0004 M i n d
and mind might ask,
why then are brain cells gray? Is it
because the world is just
so wonderful, that they, stunned
and amazed, cannot decide
which colour to praise first?
(Mix all the colours of the paints,
and the result is gray.)
or is it because they feel themselves
so dull in comparison
with the miracle which is creation,
the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?
(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,
and the result is white.)
or is it, because they know
their work lies between ultimates
such as (do they themselves
call them this?) black,
and white? do they know
their work is equity –
to balance all things, so that gray is not gray
as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but
the gray of lakes at peace;
of silver that lives in itself,
needing no sun but its own innerness;
mercury that is moved but longs
to be united in a perfect sphere;
gray of clouds that know
the blessings that they hold;
and, the shining gray of mind -
for which gray hair is living metaphor,
the wisdom which life holds in store for you -
as how many poets, this moment round the world,
are joining new electric paths of thought between
these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact,
their vast and inner space which spins out eager words
of metaphor, for that so nameless,
boundless, dazzling spectrum,
the radiant space of self?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phyllis
PHYLLIS, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,
Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,
Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,
Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!
Only the cloud hangeth over my life.
Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday
Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife:
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,
Life must be lived as our destinies rule;
Leisure or labor or work day or play day—
Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Growin' Gray
HELLO, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
Tho' it oughtn't to cause me no su'prise,
Fur there's many a sun 'at you've seen rise
An' many a one you've seen go down
Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
An' storms an' snows have had their way—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to play
Are dreams of a far past long ago
That lie in a heart where the fires burn low—
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm.
December holds the place of May—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray —
Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age can't make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love fur all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Shades Of Grey
If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Of Green And Gray
Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray
Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white
Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone
Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray
poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
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Mind me........ will you please..................... (new) ....
White lies black truths gray areas all over
never, never will i get to the pit
ever again
refuse me
and
i promise i bet i dare
all pinks and yellows
for my gray....s.................!
sunshine moonbeam
you all take care of me...will you
rainbow, oh! rainbow, Mind Me...will you..please! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Trinity Aana
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Shades Of Gray (Master Backing Track Take 98)
When the world and I were young, just yesterday
Life was such a simple game a child could play
It was easy then to tell right from wrong
Easy then to tell weak from strong
When a man should stand and fight
Or just go along
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
I remember when the answer seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt, or tasted fear
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate
The foolish from the wise
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
Only shades of gray
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between Me and My Mirror
quatrain, ABAB
Mirror, mirror, the answer please
sound it with your softest voice.
I deal, dear Face, with expertise.
Ask on, I fear you'll not rejoice.
Mirror, are there gray hairs dancing
in among my blackest blacks?
Face, I see your foes advancing.
They're waving little silver plaques
in bold print, revealing loudly:
Gray hairs never, ever quit.
Gray is in, wear it proudly.
Lie not, dye not, give up, submit.
Mirror, mirror, the answer please
What are my best alternatives?
Face it, gray is not some disease
for treatment nor preventatives.
Glaring roots and ghastly color
will leave you appalled with regret
Let gray come, life could be duller
thank God, you're not bald, not yet.
poem by Reason A. Poteet
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Shades of Gray
Until now two extremes have shaped the days
From opposite ends of the scale of grays.
One without hue and not really white,
Because it couldn’t reflect all incident light.
The other lacked hue since rays that would fall
Were absorbed with no light reflecting at all.
Henceforth, a hopeful force steers a course of moderation.
Opposite ends of the spectrum will no longer stifle a nation.
Thoughtful, careful shades of gray soon will prevail
As crises require scalpel rather than hammer and nail.
Up to now opposite ends have been easiest to support;
Sadly, they have created an extreme world about to abort.
Intelligence and wisdom will finally have a strategic say,
Addressing issues here and abroad through shades of gray.
Problems are staggering and will need cooperation
Of electorate and politicians to avoid a depressed nation.
A miracle has happened to show that all are shades of gray,
As major changes are effected in this quest for a new day!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Shades Of Gray
By barry mann and cyntha weil
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
[instumental interlude]
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share.
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
Only shades of gray.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For me, the summer will be pure gray - mother-of-pearl gray, very pale gray. To me, this is the big statement for summer. Then we have light blue, light turquoise, lots of pink.
quote by Gianni Versace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts On A Grey Day
I thank my god
For perfect love and peace
Ill hold her tight
And always as
And always
Mine forever
Love, love
So great
So divine
Trees a gray day has changed everything
Its beautiful, just beautiful
So beautiful this first gray day is ours
My loving child, my grace of god
Relive my child and love
I crawl to me knees,my dear love
Will you promise to kiss my perfect healing hands And finger
And make a promise to me that you will also may my each command
And never ever fail me, youll be mine forever more
The sun is here my love, my love
My sun, our sun complete
God bless our perfect, prefect gray day
With trees so bare, so bare
But O so beautiful , so beautiful
The gray and blue sky
The world is here, ours
Just, justing , just ours
Our own hold us tight , I am yours
Just a dream, a gone dream
Mischievous ?
Never ever cease
My love, My love
Pregnant sweet , Love is tender.
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloudy Night Sky
I sat last night on damp plowed ground.
Above the sky felt close around.
The clouds were broken by silver rays;
Each was a blue and gray curtain array.
All moved swiftly on their way.
The moon a silver sphere seemed very near,
When the clouds allowed it to appear.
The refreshing beauty of the sky was made,
In the marvelous broken patterns, hues, and shades,
of silver, blue, and gray.
Gray Knight
Gray is vibrant, nagging us terribly,
For it is dark in its enticement,
It lures you deliberately, and dreams are on.
The chivalry is gray and defies immortality,
For he is concrete in his dress and garb,
Ever so clever with battle-axe and whispers.
Uncomfortably, he speaks unholily,
For a knight this is deranged and psychotic,
Sucking the sleep of years.
Gray is the sleep adjusted to the days and nights of our lives.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Clouds
The clouds as I see them, rising
urgently, roseate in the
mounting of somber power
surging in evening haste over
roofs and hermetic
grim walls—
Last night
As if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling, as if the last traces
of warmth were still fading in you.
My thigh burned in cold fear where
yours touched it.
But I forced to mind my vision of a sky
close and enclosed, unlike the space in which these clouds move—
a sky of gray mist it appeared—
and how looking intently at it we saw
its gray was not gray but a milky white
in which radiant traces of opal greens,
fiery blues, gleamed, faded, gleamed again,
and how only then, seeing the color in the gray,
a field sprang into sight, extending
between where we stood and the horizon,
a field of freshest deep spiring grass
starred with dandelions,
green and gold
gold and green alternating in closewoven
chords, madrigal field.
Is death’s chill that visited our bed
other than what it seemed, is it
a gray to be watched keenly?
Wiping my glasses and leaning westward,
clearing my mind of the day’s mist and leaning
into myself to see
the colors of truth
I watch the clouds as I see them
in pomp advancing, pursuing
the fallen sun.
poem by Denise Levertov
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So I Have Become The Middle Man
So I have become the middle man
In this world
And I have so much gray hair on my head
That I don't like at all
I love blond hair
And I find it to be so attractive in men
But the truth is that I have that ugly gray hair
That God gave me
For a reason
poem by Aldo Kraas
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~ A Prisoner Of Your Love ~ [Double Acrostic]
A prisoner of your love. I stand behind four walls of gray.
- Alone; your memory my only company, each solitary day.
Locked down; twenty four hours around the clock, without you near.
- Living dreams of the past it seems, are all that I hold dear.
Constantly and always there, memories of you flow through the air.
- Constantly reminding me of our love. That we no longer share.
A prisoner of your love. Can I do the time? That's my only fear.
- And now the echo's of my lonely heart are the only sounds I hear.
Trapped; in this cinder block room. Shadows of gloom are here to stay.
- Trapped here without your love, as my blood turns prison gray.
Release may never come to me. This cell's become my home you see.
- Reliving how things used to be, in this gray walled penitentiary.
Alcatraz; is where I dwell. Where these gray walls are my living hell.
- Although one day escape I may. Right now's too soon to tell.
Zenith's, I know our love had reached. I'll love you still as time goes on.
- Zealously i'll wait for thee on ''The Rock''; till my last breath is gone..
*********************************** *************************************************
Author notes:
Written in double Acrostic -
This poem was inspired by a picture of Alcatraz Prison
''The Rock'' as they called it then. Built in 1866, closed
one hundred years later - and a poem written by one the
prisoners:
Untitled -
I awaken to gray
And gray is my morning sun
I live gray
And all days are like one
There are no colors
Only shadows along the way
Sometimes I think, the blood in my body
Must also be prison gray
neath A Cold Gray Tomb Of Stone
Passing by a lonesome graveyard
Everything I love is gone
Weeping as they lay my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
In this world i'm left to wander
With no one to call my own
While my precious darling's sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Out there in that lonesome graveyard
She is sleeping all alone
And I burried my heart with her
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Skies above are dark and stormy
All the sunshine,all is gone
For the while my love is sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
My heart is dead and yet i'm living
Traveling through this world alone
I wish that I was with my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Magic
Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;
They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;
And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream
Like tortured souls in an evil dream.
There is white on the wings of the sea and sky,
And white are the gulls' wings wheeling by,
And white, like snow, is the pall that lies
Where love weeps over his memories.
For the dead is dead, and its shroud is wrought
Of good unfound and of wrong unsought;
Yet from God's good magic there ever springs
The resurrection of holy things.
See--the gold and blue of our yesterday
In the eyes and the hair of a child at play;
And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled
Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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There was a perception that life here was-I won't say gray, that's hard for me-but beige.
quote by Hanna Holborn Gray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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