Mountain Bushfire
Full moon. The brazen eye of midnight scans
the black and swollen mountains oozing fire
high over the indifference of the sleeping plains
hazed with the perfumed smoke of death and fear
under the radiant zenith. It is not far
from here to the wild flags of havoc flying
out of the doomed and bannered trees before
the west wind, hilarious hunter plying
nets and whips of flame, the trumpet playing
a ghastly fanfare.
poem by Kenneth Ivo Mackenzie
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Mountain View
after the night of love
i sit on the bamboo stair
facing the wide expanse of
mountains before me
beyond the horizon of fog
and smoke from the tiny
houses five hills away
and down the plains the
winding river taking the
usual routes of least resistance
i have seen wild carabaos grazing
white horses running with the
winds and the black birds
flying high seeking their prey
of chicks unprotected by hens.
i am amazed by this macrocosm.
How can some be so greedy amidst
these bounty? Can his hands hold
all the mountains? Can his mouth
drink all the rivers? Can he catch
all the black birds and put them
inside his cage? I know he can't but
i know he will. And that is the reason
why we are here hiding in the bellies
of these big mountains, siding with the
shades of the trees, taking inspiration
from all the stars, the moon and the
boundless sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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West Of The Moon
Words and music by bob seger
Out on those trails
Out neath that sky
Rivers of old
Still rushing by
Eagles still soar
White mountains loom
Down in those valleys
West of the moon
West of the stars
Far from the chase
Far from the crowds
Far from the pace
Horses run free
Winter comes soon
Out by those mountains
West of the moon
And everywhere
Everywhere
Wild things are free
Free in the wind and the sun
Everywhere
Everywhere
As it should be
Left on their own while they run
Out by those mountains
West of the moon
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Plains
WIDE are the plains—the plains that stretch to the west
An ocean of trackless waste, untrodden and rude,
Where an Austral sun flings fire on earth’s bare breast,
Brazen skies o’erhanging a treeless solitude.
Wild are the plains—the plains that shimmer and surge,
Leagues of billowy grass like an angry sea,
Bend ’neath the storm-wind, chanting its mystic dirge—
The wind that knows no Lord—Lord of ocean or lea.
Calm are the plains—when the moon’s clear beams are shed
And the wilds lie hushed, all shrouded in silver-grey,
And Nature sinks to rest like one whose life has fled,
E’en as a bride lying dead in her bridal array.
Weird are the plains—the plains that wait for the dawn
When the shadowy darkness strives with the sickly light,
And the battle hangs in the balance, finely drawn,
Till the spears of morning pierce through the mail of night.
Who shall hear, O Nature, messages thou wouldst send
In thy desolate places, far from the moving throng?
Ah, but the soul that loveth thee best may comprehend,
The voice of the silence speaketh louder than song!
poem by George Essex Evans
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An Immigrant Here!
i am an immigrant here,
i claim no nation,
choose no side...
but this earth is my home,
formed from it's dirt,
it's bottomless oceans...
my friends are trees,
mountains, and rivers...
the long grasses my beard,
the great plains my soul.
i am the birthing of spring,
the death of the snow...
i am an immigrant here,
many colors, all human.
i am the hunted, and the hunter,
i am the pounding of waves
held in the tiniest shell.
i am wind, fire, and darkness...
i am an immigrant here,
i am the plow of the man,
the valley of the woman.
i am the roar of the cities,
the hush of the forests...
i am the water spilling o'er the dam!
i am an immigrant here,
illegal only to those who fear!
the river i crossed,
i will cross again!
my only map the lines
in an old man's hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Phases of the Moon
Once upon a time I heard
That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird;
Thus she sails through windy skies,
Thus in the willow's arms she lies;
Turn to the East or turn to the West
In many trees she makes her nest.
When she's but a pearly thread
Look among birch leaves overhead;
When she dies in yellow smoke
Look in a thunder-smitten oak;
But in May when the moon is full,
Bright as water and white as wool,
Look for her where she loves to be,
Asleep in a high magnolia tree.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Plains of Arnon
Juvenile dragons circle the plains of Arnon,
With lethal breath the trees blaze for some time;
They are now producing other breaths,
Obliged to hold their breath for it is fire.
We must demand the signs from the deity of fate,
Death, and judgement.
It is of little interest, it is of no help!
For the levels of fire are great.
Arnon leaps into commodities of smoke,
The very bare ground scorched forever;
To craft the air with smoke is grand,
To meet doom this way is grand,
But towards the cities of dragons we head,
To find a pleasant air in addition to a saviour,
He might be a hunter of gigantic souls.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dillard Sissman
The buzzards wheel slowly
In wide circles, in a sky
Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.
And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie
Beating the grass into long waves.
My kite is above the wind,
Though now and then it wobbles,
Like a man shaking his shoulders;
And the tail streams out momentarily,
Then sinks to rest.
And the buzzards wheel and wheel,
Sweeping the zenith with wide circles
Above my kite. And the hills sleep.
And a farm house, white as snow,
Peeps from green trees -- far away.
And I watch my kite,
For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,
Then she will swing like a pendulum dial
To the tail of my kite.
A spurt of flame like a water-dragon
Dazzles my eyes --
I am shaken as a banner!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Riders
RHEIMS is down in fire and smoke,
The hour of God is at the stroke.
Round and round the ruined place,-
Jesu, Mary, give us grace!
There are two riders clad in mail,
Silver as the moon pale.
One is tall as a knight's spear,
The younger one is lowlier.
Small and slim and like a maid-
Steeds and riders cast no shade.
Who are then these cavaliers?
There was a sound as Heaven dropt tears.
Who are these that ride so light,
Soundless in the flaming light,
Where Rheims burns, that was given
By France to Mary, Queen of Heaven?
O our Rheims, our Rheims is down,
Naught is left of her renown.
Hist! what sound is in the breeze,
Like the sighing of forest trees?
Or a great wind, or an army,
Or the waves of the wild sea?
The tall knight rides fierce and fast
To the sound of a trumpet-blast.
The little knight in fire and flame,
Slender and soft as a dame,
Rides and is not far behind:
His long hair floats on the wind.
And ever the tramp of chivalry
Comes like the sound of the sea.
This is Michael rides abroad,
Prince of the army of God,
And this like a lily arrayed,
Is Joan, the blessed Maid.
Rheims is down in fire and smoke
And the hour of God's at the stroke.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The wind calls no one by their name
The wind calls no one by their name-
But howls and howls, before it wane.
Awakens at the dark of moon,
Circling mountains in the gloom,
Whistling high it's sovereign song-
That no one's on earth for long.
The wind has syllables unknown,
And for millenia has blown
Its keening cry, out on the plains,
Its fearsome dirge, that sounds like pain-
If you would learn the ways of wind,
All your days on earth would end.
The wind's capricious and alone,
And of true loneliness, it moans;
It knows no warmth of company,
But bland caresses of the trees.
The wind could take you far away-
To where no words could ever say.
poem by Patti Masterman
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The Hunter's Moon
The Hunter's Moon rides high,
High o'er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Scamper tumultuously,
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.
The clamorous hunt is done,
Warm-housed the kennelled pack;
One huntsman rides alone
With dangling bridle slack;
He wakes a hollow tone,
Far echoing to his horn
In clefts forlorn.
The Hunter's Moon rides low,
Her course is nearly sped.
Where is the panting roe?
Where hath the wild deer fled?
Hunter and hunted now
Lie in oblivion deep:
Dead or asleep.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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House Pets
THE white cat is sleeping by the fire,
With her paws tucked under her chin,
Very tame and gentle she is sleeping
Whom I saw but now come in,
Come in from the dark night and the wild wood,
A hunter with her prey she came,
And her chin and her little paws were bloody,
And she was not kind and tame,
But wild and strong and cruel with her victim,
For she let it go, and caught it as it ran,
And she tossed it in the air and danced about it,
And once she stood erect like a man.
And I thought, 'What wild things are they that we harbor,
Who bend to the routine of daily life; '
And I looked across the room and by the fire
I saw my sleeping wife.
poem by Alice Duer Miller
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A River Flows Underground
That was unscarred night.
The full moon was rising.
A contagium had spurred it to go high.
A brazen assault bleeds
the painter's eyes. He sees only
red in the pubescent rage.
She walks out of the stain,
turning into ash, urchin's
brightest moon.
Standing on the crossroads
who was burning clouds?
Rains will never come again.
Phylogeny flattens the guns.
We were hiding behind the
rituals watching the fall of light.
I will make my own truce
with death. I refuse to walk
under the belly of smoke.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ye Flags of Picadilly
Ye flags of Piccadilly,
Where I posted up and down,
And wished myself so often
Well away from you and town--
Are the people walking quietly
And steady on their feet,
Cabs and omnibuses plying
Just as usual in the street?
Do the houses look as upright
As of old they used to be,
And does nothing seem affected
By the pitching of the sea?
Through the Green Park iron railings
Do the quick pedestrians pass?
Are the little children playing
Round the plane-tree in the grass?
This squally wild northwester
With which our vessel fights,
Does it merely serve with you to
Carry up some paper kites?
Ye flags of Piccadilly,
Which I hated so, I vow
I could wish with all my heart
You were underneath me now!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
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Kiss Me, Death!
kiss me, death...
i have followed the trail
of your perfume for too long.
my body aches from sleeping on rocks,
and my feet no longer have a vision!
the wind whips between these ancient trees,
that smile with the silent ache of longing.
and this small fire i've built is just that,
i leave no trace or thought.
and the stars that crumble to dust
in my hands already know,
only the crows wait for dawn.
i am the lover whose face you've forgotten,
the body of your desire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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After The Goldrush
Well, I dreamed I saw the knights
In armor coming,
Saying something about a queen.
There were peasants singing and
Drummers drumming
And the archer split the tree.
There was a fanfare blowing
To the sun
That was floating on the breeze.
Look at mother nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.
Look at mother nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.
I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes.
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst thru the sky.
There was a band playing in my head
And I felt like getting high.
I was thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.
Thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.
Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Space ships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun,
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones.
All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun.
They were flying mother natures
Silver seed to a new home in the sun.
Flying mother natures
Silver seed to a new home.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of The Architect Angel
The architect angel held juda ranch.
Just a dirty mile down on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin and hustled young cattle for slaughter
And dated judas daughter.
From the cellar aways to the attics and all across the plains
Broke electric static of religious strain,
And though he was never an addict, he wore scars on his veins.
Like a young girl holds her first pimp, he held his Bible in.
From desert bars and church bazaars, the hunger slowly came
With vulgar faces from vulgar places lookin for a game.
Well, ivory gun handles and chamber grease
And souped-up hydroplanes.
The bullets burn from tv silver, bearin great cowboys names.
Now with 14 inches of gun barrel, smokin from the lid,
Spurs on straight black bootheels, he said they call me the brooklyn kid.
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, well thats just what they did.
Oh, how he played out his scenes, loaded on dreams.
Well, his holster slung low like a hot kid-sister
Tied back to his leg like he gonna do.
He was stompin the step he called the quickman twister.
His six-guns were pumpin through.
His tongue hung low like sawdust scrapin across the plains.
He crawled up outside the juda ranch.
And started callin the angel names.
And now the architect angel stood, in one hand a staff, the other a gun.
He held the staff high in the wind. the gun was like a piece in the sun.
He started howlin like a monsoon wind. drew fast. the job was done.
At night the moon stretched tight light cross the plains,
As real cowboys sat around real campfire flames,
And the county wolf called as if to explain to his son
The way the west was won.
The west was finally won.
The way the west was won.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coventry in November
They say it was a Hunter’s moon
The night the City died
They say it was a hunter’s moon
The day the people cried
They say it was a hunter’s moon
That took our house away
They say it was a hunter’s moon
When the devil came to stay
An ageing now I’d like to know
Won’t someone tell me soon,
Why the reaper came to mow
in the light of the hunter’s moon
poem by Adrian Wait
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Wild As The Wind (feat. Trisha Yearwood)
Johnny grew up
On the dark side of the law
Livin' in the shadow
Of the light he never saw
Rosie came 'round
In the way that true love does
Just when you're lookin' elsewhere
For the thing that never was
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
So they team up
And they traveled on thier way
Lookin' for forever
For every yesterday
She brings him hope
In the way that Angels do
Takin' him to heaven
In ways he never knew
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Every so often
He gets a stray look in his eye
She knows how to hold him
Without ever askin' why
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild As The Wind
Johnny grew up
On the dark side of the law
Livin in the shadow
Of the light he never saw
Rosie came round
In the way that true love does
Just when youre lookin elsewhere
For the thing that never was
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
So they team up
And they traveled on thier way
Lookin for forever
For every yesterday
She brings him hope
In the way that angels do
Takin him to heaven
In ways he never knew
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Every so often
He gets a stray look in his eye
She knows how to hold him
Without ever askin why
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
Wild as the wind
Wild as the wind is
Wild as the wind is love
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Rose
By troy seals and eddie setser
The dogs are howling at the midnight moon.
Im on my way to where the black rose blooms.
The mountains high, the night is cold.
I feel the sunshine; a black rose grows.
Together again, were as common as sin, they say,
We just walk around the stones they throw.
Night after night, we steal away to where
Love dont see no colors in the shadows,
Love dont see no colors in the shadows.
Wind in the willows, wild and warm,
Just like the woman lying here in my arms.
The waters deep, cold and still.
I love the feeling that black rose gives.
Chorus
Chorus
Love dont see no colors in the shadows.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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