En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Portraits

I

MOTHER

I

Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors… beheld in your luminous spirit their own reflection, transfigured as in a shining stream, and loved you for what they are not.

You are less an image in my mind than a luster I see you in gleams pale as star-light on a gray wall… evanescent as the reflection of a white swan shimmering in broken water.

II

(To E. S.)

You inevitable,
Unwieldy with enormous births,
Lying on your back, eyes open, sucking down stars,
Or you kissing and picking over fresh deaths…
Filth… worms… flowers…
Green and succulent pods…
Tremulous gestation
Of dark water germinal with lilies…
All in you from the beginning…
Nothing buried or thrown away…
Only the moon like a white sheet
Spread over the dead you carry.

III

(To H.)

Speeding gull
Passing under a cloud
Caught on his white back
You… drop of crystal rain.
Now you gleam softly triumphant
Folding immensities of light.

IV

(To O. F. T.)

You have always gotten up after blows
And smiled… and shaken off the dust…
Only you could not shake the darkness
From off the bruised brown of your eyes.

V

(To E. A. R.)

Centuries shall not deflect nor many suns absorb your stream, flowing immune and cold between the banks of snow. Nor any wind carry the dust of cities to your high waters that arise out of the peaks and return again into the mountain and never descend.

poem by Lola Ridge
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I Have Become My Own Season

I have become my own season
living through these renewable eras of you
that come and go
like the fragrances of passing stars
that sometimes stop by the gate
to talk about the garden blooming late.
Some flowers wait for the moon to open,
to throw their arms around space
as if they could encompass everything
in the brief embrace of their petals,
and their seeing is one eye under multiple eyelids
as they burn like jewels in the night
to keep it all shining and bright.
But I've worn out the elbows
of my insatiable longing
on the windowsills of a different insight.
Saddened by the distance, the time, the circumstances,
delinquent desires still hanging out their shingles
like green apples on a dead branch in winter,
withering like the inconsolable eyes of old men
who have died like sons
and now must die like fathers,
mine is the darker radiance
of the faint halo of light
around a black hole
that summons everything
down into it like the sea
sitting below its own salt
at a stranger's table.
You can't look into
the black mirrors in my house
with your eyes open
because they only reflect
what's on the back of your eyelids
where the only light is your own
and you are the road
and the lantern you go by
and everything you feel and think and imagine
is your own true face without skin
not the gate between outside and in.
How could I ever recognize you
in these dark spaces
if it weren't for the trees
and the stars and the moon
and the night stream that runs through me
like a lifeline on the palm of my hand
down from the mountains
in a rush of diamonds and gold
that pour out like the pent-up emotions
of a sword that's just been pulled from a stone?
And how hugely alone the night is
when you love someone as they are
and you realize without effort
that if you hold them a moment in their transience
you hold them like a star in a locket of water
that tastes like the past.
There are people
like treebound barrels of rain
and then there are people like me
who leak out of their lives
like radioactive water
that couldn't pool the pain
long enough to stop the meltdown
long enough to cool the brain,
long enough to let it kill me.
Now in the darkness
seeded with the dust of black dwarfs
trying to clench a fist of coal into diamonds
my auroras are weeping neon dew
like a cheap enlightenment
all over the watercolours of dawn.
And I'm wondering
what kind of an afterlife is this
that I might have foregone
if I were indifferent
to how my solitude deranges me
like a lost continent
wandering through its own mindscapes
like an extinguished star
that wants to make up
just for one luminous moment
a constellation of its own
that doesn't wait upon anyone's eyes
for the themes of its seeing.
And though the skies have changed
like the slides of childhood dreams
with every blink of an eyelid
whenever night approaches me
and asks to sit by my fire
and let the flames and the smoke
of our past lives
speak for the both of us
I look up to give my eyes
like two drops of water
back to their oceanic immensities
and it's always unattainably you
that is shining
like a woman in the window
of a secret house of the zodiac
far off the beaten path
that leads everywhere like a firefly.
And your stars speak to me
as if my flesh were light again
and my heart
that bumps its way through the dark
already a lamp beyond
the Lazarus of wax
that's buried in his own lucidities
like a candle I left for dead.

poem by Patrick White
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Season Suite:

This medley was first released on the rocky mountain high album. it is the only album it has been released on. summer also appears on the an evening with album.
Summer
Silently the morning mist is lying on the water
Captive moonlight waiting for the dawn
Softly like a baby's breath a breeze begins to whisper
The sun is coming, quick you must be gone
Smiling like a superstar the morning comes in singing
The promise of another sunny day
And all the flowers open up to gather in the sunshine
I do believe that summer's here to stay
And oh i love the life within me
I feel part of everything i see
And oh i love the life around me
A part of everything is here in me
Riding on the tapestry of all there is to see
So many ways and oh so many things
Rejoicing in the differences, ther's no one just like me
Yet as different as we are we're still the same
And oh i love the life within me
I feel part of everything i see
And oh i love the life around me
A part of everything is here in me
Fall
Reflections on the water like shadows in my mind
Speak to me of passing days and nights and passing time
The falling leaves are whispering winter's on it's way
I close my eyes remembering the warmth of yesterday
It seems a shame to see september swallowed by the winter
And more than that it's oh so sad to see the summer end
And though the changing colors are a lovely thing to see
If it were mine to make the change i'd let it be
But i don't remember hearing anybody asking me
Winter
It's cold and it's getting colder
It's gray and white and winter all around
And oh i must be getting older
All this snow is trying to get me down
There's a fire in the corner slowly dyin'
Sometimes i just don't feel like goin' on
And yet i know it's more than worth the waiting
For another chance to see the summer sun
Come on, shine on me!
Late winter, early spring
(when everybody goes to mexico)
(instrumental only)
Spring
Open up your eyes and see a brand new day
A clear blue sky and brightly shining sun
Open up your ears and hear the breezes say
Everything that's cold and gray has gone
Open up your hands and feel the rain come down
Taste the wind and smell the flowers' sweet perfume
Open up your mind and let the light come in
The earth has been reborn and life goes on
Do you care what's happening around you
Do your senses know the changes when they come
Can you see yourself reflected in the seasons
Can you understand the need to carry on
Riding on the tapestry of all there is to see
So many ways and oh so many things
Rejoicing in the differences, there's no one just like me
Yet as different as we are we're still the same
And oh i love the life within me
I feel a part of everything i see
And oh i love the life within me
A part of everything is here in me
A part of everything is here in me
A part of everything is here in me
Words and music by john denver, mike taylor and dick kniss

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow White Transparent

“Mirror… Mirror…”

Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew

“This is what you want”

Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White

“Mirror… Mirror…”

A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left

“On the wall…”

He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips

“Snow…? ”

Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is

“Seven little men…”

She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:

“Who is fairest of them all? ”

poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Final Door.......

Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs

Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought

White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought

Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye

Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor

'Bye bye darling'
Open door

poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Lost Embassy

THE lilies lean to the white, white rose,
The sweet limes send to the blossomed trees,
Soft kisses borne by the golden bees--
And all the world is alive, awake,
And glad to the heart for the summer's sake.

From her tower window the Princess leant,
Where the white light butterflies came and went;
She dropped soft kisses by twos and threes:
'White butterflies mine, will you carry these
To my Prince in prison? for they, who knows,
May break the spell that has held him close
And wake him and win him to stand up free
And laugh--in the sun--with me!'

White lilies, gold in the golden sun,
White Princess, gold in your golden gown--
Far off lies the sad, enchanted town!
Bright wings, light wings, white wings that tire,
Though they carry the flower of the heart's desire--
Will you trust to these, too white, too slight
To bring back the fruit of heart's delight?

All round and about the spell-bound town
The ways are dusty, the woods are brown;
There are no green coverts, no welcoming flowers
For little weary butterfly wings,
No dew, no lilies, no glad live things.
'Neath the sky of steel and the brazen sun
White wings, kiss-laden, dropped one by one:
By twos and threes they dropped by the way,
And only one reached the grim, gray tower
Where, witched from his kingdom, the poor Prince lay--
One poor tired butterfly, smirched and gray
With the dust of the town and the weary way,
And it lit on the Prince's hand and died.
'Bright wings, light wings, white wings,' he cried
'You, only you, might have lived and borne
My prayer to my love in her tower forlorn,
And brought back the kiss that could set me free--
She might have broken the spell that lies
On my foolish heart and my foolish eyes--
But no live butterflies come my way!'

The winds are cold and the skies are gray,
And all the lilies died yesterday;
The Princess leans from her steel-wrought tower
To watch for her butterflies hour by hour.
Poor little Princess, you watch in vain!
Butterflies die where the green wood browns,
And kisses sent to enchanted towns
Never come home again.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The House Of Dust: Part 04: 01: Clairvoyant

'This envelope you say has something in it
Which once belonged to your dead son—or something
He knew, was fond of? Something he remembers?—
The soul flies far, and we can only call it
By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter,
Ribbon, or charm, or watch . . . '

. . . Wind flows softly, the long slow even wind,
Over the low roofs white with snow;
Wind blows, bearing cold clouds over the ocean,
One by one they melt and flow,—

Streaming one by one over trees and towers,
Coiling and gleaming in shafts of sun;
Wind flows, bearing clouds; the hurrying shadows
Flow under them one by one . . .

' . . . A spirit darkens before me . . . it is the spirit
Which in the flesh you called your son . . . A spirit
Young and strong and beautiful . . .

He says that he is happy, is much honored;
Forgives and is forgiven . . . rain and wind
Do not perplex him . . . storm and dust forgotten . .
The glittering wheels in wheels of time are broken
And laid aside . . . '

'Ask him why he did the thing he did!'

'He is unhappy. This thing, he says, transcends you:
Dust cannot hold what shines beyond the dust . . .
What seems calamity is less than a sigh;
What seems disgrace is nothing.'

'Ask him if the one he hurt is there,
And if she loves him still!'

'He tells you she is there, and loves him still,—
Not as she did, but as all spirits love . . .
A cloud of spirits has gathered about him.
They praise him and call him, they do him honor;
He is more beautiful, he shines upon them.'

. . . Wind flows softly, the long deep tremulous wind,
Over the low roofs white with snow . . .
Wind flows, bearing dreams; they gather and vanish,
One by one they sing and flow;

Over the outstretched lands of days remembered,
Over remembered tower and wall,
One by one they gather and talk in the darkness,
Rise and glimmer and fall . . .

'Ask him why he did the thing he did!
He knows I will understand!'

'It is too late:
He will not hear me: I have lost my power.'

'Three times I've asked him! He will never tell me.
God have mercy upon him. I will ask no more.'

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Sunshine after The Rain

The sunshine after the rain
The grey darkness is gone
The sun back mighty in glory
crowned with golden rays
Sending love and warmth
to inhabitants of the world
Nature beauty is revealed
in remarkable way
the rain water drops lingering
kissing the roses,
the flowers and lilies
spreading over the fields
the pastures sparkling green
the awesome trees
the skies painted in crystal blue
the white shades of clouds
slowly passing
All bringing joy
nourishing our soul
The sunshine
The sunshine after the rain

poem by Sherif Monem
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The Unknown Star

I was born of an unknown star, of a mother who did not know herself-
From the very beginning I was a canary that could not sing and who
Would fall to the ground every time I lifted my wings to fly-
Trapped inside a cage of my own delusions,
I was alone looking upward towards that clouded sky, searching for that unknown star,
Where by chance I could find a place where I would belong-

My mother wept a wide stream of tears
Not to be consoled from the deep pain that tore at her heart-
The day I lost myself to another world, she abandoned me as agony wrenched her soul-
A phantasmal canary lying still at the bottom of my cage-
Hiding behind a rainbow looking for rays of hope,
Trying to deafen the voices only I could hear,

Searching for that unknown star,
I would dance in the rain beneath the faint light of the moon at night
Seeking for myself, that person I could not find, however
All I could find was a shadow upon the wall-

A shadow upon the wall I hardly recognized as myself,
A reflection within a pond which was that stream of my mother’s tears-
Dancing in the rain trying to become somebody,
Somebody famous or a perhaps an angel or a saint,
Trapped inside a cage of my own apparition where dense cloud cover barred me from
That unknown star where I might feel at home-

Looking about me at hillsides I might have tried to climb-all I could see was my shadow.
A shadow upon a hillside or inside, a shadow upon the wall,
A vague reflection within a pool of tears- Seemingly eyes of a ghost staring into mine,
Reading the demonic thoughts that raced inside of my mind-
Born of an unknown star, I had never found a home and
Born of an unknown star, I had never found myself-
Searching inside and outside all I could ever see was
A dark shadow of a lost person with no destiny or direction-

That canary that could not sing or fly, or perhaps a being who
Tried to come to life dancing in the rain beneath the faint moonlight- I became
A shadow dancing beneath the light of that unknown star I could not reach-
Hoping someday I would save the souls of those who despair and expectantly
Someday I would become that canary, but lifting my wings to fly and bursting into song,
Joyfully watching the sunrise as the moon would vanish
Behind disappearing dark clouds of despair.

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Her Face And Brow

Ah, help me! but her face and brow
Are lovelier than lilies are
Beneath the light of moon and star
That smile as they are smiling now--
White lilies in a pallid swoon
Of sweetest white beneath the moon--
White lilies, in a flood of bright
Pure lucidness of liquid light
Cascading down some plenilune,
When all the azure overhead
Blooms like a dazzling daisy-bed.--
So luminous her face and brow,
The luster of their glory, shed
In memory, even, blinds me now.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Simplocity appeals to me for M lady Catrina

All I can see from my window.
A vast expanse of fallen snow,
Unmarked as yet by wheel or feet
As perfect as a laundered sheet.

Reflecting back the pale moonlight
in shades of silver blue and white.
This will not last it cannot do
it will marred by tyre and shoe.

At first light when the morning breaks
and all the sleeping world awakes
To make their way reluctantly
to office shop and factory.

Although the falling snow has stopped
the temperature still has not dropped
The snow will turn from white to gray
and very slowly melt away

Just for tonight the pristine white
will satisfy my appetite
for unadorned simplicity
There’s beauty in austerity.

22-Dec-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I've Always Thought

I've always thought a shared vision was best,
the tree, doubly witnessed, sweeter in the fruit,
the star seen rising over the hill by two,
exponentially enhanced in its shining
because it binds more than itself and another
in the herb of its light, because
nothing exists except as the sum of the eyes that have seen it
either side of the mirror, and two watching
in love or friendship
realize the world as a solitary river
with an infinite number of confluent banks
unravelling like snakes in every direction,
none flowing the wrong way, all,
the vivid wavelength of an ancient pulse
that grows a heart like a door in a tree,
a lighthouse in the dark
or the moon on the breast of a wave.
Look at a shoelace or a chromosome
or the wings of a thermalling hawk
to see what I mean:
one and together make three,
and three makes everything a shape of space.
I and you are only two, a mere reflection.
But when you look upon something with love,
one glance is enough to show you
all the rivers and trees and valleys of earth,
all the flowers and mountains and birds,
all the fingertips and bells and tides and tears,
all the planets clustered like cherries
that laboured to make your face
the mould and model of their own,
right down to the urns of the stars
that marrowed the gold of your bones
out of the ashes of their dead, all there
from the very beginning of all
when God said let there be light
and there was only light and God
until the light said
let there be love instead
let there be love instead
let there be love instead
and the dark was filled with eyes.

poem by Patrick White
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St. Valentine's Day

The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Reflection

Reflection
By: Adam M. Snow

The reflection in this cracked mirror shows only two;
my essence, my soul; it's also true.
My soul is tainted, my essence is numb;
my dreams grew dark, this is what I've become.

My reflection is cracked; I'm out of place;
my heart grows cold, I need your grace.
I'm falling apart; I've lost my way;
what else do you want me to say?

The rippling water's a mist how can that be?
Do I exist to be with thee?
I am cracked and so is my reflection;
these wounds, they show my affection.

Though I am but one in a reflection of two;
trying to find my place anew.
So let my reflection show who I am;
someone who was to be damned.

Let me be but one;
so that I may be done.
My reflections strain drops of blood;
just leave me here in the mud.

My eyes are stained, my touch is cold;
all I need is someone to hold.
My mouth is silent, my love breaks;
my body's bound, my soul aches.

I am but one in the mirror's looking glass;
looking upon my modern pass.
When will my reflection show;
the truth I do not dare to know?

My reflection is cracked; I'm out of place;
my heart grows cold, I need your grace.
I'm falling apart; I've lost my way;
I'm waiting here for the day.

My skin grew pale, did I died?
I'm here in this corner trying to hide.
My sight has gone; it's the break of dawn;
I'm going back to where it spawned.

The mirror's shattered, not my reflection;
from what I've done this is my infection.
I've been risen yet I fall;
I can't give up on all.

My reflection's viewing pains;
showing me bound by these chains.
I'm forced to face myself in this state;
the mirror shows, this is my fate.

My reflection is broken yet it's whole;
I'm out in the world searching for my life's role.
I'm reaching out through the dark;
searching for the owner of this black mark.

Nevermore does my reflection show;
I'm lost with no where to go.
The mirror's lust has felled;
this is where I dwelled.

My tears fall upon reflection;
this is my resurrection.
The cracked mirror now shows one;
could it be that it's now done?

My reflection's anew;
it's also true.
I'm not the same:
I ignite my flame.

The mirror's now whole with no crack in sight;
I'm no longer in the dark, but the light.
I only love; I do not hate;
I know now that this is my fate.

I faced myself in the mirror;
now that I can see, it's all so clearer.
My ways I've change from what I've became;
I'm the only one to blame.

My reflection is cracked no more;
my pain is gone just like before.
My future is nearer;
all ‘cause I looked in the mirror.

poem by Adam M. Snow
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We Carry On

He hasn't seen a drop of rain for months it seems
Rollin river is nothing; but a tricklin' stream
The crops are dyin' in the harsh sun light
The dust on his tongue is dry
The fatted calf is down to skin and bones
We carry on
Alone in the city and she's only seventeen
The boy left her black and blue on the streets so mean
Just twelve weeks along and she's got a life inside
Said shes never ever felt so alone
She walks in the shelter, they say welcome home
And we carry on
When our lives come undone...we carry on
Cause there's promise in the morning sun...we carry on
As the dark surrenders to the dawn
We were born to overcome
We carry on
Beyond the picket fences and the oil wells
The happy endings and the fairy tales
Is the reality of shattered lives and broken dreams
We carry on
Carry on
It's the family that grieves for a lost loved one
It's the soldier who won't leave till the job is done
It's the addict trying to turn his life around
It's pickin' yourself up off the ground when you've been knocked down
We carry on
When our lives come undone...we carry on
Cause there's promise in the morning sun...we carry on
As the dark surrenders to the dawn
We were born to overcome
We carry on
When our lives come undone...we carry on
Cause there's promise in the morning sun...we carry on
As the dark surrenders to the dawn
We were born to overcome
We carry on
Carry on
We carry on
He stands in the field, cooled by the winds of change
She smiles as her baby moves and it starts to rain

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lewti, Or The Circassian Love-Chaunt

At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half sheltered from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew.--
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair,
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reach'd the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek
And with such joy I find my Lewti;
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind,
If Lewti never will be kind.

The little cloud-it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon?
Alas! it has no power to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey--
Away it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky--
And now 'tis whiter than before!
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind--
And yet, thou didst not look unkind.

I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high;
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below and now above,
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud
Of Lady fair--that died for love.
For maids, as well as youths, have perished
From fruitless love too fondly cherished.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind--
For Lewti never will be kind.

Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river.
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune!
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.

I know the place where Lewti lies
When silent night has closed her eyes:
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head:
Voice of the Night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,
And creep, like thee, with soundless tread,
I then might view her bosom white
Heaving lovely to my sight,
As these two swans together heave
On the gently-swelling wave.

Oh! that she saw me in a dream,
And dreamt that I had died for care;
All pale and wasted I would seem
Yet fair withal, as spirits are!
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow Lewti may be kind.

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tell-tale Heart

Lead vocal: arthur brown
You should have seen him
Lying alone in helpless silence in the night
You should have seen him
You would have seen his eye reflecting in the light
So for the old man
Ashes to ashes, earth to earth and dust to dust
No one will see me
No one with guilt to share, no secret soul to trust
And he wont be found at all
Not a trace to mark his fall
Nor a stain upon the wall
Louder and louder
Till I could tell the sound was not within my ears
You should have seen me
You would have seen my eyes grow white and cold with fear
Heard all the things in heaven and earth
Ive seen many things in hell
But his vultures eye of a cold pale blue
Is the eye if the devil himself
Take me away now
But let the silence drown the beating of his heart
I cant go on
Let me be free from wretched sea that I can not see
Please let me be free

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rising So Low As If Falling From The Sky

Rising so low as if falling from the sky
the light of the silver moon is so bright
that it blots out stars, it looks as if
it is part of the high hill

gleams upon the snow capped peaks,
leaving them sparkling,
creates another kind of world
and your eyes catch me.

Sometimes there are sparkling stars
in your glance that turns my heart
crazily like a Ferris wheel
making it spin almost out of control

as if there are elemental forces
that are at you disposal
with the power of wind,
of rain, thunder and furious cyclone

or at other times the sieving tranquil rain
that brings refreshment and joy to the heart,
your eyes become the only stars shining
at me in this dark night with a own sheer light

and you really know me, know the road
that for years I have been travelling on
which always returns back to you,
even if it leads away from everything.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Journey Home

In a midnight dream with a pale moon overhead
I make in the air for her a white linen bed
Where her beauty can lie unspoiled and green
Like years ago when I loved her innocent teen!
Her face pales, my eyes dim in the moonlight
My longing can’t hold back the withering night
The owls cry, the graveyard white hints her end
She’s gone and there’s no beauty to defend!

When it’s over, the last journey to be away
The cold empty hearth leaves nothing to say
We come back to us to ponder and rest
The fire has gone out, there’s no need for haste!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A walk along the beach

I see a ship
passing beyond the breakers
white on the top
and red at the bottom

and the sea is calm
and a light wind
is blowing on the beach.

Alone I walk
on the hot soft sand
looking for shells
but here and there
I find one that’s not broken

and walk on further
and further
almost as if following a track
that’s just out of reach.

Climbing down
a small cliff
I am suddenly on a seclude beach
and in the blinding light
shells are everywhere
and I know
that no one else
has been here.

Some are brittle
like the leaves of flowers
and others hard as rock
with orange and pink embouchures,
a scope of blues,
hazing mother of pearl
shimmering like a rainbow,

brittle green circles
with holes in the middle
and some are more pure white
than snow.

I pick a ransom up at dusk
and lay down on my back
and watch the sun
setting above the sea
and time trail from me.

I must have been stuck
in my own thoughts
and caught by the serenity
when suddenly I noticed
a beautiful naked girl
looking at me
with a kiss in her eyes
that penetrates into my soul.

Her eyes shining
with shivering iridescence
(just like mother of pearl)
and her teeth gleaming
whiter than anything.

The second kiss
is on my lips
and hot and sweet.

Some perfume
almost dazes my head
and her nipples brush
protruding against my cheek.

“You have beautiful shells, ”
a husky voice says
and no words can express
my thoughts
while I kiss her back.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle

Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone

Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond

Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone

So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond

She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone

They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone

poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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