Related quotes: None is travelling Here along...

None is travelling

None is travelling
Here along this way but I,
This autumn evening.

The first day of the year:
thoughts come - and there is loneliness;
the autumn dusk is here.

An old pond
A frog jumps in -
Splash!

Lightening -
Heron's cry
Stabs the darkness

Clouds come from time to time -
and bring to men a chance to rest
from looking at the moon.

In the cicada's cry
There's no sign that can foretell
How soon it must die.

Poverty's child -
he starts to grind the rice,
and gazes at the moon.

Won't you come and see
loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree.

Temple bells die out.
The fragrant blossoms remain.
A perfect evening!

poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Loneliness

Roy orbison/joe melson
Loneliness is the worst thing in the world
To be alone all the day long
No ring on the phone, yeah this is wrong
Low down loneliness
This loneliness, I must confess
Yes its a mess of this loneliness
Low down loneliness, loneliness all around
Loneliness, you have found me loneliness
Oh loneliness, all of the time
Such loneliness, youre so unkind
Low down loneliness
Loneliness everywhere
Loneliness, Ive got more that my share
Oh loneliness, my destiny
Yeah loneliness, was I born to be
In low down loneliness? loneliness

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

0372 Reflection on a garden pond

It's unexpectedly mild this early Spring evening
and I take my glass of beer, cold in the hand,
and slide the patio door open and step out for the first time this year,
feeling like an intruder in my own garden, so strange in the twilight.

Then, melted by awe and gratitude
to see an unplanned wild violet
which has taken up residence between the cement slabs.

Between other slabs the miniature bamboo stubbornly returns,
(that was my Japanese year) and in the tiny pond,
soon to be turned into a living soup by amorous frogs
to the total puzzlement of the white cat, watching for an hour or so
and extending from time to time an ineffective paw,
or nosing the water unable, either, to gulp a tadpole -
in the tiny pond, something bright;

a dancing reflection in the water stirred by an evening breeze -
the moon;
the same moon that danced on the water for Li Po
as he drank from his wine cup
alone and at peace, so far, so long ago;

in a poet's solitude and contentment
and the thought of distant friends,
celebrated with wine
under the moon, on a spring evening,
in perfect happiness.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Autumn In July

It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.

And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.

I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?

An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.

What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.

Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?

Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.

Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.

Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.

poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Helaman 14: 31

When the heavens cast their eyes on me,
they cried - I felt their tears on my face;
their tears, they drench me...
and I felt cold.
When the stars cast their eyes on me,
they fell - and I was left in darkness
with the ringing evening bells.
The moon, when she cast her eyes on me,
she died - and was buried in dark clouds;
I was left alone and homeless...
and thought I might as well die;
for the evening bells are ringing...
the heavens - they're still crying.
The stars are all but fallen.
But no, I'll never stay in darkness.
I cast away the dark clouds in my thoughts
and looked up in the heavens.
They still cry but their tears are sweet -
I smiled and felt the tender coldness
it brought in my weary feet.
The stars have fallen, the moon has died,
for the sun has risen and has brought its light.
Heavens gave way, the evening bells retired.
The darkness chose me but I have chosen light.
Death has crept its way and chose me
but I have chosen life.

29 January 2011
Batac

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Wall Of Time

In the womb of deep slumber,
In the arms of unawareness,
Under the blanket of impregnable darkness,
You lie alone like the frozen hopes of a dying man,
Oblivious of the pain and grief doing riot,
Tired and eyes shut to the stabs of grief.

The bond of common pain binds us nearer;
I, on the visible side of the moon,
Find my pains stab in lunar rhythms,
While you, on the invisible side,
Hide from the stabs and wounds of grief
In the slow grind of the loneliness
And run with the time to far horizons.

I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.

poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Impregnable Darkness

In the womb of deep slumber,
In the arms of unawareness,
Under the blanket of impregnable darkness,
You lie alone like the frozen hopes of a dying man,
Oblivious of the pain and grief doing riot,
Tired and eyes shut to the stabs of grief.

The bond of common pain binds us nearer;
I, on the visible side of the moon,
Find my pains stab in lunar rhythms,
While you, on the invisible side,
Hide from the stabs and wounds of grief
In the slow grind of the loneliness
And run with the time to far horizons.

I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.

poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Won't you come and see

Won't you come and see
loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree.

poem by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hokku Poems in Four Seasons

Spring

The year's first poem done,
with smug self confidence
a haikai poet.

Longer has become the daytime;
a pheasant is fluttering
down onto the bridge.

Yearning for the Bygones

Lengthening days,
accumulating, and recalling
the days of distant past.

Slowly passing days,
with an echo heard here in a
corner of Kyoto.

The white elbow
of a priest, dozing,
in the dusk of spring.

Into a nobleman,
a fox has changed himself
early evening of spring.

The light on a candle stand
is transferred to another candle
spring twilight.

A short nap,
then awakening
this spring day has darkened.

Who is it for,
this pillow on the floor,
in the twilight of spring?

The big gateway's heavy doors,
standing in the dusk of spring.

Hazy moonlight --
someone is standing
among the pear trees.

Blossoms on the pear tree,
lighten by the moonlight, and there
a woman is reading a letter.

Springtime rain -- almost dark,
and yet today still lingers.

Springtime rain --
a little shell on a small beach,
enough to moisten it.

Springtime rain is falling,
as a child's rag ball is soaking
wet on the house roof.

@Summer

Within the quietness
of a lull in visitors' absence,
appears the peony flower!

Peony having scattered, two
or three petals lie on one another.

The rain of May --
facing toward the big river, houses,
just two of them.

At a Place Called Kaya in Tanba

A summer river being crossed,
how pleasing,
with sandals in my hands!

The mountain stonecutter's chisel;
being cooled in the clear water.

Grasses wet in the rain,
just after the festival cart passed by.

To my eyes how delightful
the fan of my beloved is,
in complete white.

A flying cuckoo,
over the Heian capital,
goes diagonally across the city.

Evening breeze --
water is slapping against
the legs of a blue heron.

An old well --
jumping at a mosquito,
the fish's sound is dark.

Young bamboo trees --
at Hashimoto, the courtesan,
is she still there or not?

After having been fallen,
its image still stands --
the peony flower.

Stepping on the Eastern Slope

Wild roses in bloom --
so like a pathway in,
or toward, my home village.

With sorrow while coming upon the hill
--flowering wild roses.

Summer night ending so soon,
with on the river shallows still remains
the moon in a sliver.

@Autumn

It penetrates into me;
stepping on the comb of my gone wife,
in the bedroom.

More than last year,
I now feel solitude;
this autumn twilight.

This being alone may even be a kind of happy
-- in the autumn dusk.

Moon in the sky's top,
clearly passes through this
poor town street.

This feeling of sadness --
a fishing string being blown by the autumn wind.

@Winter

Let myself go to bed;
New Year's Day is only a matter
for tomorrow.

Camphor tree roots are quietly getting wet,
in the winter rainy air.

A handsaw is sounding,
as if from a poor one,
at midnight in this winter.

Old man's love affair;
in trying to forget it,
a winter rainfall.

In an old pond,
a straw sandal is sinking
-- it is sleeting.

poem by Yosa Buson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Only On This Day...

For: J.L.

It was a cool, July, and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.

And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.

I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive? Snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?

An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn...Autumn...
Autumn, for this I know.

What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July for
Autumn is abound.

Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or has the sparrows lost their way?

Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.

Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.

Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Days Like This...Remind Me Of You