Out Of Life's Billowing Dust:
Out of life's billowing dust:
Wings life's transient -flower.
The butterfly, diligently,
For a day—without hour!
…Songs soar; batons leap…
The world and the wind:
At one; with its orchestra'
Dances on; air and water.
Loves wing, readied.
Into each living, palm
Times white-arrow
Has flown; its course.
Into the gaping heart!
Into the heart of a white shark
Into the heart of a dark hawk
Into a charging, black- horse.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A thought after Yeats
When youth was life and life was youth
and life was love and love was life,
I thought love came and went;
its coming, overwhelming; and its going,
death of spirit; then, as if
the wild white swans had flown away
and left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.
But now I know it’s not like that:
love that, guarded, never flies from here in heart
to where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;
ungiven every livelong day
it turns to rags and dry old bones,
confiscated in the heart.
Better now, be with those wild white swans
which on a dark cold icy winter’s day
gather at the water’s edge to stretch
for yesterday’s warm loaf still fresh;
then turn, swim, lift strong wings and fly
one knows not where, and may not ask;
watch them then, into the distance;
hear the flap of wings grow into silent air;
pause still a little while;
then turn, one’s living breath
white in that winter air;
then back to warmth of home and love and peat fire
glowing in the hearth of heart renewed.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thats the Butterfly in Me
Got to be where every flower I see
Thats the butterfly
in me
yes, Thats the butterfly
in me
I come and go on the wind
and soar in the sky
Cos thats just the butterfly
in me
I've got the wind under my beautiful
wings and my heart is happy
and it sings
Thats just the butterfly
in me
My colors run deeper
than the colors of the sea
Cos thats
the butterfly in me
poem by Dorsey Baker
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Black men, White men
should i be led to believe
that the white men's heart
is soft as cotton? and when
touched, is torched, bursts into flame
to settle comfortably in black,
a trail of humble lesson for the soul
should i be led to believe
that a black man's heart is
full of courage? charging like a bull
through America black or white
settling for nothing in between?
should i be led to believe that
black and white work the
theory of ying and yang
ever balancing to rev up the world?
rice would even grow in bush
black hair turns eventually into
a crown of white wisdom
and blackboards light up
knowledge in white chalk
white shines at its best in black
and where else but a piece of white
where black could make its clearest stamp
of its stand - left or right, right or wrong
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Chimes
I.
HONEY-FLOWERS to the honey-comb,
And the honey-bee's from home.
A honey-comb and a honey-flower,
And the bee shall have his hour.
A honeyed heart for the honey-comb,
And the humming bee flies home.
A heavy heart in the honey-flower,
And the bee has had his hour.
II.
A honey-cell's in the honeysuckle,
And the honey-bee knows it well.
The honey-comb has a heart of honey,
And the humming bee's so bonny.
A honey-flower's the honeysuckle,
And the bee's in the honey-bell.
The honeysuckle is sucked of honey,
And the bee is heavy and bonny.
III.
Brown shell first for the butterfly,
And a bright wing by and by.
Butterfly, good-bye to your shell,
And, bright wings, speed you well.
Bright lamplight for the butterfly
And a burnt wing by and by.
Butterfly, alas for your shell,
And, bright wings, fare you well.
IV.
Lost love-labour and lullaby,
And lowly let love lie.
Lost love-morrow and love fellow
And love's life lying low.
Lovelorn labour and life laid by,
And lowly let love lie.
Late love-longing and life-sorrow
And love's life lying low.
V.
Beauty's body and benison
With a bosom-flower new-blown.
Bitter beauty and blessing bann'd
With a breast to burn and brand.
Beauty's bower in the dust o'erblown
With a bare white breast of bone.
Barren beauty and bower of sand
With a blast on either hand.
VI.
Buried bars in the breakwater
And bubble of the brimming weir.
Body's blood in the breakwater
And a buried body's bier.
Buried bones in the breakwater
And bubble of the brawling weir.
Bitter tears in the breakwater
And a breaking heart to bear.
VII.
Hollow heaven and the hurricane
And hurry of the heavy rain.
Hurried clouds in the hollow heaven
And a heavy rain hard-driven.
The heavy rain it hurries amain
And heaven and the hurricane.
Hurrying wind o'er the heaven's hollow
And the heavy rain to follow.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Black Black Butterfly
Black Black butterfly flitting so
Freely through the warm sky
How you are so misunderstood
And under appreciated
Sometimes the perfect picture
Society tries to paint over
Life is so over rated!
Misconception and lack of
Understanding follows you
Every wear you glide
And weighs down your
Glorious wings leaving you
Nowhere to hide.
Your beauty is never
Acknowledged,
And your darkness if forbidden
In this time…so when you fly
It is always solo and not even the wind
Is kind.
Still you fly and soar,
High above the unstableness,
High above the loneliness,
But not high enough to escape
The feeling of being undesired
Fly..fly…black butterfly
Until the arrival of the midnight
Sky; the only place that brings
You joy so much.
Is that because you blend in with
The dark purplish heavens
Feeling comfort being unseen
And untouched?
Hurt no more black butterfly
Because I love you unconditionally
Cry no more black butterfly
And spread those beautiful wings and I
Shall soar with you…for I am with you
and you are in me.
poem by Danielle Beechum
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Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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Shadowy nocturne
It is midsummer,
and the nights are hot.
Black horse is strolling along the lake,
trying to delve into another world.
Black horse is rather sad tonight,
the white horse is not following behind,
no one chats with it,
no one plays with it,
only its shadow follows it.
It stops.
looking at the lake quietly.
The moon,
falling on water,
makes it white, inscrutable,
giving the shadow a burnish and a silver plating.
The black horse,
it can not spend its life chasing after shadow,
no matter it is an anguish or elation,
it must have a brave act,
telling the white horse what you feel.
(17th of August,2004)
poem by Trino Chan
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Different World
You cant stop a man from learning
I could write the book of love
Captured moments there
Between me and you
Then I had the thought of leavin
It was a voice inside my head
Telling me I got to have the strength
To see it through
And I know its
Gonna break your heart
And I know its
Gonna break your heart
Im living in a different world
And as I slip away
I see you fade to black and white
Im living in a different world
With all my hopes and dreams
I drift off in the night
Im alone but Im not lonely
I found something that I never had
Laying back in the easy chair
Is not the life for me
You think Im your one and only
But you gamble with a restless man
In the end Ive found the way
That we can both be free
Im living in a different world
And as I slip away
I see you fade to black and white
Im living in a different world
With all my hopes and dreams
I disappear into the night
Im living in a different world
And as I slip away
I see you fade to black and white
Im living in a different world
With all my hopes and dreams
Im living in a different world
And as I slip away
Im living in a different world
With all my hopes and dreams
I disappear into the night
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence
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White Dove
Music :presser, adamis, rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
A place without a name
Under a burning sky
Theres no milk and honey here
In the land of god
Someone holds a sign
It says we are human, too
And while the sun goes down
The world goes by
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Waves, big like a house
Theyre stranded on a piece of wood
To leave it all behind
To start again
But instead of a new life
All they find is a door thats closed
And they keep looking for
A place called hope
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
Can anyone tell me why (can anyone tell me why)
The children of the world (the children of the world)
Have to pay the price (pay another price)
And now your telling me
Youve seen it all before
I know thats right but still
It breaks my heart
Well, the golden lamb we sent
Makes us feel better now
But you know its just a drop
In a sea of tears
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Black+White=My Life
Black-
The color of my soul
White-
The color of my spirit
Together Black and White combined
It all equals my life
The 2 only colors
That are not really colors at all
The story of my life
I am alone
I die slowly and painfully
Not a care in the world
Where I would end up
If only I would survive...
Black-
The color of my Heart
White-
The color of my Hopes and Dreams
Together again Black and White reunite as one
As you can tell
The 2 only colors of my life are Black and White
As if you care
You rather see me suffer in vain
You keep heaeing me say I am alone
Well now you know its true
poem by Makayla Straight
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The Shortest Moment That The Butterfly Tries To Speak
how many flutters of its wings is its lifetime?
not a hundred, this butterfly with blue shaking lines on its wings
some dots of black on the lower tip
some flaps of dust as you hold it.
we love to see it freely hovering from one flower to another
blending with its colors, it is not trying to hide anything
beautiful, it is showing itself, beautiful butterfly,
how gentle, soft to our hearts as we watch it
there is no sound of its wings and its graceful feeding on the nectars
then it rests on a leaf. we leave it there.
the wind last night was strong.
we see the leaf where it stayed on the pebbled ground.
there are no wings. there is no trace where the blue butterfly is.
how many flutters did that butterfly make?
such a brief moment, yet so beautiful
that is the message of the life of its lost wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little White Rose
Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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My Black Life
my sad smile never let me smile from my heart
my sad life i know that nevere gonna to change
my heart is broken like a flower didn't have any water
my dreams start to be dark i don't want to sleep to dream
my life, my dreams, my face, my sad smile & my heart
make me want to die today after tomorrow i tried to be strong
i tried to don't love
i tried to make my life good and love it but i can't
i can't live a dark life in a dark dream in a black world i must to die yesterday before today
poem by Marie Armany
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Two Different People
Two different people
Black people, white people
Black world, White world
A black person thinks different from the white people
White people thinks highly of himself
White people works very hard for his living
Black's are lazy
They don't want to work, they just want the money
You have to work for the money, they just don't get it
White people knows that there are no free ride in life
Black's want a free ride, there are no free ride in life
Nothing is free in life except for the air that you breathe
The white people have to be careful of what they say to the black People
Whatever you say to the black people if they don't like it they will say it Is discrimination
We can't understand them
They have a mind of their own
The white people are loving and caring
What about the black people?
Not a hope in hell
I don't want any part of the black world
The black world is not safe for me
So I rather stay in my white world where I feel safe
We can't trust them
The reason why there is violence in this world is because the black People cause it
Now they don't like it because they have to live with it
We want a safe world for our people
The black people don't care about it because the only thing they know And seen is violence
There is too much violence on TV
They like it
They like the feeling of danger
We white don't like the feeling of danger
The blacks hate the white people and the white people don't like them Either
The white people knows when to shut up
The black people never knows when to shut up
There is why there are always problem with them
They make life miserable for us
The white people will always be a good friend
The black people can never be your friend
They will take everything they can get from you for free
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Vain Spell
THE house sleeps dark and the moon wakes white,
The fields are alight with dew;
'Oh, will you not come to me, Love, to-night?
I have waited the whole night through,
For I knew,
O Heart of my heart, I knew by my heart,
That the night of all nights is this,
When elm shall crack and lead shall part,
When moulds shall sunder and shot bolts start
To let you through to my kiss.'
So spake she alone in the lonely house.
She had wrapped her round with the spell,
She called the call, she vowed the vow,
And the heart she had pledged knew well
That this was the night, the only night,
When the moulds might be wrenched apart,
When the living and dead, in the dead of the night,
Might clasp once more, in the grave's despite,
For the price of a living heart.
But out in the grave the corpse lay white
And the grave clothes were wet with dew;
'Oh, will you not come to me, Love, to-night,
I have waited the whole night through,
For I knew
That I dared not leave my grave for an hour
Since the hour of all hours is near,
When you shall come to the hollow bower,
In a cast of the wind, in a waft of the Power,
To the heart that to-night beats here!'
The moon grows pale and the house sleeps still
Ah, God! do the dead forget?
The grave is white and the bed is chill,
But a guest may be coming yet.
But the hour has come and the hour has gone
That never will come again;
Love's only chance is over and done,
And the quick and the dead are twain, not one,
And the price has been paid in vain.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Butterfly
Butterfly, the wind blows sea-ward,
strong beyond the garden-wall!
Butterfly, why do you settle on my
shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe,
Lifting your veined wings, lifting them?
big white butterfly!
Already it is October, and the wind
blows strong to the sea
from the hills where snow must have
fallen, the wind is polished with
snow.
Here in the garden, with red
geraniums, it is warm, it is warm
but the wind blows strong to sea-ward,
white butterfly, content on my shoe!
Will you go, will you go from my warm
house?
Will you climb on your big soft wings,
black-dotted,
as up an invisible rainbow, an arch
till the wind slides you sheer from the
arch-crest
and in a strange level fluttering you go
out to sea-ward, white speck!
Anonymous submission.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Thyrsa Of The Rocks
Thyrsa comes to the mount spring;
fresh water in the jug to pour;
the nightingales are there and sing,
her untamed feelings to soar.
Thyrsa fills her heart with notes,
her songs lyrics make foliage dither
for this pain takes no antidotes,
the singing nightingales spell hither.
And as the lyrics rise to heavens,
and render modes of the wind,
palms join with his name engraven
on her betrothal golden ring.
He left her world with a promise;
one Sunday they 'd meet in church;
thus she waits for a mail's notice;
the roads daily, her eyes search;
Next to the spring rock Thyrsa waits,
and recreates her wedding feasts;
wraiths around her dance with fates,
for five eons they fiddle, in mists.
One of the ghosts dances more aptly,
as she gropes her heart and loves;
Thyrsa of the rocks mentates raptly,
her golden ring and two white doves.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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