Gomper
By the lake with lilly flowers
Wallow away the evening hours
To and fro she's gently gliding
On the glassy lake she's riding
She swims to the side
The sun sees her dried
The birds hover high
I'd stifle a cry
The birds hover high
She moans with a sigh
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Their Satanic Majesties Request
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Qinghai Lake
Qinghai, Qinghai Lake,
Largest salt lake in China
Blue colour water
Blue clear skies.
Birds fly near the Birds island
During spring times.
Stand high and tall at 3,600 m
Weather according to season
Sunrise at dawn
Sunset at dusk near Qinghai Lake
beautiful colourful lake
seen from hill top
Many cattle of yaks and sheep at the hills top
with the nomadic Tibetans and their tent
The lake full of beauty and colour
beyond compare
Qinghai Hu,
Many fishes and plants.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Rhythm Of The Day
The moon is bright, so high, so cool
The sun, fumbles, gazes in the grass
The lake sparkles, smiles, in the grey
Smiling at each day
The verse, comes from the east
The west dangles, dances within
a bawl inside
Rivers cropping, like spokes
And is agrand pa Mulanje mountain
And, to the south, Viphya
with birds, smiling
Order of the day is shaking
Vigorous heads retakes brittle words
Words of wisdom from all walks of life
Smiling at the ridged land
Before is a reclaim of the garden
So, beautiful and the lake washes,
washes, washes, washes
While the doleful king points out,
points out, points out so high
So high, is the song, and birds
Slander and go
In the rhythm of the day
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.
quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yellow Billed Spoonbill
By the lake shore in the shallows where the waters are still
He walks in water to his knees the white bird with yellow legs and long yellow spoon like bill
With his bill in the water as he walk moving from side to side
His prey water insects, crustaceans and tiny fish in the water weed hide.
He and his partner build their nest on a high branch of a tree
On her nest of sticks she lays four white eggs though sometimes two or three
They both take care of their young a bird devoted to fatherhood as well as to his mate
Food from their stomachs to their nestlings they do regurgitate.
On river rapids never seen the still waters they need
Birds of the inland lakes and dams in the shallows they feed
Of humans 'twould be fair to say they have a healthy fear
To a human standing on the shore they never venture near.
Yellow billed or yellow legged spoonbill are names they are known by
On the lake I see one yesterday he did seem rather shy
With his long yellow bill moving from side to side in the shallows he shuffled up and down
The shiest of the water birds in the big park by the Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Haunter
He does not think that I haunt here nightly:
How shall I let him know
That whither his fancy sets him wandering
I, too, alertly go? -
Hover and hover a few feet from him
Just as I used to do,
But cannot answer his words addressed me -
Only listen thereto!
When I could answer he did not say them:
When I could let him know
How I would like to join in his journeys
Seldom he wished to go.
Now that he goes and wants me with him
More than he used to do,
Never he sees my faithful phantom
Though he speaks thereto.
Yes, I accompany him to places
Only dreamers know,
Where the shy hares show their faces,
Where the night rooks go;
Into old aisles where the past is all to him,
Close as his shade can do,
Always lacking the power to call to him,
Near as I reach thereto!
What a good haunter I am, O tell him,
Quickly make him know
If he but sigh since my loss befell him
Straight to his side I go.
And if it be that at night I am stronger,
Go, too, by day I do:
Please, then, keep him in gloom no longer,
Even ghosts tend thereto!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Song: Memory Lake
Memory lake
Remember when we carved our names on the rail,
Back in our younger days.
Remember when we’d stay out late and talk,
until the sun found it’s resting place.
And we’d sit and watch the planes fly high and the birds fly low,
As we talk about our day.
Remember when we promised each other,
Some day we’d leave this place.
But I never knew,
Your wish would come true,
And you’d leave me alone,
But just so you know.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
By the dock was our place.
Remember when our smiles shined and we crossed the line,
Every step that we’d take.
And remember when we’d laugh our troubles away,
Then make double just for laughter’s sake.
And we’d find a way to argue but in the end I knew,
That nothing could make us break.
We had our tears and had our trial, dealt with pain by open smiles,
Right there on memory lake.
But I never knew,
That your wish would come true,
And you’d leave me here all alone.
And who would have thought,
That a broken heart would be,
The closest I’d ever get, to snow.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
On memory lake, oh,
Memory lake.
Don’t take it away, don’t take it away,
Don’t take away, memory lake, our lake.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
On memory lake.
poem by Joey Smith
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In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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The author O. Henry taught me about the value of the unexpected. He once wrote about the noise of flowers and the smell of birds - the birds were chickens and the flowers dried sunflowers rattling against a wall.
quote by Chuck Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the forest thick and stout [La mijloc de codru des]
In the forest thick and stout
All the birds are coming out
Of the cold and gloomy shade
Into the delightful glade,
Near the clear and little lake
Where the reeds will gently shake
And afraid of being drowned
Stick their roots deep in the ground,
Where the moon and stars will shine,
Where the birds will cross in line,
Where will stay the moon and sun,
And the swallows will not shun,
For it mirrors my dear one.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Like the birds in the sky
They are destined to fly
No matter the situation
I am beyond your expectation
For i am part of creation
Till i reach my destination
I will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Haters will lie
Enemies will deny
Don't be shy
But fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
poem by Matt Ancient
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Li Po drowns
Li Po sits drinking wine;
he is in his garden
below the tree
reciting his poems to the night
and he sings to the cool air
and he sings to the moon
and he drinks more in between
Li Po walks to the lake
and he sings to the moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po walks to his boat
and he rows his boat
and he rows his boat gleefully
and he rows singing
and Li Po is in the middle of the lake
and he stops there to look at his beloved
whose radiant wholeness
shimmers in the water
and Li Po sings always
his song of love to his moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po jumps into the lake
and he struggles and he swims
and he swims and he struggles
and he sings:
I come to you, beloved,
I come to you
you who have waited centuries for me
radiant and a-glow in the sky
I come to you now
and he swims towards the distorted moon in the lake
and he beats his hands at the moon in the lake
and Li Po struggles
and Li Po clutches at the watery moon
and Li Po is his with his beloved
after centuries he is come
and Li Po is with his love
Li Po is with his beloved moon:
Li Po flies to the moon; Li Po flies to the moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Gliding Bird
(Tom Slocum)
Gliding bird gliding through the sky
I'm wondering why I can't be why I can't be as free
Gliding bird gliding all day long
Sing your secret song away from all these faces that I see
Is where I want to be
My feet are so tired
They walked too many miles
If I run so wild like heaven's child
I'll learn to fly someday
Gliding bird riding in the sun
Rainbow colors run
I hear the wind
I hear its mournful call
Gliding bird high above the sea
Is it longing to be free
Your voice is silent
But your wings tell all
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Writing passion
On the bright tail of the lake
Contribution from the bright rays
I put part of the writing passion
holding my loves finger
Hiding from the world's eyes
I hav to go flying across the sky
with stars filled in my hands
flowing in your love ocean
wanna go deep down high
When you step down gently
in deep water of the lake
go quietly tocuhing your lips
These spry waves falling shy
poem by Seema Gupta
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When the birds fly
When the birds fly
the mind opens its eye
the heart looks up to the sky
the birds fly.
The birds fly south
the ear opens its mouth
the nose sees summer
the kids they are playing out...
When the birds fly
we dream our words dont die.
Reborn with a babys cry
the birds fly leaving stars
they stay in the night,
we are the birds
we escape to the light.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Fringed Gentians
Near where I live there is a lake
As blue as blue can be, winds make
It dance as they go blowing by.
I think it curtseys to the sky.
It's just a lake of lovely flowers
And my Mamma says they are ours;
But they are not like those we grow
To be our very own, you know.
We have a splendid garden, there
Are lots of flowers everywhere;
Roses, and pinks, and four o'clocks
And hollyhocks, and evening stocks.
Mamma lets us pick them, but never
Must we pick any gentians -- ever!
For if we carried them away
They'd die of homesickness that day.
poem by Amy Lowell
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To The Hummingbird
I cannot heal thy green gold breast,
Where deep those cruel teeth have prest,
Nor bid thee raise thy ruffled crest,
And seek thy mate,
Who sits alone within thy nest,
Nor sees thy fate.
No more with him in summer hours
Thou'lt hum amid the leafy bowers,
Nor hover round the dewy flowers,
To feed thy young;
Nor seek, when evening darkly lowers,
Thy nest high hung.
No more thou'lt know a mother's care
Thy honied spoils at eve to share,
Nor teach thy tender brood to dare
With upward spring,
Their path through fields of sunny air,
On new fledged wing.
For thy return in vain shall wait
Thy tender young, thy fond fond mate,
Till night's last stars beam forth full late
On their sad eyes;
Unknown, alas! thy cruel fate,
Unheard thy cries!
poem by Jones Very
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Rough God Goes Riding
Oh the mud splattered victims
Have to pay out all along the ancient highway
Torn between half truth and victimisation
Fighting back with counter attacks
Its when that rough God goes riding
When the rough God goes gliding
And then rough God goes riding
Riding on in
I was flabbergasted by the headlines
People in glasshouses throwing stones
Gaping wounds that will never heal
Now theyre moaning like a dog in a manger
Its when that rough God goes riding
And then the rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God comes riding on in
And its a matter of survival
When youre born with your back against the wall
Wont somebody hand me a bible
Wont you give me that number to call
When that rough God goed riding
And then that rough God goes gliding
Theyll be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
When that rough God goed riding
When that rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
Therell be no more heroes
Theyll be reduced to zero
When that rough God goes riding
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face Of Truth
It hurts, the abstract isolation of life
emptying of self.
The infection
of water in the sun.
A nameless pain annihilates
the ascending desires.
I want no more
traffic of dreams.
Only discovery of Being.
Where the city had gone from the mirror
of my poems?
Streets had the color
of a wrinkled maid.
And new dictionary had new words
of an obscene vernacular.
I wanted my stack, my lake.
Surface exploded into nothingness.
The lake boiled in the heat of eternity.
A part of the evening was cool,
participating in the festivities
of homing birds.
It took a whole night
to see the face of truth!
poem by Satish Verma
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