Halloween
This is the hour when the poet grieves,
Picking his way through the rain-sodden leaves,
Betrayed by a promise he no longer believes
As he throws in his lot with murderers and thieves.
This is the hour when the mother cries,
When the baby whimpers and the wild wind sighs,
When lights go out and your happiness dies
As lovers all whisper their final goodbyes.
This is the hour you will want to forget,
When your body trembles with the skeleton's threat,
When your mouth turns dry though your tears are wet,
And the Grim Reaper comes to settle your debt.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Railroad
Along the iron rails
Plod still with panting power,
Range still the empty trails
Hour after hour;
Stare still where looms ahead
Each signal-skeleton,
Whose jerking arms forbid
Or bid you on,
Whose grim lamps rule the glooms
With stringent red or green—
Forget your sunny home's
Wild-paths between
Primrose and violet,
Your breeze-lit fields of rye...
Your golden sheaves forget—
Forget, or die.
poem by Elizabeth Daryush
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In hour of darkness, I remember you
In hour of darkness,
I remember you
And the darkness of my life quickly flutters away
In hour of happiness,
I remember you
And the happiness comes much more
In hour of difficulty,
I remember you
And my faith goes stronger
In hour of death,
I remember you
And I breathe my last with a smile
In hour of losing courage
I remember you
And I become more confident
In hour of failure,
I remember you
And my failure turns into success due to you
In hour of seeking you
I don’t remember you
Because you are in me and I am in you
poem by Pushkar Bisht
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Mother Sky Cries
Mother sky cries when the leaves turn from green to gold
Mother sky cries when the leaves die and the weather turns cold
Mother sky cries when the earth turns warm and the body sweats
Mother sky cries and leaves the heart scorned and the skin wet
Mother sky cries and father cloud mourns
Mother sky cries and baby flower is born
poem by Anthony Martello
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But a short time to live
Our little hour,—how swift it flies
When poppies flare and lilies smile;
How soon the fleeting minute dies,
Leaving us but a little while
To dream our dream, to sing our song,
To pick the fruit, to pluck the flower,
The Gods—They do not give us long,—
One little hour.
Our little hour,—how short it is
When Love with dew-eyed loveliness
Raises her lips for ours to kiss
And dies within our first caress.
Youth flickers out like wind-blown flame,
Sweets of to-day to-morrow sour,
For Time and Death, relentless, claim
Our little hour.
Our little hour,—how short a time
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of armoured crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red,
Blind in our puny reign of power,
Do we forget how soon is sped
Our little hour?
Our little hour,—how soon it dies:
How short a time to tell our beads,
To chant our feeble Litanies,
To think sweet thoughts, to do good deeds.
The altar lights grow pale and dim,
The bells hang silent in the tower—
So passes with the dying hymn
Our little hour.
poem by Leslie Coulson
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When The Blue Hour Comes
Orbison/ crowell
The good times are all gone
The night keeps coming on so strong
You cant hold on, no matter what you do
Will there be someone who cares for you
When the blue hour comes?
When the blue hour comes?
And when your restless heart
Tears your world apart
And everywhere you turn
Its falling down on you
Will there be a light that shines for you?
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
Good times dont last forever
Sometimes its now or never
Darling, reach out for me
You know where Ill be
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
I will always be there
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes....(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midnight
The air is dark and fragrant
With memories of a shower,
And sanctified with stillness
By this most holy hour.
The leaves forget to whisper
Of soft and secret things,
And every bird is silent,
With folded eyes and wings.
O blessed hour of midnight,
Of sleep and of release,
Thou yieldest to the toiler
The wages of thy peace.
And I, who have not laboured,
Nor borne the heat of noon,
Receive thy tranquil quiet -
An undeserved boon.
Yes, truly God is gracious,
Who makes His sun to shine
Upon the good and evil,
And idle lives like mine.
Upon the just and unjust
He sends His rain to fall,
And gives this hour of blessing
Freely alike to all.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Lunch Break: Peak Hour
I see it all through my window it seems
Never failing like millions of bees
All that is wrong
No time will be won
All they need to do-o-o-o
What can be done?
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
Minds are subject to what should be done
Problem solved, time cannot be won
One hour a day
One hour at night
Sees crowds of people
All meant for flight
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
It makes me want to run out and tell them
Theyve got time
Take a step back out
And look in at their debt
And their time
Minds are subject to what should be done
Problem solved, time cannot be won
One hour a day
One hour at night
Sees crowds of people
All meant for flight
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Earth Hour - It's just a click
earth hour
in the darkness
brightness
earth hour
i bask in the energy of love
wrapping round earth
earth hour, just
a click to reduce
mother earth's woes
earth hour
just a click to unite
the world
earth hour
needed - the same spirit
to fight the recession
from MSN:
Do you want to show you care about energy conservation? Simply switch off your lights on March 28 from 8: 30 to 9: 30 p.m., local time.
This is Earth Hour, and Saturday is the third annual worldwide event. Earth Hour is both a symbolic act and the start of a practical habit.
Millions of homes and businesses and hundreds of major landmarks will go dark for one hour to show that energy conservation is important and to send this message to political leaders attending the United Nations Climate Change Conference in December 2009.
At the same time, Earth Hour reminds each of us how easy it is to conserve - just turn off non-essential lights and electronics to reduce our own power consumption.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Her final hour
You may no it.
Or you may not want to see.
But her final hour is near.
She'd been screaming for your help.
Asking for help for so long.
All her screaming fell upon deaf ears.
Within her final hour.
She belived she had no other choice.
But to go out of the world this way.
She just couldnt deal with one more day.
Her final hour now has come and gone.
Her family get that knock on the door.
Sorry but we've got bad news.
All they can do is scream why.
Why Amy why do it.
As they go to identify the body.
All they can do is hope and pray.
They pray its all a mistake.
When they see its her.
They brake down.
It was no mistake.
They wonder just what the hell was she thinking.
How could we not of known.
In the morning the pray and hope.
It was just a bad dream.
But of course it was no dream.
She really had gone.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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We can be like they are.
All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain..we can be like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man...
Valentine is done
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday...Like Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday...Redefine happiness
Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man...
Love of two is one
Here but now they're gone
Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew then disappeared
The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid
Come on baby...and she had no fear
And she ran to him...then they started to fly
They looked backward and said goodbye...she had become like they are
She had taken his hand...she had become like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
poem by Jacob Bryant
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(Don't Fear) The Reaper
[Lyrics by Donald Roeser]
[Arranged by HIM]
All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
We can be like they are
Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper
We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby I'm your man...
Valentine is done
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity...
Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and
Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine
happiness
Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like
they are
Come on baby... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby take my hand... Don't fear the Reaper
We'll be able to fly... Don't fear the Reaper
Baby I'm your man...
Love of two is one
Here but now they're gone
Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew then disappeared
The curtains flew then he appeared
Saying don't be afraid
Come on baby... And she had no fear
And she ran to him... Then they started to fly
They looked backward and said goodbye
She had become like they are
She had taken his hand
She had become like they are
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Us Be Drunk
Let us be drunk, and for a while forget,
Forget, and, ceasing even from regret,
Live without reason and despite of rhyme,
As in a dream preposterous and sublime,
Where place and hour and means for once are met.
Where is the use of effort? Love and debt
And disappointment have us in a net.
Let us break out, and taste the morning prime . . .
Let us be drunk.
In vain our little hour we strut and fret,
And mouth our wretched parts as for a bet:
We cannot please the tragicaster Time.
To gain the crystal sphere, the silver dime,
Where Sympathy sits dimpling on us yet,
Let us be drunk!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Legend
THERE is an hour, they say,
On which your dream has power:
Then all you wish for comes,
As comes the lost field-bird
Down to the island-lights;
There is an hour, they say,
That's woven with your wish:
In dawn, or dayli’ gone,
In mirk-dark, or at noon,
In hush or hum of day,
May be that secret hour.
A herd-boy in the rain
Who looked o'er stony fields;
A young man in a street,
When fife and drum went by,
Making the sunlight shrill;
A girl in a lane,
When the long June twilight
Made friendly far-off things,
Had watch upon the hour:
The dooms they met are in
The song my grand-dam sings.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Half An Hour Of Your Happiness
Your heart is in my hand
I am looking after half an hour of your happiness
I am imagining your sad smile
It seems you depend on me too much
I can feel your heart beating
I am putting it into your half an hour of happiness
It is in a safe place in my hand
It seems you depend on me too much
The rhythm of your heart is getting faster
It is happy in your half an hour of happiness
They are in my shaking unsteady hand
It seems you depend on me too much
Your heart wants to jump out of the cage
Called your half an hour of happiness
I am holding them with both hands and trembling
It seems you depend on me too much
Your heart has gone crazy and I do not know why
I wonder if it will survive your half an hour of happiness
I open my hands and I see two embraced hearts
It seems I depend on you too much
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Why the silence?
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the eyes may straggle and it's the hour of dreams
Or the mind may have been displaced and it's hour of reflections
Or the heart has been busy and it's hour of the groans
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the words have got lost in the midst of ideas
Or silence now become the language of the times
Or the tongue tie with a sunset
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or now no need for my presence
Or now I am a hidden friend
Or now I am not who I was
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or... And the story continue silently
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Profession Of Violence
Hey babe what we gonna do
No look behind me glances
Straight time this time
Well take our chances
Darling its been so long
Every lonely hour
What the sinner pulls the trigger
And the world turns sour
*whisper in the wind
Locked in silence
Profession of violence
Whisper on the wind
Locked in silence
Profession of violence
Try to pick up the pieces
Maybe move away
But the lifer
Was only yesterday
Down the halls of justice
The echoes never fade
Notches on my gun
Another debt is paid
* repeat
[instrumental]
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grim Lullaby
An ode to you, oh quiet child,
Lying so still, broken and defiled,
As blood seeps from your veins,
Traces the tiles,
Tears descend your face,
And to the floor they are exiled.
Hush my sweetheart, don’t you cry,
Grim Reaper’s gonna sing you a lullaby.
And if you don’t suddenly die,
Then Grim Reaper’s gonna give it another try.
You are the moon,
Reflecting all that comes your way,
You are a rock,
Taking hit after hit, day after day,
You are the sun,
Blocked by gloomy storm clouds,
You are the rain,
Free falling into darkness.
Oh,
Hush my sweetheart, don’t you cry,
Grim Reaper’s gonna sing you a lullaby.
And if you don’t suddenly die,
Then Grim Reaper’s gonna give it another try.
Oh no, don’t cry darling,
I’ll sing it again.
Hush my sweetheart, don’t you cry,
Grim Reaper’s gonna sing you a lullaby,
And if you don’t suddenly die,
Then Grim Reaper’s gonna give it another try.
poem by Sai Killam
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Recovery
As a wild flower hangs its head and wilts
Beneath the reaper's killing scythe,
Ill, I awaited my untimely end
And thought: the fateful hour's nigh.
With eyes already veiled by Erebus' thick gloom,
My heart slowed down its beat:
I was collapsing, disappearing, and it seemed
The sun of youth had set.
Then you arrived, O my heart's joy,
And with the breath of your red lips,
The flaming tears of your bright eyes
The union of our kisses,
The strength of loving words and passionate sighs
You called me back from gloomy realms,
From Orcus's fields and Lethe's shores
Sweet pleasures to enjoy again.
You give me life once more, it is your healing gift,
I'll breathe you in until my grave.
My mortal hour will ev'n be sweet:
For now I die of love.
poem by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
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The Crown Of Life
THE days, the doubts, the dreams of pain
Are over, not to come again,
And from the menace of the night
Has dawned the day-star of delight:
My baby lies against me pressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed!
His little head upon my arm,
His little body soft and warm,
His little feet that cannot stand
Held in the heart of this, my hand.
His little mouth close on my breast--
Thus, Mary's Son, are mothers blessed.
All dreams of deeds, all deeds of day
Are very faint and far away,
Yet you some day will stand upright
And fight God's foes, in manhood's might,
You--tiny, worshipped, clasped, caressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed.
Whatever grief may come to be
This hour divine goes on for me.
All glorious is my little span,
Since I, like God, have made a man,
A little image of God's best--
Thus, Mary's Son, are mothers blessed.
Come change, come loss, come worlds of tears,
Come endless chain of empty years;
They cannot take away the hour
That gives me You--my bird, my flower!
Thank God for this! Leave God the rest!--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Such A Rainy Day
such a rainy day
she comes to my door
knocking for help
for some comfort in the coldness of a rainy day
some winds too strong
dry leaves blown to the other side
some trees giving to a crack to a fall
she comes on such a rainy day
she is wet and so pitiful to look at
her clothes pasting to her frail body of
a woman deserted
her hair uncombed and blown and scattered
she stands by my door
my brother left her just an hour ago
she is wet, her hair, her body some rain still drips
how can i forget her?
my brother did not love her and he left her
she is crying and her tears drip on her cheeks on her body
how can i be so cruel for not telling her
i love her so,
but she leaves, she is crying and the rain starts pouring again
she is only looking for my brother who left her
how can i help her?
she never utters my name
in her heart, i do not exist.
she loves him, he left her,
i love her, she leaves me
the rain keeps on pouring and fate plays so well like a crazy child
on us
on a rain that comes unplanned, unasked, and goes away unnoticed.
i stand on this door.
i have to close it,
fate does it always better.
i am that crazy child playing in the rain, in my brain
i am wet, my thoughts dripping like rain,
like droplets and my tears,
i am glad, my tears are invisible.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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