead of them, but ate scorched
Meat.
The world has changed in her time; humanity has multiplied,
But not here; mens hopes and thoughts and customs have changed, their
Powers are enlarged, their powers and their follies have become fantastic.
Spilled down the hill a wagon load of bodies lay scattered, shipwrecked
At sea.
Limestone ore is all that mattered.
They took it from the hills right through the cargo doors
How many ships have come and gone at thursos landing shore?
The unstable animal never has been changed so rapidly.
The motor and the plane and the great war have gone over him,
And lenin has lived and jehovah died: while the mother-eagle
Hunts her same hills, crying the same beautiful and lonely cry
And is never tired: dreams the same dreams,
And hears at night the rock-slides rattle and thunder in the
Throats of these living mountains.
It is good for man
To try all changes, progress and corruption, powers, peace and anguish,
Not to go down the dinosaurs way
Until all his capacities have been explored: and it is good for him
To know that his needs and nature are no more changed, in fact, in ten
Thousand years than the beaks of eagles.
Of the eagles plight, we know that natures balance is undone.
And its the birthright of man to unify and live his life as one.
A whisper of the word will let you soar with your soul.

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dealer

If you fool around
With the dealer
Remember soon
Youll have to pay
Hell creep behind you
Like a hunter
Just to steal your soul away
I dont want no one
Messing with my woman
But just the same
I dont see nobody
Fooling with you
If youre snowblind
Madonna can hold you
But if you dont understand
There is nothing she can do for you
Running from the dealer
Trying to save your soul
I can feel the fire
Coming from inside you
I know what its like
Cos Ive been burned before
Aint no mercy
In the hunger but
Youre a fool to yourself
Cos your dealer keeps you begging for more
Running from the dealer
Trying to save your soul
In the beginning all you wanted
Was the calm before the storm
If the bluebird plays the eagle
He finds his song will turn to stone
Dealer

song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Has Changed

Writers: leo sayer, billy livsey & sergio cuevas
Though the world has changed
Were still the same
You know that I love you
Though the world has changed
Were still the same
You know that I love you -- yeah
Counting the months and the years
When I lived alone
The days were so bleak
And the nights were so black and cold
Walkin around in the street
In the pouring rain
Hanging round waitin for love
But it never came
Suddenly you were there
Though I never thought about you
Now that the world has changed
Its so strange that I found you
Sharing a secret that no one
Could understand
Feeling brave in my heart
Yet too scared to let go of your hand
Runnin wild in the streets
Just the way all the young lovers do
You only livin for me
And me only for you
Suddenly life has changed
When you said I love you
And though the words were plain
Its so strange
You said I love you
And oh how my life has changed
After searchin in vain
I found you
Though the world has changed
Were still the same -- I still love you
Though the world has changed
Ahh, were still the same, yknow I love you
One night I thought that you were gone
What could I do?
Runnin around in the pouring rain
Lookin for you
Wondering if Id ever see you again
Then through the darkness
I heard you calling my name
Loving you when youre not there
Im never lonely anywhere
Outside the world has changed
Were the same
I still love you
And though the world has changed
The words are the same
You know I love you

song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon-Lover

I

The Moon is like a ping-pong ball;
I lean against the orchard wall,
And see it soar into the void,
A silky sphere of celluloid.

Then fairy fire enkindles it,
Like gossamer by taper lit,
Until it glows above the trees
As mellow as a Cheddar cheese.

And up and up I watch it press
Into appalling loneliness;
Like realms of ice without a stain,
A corpse Moon come to life again.

Ruthless it drowns a sturdy star
That seeks its regal way to bar;
Seeming with conscious power to grow,
And sweeter, purer, gladder glow.

Dreaming serenely up the sky
Until exultantly on high,
It shimmers with superb delight,
The silver navel of the night.

II

I have a compact to commune
A monthly midnight with the Moon;
Into its face I stare and stare,
And find sweet understanding there.

As quiet as a toad I sit
And tell my tale of days to it;
The tessellated yarn I've spun
In thirty spells of star and sun.

And the Moon listens pensively,
As placid as a lamb to me;
Until I think there's just us two
In silver world of mist and dew.

In all of spangled space, but I
To stare moon-struck into the sky;
Of billion beings I alone
To praise the Moon as still as stone.

And seal a bond between us two,
Closer than mortal ever knew;
For as mute masses I intone
The Moon is mine and mine alone.

III

To know the Moon as few men may,
One must be just a little fey;
And for our friendship's sake I'm glad
That I am just a trifle mad.

And one with all the wild, wise things,
The furtive folk of fur and wings,
That hold the Moon within their eyes,
And make it nightly sacrifice.

O I will watch the maiden Moon
Dance on the sea with silver shoon;
But with the Queen Moon I will keep
My tryst when all the world's asleep.

As I have kept by land and sea
That tryst for half a century;
Entranced in sibylline suspense
Beyond a world of common-sense.

Until one night the Moon alone
Will look upon a graven stone. . . .
I wonder will it miss me then,
Its lover more than other men?

Or will my wistful ghost be there,
Down ages dim to stare and stare,
On silver nights without a stir--
The Moon's Eternal Worshipper?

poem by Robert William Service
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The Peaks

In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
'O Master that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet.'

In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles,
And the little black cities were apparent.
'O Master that knowest the meaning of raindrops,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord,
That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun.'

In the evening
The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights.
'O Master,
Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds,
Thou hast made us humble, idle futile peaks.
Thou only needest eternal patience;
We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord -
Humble, idle, futile peaks.'

In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.

poem by Stephen Crane
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Golden--of the selkirks

A trail upwinds from Golden;
It leads to a land God only knows,
To the land of eternal frozen snows,
That trail unknown and olden.

And they tell a tale that is strange and wild--
Of a lovely and lonely mountain child
That went up the trail from Golden.

A child in the sweet of her womanhood,
Beautiful, tender, grave and good
As the saints in time long olden.

And the days count not, nor the weeks avail;
For the child that went up the mountain trail
Came never again to Golden.

And the watchers wept in the midnight gloom,
Where the canyons yawn and the Selkirks loom,
For the love that they knew of olden.

And April dawned, with its suns aflame,
And the eagles wheeled and the vultures came
And poised o'er the town of Golden.

God of the white eternal peaks,
Guard the dead while the vulture seeks!--
God of the days so olden.

For only God in His greatness knows
Where the mountain holly above her grows,
On the trail that leads from Golden.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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No Christmas Cheer

Outside I hear the rain beating,
Suddenly it starts sleeting,
Then it becomes snow, thick, and fast,
It makes me think of the past.

When I was a young child,
Snow was rather wild,
Never cold or sad,
Life was good never bad.

Now snow makes me feel alone,
Cold as marble stone,
No family this year,
No Christmas cheer.

poem by Claire Gam
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A Poem Writes Itself

A poem writes itself
I merely follow
As it leads me
through the shadows

A poem seeks itself
And the light
I'll surrender …I write

A poem finds a way to be heard-
I try to remember each word from my
mouth to my ears to my hands
Then, to the world's

A poem finds a voice
I become, pen and paper

A poem makes a choice
I, the ghostwriter

poem by Sonya Florentino
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Roll Away The Stone

Baby, if you say you still care, I follow you most anywhere
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
And in the darkest night, Ill keep you safe and alright
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
Wont you roll away the stone, why be cold and so alone
Wont you roll away the stone, dont you let it lie
No matter if fools say we cant win, I know Ill fall in love again
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
So sing, we still got a chance, baby for love and sweet romance
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
Wont you roll away the stone...
..dont you let it die
Just kick it away..
Ian hunter/1973

song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lowly

I am in love
with a man
who is gone now.
Hunting
for vison.
His bones
know the
scent of it
intuition
and praise.
What he lacks,
he seeks.
And I watch him
from my hill,
as he treads
the countryside
and split the great
and fertile valleys
like the hips of a woman
he has loved
for centuries
in many forms:
an eagle
a warrior
a stone
I love him
over there
far from me

poem by Pam Morris
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In the night

In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
"O Master that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet."

In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles,
And the little black cities were apparent.
"O Master that knowest the meaning of raindrops,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord,
That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun."

In the evening
The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights.
"O Master,
Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds,
Thou hast made us humble, idle futile peaks.
Thou only needest eternal patience;
We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord --
Humble, idle, futile peaks."

In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.

poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Can Take This Longing?

there is always a longing upon the mouth of an empty bowl

the one that you place beside the house that gapes its gaze towards the sun

when it rains you hope that this longing may be sealed by cold water
dropp by dropp throughout the whole night when the world is not seeing
anything, any ripple in your river
body,

no water can fill it, no rain can boast about its power
to level things with its pouring

there is one thing though that you wish to happen
that a child with a stone hits the body of the bowl so that it can be
broken into pieces
that finds no semblance from anything whatsoever
that it can be beyond repair

so that the longing shall be taken away by the pieces
now with its shattered voice

into the void.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A War Song Of Tyrol

'WILD eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy feathers red?'
'I 've been to greet the morning
On Ortler's crimsoned head!'

'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
'T is not the morning light
Drips from the soaring pinions
That wing thine airy flight.

'Proud eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy claws so red?'
'I 've been where Etschland's maidens
The ruddy vintage tread.'

'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
Red runs our Tyrol wine;
But redder ran the vintage
That stained those claws of thine.

'Wild eagle of the Tyrol,
Why is thy beak so red?'
'Go ask the gorge of Stilfes,
Where lie the Saxon dead!

'The grapes were ripe in August
Wherewith my beak is red;
The vines that gave that vintage
No other wine will shed:
My beak is red with battle;
I've been among the dead!'

poem by Silas Weir Mitchell
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Song Of The Evergreens

Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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