A Chinese Takeaway - for David with thanks
The ancient sage, beset with too many thoughts
for one human lifetime,
chooses carefully the place to sit
beside the lake,
under the even more ancient twisted pine
with the view of distant cliffs
where the stork’s cry echoes;
gathers his thoughts.
Out of mercy,
the breeze gently ruffles the surface
of the lake;
the sage, reminded by the ripples
of the stillness of the lake,
smiles from a mind that’s now the lake
reflecting the blueness of the sky;
reflects, beyond the blue,
the space in which immortals live.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Reflection of God
Thoughts are like ripples,
gently flowing over
the surface of the mind.
Deep inside us
we bear the image of God,
the ripples of thought break that image
into fragments.
It is as if you are looking in
a lake full of ripples-
It is a full moon night,
and the lake is reflecting
the beautiful moon.
But the lake is full of ripples
You cannot gather the moon together;
the moon goes on splitting
into a thousand fragments.
The whole lake seems to be
spread over by the moon-
the silvery beauty, softly broken apart;
many a fragments is seen floating-
all around.
Then the wind stops,
the ripples disappear:
those fragments start falling into one moon.
The silver that was spread
all over the lake,
now becomes more concentrated
into one place - into one moon.
When the lake
is completely without ripples,
the moon is reflected perfectly.
God is reflected perfectly
when there is no ripple in you.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Across the Lake Unto the Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across The Lake Unto The Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Qinghai Lake
Qinghai, Qinghai Lake,
Largest salt lake in China
Blue colour water
Blue clear skies.
Birds fly near the Birds island
During spring times.
Stand high and tall at 3,600 m
Weather according to season
Sunrise at dawn
Sunset at dusk near Qinghai Lake
beautiful colourful lake
seen from hill top
Many cattle of yaks and sheep at the hills top
with the nomadic Tibetans and their tent
The lake full of beauty and colour
beyond compare
Qinghai Hu,
Many fishes and plants.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The rain and the lake
And the lake asked the rain,
Why do you overwhelm with your love over and over again?
The rain broke for a while for a thought,
and came back with more showers as the eternal play of love.
Rain said I came from distant land and oceans to meet you,
Lake said I have been waiting forever for you.
Rain said I am the true lover, I dissipate and merge in you,
Lake said Thank you rain, I am the reservoir of love,
I keep your love and share it with others who want it.
Rain said I am glorious, come with thundering dark to fluffy soothing clouds,
I provide the world with the nectar of life,
Lake said I am still and adore the beautiful mountain and blue skies,
I provide heaven to all forms of aquatic lives.
Rain said even when I am breaking away, I bring the beautiful rainbow,
I provide a bridge from land to heavens for thoughts to ponder,
Lake said I have overcome the emotions of joyful sunny days and dark gloomy nights,
I only feel happy when I am desired by somebody.
poem by Jay P Narain
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Great Blue Sky
watching the great blue sky recede into the black space it really is,
listening to the lapping of an active lake under the great blue sky,
feeling the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
smelling the lotion passing into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
tasting the freedom of summer as the lotion passes into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
the great blue sky which recedes into the black space it really is.
poem by Kale Beaudry
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Upon our Lake
Upon Our Lake
Petroleum translucent wings wave upon a sage green moss
Whilst vibrating webs in fevered mood delight a flies flight loss
Tinkering thoughts they travel over a calming cool breeze break
Smiling eyes, a touch, a breath, do beguile upon a gentle lake
Cotton thoughts on wistful clouds disturb differing hues of blue
Emerald, limes, rusted umbers enhance breezes as they move
A whimsical dash of mottled fish engrossed in lifes harsh fight
To gather all required whilst avoiding, the silent fishers sight
A hand does stroke the waters as thoughtfully as a lovers face
Whilst oars and gentle droplets dance at such a soothing pace
Non returnable ripples travel onwards with no due care
Words, sights, scents, sounds, precious memories that we share
One day we will be but whisps that relished this cherished place
As lovers new will float on by with a fresh renewed embrace
And maybe if they are just like us they will sit and ponder on
Lovers who were once like them but now are sadly gone
poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Country Wife
She makes her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
Following their voices on the breeze,
She makes her way. Through the dark trees
The distant stars are all she sees.
They cannot light the way she's gone.
She make her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
She cannot see the winds that break
The night reflected on the lake
But knows they motion for her sake.
These are the choices they have brought her:
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
poem by Dana Gioia
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Deep Forbidden Lake
On the lake, the deep forbidden lake,
The old boats go gliding by,
And the leaves are falling from the trees
And landing on the logs and i
See the turtles heading for the bog
And falling off the log.
They make the water splash,
And feeling no backlash,
They climb the happy banks.
On the boats, the old and creaky boats,
The shoreline goes gliding by,
And the wind, there was a dying breeze,
Is making the banners fly.
See the colors, floating in the sky,
The pride of the captains eye,
As he glides
His slender craft inside
And opens up the door.
On the coast, the long and tempting coast,
The cards on the table lie,
And a speech, so eloquent in reach,
Was made by a passerby,
Passing by the way between
Here and left behind.
And it ripples through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.
Yes, it echoes through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Price Of Water
The little lake, not far from the houses, has been
dry for years and is full of thistles and rubbish.
By, what was its shore, the sad rest of a rowboat
I remember it was blue, and someone had nicked
its oars; for firewood I take it. I used to row in
this lake in the evening catching trout.
When the moon made the lake into shimmering
silver my heart got quite wobbly by the beauty.
Last week I crossed the lake on my scooter, it was
not easy I lost my balance and was badly stung,
gasped for air, felt as drowning in a dry lagoon.
In the future the new commodity will be water.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Sonnet. The lake and star
The mountain lake, o'ershadowed by the hills,
May still gaze heavenward on the evening star,
Whose distant light its dark recesses fills,
Though boundless distance must divide them far;
Still may the lake the star's bright image bear,
Still may the star, from its blue ether dome,
Shower down its silver beams across the gloom,
And light the wave that wanders darkly there.
Star of my life! thus do I turn to thee
Amid the shadows that above me roll;
Thus from thy distant sphere thou shinest on me;
Thus does thine image float upon my soul,
Through the wide space that must our lives dissever
Far as the lake and star, ah me! forever.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mauthe Lake
Long scenic drive to her
a beautiful park and lake
enjoying the crisp fall air
the beautiful fall landscape
the peacefulness she brings
the huge lake so calm this time of the year
a lone canoe with two fishermen afloat
trying to make a few late season catches
the waves so gently wave
the beach deserted, a few hikers here and there
the scenery so gorgeous, mother nature at her best
as I stroll the trails, you could hear a pin drop
the slight wind blowing thru the trees
a few birds still chirping, a few heading south
a squirrel here and there
the brisk air feels good on the face
the smell of fresh rain tingles the nose
as I walk the fishing pier I notice a few fishes
enjoying the lake without hooks harms
so peaceful to walk her mighty landscape
clears the mind and makes you think
how such a wonderful place survived man
as the sunset on the lake, it brings a chilling breeze
night to all who came to enjoy her
maybe I will be back, who know
Mauthe Lake, mother nature's wonderland
a Haven for all to to have peace and mind
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Reptile
The Reptile
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land,
with, perhaps, a crocodile skeleton on.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Crocodile
The crock
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land
and a dusty crocodile.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Promise Made And Kept.
She stood looking out
Across the small lake
With the late afternoon
Sun reflected in the water
And you beside her your
Hand in hers the sound of
Rooks from the high trees
A slight breeze touching
Tall branches and she said
Softly this is our lake this
Is ours to view and sit beside
And be together and promise
Me you’ll not come here with
Another she said looking from
The water into your hazel eyes
Promise me that and cross your
Heart and hope to die and you
Saw the two vivid reflections of
Yourself there in her bright blue
Eyes and you said yes I promise
I’ll never come here with another
And cross my heart and hope to die
And you never did even after she
Died of cancer and the lake you
Think has her there standing now
Gazing ghostly across the water’s
Skin thinking maybe of you both
And those days of love and youth
And both of you sitting and kissing
Beneath the vast sky’s blue roof.
poem by Terry Collett
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Depths [Adâncuri]
How smiles the lake and charms the eye
Under the sun's bright shining rays
When the blue image of the sky
Is mirrored by its sparkling waves.
And in the mud, in waters deep,
The fight is fierce and without break
For lots of beings fret and creep
When calm prevails upon the lake.
We smile deceiving all along
As do the waves which gently roll.
We look composed, but passions strong
Hide in the depths of our poor soul!
poem by Cincinat Pavelescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Fire Lake
Words and music by bob seger
Whos gonna ride that chrome three wheeler
Whos gonna make that first mistake
Who wants to wear those gypsy leathers
All the way to fire lake
Who wants to break the news about uncle joe
You remember uncle joe
He was the one afraid to cut the cake
Who wants to tell poor aunt sarah
Joes run off to fire lake
Joes run off to fire lake
Who wants to brave those bronze beauties
Lying in the sun
With their long soft hair falling
Flying as they run
Oh they smile so shy
And they flirt so well
And they lay you down so fast
Till you look straight up and say
Oh lord
Am I really here at lost
Who wants to play those eights and aces
Who wants a raise
Who needs a stake
Who wants to take that long shot gamble
And head out to fire lake
Head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
And head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
Head out
Out to fire lake
Whos gonna do it
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crane is My Neighbour
The bird is my neighbour, a whimsical fellow and dim;
There is in the lake a nobility falling on him.
The bird is a noble, he turns to the sky for a theme,
And the ripples are thoughts coming out to the edge of a dream.
The bird is both ancient and excellent, sober and wise,
But he never could spend all the love that is sent for his eyes.
He bleats no instruction, he is not an arrogant drummer;
His gown is simplicity - blue as the smoke of the summer.
How patient he is as he puts out his wings for the blue!
His eyes are as old as the twilight, and calm as the dew.
The bird is my neighbour, he leaves not a claim for a sigh,
He moves as the guest of the sunlight - he roams in the sky.
The bird is a noble, he turns to the sky for a theme,
And the ripples are thoughts coming out to the edge of a dream.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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