Time
Archers and knights with spears and shields
fighting in the battle field,
wondering in the crowded city, among us,
like folded angels, unaware through space and places.
Where bounds infinite, cease
and green flames arise, like strangely faces
glooming at the memories of voiceless dream's
speaking depth, behind your reach.
And so you wonder,
Like shells and sand, floating away,
by foaming waves retreating,
on magnolia seas & lotus reefs
Silent like gold, blind like a flame that burns
running free at the wide fields,
run and run, through moons and suns
countless, full of chances.
poem by Luca Menin
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Related quotes
At the sea
I watched the fish, beneath the sea.
With the shape & fins.
Swimming in the lit water of blind Colour.
I saw reefs kissing shore, where the nets are fishing.
Silver stones, deep in the sea, hiding crawling creatures.
Floating bubble preserving transparent reflection.
Waves are foaming words carrying dead sea fruit.
I listen to the cruel shells echoing the trumpet of the sea.
Now, I dive, deep down, in your underworld garden.
Of green rocks, treasure stones & golden suns, of married light & water.
Far from the land of sweat.
Drinking air, breathing no more.
Playing, Crawling, swimming, sliding, , flying & more.
O blue wows. You sealed my lips of salty flavour
And veiled my skin of seaweed, perfume.
poem by Luca Menin
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The Comrades
The angels walk with men in the red ruin and rain,
White and gold, as of old, without spot or stain.
Our warriors fought and died, the white lords by their side.
The angels walk with men.
God doth not forget in the battle, the retreat;
The heart of Love's above the dying and the slain.
There's a ladder to the skies and, armed from Paradise,
The angels walk with men.
Foot-soldiers, cavaliers, the flame on their spears,
They sweep fast in haste o'er the bloody plain.
What ill shall betide us with the winged knights beside us?
The angels walk with men.
Golden-mailed, lance in arm, they ride on the storm --
Michael and a poor soldier are comrades twain!
Oh, in the noise of battle, the red roar and the rattle,
The angels walk with men!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Eyewitness
Adapted from Chretien de Troyes
'Le Conte du Graal le Roman de Percival
and the birds fell strangely silent before the Angels came
approached him through the forest
and he at a boyish game
then five Knights fully-armed came on at a walking pace
and the noise of wood on iron resounded in that place
how the branches of oak and hornbeam crashed against their shields
and lances striking armour as the horses twist and wheel
and he heard their hauberks jingling as still they weren't to be seen
then they came into the clearing and he saw it as a dream
their bright and shining helmets scarlet and purest white
and the gold and blue and silver and the sun was dazzling bright
and he cried 'God have mercy' and a sign of the Cross he made
and one of the Knights came forward, said 'Do not be afraid '.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Elegy for the Brave
This hallowed ground has seen
Countless dawns, endless sunsets,
Heard the approaching footsteps of
Men readied for battle, full of
Ideals, orders, conflict.
This sacred field watched as
Hell unleashed its fury,
As men actively preserved,
Concurrently exterminated,
Furthered and ended opposing beliefs.
Farmer's fields, transformed into
Graveyards, consecrated, desecrated, and
Felt the thumps that are evidence of
The last full measure that all who remained
Gave, no matter their cause.
Many beaches stormed, these strips of
Sand have seen ebbs and flows,
Tides of men doing their best to mount
The cliffs and dunes, invading and protecting
The ground held together by sweat.
Faint echoes can be heard in the
Rippling waves, from the dark depths,
Embracing tightly the souls of many
Fighting men taken there in pursuit
Of duty, chased by silent stalkers.
Those noble, courageous soldiers
Linger, lying forever side by side,
Remembered eternally in those solemn
Places. May God bless, and allow to
Rest their brave, patriotic souls.
poem by Tyler Howat
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A Parable
BETWEEN the sandhills and the sea
A narrow strip of silver sand,
Whereon a little maid doth stand,
Who picks up shells continually
Between the sandhills and the sea.
Far as her wondering eyes can reach
A Vastness, heaving grey in grey
To the frayed edges where the day
Furls his red standard on the breach,
Between the skyline and the beach.
The waters of the flowing tide
Cast up the seapink shells and weed;
She toys with shells, and doth not heed
The ocean, which on every side
Is closing round her vast and wide.
It creeps her way as if in play,
Pink shells at her pink feet to cast;
But now the wild waves hold her fast,
And bear her off and melt away
A Vastness heaving gray in gray.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Reach
I know where Im going,
And Ive got all my cards showing.
Im like the crow flies, a straight line
Reaching for the other side
I dig the sand they kick at me with a calm that stuns.
Tracing time with no alibis makes me, makes me realize.
Its ok its just a dream I had.
That theres something out there,
Something, just out of reach
Armed with time on my side
And a field of vision miles wide.
Ill keep searching for some meaning
Whatever makes me feel alive.
Its ok its just a dream I had.
That theres something out there,
Something, just out of reach
Today I felt something so strong it took my breath away.
Now I long
To live like this everyday.
Ill find it some way.
Im alive with so much of life to try.
Ive got no memories of what used to worry me.
Its ok its just a dream I had.
That theres something out there,
Something, just out of reach
Someday Ill reach.
Its ok its just a dream I had.
That theres something out there,
Something just out of reach
Just out of reach, just out of reach
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shade Of Theseus - Ancient Greek Tradition
Know ye not when our dead
From sleep to battle sprung?
-When the Persian charger's tread
On their cowering greensward rung!
When the trampling march of foes
Had crush'd our vines and flowers,
When jewell'd crests arose
Through the holy laurel-bowers,
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
There was one, a leader crown'd,
And arm'd for Greece that day;
But the falchions made no sound
On his gleaming war-array.
In the battle's front he stood,
With his tall and shadowy crest;
But the arrows drew no blood
Though their path was through his breast.
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
His sword was seen to flash
Where the boldest deeds were done;
But it smote without a clash;
The stroke was heard by none!
His voice was not of those
That swell'd the rolling blast,
And his steps fell hush'd like snows-
'Twas the Shade of Theseus pass'd!
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
Far sweeping through the foe,
With a fiery charge he bore;
And the Mede left many a bow
On the sounding ocean-shore.
And the foaming waves grew red,
And the sails were crowded fast,
When the sons of Asia fled,
As the Shade of Theseus pass'd!
When banners caught the breeze,
When helms in sunlight shone,
When masts were on the seas,
And spears on Marathon.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Running Blind
Cant find the answers
Ive been crawling on my knees
Looking for anything
To keep me from drowning
Promises have been turned to lies
Can't even be honest inside
Now Im running backward
Watching my life wave me goodbye
Running blind
Im running blind
Somebody help me see Im running blind
Searching for nothing
Wondering if I'll change
Im trying everything
But everything still stays the same
I thought if I showed you I could fly
Wouldn't need anyone by my side
Now I'm running backward
With broken wings I know Ill die
Running blind
Im running blind
Somebody help me see Im running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
I can't find the answers
I've been crawling on my knees
Looking for anything
To keep me from drowning
I'm running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lotus-Flower
All the heights of the high shores gleam
Red and gold at the sunset hour:
There comes the spell of a magic dream,
And the Harbour seems a lotus-flower;
A blue flower tinted at dawn with gold,
A broad flower blazing with light at noon,
A flower forever with charms to hold
His heart, who sees it by sun or moon.
Its beauty burns like a ceaseless fire,
And tower looks over the top of tower;
For all mute things it would seem, aspire
To catch a glimpse of the lotus-flower.
Men meet its beauty with furrowed face,
And straight the furrows are smoothed away;
They buy and sell in the market-place,
And languor leadens their blood all day.
At night they look on the flower, and lo!
The City passes with all its cares:
They dream no more in its azure glow,
Of gold and silver and stocks and shares.
The Lotus dreams 'neath the dreaming skies,
Its beauty touching with spell divine
The grey old town, till the old town lies
Like one half-drunk with a magic wine.
Star-loved, it breathes at the midnight hour
A sense of peace from its velvet mouth.
Though flowers be fair -- is there any flower
Like this blue flower of the radiant South?
Sun-loved and lit by the moon it yields
A challenge-glory or glow serene,
And men bethink them of jewelled shields,
A turquoise lighting a ground of green.
Fond lovers pacing beside it see
Not death and darkness, but life and light,
And dream no dream of the witchery
The Lotus sheds on the silent night.
Pale watchers weary of watching stars
That fall, and fall, and forever fall,
Tear-worn and troubled with many scars,
They seek the Lotus and end life's thrall.
The spirit spelled by the Lotus swoons,
Its beauty summons the artist mood;
And thus, perchance, in a thousand moons
Its spell shall work in our waiting blood.
Then souls shall shine with an old-time grace,
And sense be wrapped in a golden trance,
And art be crowned in the market-place
With Love and Beauty and fair Romance.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Between the Creator and Me
I look through my body
at the world, the stars, moons,
stars beyond stars
I know there are stars, moons
stars beyond stars too
circling all within my finite self
this temporary sphere I am crowned with
the aura that shines from these
trillion of cells
all the moving atoms,
electrons, protons,
the universe inside and out
I look at them
from my infinite self
god the puppeteer
skillfully playing
the beginning, the end
I came out of the two walls
the human brain is kept in
to take a peep at myself, the universe
the moons, suns, universe,
stars beyond stars
I find a galaxy I possess
so many stars, moons, suns
the cells blazing with life, light
all working out of my control
as I join god to take
a look at his worlds
a meteor flashes by
a cell loses hold
flushed by blood to another world
all the stars, moons,
universe outside and inside
all the cells that I own
that soon would squeeze me out
to join the plane
where I could view
the beat of the universe
standing beside god
witnessing all his designs
wondering all the motives
behind his pupputeering
the moons, the suns, the universe
the cells acting out his drama round and round
casting off light
I saw a star burst
light light years away
the cancer patient
carrying a cell
that too has burst
soon to cast that black hole
over the finite self
the infinite journeys to
rest on another finite self
the universe
I stand by the creator
to look at his puppeteering
wondering his motives in his design
my mind flying outside the brain
I look at the the world, universe,
stars, moon, meteors, stars beyond stars
and myself that
swing with stars, moons,
stars beyond stars
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Outside Myself
I look through my body
at the world, the stars, moons,
stars beyond stars
I know there are stars, moons
stars beyond stars too
circling all within my finite self
this temporary sphere I am crowned with
the aura that shines from these
trillion of cells
all the moving atoms,
electrons, protons,
the universe inside and out
I look at them
from my infinite self
god the puppeteer
skillfully playing
the beginning, the end
I came out of the two walls
the human brain is kept in
to take a peep at myself, the universe
the moons, suns, universe,
stars beyond stars
I find a galaxy I possess
so many stars, moons, suns
the cells blazing with life, light
all working out of my control
as I join god to take
a look at his worlds
a meteor flashes by
a cell loses hold
flushed by blood to another world
all the stars, moons,
universe outside and inside
all the cells that I own
that soon would squeeze me out
to join the plane
where I could view
the beat of the universe
standing beside god
witnessing all his designs
wondering all the motives
behind his pupputeering
the moons, the suns, the universe
the cells acting out his drama round and round
casting off light
I saw a star burst
light light years away
the cancer patient
carrying a cell
that too has burst
soon to cast that black hole
over the finite self
the infinite journeys to
rest on another finite self
the universe
I stand by the creator
to look at his puppeteering
wondering his motives in his design
my mind flying outside the brain
I look at the the world, universe,
stars, moon, meteors, stars beyond stars
and myself that
swing with stars, moons,
stars beyond stars
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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African Rhythms
1.
Jumping on strings
bending time,
they created blissful futures;
stripping metaphors and similes,
making realities clear.
With palms facing skies,
they praised Jesus:
stamping,
speaking in tongues,
they revived ancestries;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
2.
Beating drums,
ripping garbs,
flipping dusts,
they danced in circles
with glistered scalps.
Alternating in lines,
they raised knees;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
3.
Women and girls,
adorned in red,
green and gold robes,
gold necklaces,
gold bracelets,
diamond earrings,
diamond anklets,
and scented perfumes;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
4.
Men and boys,
attired in black robes
and red, green and gold headbands;
moved back and forth,
with wood spears,
held in right hands:
chanting, as they feigned war;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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11.3
Have you ever seen my city?
The water flows free, like a river
through the streets.
My beautiful city.
During summer
cherry blossom, green grass, sunshine
the okiya, and jiin
Smiles and waves in the streets of
my city
now left with greif and pity.
Water, silver, mixed shades of brown and green
rushes past, flowing fast
stealing away people's world.
Filling the remains of a tea house
red, gold, glint as they float away.
A sofa lies in the midst of a field
stood alone, survival, vivid green,
perhaps it once belonged
to a family, like me or you.
Have you ever seen my city?
Beautiful, as it was, nothing
could compare
Now only left a waste land of destruction
after the quake tore through
and the waves rolled in
and my city, a lake now lies.
poem by Mia Rennow
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Near Avalon
A ship with shields before the sun,
Six maidens round the mast,
A red-gold crown on every one,
A green gown on the last.
The fluttering green banners there
Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
And a portraiture of Guenevere
The middle of each sail doth bear.
A ship with sails before the wind,
And round the helm six knights,
Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
They pass by many sights.
The tatter'd scarlet banners there
Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare.
Those six knights sorrowfully bear
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.
poem by William Morris
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Grains of Sand
Rolling in receding back
I watch the ocean’s waves.
Wondering what do they bring
or take away.
Reaching to my feet
some sand I scoop.
Through my fingers
those tiny grains flow.
Some so smooth
as if their journey long.
Others jagged sharp.
Had they not traveled far?
I muse to myself
What tales could they tell?
Relating their travels
carried by the seas.
if any what secrets
might they hide?
Tragedies triumphs
fair seas and foul.
Had they witnessed
great things and small?
As my mind wandered
imagination followed.
Again the waves roll in.
Now the sand is gone.
That sand I held
taken away.
Where will the seas
carry those grains?
On what other shores
will they a visit pay?
poem by Kurt Hearth
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God's Work
To J. J. H., Of Kentucky
Gathering brands from the burning,
Plucking them out of the fire,
Lifting the sheep that have wandered,
Out of the dust and the mire,
Bringing home sheaves from the harvest
To lay at the Master's feet-
Lord! all thy hosts of angels
Must smile on a life so sweet.
Speaking with fear of no man,
Speaking with love for all,
Warning the young and the thoughtless
From the wild beast-'Alcohol.'
Showing the snares that the tempter
Weaveth on every hand.
Lord! all thy dear, dear angels
Must smile on a life so grand.
Fighting the bloodless battle
With a heart that is true and bold;
Fighting it not for glory,
Fighting it not for gold,
But out of love for his neighbor,
And out of love for his Lord.
And I know that the hands of the angels
Will crown him with his reward.
For whoso works for the Master,
And whoso fights his fight,
The angels crown with a star-wreath,
And it glows with gems most bright.
They wear them for ever and ever,
The saints in that land of bliss,
And I know that heaven's best jewel
Is kept for a soul like this.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Two Angels
God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above:
The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love.
'Arise,' He said, 'my angels! a wail of woe and sin
Steals through the gates of heaven, and saddens all within.
'My harps take up the mournful strain that from a lost world swells,
The smoke of torment clouds the light and blights the asphodels.
'Fly downward to that under world, and on its souls of pain,
Let Love drop smiles like sunshine, and Pity tears like rain!'
Two faces bowed before the Throne, veiled in their golden hair;
Four white wings lessened swiftly down the dark abyss of air.
The way was strange, the flight was long; at last the angels came
Where swung the lost and nether world, red-wrapped in rayless flame.
There Pity, shuddering, wept; but Love, with faith too strong for fear,
Took heart from God's almightiness and smiled a smile of cheer.
And lo! that tear of Pity quenched the flame whereon it fell,
And, with the sunshine of that smile, hope entered into hell!
Two unveiled faces full of joy looked upward to the Throne,
Four white wings folded at the feet of Him who sat thereon!
And deeper than the sound of seas, more soft than falling flake,
Amidst the hush of wing and song the Voice Eternal spake:
'Welcome, my angels! ye have brought a holier joy to heaven;
Henceforth its sweetest song shall be the song of sin forgiven!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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This
Down below on Baker Street
Lay your head back
On this field of dreams
And close your eyes
There's a few that find love
On Sundays down by the sea
And they wash clean like angels
High above the waves so free
I have no words to say to you
I have no dream to take you to
I have no ring for you to kiss
Baby, all I have is this
Pray for grace
Keep the faith
Walk on down the road
Wait for me, look for love
Are you fearless, reckless
Homeless and all alone
Can you make love, heal things
Make my heart go wild again
*I have no words to say to you
I have no dream to take you to
I have no ring for you to kiss
Baby, all I have is this
I have no way to hold you now
I have no time to show you how
I have no gold, nothing to risk
Baby, all I have is this
And she says
It doesn't matter anymore
There's a few that find love
On Sundays down by the sea
And they wash clean
Like angels' wings
High above the waves so free
(*Repeat)
All I have is on my sleeve
All I want is your sweet love, baby
All I saw was open space
Walk down the road
Fearless, fearless
All I have is this
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent amazement
Silent, amazement.
Conceal mirrors places
Confused reality,
astonish heart cry.
Majestic s & bravado doves,
Below your thoughts, high.
Mosaic crumble eyes.
Reconstruct illusion of shape & forms.
Where fire never burns,
and water never thirst.
In the sky below your feet.
Suns in the night & daily moons' light.
poem by Luca Menin
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Watching Washington Work
In the early days of convinced student ambition
I watched Washington work where even the press didn't care
The Special Subcommitte on Student Unrest to be exact the
Honorable Edith Green - Chair.
I recall the specific names and faces and antics and lack the courage to tell you what truly went on.
Strangely I loved the representative from Alaska most, who later was killed in a plane crash running for the Senate their bodies never recovered, and a representative from New York City least - who wanted to be President.
The Alaskan was a man strangely full and the New Yorker strangely hollow but this is my theological judgement.
What could a student possibly know who once wanted to be President himself and lacks even today the courage to tell you how that little piece
of Washington worked?
poem by Bill Grace
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