En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Furor of Friendly Fire

The eye of day was closing.
It was dusk at Leyte Bay.
Twenty ships lay at anchor.
A low marine layer covered
The entire bay.

It was that time of evening
When it is difficult to discern
The difference between a wolf
and a dog, as the French say.

A Zero broke through:
Pulled back, up and out, Before
Any ship's guns could fire.
All gunner crews were taunt and tense,
Waiting.

Then, through the cover came
Another plane. This time,
A furor of fire broke loose.

It was dusk at Leyte Bay.
It was that time of evening
When it is difficult to discern
The difference between a Japanese Zero
And an American Torpedo Bomber.

Death shut the eye of day.

poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Evening Shadows

When evening shadows fall
Minutes seem so long
When evening shadows fall
I'm waiting for the dawn
I miss you every night
Just about this time
You're always on my mind
When evening shadows fall
When evening shadows fall
End up staring at the wall
Even when you're gone
The feeling's all so strong
Want you to come on back
Back where you belong
So I can sing my song
When evening shadows fall
Well I'm living in a dream
And it s getting so late
And you call my name
And I'm wide awake
It might as well be night
Hope that you're alright
Well I just can't wait
To get you in my sight
I'm here every day
Just about this time
From dusk till dawn
When evening shadows fall
Well I'm living in a dream
And it's getting so late
And you call my name
Then I'm wide awake
It might as well be night
Hope that you're alright
Well I just can't wait
To get you in my sight
You ask me if I miss you
I say not at all
Only every night
'Bout this time
When evening shadows fall
Every night about this time
When evening shadows fail
You're always on my mind
When evening shadows fall

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's The Difference

I still feel pain
I still cry
Twenty -four hours
Make a day
What's the difference?

The nights so quiet
I still hear my heart beat
And when I hurt
I still bleed
What's the difference?

Six years I was sober
And the grass is still green
But now I smoke weed
Will it make me normal?
I can't tell
What's the difference?

There will be those
Who don't see it my way
And those who are prisoners
Of themselves
I can't tell
Are they normal, if not
What's the difference

I'm leaving soon
As scared as I came
And given some time
I'll have problems again
But this time around
I know
What the difference is

poem by Matt Mondschein
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The Air Is Tense, The Air Is Dense

It was a silent evening, this silent
evening,
When a land whose air was tense,
Heard the cries of its children,
As a plane whose air was dense,
Hit the ground and broke its wings.
It was a teary morning, this teary
morning,
When friends had lost friends,
And parents, children,
And children, parents,
And all, something.
It is a painful thing, this painful moment,
If while reading this out loud,
Your voice begins to fade,
As your heart carries pain to your chord.
It is a thin line, oh thin children,
We are here and we are 'is',
And in one step,
We are there, and now 'was'.
It is a marvelment, to my marveled
mind,
When a man wakes and brushes his
teeth,
Holds a bag and hits the streets,
Stands in the middle of an oblivious
crowd,
And offers them transportation to the
world beyond.
It is an ache, in an aching heart,
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
I write that peace and love be born,
And wisdom and hope not be put to bed.
In this age, in an aging world,
Live each day as thy last,
And in no time you will be right,
Hurt no more and hurt no one,
For the air is tense and the air is dense,
And though time like man has come and
gone,
Time will be here and man no more.

poem by Jenim Dibie
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Evening's Dusk

Evening’s dusk, eerie forebodings,
Making one feel so insecure,
Blotting out distance, shapes of things,
Creating a scene, too obscure,
Shadows that hide the strange unknown,
Lurking when you are out alone.

Evening’s dusk creeps across the sky,
Twelve hours of night has just begun.
Moon hanging motionless up high,
Reflecting light, from earth’s own sun,
Lighting darkness with borrowed rays,
Lifting the black in many ways.

Evening’s dusk, rest for man, not beast,
Off to our homes, we go to rest,
All the days noise has slowly, ceased,
Animals though are on a quest,
For their nuptials they find at night,
When humans are well out of sight.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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After tea it's back to painting - a large poplar at dusk with a gathering storm. From time to time instead of this evening painting session I go bowling in one of the neighbouring villages, but not very often.

quote by Gustav Klimt
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Black Wolf (The Song of Merlin)

The black wolf howls
as dusk prowls among the shadows.
Freed from the stones of ancient altars
his haunting song drifts above the willows.
As light retreats, the wolf entreats
the spirit of the moon to come forth
and shed her beams upon the dreams
of night’s primeval sleep.
Close to the flames of my evening fire
I sit entranced by the choir of spectral hosts,
as other voices repeat the sound
that shakes the ground like thunder;
and yet, in spite of the holocaust,
I sense some purpose I once lost to my vanity.
Hope swells within my soul
that like the wolf I might find
the muse of lyric poetry.
Here in the forest beneath the sky
I dream of the fires
my mother set in the apple groves.
From dusk to dawn with lilting voice
she told the ancient stories.
She spoke in time of the hearth of heaven
and of the starry circle dance.
She sang to the earth; she sang to the trees.
She sang to the night with love.
Nature’s soul possessed the smoke
that was my mother’s misty cape;
and now the wolf in my mother’s tongue
sings the same celestial song.

Copyright © 1993 John M. Marshall

poem by John M. Marshall
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Goodbye Elenore

I wanna give her something shell remember
And she say, no, no, no, no, no
I wanna squeeze her tight and not offend her, yeah
She said, no, no, no, no, no
(and he thought that she was coming back, but she wrote him a letter)
Sealed it with a kiss and placed it in front of my door
Chorus:
Seems as though youve got your way before
You left me standing helpless just when I need more
You broke my heart for the last time, you broke my heart for the last time
You broke my heart for the last time, goodbye elenore
I tried to tell the boys all about her, yeah
And they say, no, no, no, no, no
They told me she was loose, no doubt about her
Well I say, no, no, no, no, no
(and he thought that she was coming back, but she wrote him a letter)
Sealed it with a kiss and placed it in front of my door
Chorus
(instrumental break)
Chorus you broke my heart for the last time, broke my heart, its the last time
You stole my heart and now youre gone forevermore

song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is Difficult

Life is difficult-
Surprises are not always what we hoped they would be-

People misunderstand us-
We imagine we are kind
And they understand us differently-

Some problems never get solved
Some remain lingering for years-

There are cruel people in the world
Stupid ones also-

The fair do not always get the prize
The pushers push push push the good guys aside-
We see the Evil grinning and we cannot touch them-

All kinds of Hopes we have are disappointed-
Rejection is the Fate of everyone at one time or another

One has to try and try and try
And often that is not enough-

Life is difficult
And after a certain age is more difficult
And when young is also difficult-

Life is difficult in some time or some way for all of us
It just is-

Life is difficult
And even when it seems not to be
There is another time coming-

Life is difficult
And so long as we live
It will be.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Japanese Wife

O lord, he said, Japanese women,
real women, they have not forgotten,
bowing and smiling
closing the wounds men have made;
but American women will kill you like they
tear a lampshade,
American women care less than a dime,
they’ve gotten derailed,
they’re too nervous to make good:
always scowling, belly-aching,
disillusioned, overwrought;
but oh lord, say, the Japanese women:
there was this one,
I came home and the door was locked
and when I broke in she broke out the bread knife
and chased me under the bed
and her sister came
and they kept me under that bed for two days,
and when I came out, at last,
she didn’t mention attorneys,
just said, you will never wrong me again,
and I didn’t; but she died on me,
and dying, said, you can wrong me now,
and I did,
but you know, I felt worse then
than when she was living;
there was no voice, no knife,
nothing but little Japanese prints on the wall,
all those tiny people sitting by red rivers
with flying green birds,
and I took them down and put them face down
in a drawer with my shirts,
and it was the first time I realized
that she was dead, even though I buried her;
and some day I’ll take them all out again,
all the tan-faced little people
sitting happily by their bridges and huts
and mountains—
but not right now,
not just yet.

poem by Charles Bukowski
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Mystic Journey: Fire 2

now we find this time on the cusp of day
most enchanting, and pause as dusk rings
the earth in fire, watching the spectral play
of clouds. gray linen cumulus threaten

an angry outburst, but settle for a sullen
squall. caught in the hysterics of a cirrus
clash in stratus, the blue spirit is fleeing
to higher realms of dying day. (miraculous

seven color rainbows tumble into and over
the cumulus cloud below, crowning their tops
with a music of moods from violet laughter
to gamma rage.) finally, attention does focus

on the prelude to purple night. the flame,
whose quick descent signals opening curtain
on an infinite stage of stars, is exiting.
tomorrow an encore, but never the same!

if music is the medium of these spheres
then tchaikovsky* conducts dawning dusk
with pastoral moods to cool burning ears.
hot thunder bursts from surreal clouds

in beethoven's# deafening second movement,
sending the eye scanning the receding cusp
of twilight. in mastery of somber moods
mozart's+ abstract strings chase the ancient

flame across this third and final bar,
his dusk an opera divided into three acts
of earth, air and fire. the evening star,
rising ghostlike, silently on the horizon,

signals the closing. then the kingdom
of night, advancing in legion, for a short
season rules sleepy earth. time ticks
on and, like the sun, we play our part

until last breath. our short scene
done, we close the curtain and dream,
on the edge of night viewing the fire
the first time, in its terrible splendor.

* P.I. Tchaikovsky (1840 - 1893)
# L. van Beethoven (1770 - 1827)
+ W.A. Mozart (1756 - 1791)

poem by Doug Bentley
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What is the difference between....?

What is the difference between black and white?
What is the difference between day and night?
What is the difference between love and hate?
What is the difference between a woman and a mate?
The answers seem to be so easy
as the difference between to be free and to be busy.
But! Can you tell me the difference between a lie and a truth?
Can you tell me the difference between old age and youth?
Will you tell me the difference between a grant and a sob?
If you don’t know this difference you can flop.
I would like to know the difference between wrong and right,
I would like to know the difference between a war and a fight.
If you know the answers please, write.
It will be interesting to know your opinion,
And may be I will find it to be brilliant.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Down On The Farm

(jerry laseter/kerry kurt phillips)
(track 4 - time 2:57)
Every friday night theres a steady cloud of dust
That leads back to a field filled with pickup trucks
Got old hank cranking way up loud
Got coolers in the back
Tailgates down
Theres a big fire burnin but dont be alarmed
Its just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Eds been on the tractor aint seen becky all week
Somebody said they seen em heading down to the creek
Farmer johnsons daughters just pulled up in a jeep
Man he knows how to grow em if ya know what I mean
Old daves gettin loud but he dont mean no harm
Were just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
You can have a lot of fun in a new york minute
But theres some things you cant do inside those city limits
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Well you can come as you are
There aint no dress code
Just some rural route rules that you need to know
Dont mess with the bull
He can get real mean
Dont forget to shut the gate
Stay out of the beans
If it starts to rainin will just head to the barn
Were country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
You can have a lot of fun in a new york minute
But theres some things you cant do inside those city limits
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Oh lets get down yall
Stay out of that hay

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under the Covers

Learning something about
a cause with remote effect
you will have a soul
connective to the body.
Near the end of the home
lies the river of fire.
Time to bid goodbye
to blind walls
and enter the arena of lashings.

It was difficult to unremember.
The mind rambled and you were chewing
the kiss of death.
Time traveled in circle,
dealing with fear.
I waited for the space, to widen between us
to breathe forgiveness.

Nothing stirs the waves.
The water reflects the elegy,
a poem for the trapped one.
Nostalgia for the brood,
the age gives way. Half aloud
the evening settles under the covers.
Brute claws kill the span.

poem by Satish Verma
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There Lies The Difference

There Lies the Difference
I dont have to go out tonight
I dont have to guess who Ill see
I havent been lonely
Since the first time we met
Now I know Ill never be.
Cause I really care about you
And you really care about me
And there lies the difference
Between now and when I was free.
This time love wont go away
The futures so easy to see
And there lies the difference
Between now and what used to be.
Theres no substitute for the truth
And I know you come straight from the heart
And our love stands out in the light of the day
Not only in the heat of the dark.
Cause I really care about you
And you really care about me
And there lies the difference
Between now and when I was free.
This time love wont go away
The futures so easy to see
And there lies the difference
Between now and what used to be.
If I could step back in time
With offers of you to be mine
Id only step back
As far as when you came to me.
And this time love wont go away
The futures so easy to see.
And there lies the difference
Between now and what used to be.

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is a Time To.....

There is.......

A time to write,
A time to listen,
A time to learn,
A time to play,

A time to read,
A time to see,
A time to lead,
A time to sleep,

A time to be happy,
A time to be mad,
A time to be silly,
A time to be sad.

A time to wake,
A time to stay,
A time to talk,
A time to walk.

A time to help,
A time to hurt,
A time to scheme,
A time to dream,

A time to make a difference,
A time to love,
A time to try,
A time to die

A time to wonder,
A time to want,
A time to live,
A time to do something.

There is always going to be a time,
But will you do something when that time comes?

poem by Michelle Hyde
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Ceyx And Alcione lll

So she worried-really worried-when Ceyx announced at breakfast one morning his intention of going on a sea voyage. It made no difference that he was going to Delphi on business. She worried because she loved him dearly, and, better than him, knew the power of the winds, before which taverns collapsed and chairs, cats, small children flew through the air like birds.
'No! '
'Honey, I must! I will! Delphi is definitely on my agenda. Frankly, it could make a big difference in our life style'.
'Absolutely not. I have a bad feeling about this one, trust me'.
'I'm going'.
'Then I'm going, too.'
'Forget it.'
Yes, no, etcetera...back and forth-it would make your head spin.
Finally she said 'ok.go'
The day of departure dawned. The ship was ready. Ceyx boarded and turned to bid his wife goodbye. She could barely look at him. Did she know what was to come? Maybe yes, maybe no.
'Don't worry, honey, it's only for a while. I'll come back to you- promise.
Maybe yes, maybe no. And the ship disappeared over the horizon, its sails filled with gentle winds. But this was before the days of radar,
weather forecasts and hurricane warnings, so the sailors could scarcely anticipate foul weather such as befell them next morning. Sure enough, a storm blew up, worse than any Alcione could imagine, spinning and capsizing the ship in a furor of ill-winds. In a short time the ship was in pieces and its hands walking the undersea currents. Ceyx himself was pulled under. His last word, as the wave crashed over his head was 'Alcione'. His fate was the dread of all mortals-to remain unburied in the sight of the gods, without even so much as an oar planted in the sand to mark the spot where the ship's carcass was cast ashore.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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She's On Fire

Well this is just between us but between us let's get high
In pictures I have seen her and to see her is truly fine
She's on fire
She's on fire

Flowers in her evening set I get the feeling she won't forget
And there's times you'd long to be her but to be her is surely blinding
She's on fire
She's on fire
She's on to me
And I'm over me
She's on fire

And if I could be inside her light
I would steal enough to make my way into the night
And if I could be inside her light I might just find I'd be alright

Well it's not just a daydream if you decide to make it your life
And this is not between us but between us let's keep getting back to where it's from
She's on fire
She's on fire
She's on to me
And I'm over me
She's on fire
She's on to me
And I'm over me
She's over me
And I'm on to her
She's on fire
She's on fire
She's on fire

song performed by by Train from Drops Of Jupiter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before Dark

Dusk right before dark is my favorite time of each day
The dim light feels as if I am only in this world halfway
Right then it is time for shadows taking over the light
And colors fade slowly to shades of black and white
Sometimes I see the sun bathing all in an orange glow
And I wish I could touch the heat before it let go

During dusk I want to have you close and not be alone
In the fading light your features turn to marble and stone
Right then I want to bring back life into each inch of your skin
I want to touch you and feel your strong heartbeat within
Gently I want to glide my hands over your neck to your chest
Feeling gatherings of hair against my palm if you are undressed

The light of dusk kindles a low fire and put sparks into your eyes
Right than I love to be close to you and renew our strong ties
That time of day brings a natural melancholy to my heart
And I am most responsive when you are gentle with me to start
I know you rather see me passionate demanding and strong
Therefore I want to say thanks for running with my mood along

© 2011

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Captain Von Esson of the “Sebastopol”

Of his beauty, or stature, or colour of hair I hadn’t the slightest hint,
But he comes to me as a little man, with a scrubby beard and a squint,
With a heart somewhere if it wasn’t there, and an Irish terrier nose,
With a bark or a yelp for his friends and his crew, and a bull-dog grip for his foes.
The Japs had taken a permanent fort at the price of ten thousand sons,
And they shelled the ships in the harbour there with their landed naval guns.
Through sand bags laid on the upper deck, the shells went through with a whelt—
And some (because of ballistic curve) out under the armoured belt.

Till each was sunk that the Russians left—while the buildings reeled with the shock,
Save the last of the Russian ships of war—the Sebastopol—in dock.
And this is the reason—told in a line—why there is a tale to tell:
The Sebastopol had a man for boss, and a crew that knew it well.

He rousted them out from the dens ashore, and they didn’t engage in prayer,
For dear men pray when the fight is done, and there wasn’t a cheap man there.
He rooted the dock-hands out, when crouched, in deadly fear of the Jap,
But they stood in greater immediate fear of Von Esson’s squint and his yap.

She groped her way in the gathering dusk, out under the time-dulled din,
And nothing was heard save a whispered word, and the laugh of a Russian Finn.
He took her out from the harbour trap, where the shells came down like hail,
For a chance to fight for the Wrong or Right round under the “Lizard’s Tail.”

My fathers came from the North, my friends, when there was a world to win;
And something hints of the Northern Wolf in the laugh of a Russian Finn;
A sailor he was, with gorilla arms, and a mighty, hairy chest—
’T was a laugh of love for his captain man, and a laugh of hate for the rest.

There is neither the time nor the space to tell of the deeds that those Russians did;
Three days on the toppling lid of hell, like an ill-made cauldron’s lid.
The breathless pause ere the flashlight fell where the creeping foe was hid,
The blood-streaked decks, and the grunt or yell, when the stricken slipped and slid.

The faces white in a sudden light, and the ghostly dying grin,
The great relief when the silence broke, and they revelled in Hell’s own din.
The blinding flash and the stunning crash—strained ears—strained eyes—dry skin—
The short sharp yelp of that captain man, and—the laugh of the Russian Finn.

’T was not for Cause nor for Liberty, Religion, or Glory, or Land—
He fought for love of a captain man he could crush with his big right hand.
Till five torpedo boats round her lay, in the mud, the slush, and the ooze—
She sent them down for the Old Greek Church, with the whole of their monkey crews.

But the last one gave her a last thrust home, and left by a friendly tide,
She lay like a man on his elbow raised, with a hand on her wounded side.
She was left to be called for later on, with a solid bank beneath—
The Japs were short of torpedo boats, and—they’d had enough of her teeth.

But, safe from the landed naval guns, and the last torpedo boat,
Von Esson worked with his squint and bark till he got his vessel afloat.
He’d marked her a grave with his level eye where the open sea was fair,
And he steered her out to the deep water, and he grimly sank her there.

(It’s oh, for a chance when a man of men must live the living lie—
For a chance to live as a man might live, and die as a man might die!
When one is a slave to paltry things in a life that never can change,
It’s oh! for a cause, and a decent gun, and a hundred rounds, and the range!)

The boats slipped in in the gathering dusk, and under the time-dulled din,
And vanished from us to a yap of command, and the grunt of a Russian Finn.
But somewhere down in a seamen’s den (maybe, perhaps within hail),
There’s a drunken rabble of sailor men, and a Finn that tells a tale.

poem by Henry Lawson
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R N R

Dont put that thing too close to my head
It took this long just to get ahead, he says
He knows for sure, but that he cant decide
Between his decency and this matter of pride
So hes growing up on time, hes growing up in the middle...
And it burns, and it burns, the sun burns
Oh, now I can really feel it. how could you ever stand it?
Weve got the same ideas, we got the same old fears;
Different colors sometimes, but hey, who cares?
Its just years that shears our lives apart, like the
Time you tried to teach your nephew to fart, he couldnt do it. push!
So hes growing up on time, Im growing up in the middle...
Oh, now I can really feel it. how could you ever stand it?
Im not the kind of person who would say it, if it wasnt the truth
And then you go and tell a friend that her hearts on fire
And it has no meaning.
Now and only now I know the difference when you tell me
There is no difference.
So shes growing up on time, shes growing up in the middle...
Nows the time to evaluate between the love you give
And the love that you take.
Its not a matter of opinion, when it comes down to it,
Its just a difference of opinion, that much I can take.
So Im growing up on time, Im growing up in the middle...
And it burns

song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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