I Had a Vision
I dreamed a dream, a vision came to me.
Lost youth imploring, 'God, we beg of Thee! '
With lined and aged face, though they were young,
They plead for mercy, silence had no tongue.
At flooding shore, they streached for higher ground.
Earth slipped beneath them, cries the only sound.
Extending them my hand, they could not reach.
In tides of sorrow, eyes their only speech.
Debauchery engulfed them, steeped in brine.
Their temple housed an hedonistic shrine.
They struggled for the surface, death their fate.
Akashic records were the scrivener's slate.
Past hope, their childhood blossemed all too soon.
Depraved, they thought that life would not impugn.
Within the deep I entered in their mind,
So many broken promises, so blind.
The sadness is: The waste of all those years.
The irony is: The sea was their own tears.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXIX
How strangely now I come, a man of sorrow,
Nor yet such sorrow as youth dreamed of, blind,
But life's last indigence which dares not borrow
One garment more of Hope to cheat life's wind.
The mountains which we loved have grown unkind,
Nay, voiceless rather. Neither sound nor speech
Is heard among them, nor the thought enshrined
Of any deity man's tears may reach.
If I should speak, what echo would there come,
Of laughters lost, and dead unanswered prayers?
The shadow of each valley is a tomb
Filled with the dust of manifold despairs.
``Here we once lived'': This motto on the door
Of silence stands, shut fast for evermore.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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I Dreamed.
I dreamed a dream and in that dream,
I dreamed that I had dreamed a dream,
Of hope and fairytales come true,
I dreamed a dream and thought of truth,
I dreamed a dream of life and love,
Of fate and angels and God above,
I dreamed a dream of good wishes and friends,
I dreamed a dream I dreaded to end,
But then I woke into my dream,
I dreamed I woke in a world obscene,
I dreamed a dream of violence and hate,
And once again I dreamed of fate,
I dreamed a dream of terror and fear,
I dreamed that each word went unheard,
And so children never spoke a word,
I dreamed a dream of demons and beasts,
I dreamed a dream that ended at last,
I woke in my bed and wondered if,
I dreamed a dream of dreams or if,
I dreamed a dream of truth that night,
And if so I wondered which was truth,
And which was merely a dream.
poem by Emma Wright
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Crystal Heart
My heart is in your hands,
Paper thin crystal ready to break,
My love when will you awake?
My mind drifts to foreign lands,
Tears burst, washing away the desert sand,
Memories lost and found,
Tears wash away the ground,
Your voice, the only sound,
My heart breaks all around,
Life's dream lost but new life found,
This ship will never run aground,
Lights twinkle on a far shore,
Promises of a life to adore,
Please love, don't shut the door,
Memories lost and found,
Tears wash away the ground,
Your voice, the only sound,
My heart breaks all around,
So when you can hurt no more,
Remember to give me a call,
You know I will remember you evermore,
When I reach the shore it is life I shall adore,
Our memories I will treasure,
Let life be a pleasure.
08 May 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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How Deep Our Memory Lies
How deep our memories lie,
Beneath the silt and sediment of mind,
Deposited by the turbid stream of life.
Each succeeding springtime thaw swells
The stream of living, burying deeper still,
That memory matter of past forgotten years.
Quietly it lies beneath the strata of time.
It is only when we reach an age of questionable duration
That it seems to rise with haunting recollection, caused
By some stimulation to our senses,
Flooding our apprehending mind with remembrances.
Sound, smell, taste, touch, sight prompts
Those some things long lost in the still deeps of thought,
Overwhelming us in a deluge of emotional reminiscences.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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4 The Tears In Your Eyes (live) (feat. Wendy & Lisa)
4 the Tears in Your Eyes [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1985]
------------------------ [From "We Are the World"]
Long ago, there was a man
Could change stone to bread
With one touch of his hand
Made the blind see
And the dumb understand
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Many people came from all around
To hear this man preach
The glorious sound
He spoke of man in harmony, and love abound
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
Faith is word, we all should try
In describing a man
Who willingly died
Believe that your sorrow, hunger, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
(your eyes) (your eyes)
Less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Echo Of Paradise Lost
Sorrow’s sadness tinges,
feathered fluttering soul
with mournful memories
of gleaned purity past.
As soul cries
through possessing use
of humility’s
harnessed heart.
I cloak hope
in a poet’s pitted shield
as I weave each line
to random rhyme.
Even as youth
we stand in our Eventide,
memories flooding
back instead of fading
away - as we walk
forward in dream’s eye.
For how can
the snail know
crawling about
in subdued slime.
With its burden
on its back,
that creation earth.
Stands a vast
height above him?
Man is trapped
like a slug
on a lettuce leaf
in the garden
of deceiving illusion.
I do not know
I have always known
I shall know again
as I knew before.
Many times have I seen...
multitude face of death.
Each time discerning death...
passed me serenely by.
It is not given
for you to die.
Not yet enfolded in
origin earth to lie.
A refreshing wind
must blow
across the face
of cursed land
carrying embryo
of reseeded thought.
For now is prophesy
ordained time of planting.
So catalyst toils
in field to bring,
irrigating waters,
murmuring flow
to parched soil.
Before warm
breath whispered
on siren wind.
Hours are long
in this world
of shadows.
Scars run deep
of many wounds
I bare
on body
of my soul.
Yet even great pain
crumbles broken perishes
like sun bleached dry bones
till pain receding slowly fades.
Weathered with relentless time
or succumbs at sin sentenced grave.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sonnet I
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair:
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
'Guess now who holds thee ? '--' Death,' I said. But, there,
The silver answer rang,--' Not Death, but Love.'
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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I
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair:
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
'Guess now who holds thee ? '--' Death,' I said. But, there,
The silver answer rang,--' Not Death, but Love.'
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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David’s Child
IN face of a great sorrow like to death
How do we wrestle night and day with tears;
How do we fast and pray; how small appears
The outside world, while, hanging on some breath
Of fragile hope, the chamber where we lie
Includes all space.--But if sudden at last
The blow falls; or by incredulity
Fond led, we--never having one thought cast
Towards years where 'the child' was not--see it die,
And with it all our future, all our past,--
We just look round us with a dull surprise:
For lesser pangs we had filled earth with cries
Of wild and angry grief that would be heard:--
But when the heart is broken--not a word.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Wizard of Clayton Close
He's steeped in the shadows of ivy and stone,
And time is the seed that the Wizard has sown,
Has sown for the magick of weaving the night
In a tapestry taken from burning delight.
Burning delight in the eyes of the mind he has
Stolen, to conjure insight for the blind, for the
Blind are the pebbles that litter his beach, while the
Tides of his mind set the blind out of reach.
The masonry wall is caught deep in the spell that he
Conjured forgotten, in some distant dell,
And if you should peer through the ivy and stone
There's a voice whispers... 'leave me, just leave me alone.
I've wandered with Ishtar, away from your eyes
From your spying and prying, away from your lies,
In the peril and terror that lonely men speak...
Seek not the undying, whatever you seek.'
But drawn to the shadows and drawn to the stone
I could leave him not ever, not leave him alone,
And turning one day to the light and the lace
He uncovered his forehead, uncovered his face.
I froze in the instant to question my mind for
The face spoke eternities, infinite time
And the stars held their place in the lips of the man
And the cheeks and the ears, and the eyes and the hand.
The wall crumbled inward as slowly I fell
Through his eyes to the stars, to the depths of his well,
And knowledge was mine as it never had been,
In my mind, misaligned, in the things that I'd seen.
But knowledge was danger, disaster and death
To the heart that would beat, to the mind, to the breath,
To the cheek of a girl or the smile of a man,
To the whisp' of the wind, to the shift of the sand.
And nothing exists in the nothing of me
But the stars and the sky, and the sand and the sea,
The light that was night and the dark of the day
As I drift in the tides of his vision away.
And look as I might for the eyes of his mind
I believe that the Wizard is totally blind,
That once in the depths of his well and his breath
We're imprisoned in freedom, the freedom from death.
If only the way was as clearly defined
In the world of the deaf and the dumb and the blind,
I'd crawl through the stars to the lids of his eyes
To the breadth of his world and the width of his lies.
For the comfort of woman and warmth of a man
I would give all the shift and the sift of the sand,
And not all the shadows of ivy and stone
Would lure me to walk in the winter alone.
21 May 1975
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Never Saved
vision stunted by past deeds
leading to my current place,
childhood face: disconnected,
now adrift on stagnant lake.
cynicism scrawls the map
leading to my resting place,
a symptom of a drying mind,
what once was fluid, now is blind.
each denial of childhood dream
fractures now my world it seems.
mothers tears dried in her grave,
childhood view: never saved.
poem by Christopher Withers
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Sonnet 01 - I thought once how Theocritus had sung
I
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair:
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,—
'Guess now who holds thee? '—' Death,' I said. But, there,
The silver answer rang,—' Not Death, but Love.'
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Deep within these brown eyes
Deep within these brown eyes,
You can see my sadness,
The tears that roll down my face,
The sadness I feel,
Awkward moment of my silence,
What hurts more that my sadness makes me as if time was going slow,
So far,
This was war,
War that never ended,
Deep within these brown eyes,
I would die for you,
Leaving everything behind,
Never coming back,
Never to be back on this earth,
Don't you dare bring me back,
Under the water I drown in my sorrows,
Die not regretting,
Regrets is all feel,
Blame things on myself,
Bringing me down with these sorrow,
The shame I feel,
How hateful the world has become,
Things was never perfect with me,
Deep within these brown eyes,
You'll see my true sadness I had to suffer alone.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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To The Strangest Girl I've Ever Known
Heretical hierarchies decompose in slow plastic tides.
An ode is sung, wild eyed for those too scared to run,
A lament for those that tried to ply open the chest’s secret encoded,
And still we are relying on the illusion that our guns are loaded,
That we’re ready to explode at anytime in floods of woeful fears,
Streaming tears in cascades, breaking barriers, overrunning barricades.
I spy dreamers washed up upon the shore, lost in isolation when they are
Surrounded by a thousand likewise ungrounded souls. Crying for a saviour.
The doorways are now broken that would have opened had a little
Patience been applied, had we relied on more than instinct to guide us through the skies.
Beyond the twilight, beyond our mother’s delight lies the truth so far out of sight that we require proof of our existence before we empower ourselves with love.
Some sickly rose of pale blue shades clasped upon my palm,
Gone are the days of failing you she said,
Leaving me in a jaded calm of slumbering silence.
What defence could I offer?
The gifts of love that I made to gain her favour?
It seems as though there’s nothing left to say
As I find myself day by day scratching around upon the ground,
Seeking the latch to the doorway high beyond my reach.
Whilst some patchwork princess in the recesses of my mind
Awaits me beyond the kissing gate.
I fear that all she will find is me huddled blind
Seeking the light reborn from a bleak descent into darkness.
All there is that’s lost is yours to find as vibrations evoke
Reminiscence of a time so long since passed that memory has lapsed,
Beyond the mists of times blessing,
Beyond the clouds obscuring the memory as ever alluring.
For regret I’ve found there is no cure,
To the strangest girl I’ve ever known
What madness is this that sadness should be the flavour of the hour?
Such strange a love in friendship is ours to hold, to devour,
Warming with every heartbeat until the second we grow cold and fading.
Our souls taken from their form to dance with angels in ascent.
Such horror is it to find both our souls in descent,
Skimming the surface of insanity and every so often submerging ourselves
Beneath the ever sleepless deep.
The unconscious tides of our emotion
Are as the tides and currents of the ocean.
And here we are, trying to keep ourselves from crying
When tears are the only joy we know.
Here we are within the water flowing
With starlit eyes of youth still glowing.
The river is bursting its banks
Who should we thank?
God?
Our Mother Divine?
Father Time?
Me?
You?
The sky of blue?
The river is bursting its banks
Who should we thank?
poem by David Lacey
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Before Her Portrait In Youth
As lovers, banished from their lady's face
And hopeless of her grace,
Fashion a ghostly sweetness in its place,
Fondly adore
Some stealth-won cast attire she wore,
A kerchief or a glove:
And at the lover's beck
Into the glove there fleets the hand,
Or at impetuous command
Up from the kerchief floats the virgin neck:
So I, in very lowlihead of love, -
Too shyly reverencing
To let one thought's light footfall smooth
Tread near the living, consecrated thing, -
Treasure me thy cast youth.
This outworn vesture, tenantless of thee,
Hath yet my knee,
For that, with show and semblance fair
Of the past Her
Who once the beautiful, discarded raiment bare,
It cheateth me.
As gale to gale drifts breath
Of blossoms' death,
So dropping down the years from hour to hour
This dead youth's scent is wafted me to-day:
I sit, and from the fragrance dream the flower.
So, then, she looked (I say);
And so her front sunk down
Heavy beneath the poet's iron crown:
On her mouth museful sweet -
(Even as the twin lips meet)
Did thought and sadness greet:
Sighs
In those mournful eyes
So put on visibilities;
As viewless ether turns, in deep on deep, to dyes.
Thus, long ago,
She kept her meditative paces slow
Through maiden meads, with waved shadow and gleam
Of locks half-lifted on the winds of dream,
Till love up-caught her to his chariot's glow.
Yet, voluntary, happier Proserpine!
This drooping flower of youth thou lettest fall
I, faring in the cockshut-light, astray,
Find on my 'lated way,
And stoop, and gather for memorial,
And lay it on my bosom, and make it mine.
To this, the all of love the stars allow me,
I dedicate and vow me.
I reach back through the days
A trothed hand to the dead the last trump shall not raise.
The water-wraith that cries
From those eternal sorrows of thy pictured eyes
Entwines and draws me down their soundless intricacies!
poem by Francis Thompson
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While Yet These Tears
While yet these tears have power to flow
For hours for ever past away;
While yet these swelling sighs allow
My faltering voice to breathe a lay;
While yet my hand can touch the chords,
My tender lute, to wake thy tone;
While yet my mind no thought affords,
But one remembered dream alone,
I ask not death, whate'er my state:
But when my eyes can weep no more,
My voice is lost, my hand untrue.
And when my spirit's fire is o'er,
Nor can express the love it knew,
Come, Death, and cast thy shadows o'er my fate!
poem by Louise Labe
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Among the Pines
Here let us linger at will and delightsomely hearken
Music aeolian of wind in the boughs of pine,
Timbrel of falling waters, sounds all soft and sonorous,
Worshipful litanies sung at a bannered shrine.
Deep let us breathe the ripeness and savor of balsam,
Tears that the pines have wept in sorrow sweet,
With its aroma comes beguilement of things forgotten,
Long-past hopes of the years on tip-toeing feet.
Far in the boskiest glen of this wood is a dream and a silence
Come, we shall claim them ours ere look we long;
A dream that we dreamed and lost, a silence richly hearted,
Deep at its lyric core with the soul of a song.
If there be storm, it will thunder a march in the branches,
So that our feet may keep true time as we go;
If there be rain, it will laugh, it will glisten, and beckon,
Calling to us as a friend all lightly and low.
If it be night, the moonlight will wander winsomely with us,
If it be hour of dawn, all heaven will bloom,
If it be sunset, it's glow will enfold and pursue us.
To the remotest valley of purple gloom.
Lo! the pine wood is a temple where the days meet to worship,
Laying their cark and care for the nonce aside,
God, who made it, keeps it as a witness to Him forever,
Walking in it, as a garden, at eventide.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Promises And Lies
All the sorrow and the pain
All the sacrifice in vain
I was much too blind to see
You make a loser out of me
You put me down for oh so long
While you sang your serpent's song
Chorus
The rest is history
You can do no more to me
I've been down so low
Had nowhere left to go
I could see it in your eyes
All your promises were lies
Promises and lies
Your cut was quick and deep
But then you thought you'd never need a friend
But all things change, and tides must turn
And you let all your bridges burn
Too many fatal wounds to heal
Chorus
The rest is history
You can do no more to me
I've been down so low
Had nowhere left to go
I could see it in your eyes
All your promises were lies
Promises and lies
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnets from the Portuguese i
I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wish'd-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw in gradual vision through my tears
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years--
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,
'Guess now who holds thee?'--'Death,' I said. But there
The silver answer rang--'Not Death, but Love.'
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Promises & Lies
All the sorrow and the pain
All the sacrifice in vain
I was much too blind to see
You make a loser out of me
You put me down for oh so long
While you sang your serpents song
(chorus)
The rest is history
You can do no more to me
Ive been down so low
Had nowhere left to go
I could see it in your eyes
All your promises were lies
Promises and lies
Your cut was quick and deep
But then you thought youd never need a friend
But all things change, and tides must turn
And you let all your bridges burn
Too many fatal wounds to heal
(chorus)
The rest is history
You can do no more to me
Ive been down so low
Had nowhere left to go
I could see it in your eyes
All your promises were lies
Promises and lies
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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