En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Brothers (For Arnold and Donald Fletcher)

One called from Salonika and his call
Rang to his brother;
Forded wide rivers, climbed the mountain wall,
Seeking the other.

Are you asleep, Arnold, or do you wake?
Our way's together!
The day's before us and the path we take
Over the heather.

As oft before, breasting the Wicklow hills,
Light-foot and leaping
Over the bog-pools and the singing rills,
Side by side keeping.

We have known all the best that life can give,
Tasted the sweetest;
Shall we grow old, lag heavy-foot and grieve,
We, who were fleetest?

Let us be gone while yet it is the morn
Dewy before us,
Light on the mountains and the springing corn
And the lark o'er us!

The voice from Salonika found the way
Easy of passage,
And to French Flanders on the second day
Carried the message.

Arnold has gone the way that Donald went,
Donald's o'ertaken;
Up to the highest peaks they climb unspent,
Footing the bracken.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The witch of Hex River

According to legend
a beautiful girl
Eliza Meiring stayed

on the farm Buffelskraal
at the foot
of the mountains

and so many suitors
were interested in her
that she would only
be the girlfriend of the man
that brought her a red disa flower.

These ground orchids
only grow on the highest peaks
and it was extremely difficult
to get the flower.

The few guys that tried
quickly got discouraged
but Frans whom she really loved

climbed up Groothoek ravine
against a wet moss covered cliff
and there fell to his death.

Eliza was deranged
when she heard the news
and was kept by her parents
in the loft of their house
where she notched Eliza Meiring 1868
onto the wooden windowsill

and one night
she got the top window open,
went down to the ground,
wearing her long white night gown

and climbed the foot hills
and sat down crying on a rock
which suddenly crumbled beneath her
and she also fell to her death.

It is said
that when the first winter snow
falls on that mountains
and the moon rises
glittering on them

her spirit dwells
on the mountain peaks
and that she still mourns
the death of her lover.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Highland Widow's Lament

Oh, I am come to the low countrie,
Och on, och on, och rie!
Without a penny in my purse,
To buy a meal to me.

It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Och on, och on, och rie!
Nae woman in the country wide
Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o' kye,
Och on, och on, och rie!
Feeding on yon hills so high,
And giving milk to me.

And there I had threescore o' yowes,
Och on, och on, och rie!
Skipping on yon bonnie knowes,
And casting woo' to me.

I was the happiest of a' the clan,
Sair, sair may I repine;
For Donald was the brawest man,
And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie Stuart cam' at last,
Sae far to set us free;
My Donald's arm was wanted then
For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu' fate what need I tell?
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his country fell
Upon Culloden field.

Och on, O Donald O!
Och on, och on, och rie!
Nae woman in the warld wide
Sae wretched now as me.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Four Schoolboys And A Dog

The countryside around wore Summer colours
The haycocks in mown meadows standing white
And the pasture fields surrounded by green hedgerows
Resplendent in the afternoon sunlight.

Four School going boys climbed the slopes of Clara mountain
Donal Hickey, Jerry and John Mahony and I
And Donal had his terrier 'Bonzo' with him
On that sunday long ago in mid July.

Four Primary Schoolgoing boys on Clara mountain
The countryside was beautiful to view
We picked and eat the whortleberries from the heather
The whortleberries small and ripe and blue.

The whortleberries ripe fruits of the heather
In July when ripe so beautiful to eat
You find them on the Cork and Kery mountains
Towards east Kerry from Macroom and Millstreet.

Old Bonzo trailed a fox up through the bracken
The ageing dog had known a better day
He puffed uphill the fox had long since bolted
Perhaps by then a half a mile away.

Twenty minutes later Bonzo came back exhausted
He panted heavy he was out of puff
He lay by his master Donal on the bracken
And stretched himself as if to say enough.

That day we climbed to wooden cross on top of Clara
That overlooked the streets of Millstreet Town
The uphill crawl on energy demanding
Though it was quite an easy journey down.

Our shirt sleeves soiled from the juices of whortleberries
Of Nature's fruits that day we'd ate our fill
And that night I climbed into my bed exhausted
From day of climbing on the bracken hill.

Jerry Mahony and Donal Hickey still in Millstreet
And John Mahony lives in England I've been told
And the boys back then long years beyond their prime day
And by the younger generation seen as old.

And poor old Bonzo he died on the roadway
I heard he was run over by a car
And I am living far away from Millstreet
From the fields by Clara mountain I live far.

Four Schoolboys and a dog on Clara mountain
And the singing lark towards heaven's gate did fly
And the ripened whortleberries tasted juicy
On that sunday long ago in mid July.

The countrysiode around in summer colours
And the haycocks in mown meadows standing white
And the pasture fields surrounded by green hedgerows
Resplendent in the afternoon sunlight.

poem by Francis Duggan
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An Old Poem

an old man
walks downhill
following the path
that he once
prided

at the foot
of the hill lies the
six-foot hole

on the side
is the banyan tree
climbed by
this persistent vine
with white flowers

the place is calm
butterflies pay it
more visits.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Writing It Down

I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I aint worked out yet
Every day I climb a little bit higher
Every night I learn something new
Im writing it down
In case I forget
One day itll be my story for you
CHORUS
On every page you will know how much I love you
In every line you will see how much I care
With every word well grow a little closer
Even though we both know I cant be there
Thats why Im writing it down down down down down
Ohhhhhhhh Im writing it down
For you and for me
And for the whole wide world to read
Ohhhhhhhh Im writing it down
All my life Ive been hoping and praying
For my time to finally arrive
To put down this pen
To say its the end
And wake up back home with you by my side
REPEAT CHORUS
I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I aint worked out yet

song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Footstep

To Lady Wemyss

The boy will come no more
Although I listen and long;
The sound of his foot on the floor
Was like an old song.

His foot had the music in it,
And now the music's dumb --
Like the song of the lark or linnet
Glad that Spring's come.

There's nothing stirring at all, --
'Tis quiet all by yourself, --
But a wee mouse in the wall,
The clock ticks on the shelf.

Like the song of the lark or linnet,
That's singing early and soon,
His foot had the music in it
Like an old tune.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Mountain Sprite

In yonder valley there dwelt, alone,
A youth, whose moments had calmly flown,
'Till spells came o'er him, and, day and night,
He was haunted and watch'd by a Mountain Sprite.

As once, by moonlight, he wander'd o'er
The golden sands of that Island shore,
A foot-print sparkled before his sight --
'Twas the fairy foot of the Mountain Sprite!

Beside a fountain, one sunny day,
As bending over the stream he lay,
There peep'd down o'er him two eyes of light,
And he saw in that mirror the Mountain Sprite.

He turn'd, but, lo, like a startled bird,
That spirit fled! -- and the youth but heard
Sweet music, such as marks the flight
Of some bird of song, from the Mountain Sprite.

One night, still haunted by that bright look,
The boy, bewilder'd, his pencil took.
And, guided only by memory's light,
Drew the once-seen form of the Mountain Sprite.

"Oh thou, who lovest the shadow," cried
A voice, low whispering by his side,
"Now turn and see," -- here the youth's delight
Seal'd the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite.

"Of all the Spirits of land and sea,"
Then rapt he murmur'd, "there's none like thee,
And oft, oh oft, may thy foot thus light
In this lonely bower, sweet Mountain Sprite!"

poem by Thomas Moore
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The Mountain

The mountain held the town as in a shadow
I saw so much before I slept there once:
I noticed that I missed stars in the west,
Where its black body cut into the sky.
Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall
Behind which I was sheltered from a wind.
And yet between the town and it I found,
When I walked forth at dawn to see new things,
Were fields, a river, and beyond, more fields.
The river at the time was fallen away,
And made a widespread brawl on cobble-stones;
But the signs showed what it had done in spring;
Good grass-land gullied out, and in the grass
Ridges of sand, and driftwood stripped of bark.
I crossed the river and swung round the mountain.
And there I met a man who moved so slow
With white-faced oxen in a heavy cart,
It seemed no hand to stop him altogether.
'What town is this?' I asked.
'This? Lunenburg.'
Then I was wrong: the town of my sojourn,
Beyond the bridge, was not that of the mountain,
But only felt at night its shadowy presence.
'Where is your village? Very far from here?'
'There is no village-only scattered farms.
We were but sixty voters last election.
We can't in nature grow to many more:
That thing takes all the room!' He moved his goad.
The mountain stood there to be pointed at.
Pasture ran up the side a little way,
And then there was a wall of trees with trunks:
After that only tops of trees, and cliffs
Imperfectly concealed among the leaves.
A dry ravine emerged from under boughs
Into the pasture.
'That looks like a path.
Is that the way to reach the top from here?-
Not for this morning, but some other time:
I must be getting back to breakfast now.'
'I don't advise your trying from this side.
There is no proper path, but those that have
Been up, I understand, have climbed from Ladd's.
That's five miles back. You can't mistake the place:
They logged it there last winter some way up.
I'd take you, but I'm bound the other way.'
'You've never climbed it?'
'I've been on the sides
Deer-hunting and trout-fishing. There's a brook
That starts up on it somewhere-I've heard say
Right on the top, tip-top-a curious thing.
But what would interest you about the brook,
It's always cold in summer, warm in winter.
One of the great sights going is to see
It steam in winter like an ox's breath,
Until the bushes all along its banks
Are inch-deep with the frosty spines and bristles-
You know the kind. Then let the sun shine on it!'
'There ought to be a view around the world
From such a mountain-if it isn't wooded
Clear to the top.' I saw through leafy screens
Great granite terraces in sun and shadow,
Shelves one could rest a knee on getting up-
With depths behind him sheer a hundred feet;
Or turn and sit on and look out and down,
With little ferns in crevices at his elbow.
'As to that I can't say. But there's the spring,
Right on the summit, almost like a fountain.
That ought to be worth seeing.'
'If it's there.
You never saw it?'
'I guess there's no doubt
About its being there. I never saw it.
It may not be right on the very top:
It wouldn't have to be a long way down
To have some head of water from above,
And a good distance down might not be noticed
By anyone who'd come a long way up.
One time I asked a fellow climbing it
To look and tell me later how it was.'
'What did he say?'
'He said there was a lake
Somewhere in Ireland on a mountain top.'
'But a lake's different. What about the spring?'
'He never got up high enough to see.
That's why I don't advise your trying this side.
He tried this side. I've always meant to go
And look myself, but you know how it is:
It doesn't seem so much to climb a mountain
You've worked around the foot of all your life.
What would I do? Go in my overalls,
With a big stick, the same as when the cows
Haven't come down to the bars at milking time?
Or with a shotgun for a stray black bear?
'Twouldn't seem real to climb for climbing it.'
'I shouldn't climb it if I didn't want to-
Not for the sake of climbing. What's its name?'
'We call it Hor: I don't know if that's right.'
'Can one walk around it? Would it be too far?'
'You can drive round and keep in Lunenburg,
But it's as much as ever you can do,
The boundary lines keep in so close to it.
Hor is the township, and the township's Hor-
And a few houses sprinkled round the foot,
Like boulders broken off the upper cliff,
Rolled out a little farther than the rest.'
'Warm in December, cold in June, you say?'
'I don't suppose the water's changed at all.
You and I know enough to know it's warm
Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm.
But all the fun's in how you say a thing.'
'You've lived here all your life?'
'Ever since Hor
Was no bigger than a--' What, I did not hear.
He drew the oxen toward him with light touches
Of his slim goad on nose and offside flank,
Gave them their marching orders and was moving.

poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Donald Ross

A Scottish - Canadian tale.

By the side of moss
Lived young Donald Ross,
Among the heathery hills
And the mountain rills,
In a snug little cot,
Content with his lot,
He never knew sorrow,
With his wife and wee Flora.

But an order went forth,
O'er the land of the north,
To burn many a home
So the wild deer might roam.
With grief he then did toss
All that night, Donald Ross,
And sad seemed the morrow
For his wife and sma' Flora.

Oh ! it was a cruel deed,
But nobles do not heed
The sorrows of the poor.
Drove on a barren moor,
Where he wove a wreath
Of the blooming heath,
For to crown with glory
The brow of little Flory.

He then bade farewell
To his mountain dell,
Where his fathers appears
Had lived a thousand years,
With their few goats and sheep
Which fed on hills so steep.
Oh, it was a sad story
For bonnie little Flora.

He sought a distant strand,
In Canada bought land,
To him a glorious charm
To view his own broad farm,
His horses and his cows,
Cultivators and plows ;
And now his daughter Flora
She is the flower of Zorra.

poem by James McIntyre
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The Hills Of Youth

Once, on the far blue hills,
Alone with the pine and the cloud, in those high still places;
Alone with a whisper of ferns and a chuckle of rills,
And the peat-brown pools that mirrored the angels’ faces,
Pools that mirrored the wood-pigeon’s grey-blue feather,
And all my thistledown dreams as they drifted along;
Once, oh, once, on the hills, thro’ the red-bloomed heather
I followed an elfin song.

Once, by the wellsprings of joy,
In the glens of the hart’s-tongue fern, where the brooks came leaping
Over the rocks, like a scrambling bare-foot boy
That never had heard of a world grown old with weeping;
Once, thro’ the golden gorse (do the echoes linger
In Paradise woods, where the foam of the may runs wild?)
I followed the flute of a light-foot elfin singer,
A god with the eyes of a child.

Once, he sang to me there,
From a crag on a thyme-clad height where the dew still glistened;
He sang like the spirit of Spring in that dawn-flushed air,
While the angels opened their doors and the whole sky listened:
He sang like the soul of a rainbow, if heaven could hear it,
Beating to heaven, on wings that were April’s own;
A song too happy and brave for the heart to bear it,
Had the heart of the hearer known.

Once, ah, once, no more,
The hush and the rapture of youth in those holy places,
The stainless height, the hearts that sing and adore
Till the sky breaks out into flower with the angels’ faces!
Once, in the dawn, they were mine; but the noon bereft me.
At midnight now, in an ebb of the loud world’s roar,
I catch but a broken stave of the songs that left me
On hills that are mine no more.

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Donald MacGillavry

Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry
Donald comes down the hill wild and angry
Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly
Here's tae the king and Donald Macgillavry
Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry
Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry
Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly
Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry

Donald's run o'er the hill but his tether, man
As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an ether, man
When he comes back, there's some will look merrily
Here's tae King James and Donald Macgillavry
Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry
Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry
Pack on your back, an elwand sae cleverly
Gie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry

Donald has foughten wi' reif and roguery
Donald has dinner'd wi' banes and beggery
Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery
Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry
Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry
Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry
Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly
Here's tae King James and Donald Macgillavry

Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness
Whigging, and prigging, and a' newfangleness
They maun be gane; he winna be baukit, man
He maun hae justice, or faith he'll tak it, man
Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry
Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry
Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly
Up wi' King James and Donald Macgillavry

Donald was mumpit wi' mirds and mockery
Donald was blindid wi' blads o' property
Arles ran high, but makings war naething, man
Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man
Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry
Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry
Skelp them an' scaud them that prov'd sae unbritherly
Up wi' King James and Donald Macgillavry

poem by James Hogg
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Apollo Musagetes

Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame;
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.

Not here, O Apollo!
Are haunts meet for thee.
But, where Helicon breaks down
In cliff to the sea,

Where the moon-silver'd inlets
Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,
O speed, and rejoice!

On the sward at the cliff-top
Lie strewn the white flocks,
On the cliff-side the pigeons
Roost deep in the rocks.

In the moonlight the shepherds,
Soft lull'd by the rills,
Lie wrapped in their blankets
Asleep on the hills.

--What forms are these coming
So white through the gloom?
What garments out-glistening
The gold-flower'd broom?

What sweet-breathing presence
Out-perfumes the thyme?
What voices enrapture
The night's balmy prime?

'Tis Apollo comes leading
His choir, the Nine.
--The leader is fairest,
But all are divine.

They are lost in the hollows!
They stream up again!
What seeks on this mountain
The glorified train?--

They bathe on this mountain,
In the spring by their road;
Then on to Olympus,
Their endless abode.

--Whose proase do they mention?
Of what is it told?--
What will be for ever;
What was from of old.

First hymn they the Father
Of all things; and then,
The rest of immortals,
The action of men.

The day in his hotness,
The strife with the palm;
The night in her silence,
The stars in their calm.

poem by Matthew Arnold
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The Song of Callicles

Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.

Not here, O Apollo!
Are haunts meet for thee.
But, where Helicon breaks down
In cliff to the sea.

Where the moon-silver'd inlets
Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,
O speed, and rejoice!

On the sward at the cliff-top,
Lie strewn the white flocks;
On the cliff-side, the pigeons
Roost deep in the rocks.

In the moonlight the shepherds,
Soft lull'd by the rills,
Lie wrapt in their blankets,
Asleep on the hills.

—What forms are these coming
So white through the gloom?
What garments out-glistening
The gold-flower'd broom?

What sweet-breathing Presence
Out-perfumes the thyme?
What voices enrapture
The night's balmy prime?—

'Tis Apollo comes leading
His choir, The Nine.
—The Leader is fairest,
But all are divine.

They are lost in the hollows.
They stream up again.
What seeks on this mountain
The glorified train?—

They bathe on this mountain,
In the spring by their road.
Then on to Olympus,
Their endless abode.

—Whose praise do they mention:
Of what is it told?—
What will be for ever.
What was from of old.

First hymn they the Father
Of all things: and then,
The rest of Immortals,
The action of men.

The Day in his hotness,
The strife with the palm;
The Night in her silence,
The Stars in their calm.

poem by Matthew Arnold
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Knights Of The 21st Century

Words unspoken, sworn in secrecy
A burning flame for the ones who believe
The prophecy
Revelations from the sun as of the moon
In seven nights we became history
The prophecy
On a cold dark night
We set our sails to search for land so far away
Searching for the truth
There's a howl in the wind
On this mystic trail of water we sail on
The source of youth
And the storm breaks loose on the seven seas
Tag on the signs on the mounting sun
Northern light is shining on for us
Breaking the ice in search for tomorrow
Setting the sails into the future
Leave all your fears and your sorrows
From the mountain side
Came a twisted wind, it brought us new insight
Whispering these words
Come in the midst you'll see
Said a voice, I thought it was the prophecy
The secrecy unheard
And on the violent sea there's tranquillity
We saw the signs on the mountain side
Northern light is shining on for us
Breaking the ice in search for tomorrow
Setting the sails into the future
Leave all your fears and your sorrows
A secret passage never to be found
In front of us a delusion of sight
The prophecy
From the mountains and the rivers down below
A silent breeze, there's a wail in the wind
The prophecy
We've come from a land so far away
We bow down to the words you pray
Storming down the mountain side
No place to go, no place to hide
Here we stand under of cover the moonlight
Oh, the prophecy was bound to fail
Here we are, nowhere to be found
We're trapped in another world and the journey's just begun
Ah, ah, ah
Northern light is shining on for us
Breaking the ice in search for tomorrow
Setting the sails into the future
Leave all your fears and your sorrows
Northern light is shining on for us
Breaking the ice in search for tomorrow
Setting the sails into the future
Leave all your fears and your sorrows

song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Path Through The Corn

WAVY and bright in the summer air,
Like a pleasant sea when the wind blows fair,
And its roughest breath has scarcely curled
The green highway to a distant world,--
Soft whispers passing from shore to shore,
As from hearts content, yet desiring more--
Who feels forlorn,
Wandering thus down the path through the corn?

A short space since, and the dead leaves lay
Mouldering under the hedgerow gray,
Nor hum of insect, nor voice of bird,
O'er the desolate field was ever heard;
Only at eve the pallid snow
Blushed rose-red in the red sun-glow;
Till, one blest morn,
Shot up into life the young green corn.

Small and feeble, slender and pale,
It bent its head to the winter gale,
Hearkened the wren's soft note of cheer,
Hardly believing spring was near:
Saw chestnuts bud out and campions blow,
And daisies mimic the vanished snow
Where it was born,
On either side of the path through the corn.

The corn, the corn, the beautiful corn,
Rising wonderful, morn by morn:
First, scarce as high as a fairy's wand,
Then, just in reach of a child's wee hand;
Then growing, growing, tall, brave, and strong:
With the voice of new harvests in its song;
While in fond scorn
The lark out-carols the whispering corn.

A strange, sweet path, formed day by day,
How, when, and wherefore, we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us, why we go;
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree;
Yet, who's forlorn?--
He who watered the furrows can ripen the corn.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Song Of A Mountain Man

I come from Land of bracken hills and green meads fringed by hedges
And I am still a mountain man and rough around the edges
And now I live in Sherbrooke Shire in the Dandenong Ranges
From Bracken hills to gum tree hills the scenery so changes.

I've never cared for city life and I feel only pity
For those who have to live and work in the smoky inner city
Pollution clogs the city skies, the traffic noise and rattle
Down in the smoky concrete World life's like a constant battle.

The mountain man a healthy man the air he breathe is cleaner
And he's living in a Natural World a World that's quiet and greener
He's living in a Natural World his life span ought be longer
The mountain man a healthier man than city man far stronger.

I love the hills the quiet hills, the woods where birds are singing
And every time I leave the hills back to the hills my thoughts go winging
For I don't like the Concrete World the World of man's endeavour
And I'll always be a mountain man a mountain man forever.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Deeper Side

Ive found a reason to dig deep down.
Theres a part of you that I aint found thats in your deeper side.
Instead of wondering what I should do,
I tried to learn a couple things about you from your deeper side.
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
That I would give most anything to see.
Theres a lot of things that I would know
If you would let me climb into your soul and see your deeper side.
Everybody always seems so pure,
Then they show you what their heart stands for in their deeper side.
Show me your, yeah. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
I would give most anything to see.
You think the world has got your number now.
You cry about it but you know somehow its your deeper side.
I heard you wishing you were someone else
But all thats stopping you from being yourself is your deeper side.
So, show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Please, show me your deeper side. (show me your deeper side)
Oh, show me your deeper side. (its a mystery)
I would give most anything, and, I would give most anything.
You would give most anything to see.
Show me your deeper side.

song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hare And The Fox

The fox lay still by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with nimble foot
O'er the heather.
Was ever brighter a sunshine-day,
Before, behind me, and every way,
O'er the heather!

The fox laughed low by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare was running with daring foot
O'er the heather.

I am so happy for everything!
Hallo! Why go you with mighty spring
O'er the heather?

The fox lay hid by the birch-tree's root
In the heather.
The hare dashed to him with reckless foot
O'er the heather.
May God have mercy, but this is queer! --
Good gracious, how dare you dance so here
O'er the heather?

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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3-Way Phone Call

Hello
Hey little brother
Hey sis how you doing?
Fine, what's going on with you?
Oh nothing much
Got your message from earlier this afternoon
And something just didn't sound right
And so I'm calling you back to check on you
How you holding up?
Oh everything is fine
You know I don't believe you
What you saying? You think I'm lying?
I'm not saying it, but I know you
How you know me?
'Cause you're my brother
And therefore I can tell
When something is troubling you
Okay, okay I give you that
Nothing's wrong, I take that back
There is something on my mind
But sis, I don't want to waste your time
But I done told you time and time again
Whatever you're going through
You can come and talk to me
And I will say a prayer with you
But I done prayed and prayed night and day
Mmm-hmm
I still can't seem to find my way
Rob that ain't nothing but the devil telling you
That you're washed up and you're through
But sister's here to let you know
Boy you're gonna make it through
Sister, do you really believe that I can rise again?
Yes, and not only that, Rob, God will forgive you for your sins
T tell me what to do?
Well first you gotta believe the truth
Sometimes it's hard to believe in Him
That's okay because he believes in you
The winds, the rain
The storm
The weapons that are formed against us (whoo, I will survive)
The trying times (oh)
The sleepless nights
Just know that faith is with us (oh, and I believe yeah)
Through all of the hills (oh)
And valleys roamed (just)
That we must come to (whoa)
Walk side by side (yes)
Follow the light (follow)
And know we'll make it through (yeah, we'll make it through yeah)
So, so what you're saying is believe a little more?
Yes, 'cause faith is the key that will opens up the door
What you're saying to me, it's hard to receive
Especially when trouble follows me
When we're keeping it real
Robert sometimes
Trouble can follow where you lead
Yes sister, I know sometimes, but I...
Just wait, let me make a phone call
To who?
A prayer buddy of mine
She can help you tear down your walls
I don't want nobody in my business
She's a friend
And besides you need this
You know how church folk can be
Boy I'm your sister, trust in me
Mmm
Now hold on...
Maybe she's gone...
No
Maybe we ought to just try...
Hello
Shh-shh, hello, is Kim there?
Yes, I think she's around here somewhere
Hold on
Now you just let me do the talking
Mmm-hmm
Hello?
Hey girl, how you doing?
Hey Kelly
My little brother's on the line and needed advice from you
Ooh what can I do for you?
Hello?
Go ahead Rob, she's talking to you
Oh, well I know you must be very busy
So I'm not gon' mess around, uh
Just telling my sister how my life is upside down
And I don't know whether I'm going left or right half the time
Sometimes think I'm gonna lose my mind, you feel me?
Mmm-hmm... similar to what I used to go through
Really?
Yes, and sometimes I still do
Yeah?
See it doesn't matter who you are
Or where you're from
If you struggle, God will use you
Amen sister, what you're saying is so true
Rob are you there?
Yes, I'm just listening to the both of you
It's so easy to say, but not so easy to do
Yes but if you stand the truth
It will free you
Oh
Just stand strong
Stand strong
With your head held high
With your head held high
Said it wont be long
In time he will provide
Mmm-hmm
Will he?
Yes he will
You just stay in the race
Just stay in the race
And keep on running
And down to the end
For your day is coming
For your day is coming
The winds, the rain (whoa)
The storm (I understand)
The weapons that are formed against us (formed against me yeah)
The trying times (oh, trying times)
The sleepless nights (the sleepless nights yeah)
Just know that faith is with us (I know that faith is with me yeah)
Through all of the hills (ooh no)
And valleys roamed (valleys and roads yeah)
That we must come to (whoa, come to)
Walk side by side (side by side)
Follow the light (follow the light)
And know we'll make it through (we'll make it though)
I know it, he'll give you peace
In the midst of your storm
Sometimes I feel like it's too late for me
But he'll never leave you
No way
You just gotta hang on
Hang on
Robert say a prayer (yeah) keep your head (I feel it)
God will do just what he said
Finally I think I get it
Yes, that's it
That's the spirit
The winds, the rain (oh yeah, oh the wind) (yeah)
The storm (ohh winds and rain) (winds and rain)
The weapons that are formed against us (that are formed against you yay) (they may be formed)
The trying times (yeah) (and all of your trying times)
The sleepless nights (every minute)
Just know that faith is with us (yeah) (yes, know that faith is with us) (faith is with us)
Through all of the hills (and through all of the hills) (all the hills)
And valleys roamed (valleys low) (valleys low)
That we must come to (he'll give you strength to keep you strong) (yes he will) (keep you strong)
Walk side by side (the devil is a liar) (yeah)
Follow the light (you will rise again) (alright)
And know we'll make it through (and show the world)
The winds, the rain (yes he does) (hey-yes)
The storm (so if you really want it) (yes I do)
The weapons that are formed against us (fall to your knees and lift your hands, and now repeat after me and say..)
The trying times (God) (God) (I love you) (I love you)
The sleepless nights (I've sinned) (I've sinned) (forgive me) (forgive me)
Just know that faith is with us (I'm sorry) (I'm sorry) (I love you) (I love you) (please) (please) (help me Lord) (help me Lord)
Through all of the hills (I need you) (I need you) (to come) (to come) (into) (into) (my life) (my life)
And valleys roamed (and save me) (and save me)
That we must come to (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me)
Walk side by side (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me)
Follow the light (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me) (yeah) (yeah) (save me) (save me)
And know we'll make it through (yeah) (yeah) (save me yeah) (ohh)
The winds, the rain (I'm gonna have to call y'all back)
The storm
The weapons that are formed against us
The trying times
The sleepless nights...

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Just Climbing For Me

We all have to climb the mountain of life
The road can get tough and I knew that though
For reasons unknown to everyone around me
I climbed for me not telling anyone else why
But then I told one man my dreams and from there on out he was always there Cheering me on
Even when the road got tuff and my hands were bleeding
He was there by my side telling me it was going to be alright
Then he died and it seemed all was lost
But then I climbed harder
And it hit me
That I was not just climbing for me but climbing for him and all that he stood for remembering what he told
Me to do when road got cold and unforgiving
And still to this day I climb for us, me and him
And everything we stand for remembering what he climbed for
He climbed for me and God and all of his family
And that's what he told me
And that's why I climb for us remembering him and all the love
He showed me

poem by Rachel Dowd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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