How To Kill
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches
poem by Keith Douglas
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Related quotes
Man Watches And Sees
Man watches you hide behind
your shadow.
Why do you think you need to
to hide?
No man should want to hide
along side or behind his
shadow.
Stand up and show your
face to man.
Your life will still travel on.
And your shadow, will
follow behind.
No shadow can stay still
even at your will.
You are, your shadow of you..
You'll always travel together
It'll be forever.
No man can travel without
his shadow.
As long as there is light
from earth or man made.
Then you will always travel along
with your shadow
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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Shadow Of The West
Written by lindsey buckingham.
Dancing ever changing desert sand
I was burned by the touch of her hand
The setting of the sun scares me to death
Im a shadow
Shadow
Shadow of the west
Once upon a time I was strong and proud
Everything that the law would allow
But more and more
I feel less and less
Im a shadow
Shadow
Shadow of the west
Memories like shadows scorched in the sand
Im alone, a lonely man
The setting of the sun scares me to death
Im a shadow
Shadow
Shadow of the west
song performed by by Lindsey Buckingham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Debussy
My shadow glides in silence
over the watercourse.
On account of my shadow
the frogs are deprived of stars.
The shadow sends my body
reflections of quiet things.
My shadow moves like a huge
violet-colored mosquito.
A hundred crickets are trying
to gild the glow of the reeds.
A glow arises in my breast,
the one mirrored in the water.
poem by Federico García Lorca
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Mosquito
Un mosquito
Cest un moustique en colre
Un mosquito
Pique et pique et pique dans la chair
Un mosquito
a pond ses oeufs dans nous rivires
Un mosquito
a vit au milieu de ses frres... un mosquito
Un mosquito
a rve loin de nos rizires
Un mosquito
a prfre la chaleur
Un mosquito
a frappe la tte la premire
Un mosquito
a boit du sang chaud ordinaire... un mosquito
Et a cloque chaud
Mosquito
Chez les modestes et les beaux
Mosquito
a pique chaud
Mosquito
Chez les bonzs, les plots
Un mosquito
Cest un moustique qui galre
Un mosquito
Pique et pique et pique dans ta chair
Un mosquito
Cest un mchant hlicoptre
Un mosquito
a vit du sang chaud des baigneurs... un mosquito
Et a cloque chaud
Mosquito
Chez les gentils les salauds
Mosquito
Et a pique chaud
Mosquito
Mme le chiens et les oiseaux
Mosquito
Et a cloque chaud
Mosquito
Chez les modestes et les beaux
Mosquito
a pique chaud
Mosquito
Chez les bronzs, les plots
Mosquito
Et a cloque chaud
Mosquito
Chez les gentils les salauds
Mosquito
a pique chaud
Mosquito
Mme les chiens et les oiseaux
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow Me
Shadow me oh my
Dark emotion.
Shadow me all the way!
Shadow me to rock
In cradle heart,
To sway and just to sway!
Shadow me as a
Shady love tree,
In my hot, scorching day!
Shadow me must in,
Middle of night,
Like a gleaming pure ray!
Shadow me, shadow,
My foggy love,
Shadow wild me to tame.
Shadow to follow
My every step,
Shadow me in each poem!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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The Soldier's Grave
THERE'S a white stone placed upon yonder tomb,
Beneath is a soldier lying -
The death-wound came, amid sword and plume,
When banner and ball were flying.
Yet now he sleeps, the turf on his breast,
By wet wild flowers surrounded;
The church shadow falls o'er the place of his rest,
Where the steps of his childhood bounded.
There were tears, that fell from manly eyes,
There was woman's gentle weeping,
And the wailing of age and infant cries,
O'er the grave, where he lies sleeping.
He had left his home in his spirit's pride,
With his father's sword and blessing;
He stood with the valiant, side by side,
His country's wrongs redressing.
He came again, in the light of his fame,
When the red campaign was over;
One heart, that, in secret, had kept his name,
Was claimed by the soldier lover.
But the cloud of strife came upon the sky;-
He left his sweet home for battle;
Left his young child's lisp for the loud war-cry,
And the cannon's long death-rattle.
He came again - but an altered man:
The path of the grave was before him,
And the smile, that he wore, was cold and wan,
For the shadow of death hung o'er him.
He spoke of victory - spoke of cheer:-
These are the words, that are vainly spoken
To the childless mother, or orphan's ear,
Or the widow, whose heart is broken.
A helmet and sword are engraved on the stone,
Half hidden by yonder willow;
There he sleeps, whose death in battle was won,
But he died on his own home pillow.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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The Chanpa Flower
Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders,
you walked through the shadow of the champ tree to the little court
where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the
flower, but not know that it cane from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading
ramayana, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your lap,
I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book,
just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your
little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow shed with the lighted
lamp in your hand I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and
be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say
then.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Light And Shadow
the shadow hides itself
behind the body
away from light that
stabs it to
death
'too much light' says the
shadow
' amidst this heat
i shall perish' the shadow
fears
the body is there
as shield
and protects the shadow
from extinction
'not too dark' warns the shadow
i must be in the middle
somewhere
where light makes love
with absence
the shadow to its fullness
plays
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Shadows
I LOOKED and saw your eyes
In the shadow of your hair,
As a traveller sees the stream
In the shadow of the wood;
And I said, “My faint heart sighs,
Ah me! to linger there,
To drink deep and to dream
In that sweet solitude.”
I looked and saw your heart
In the shadow of your eyes,
As a seeker sees the gold
In the shadow of the stream;
And I said, “Ah me! what art
Should win the immortal prize,
Whose want must make life cold
And Heaven a hollow dream?”
I looked and saw your love
In the shadow of your heart,
As a diver sees the pearl
In the shadow of the sea;
And I murmured, not above
My breath, but all apart,—
“Ah! you can love, true girl,
And is your love for me?”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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His Shadow
When I was young
the shadow he cast was long.
When I was afraid.
In his shadow I could be brave.
Walking together
watching his shadow by mine.
I yearned for the time
like his my shadow would be long.
As the fledgling finally
flies alone from the nest.
To step away from his shadow
my time came.
One day long after
my child at my side.
Two shadows I saw.
One long joined one small.
In my thoughts
I reflected to when
the longer shadow.
My father cast.
I realized
the time had come.
The father's shadow
now my shadow.
(04SEP97)
poem by Kurt Hearth
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In The Shadow Of Doubt...
when you meet at some
crossroads
you are familiar with
what i carry
just a shadow
a shadow of doubt
a mimicry of what i am
a cry of the silent
darkness that is dependent
upon a little light
the moon long understands this
it is compassionate
and we talk
on the grass on the pond
in the eeriness of air
in the blankness of space
when we meet again
in the light
as you prefer it to be
i carry nothing
i am no longer myself
no matter how you try to be
if you love me
let me just be a shadow without a body
that you want to touch
and believe
you must believe in the doubt
that i am
you must hope for nothing
you must shed off faith
you only have to utter a word
that must exist beyond the journey of time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sinecure
A mosquito on my hand; I smiled at her
She evaded my eyes and dug deep into my skin
‘zrrrrrrrrrr’! Sipped my blood without fear
Again I smiled; rather I did grin
This time she looked with dozy eyes at me
Laughed aloud and tried to take off,
Stumbled a bit and fumbled her way to the
Nearby chair and managed to cough
She looked around as if she is unable
To see anything and moved precariously
Towards the cabinet at the corner wall
Looked at the files and left my room lazily
Few weeks later, during my evening stroll
Along the side of a drainage channel
I found that mosquito and called her
“I haven’t seen you for too long! Gone where? ”
She looked aghast at me and after a long brood
Said, “By our mosquito-king’s decree
I never dared to come to your sinecure
The order said; never touch a Govt. servant’s blood”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Gone young
I stopped for some minutes
Looked away from my scribbles, littered
Pieces of papers on the table and
A glass of water that fattens the thumb
Only time knows how long;
As I glazed through the window
At the orange sun
Hanging on the west side
Little Jamie was kicking football around
With the others
He was only five,
Bare, tiny mosquito legs
On tiny rocks, stones and silt
Dogs frolic around the corner
With their undefined business
After a moment in time
I turned back
At the future soccer mockery
Jamie was gone
Like the fading light in April
That was the last I saw him
My tiny, mosquito legged star player
News came few days later
Stray bullet went through him
As hot knife through butter;
My tiny mosquito legged player
With reverie and ambition
Fizzled like smoke in the wind
I remember you Jamie;
My mosquito legged star
Faded dreams
On rocks, stones and silt
On my scribbles and poetic rubbish
Fit for publication
Adieu!
poem by Chika Nwokeoma
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Me And My Shadow
Sometimes, my shadow appears really short and small;
Whilst, at others, it stretches ahead of me, thin and tall.
Sometimes, my shadow is behind me; sometimes it’s in front.
Quite often, for my shadow, I find myself having to hunt.
Depending on how the street lamps shine their light,
My shadow may be hidden, or may be within my sight.
Sometimes, I have two shadows, plus me;
Then I appear in triplicate: one, two, three.
Sometimes, when I take my time, my shadow seems to rush;
My shadow dances round me, amid the dark night’s hush.
When I wander through an unlit patch, my shadow disappears;
Although I cannot see it for a moment, I know that it is still near.
As I emerge back into the light, I’m rejoined by my shadow.
My best buddy and I are very firmly attached, down at the toe.
My shadow is featureless; of me, it’s just a darkened outline.
During my night-time journey, it’s an ever changing design.
To my shadowy friend, I do feel really very attached.
We are two of a kind, and, I think, very well matched.
My shadow and I, travel everywhere together;
From each other, we will never ever be severed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Love
I love Thee in the sky,
After long, hot summer days,
Like to run through the fields,
When they've finished makin' hay.
I love meeting people,
I've never met before.
And I like it when my friends,
Come knocking at my door, yeah.
Ooh, I love the sky at night,
Just to sit and count the stars.
I like to mess around,
With bicycles and cars.
I love to see the moon,
When it's up and full.
And I like it when a fish,
Gives my line a pull.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
I love stone ground bread,
And I like it when I get my breakfast in bed.
I love little old ladies,
Who make funny faces at brand new babies.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
I love St. Judy's comet,
I love to break bread,
I get a blessing from it.
And I love to see a Bible,
That's been well used.
'Cause when a Bible's well used,
The devil's not amused.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
Yeah, yeah,
Anyone can read the book.
Oh, the feel of a long, hot summer day.
I love, I love,
Little old ladies, who make funny faces at brand new babies.
You made life's mystery and open book for all to see.
I love breaking bread.
I love to see a Bible when it's been well read,
When it's well used, you know the devil's not amused.
I love, I love, I love, I love, yeah,
I love, I love, I love, I love.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadow in the Dark
I’m a shadow in the dark
The quintessential sound of death
I’m a shadow in the dark
Like the reaper’s icy breath
I’m a statue set in stone
In apathetic sleep
Let the world just pass me by
And I will never weep
I’m a shadow in the dark
The quintessential sound of death
I’m a shadow in the dark
Like the reaper’s icy breath
You don’t have to set me free
You don’t have to light my night
You don’t have to feel my breath
Or step into my line of sight
For I’m a shadow in the dark
You know I’m there but you can’t see
I’m a shadow in the dark
You pass me by, and leave me be.
poem by Justin Robert Cooper
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For Friend Rey
out there
in a foreign land
how long will you hide your face away from all of us?
your shadow is here with us
talking and telling everything about your clothes
and perfume
how you smell like someone else that we have known
beforehand
before you left us
we cannot pretend forever that we do not know
neither can you
it seems that all of us here, your friends and foes
know what we have been up to
admiring the flames and never touching any of its colors
it is sad..it is very sad. we want you to be happy
we want you to fuse with your alienated shadow
we want you to be whole
and be with us
without any fear
we are kind, we know and we understand
our hands are open, our arms are embracing
when you finally come home
please bear with us, we are one with you
touch the flame, we do not really mind
be hurt with so much bliss, we have no reason to stop you
less yourself, we cannot be happier.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is My Naked Self
this is my naked self
what you are seeing is my naked truth
i am not ashamed of my flesh and body
you desire it
you touch it
let my senses live
wake me up with the slightest kindness
of your touch
this is my naked self
i am seated bside the open shutters of my green bay window
little touches of light from the early morning light sketch my shadow
i am here
long waiting for you
just you my love
my only love
kiss me
touch me
let me live for another day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shadow Man
Theres a man back a-ways
Who believes at where he is
And theres a girl
Up ahead who says she knows
And the street overflows
With the folk who understand
But for the guy who cant be seen
Hes the shadow man
And the shadow man is close at hand
Take a turn and see his smile
Made of nothing but loneliness
Just take a walk and be a friend
To the shadow man
You can call him joe, you can call him sam
You should call and see who answers
For he promises to come running, guided by the truth
But the shadow man is really you
Look in his eyes and see your reflection
Look to the stars and see his eyes
Hell show you tomorrow, hell show you the sorrows
Of what you did today
You can call him foe, you can call him friend
You should call and see who answers
For he knows your eyes are drawn to the road ahead
And the shadow man is waiting round the bend
Oh, the shadow man
Ohooooo oooo
Shadow man, shadow man
Its really you, its really you, its really you
Hes the shadow man
Oh yeah
Shadow man
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentine's Day
She was the color of TV
her mouth curled under like a metal snake
although Holy Wood was sad
they'd remember this as Valentine's day
flies are waiting
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood
I saw that pregnant girl today
she didn't know that it was dead inside
even though it was alive
some of us are really born to die
flies are waiting
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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