From Demon
Sailless and without a rudder,
On the ocean of the air--
Float the choirs of stars harmonious,
'Mid the mists eternal there;
Fleecy flocks of clouds elusive
Drift across immensity,
Leaving ne'er a track behind them,
Following their destiny.
Hour of parting, hour of meeting
They know not,--nor grief, nor rest--
Theirs no longing for the future,
Theirs no sorrow for the past.
By thy day of anguish broken,
Think of them and calm thy woe--
Be indifferent as they are
To the pangs of earth below!
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
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Related quotes
At Midnight Hour
AT midnight hour I went, not willingly,
A little, little boy, yon churchyard past,
To Father Vicar's house; the stars on high
On all around their beauteous radiance cast,
At midnight hour.
And when, in journeying o'er the path of life,
My love I follow'd, as she onward moved,
With stars and northern lights o'er head in strife,
Going and coming, perfect bliss I proved
At midnight hour.
Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught,
Burst thro' the gloom wherein she was enshrined;
And then the willing, active, rapid thought
Around the past, as round the future twined,
At midnight hour.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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No Message
She heard the story of the end,
Each message, too, she heard;
And there was one for every friend;
For her alone, no word.
And shall she bear a heavier heart,
And deem his love was fled;
Because his soul from earth could part
Leaving her name unsaid?
No, No! Though neither sign nor sound
A parting thought expressed,
Not heedless passed the Homeward-Bound
Of her he loved the best.
Of voyage-perils, bravely borne,
He would not tell the tale;
Of shattered planks and canvas torn,
And war with wind and gale.
He waited, till the light-house star
Should rise against the sky;
And from the mainland, looming far,
The forest scents blow by.
He hoped to tell, assurance sweet!
That pain and grief were o'er,
What blessings haste the soul to meet,
Ere yet within the door.
Then one farewell he thought to speak
When all the rest were past,
As in the parting-hour we seek
The dearest hand the last.
And while for this delaying but
To see Heaven's opening Gate,
Lo, it received him and was shut,
Ere he could say “I wait.”
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
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A Floating Boat Needs a Rudder
You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.
And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.
You're afraid to row,
A boat that stays on shore!
And advice you're given...
Your are quick to ignore.
Any boat that you'll use will need a rudder.
That boat you use will need a rudder.
Any boat you will use will need a rudder,
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.
That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder...
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.
You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.
And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.
And you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.
No you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.
No matter what druthers suffered...
One day you'll agree.
A floating boat needs a rudder...
To get to your destiny!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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David’s Child
IN face of a great sorrow like to death
How do we wrestle night and day with tears;
How do we fast and pray; how small appears
The outside world, while, hanging on some breath
Of fragile hope, the chamber where we lie
Includes all space.--But if sudden at last
The blow falls; or by incredulity
Fond led, we--never having one thought cast
Towards years where 'the child' was not--see it die,
And with it all our future, all our past,--
We just look round us with a dull surprise:
For lesser pangs we had filled earth with cries
Of wild and angry grief that would be heard:--
But when the heart is broken--not a word.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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By The Fates
By the fates that have fastened our life,
By the distance that holds us apart,
By our passion, its sweetness, its strife,
By the longing and ache of the heart;
By our meeting, our parting, our pain
When meeting and parting are o'er,-
Take me hence to where once I have lain,
Ere I die of despair and disdain,
I implore!
'Tis in vain that you bid me be calm.
Can we bridle our pulses at will?
Is fasting for hunger a balm?
Can emptiness emptiness fill?
Shall I wait till I shrivel with fire,
Till I perish of parching and thirst?
Shall I make of my passion a pyre,
And, martyred by drouth and desire,
Die accursed?
I appeal to the hills which beheld
The dawning, the day of our love;
To the moon, when our bosoms first swelled
With its birth, that watched fondly above;
To the city surpassingly fair,
To the revel, the rapture divine,
That flooded the earth and the air
When our mutinous secret lay bare,-
Am I thine?
Will you leave me to faint and to fall,
Plunge me back in the slough of despond?
Shall I be to earth's darkness a thrall,
When I see a whole heaven beyond?
Shall you, who might waken my shell,
Consign it to silence and shame,
And, just as the notes 'gin to swell,
With your hands smite the chords, and dispel
All its fame?
Be this, at your bidding, our doom,
Together, then, break we our chains!
There is hope, there is rest, in the tomb,
When in life nought but anguish remains.
If love be but one torment more,
Oh, come then the gulf or the glaive!
Let us live our delirium once o'er,
Just once, then the comfort explore
Of the grave!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Rest My Soul
Behind the shadows angels sigh
Warm summer night by a stream
The shepherd sleeps under the stars
Illuminated with prayers of beauty
Venus shines like a great star
Red Mars is close to the earth
Realize that real love is never far
The Spirit has brought a new birth
Hear the sweet soothing waters
Rest in the bosom of eternal light
Joy is in the marvelous future
Hear the whisper of stars of night
Sorrow is apart of fleeting time
Meditations fill with stirring pools
Hope is a well of faith deep inside
The earth is his lowly footstool
Past every trial and every test
The Lion of Judah gives my soul rest
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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It Could Be That
there is a built-in conflict
in this triangle
it is there and will never be
demolished
it could be among you,
God and
the others
it could be you,
your id, your ego and
the super ego,
it could be the child in you,
the parent later,
or the responsible thinker
it could be man, heaven and
earth
each angle well constructed
each side strong as the other
it could be the white and the black horse
and the chariot
and you with your whip
and your hand
it could be that you are tired
you disembark
you take a walk and wish that
you had never been born
in this ocean
your choices are waves of the sea
you are the ship without a sail
without a rudder
it could be your own making
or it could be because there are stars
there are lines of your palms
the maps of your
being
the destiny of your future
it could be because of your genes
the choice is still yours
are you made? or are you the maker?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Song for New Year's Eve
Stay yet, my friends, a moment stay—
Stay till the good old year,
So long companion of our way,
Shakes hands, and leaves us here.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One little hour, and then away.
The year, whose hopes were high and strong,
Has now no hopes to wake;
Yet one hour more of jest and song
For his familiar sake.
Oh stay, oh stay,
One mirthful hour, and then away.
The kindly year, his liberal hands
Have lavished all his store.
And shall we turn from where he stands,
Because he gives no more?
Oh stay, oh stay,
One grateful hour, and then away.
Days brightly came and calmly went,
While yet he was our guest;
How cheerfully the week was spent!
How sweet the seventh day's rest!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One golden hour, and then away.
Dear friends were with us, some who sleep
Beneath the coffin-lid:
What pleasant memories we keep
Of all they said and did!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One tender hour, and then away.
Even while we sing, he smiles his last,
And leaves our sphere behind.
The good old year is with the past;
Oh be the new as kind!
Oh stay, oh stay,
One parting strain, and then away.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Gipsy
The longing flames in their nightly glance
Toward that homeland they never find.
So they drift in an unfortunate fate,
That only melancholy may fathom completely.
The clouds lead their ways,
A migration of birds may sometimes escort them,
Until it loses their track in the evening,
And the wind sometimes carries an Ave of bells
In their camp's star-loneliness,
So that their songs swell more longing
And sob from inherited curse and suffering,
That no stars of hope softly illuminate.
poem by Georg Trakl
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M4...
it is not at all about sadness
leaving is not sorrow
parting may be but it is on the other
hand
sweeter if only we understand some more
about the beauty and
freshness of
other places of the
heart
swell
there is this reddish part of meeting new
faces and
shaking new hands
exchanging
(glances) places and trekking
new terrains
thinking about clouds and
cliffs
the excitement of falling into the
eternal abyss
of that infinite emptiness
where is the floor?
in this bottomless ponder
where is the end?
if you only know we are in the middle
of this
up there there is nothing to hold
down there there is nothing to hug
here, there is only my hand
it is not a place but it will take you there
have you tasted the purity of
honey?
it is sweet but there is no sugar in it
it sticks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vapour Trails
Titillations been replaced by Interstate brickface and Coffee-Mate
And by a list of phone calls you'd like to make
Where you could sit on the edge of your bed
And you could stare into your own shoes
And in the pools of light there
Go wherever you choose
Just rig up a complication and if it derails
You can throw away the rudder and float away like vapour trails
There's nothing funnier than pride in an utterly confident stride
So I pulled the car on over to give you a ride
Damn this sleepy weather he said
As he marched in sopping wet shoes
Through rainpools evaporating
Says in this sign I'll conquer you
I pulled the car on over to give you a ride
But there's nothing uglier than a man hitting his stride
(now the morning's over light wind blows)
Past Mexicans all dressed in beige shirts
Leaving over their hoes
Now the morning's over
It's time to let them sprinklers hose
Past hills of chambermaid's dark bare arms
And fields of muscles quilted to the bone
Right now I'm flying over
Yea right now I'm flying home
Where I can sit on the end of my bed
And I can stare into my own shoes
And in the pools of light years
Go wherever I choose
And throw away the rudder float away on vapour trails
I rigged up a complication totally derailed
So I throw away the rudder float away like vapour trails
I pulled the car on over
(it's time to let them sprinklers hose)
Throw away the rudder
Float away on a vapour trail
song performed by by The Tragically Hip from Phantom Power
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman’s Sonnets: II
Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.
The future holds but a blank face for me,
The past is all confused with tears and grey,
But the sweet present, while thy smiles I see,
Is perfect sunlight, an unclouded day.
Speak not of parting, not at least this hour,
Though well I know Love cannot Time outlast.
Let me grow wiser first and gain more power,
More strength of will to deal with my dead past.
Love me in silence still, one short hour's space:
'Tis all I ask of thee, this little grace.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Ash Wednesday
"Yes--deep within and deeper yet
The rankling shaft of conscience hide,
Quick let the swelling eye forget
The tears that in the heart abide.
Calm be the voice, the aspect bold,
No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow,
For why should Innocence be told
The pangs that guilty spirits bow?
"The loving eye that watches thine
Close as the air that wraps thee round -
Why in thy sorrow should it pine,
Since never of thy sin it found?
And wherefore should the heathen see
What chains of darkness thee enslave,
And mocking say, 'Lo, this is he
Who owned a God that could not save'?"
Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart
Tempts him to hide his grief and die,
Too feeble for Confession's smart,
Too proud to bear a pitying eye;
How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall
On bosoms waiting to receive
Our sighs, and gently whisper all!
They love us--will not God forgive?
Else let us keep our fast within,
Till Heaven and we are quite alone,
Then let the grief, the shame, the sin,
Before the mercy-seat be thrown.
Between the porch and altar weep,
Unworthy of the holiest place,
Yet hoping near the shrine to keep
One lowly cell in sight of grace.
Nor fear lest sympathy should fail -
Hast thou not seen, in night hours drear,
When racking thoughts the heart assail,
The glimmering stars by turns appear,
And from the eternal house above
With silent news of mercy steal?
So Angels pause on tasks of love,
To look where sorrowing sinners kneel.
Or if no Angel pass that way,
He who in secret sees, perchance
May bid His own heart-warming ray
Toward thee stream with kindlier glance,
As when upon His drooping head
His Father's light was poured from Heaven,
What time, unsheltered and unfed,
Far in the wild His steps were driven.
High thoughts were with Him in that hour,
Untold, unspeakable on earth -
And who can stay the soaring power
Of spirits weaned from worldly mirth,
While far beyond the sound of praise
With upward eye they float serene,
And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze
When Judgment shall undraw the screen?
poem by John Keble
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This Is Our Last Parting Handshake 2011
this our last parting handshake,2011
&
this is our last parting handshake-
there is absolutely no chance of meeting you,
31.12.2011 and 2011
when you fade into the dim tunnels of ' time '
you had spoken to me through the skies
the wind, the sun, the water, the stars
and the earth which bears all my atrocities-
you had been kind to me, harsh at times,
you had wept with me and heartily laughed also-
you had punished me for my wrong-doing;
at times for nothing on my part-
i had my successes and great downfalls;
overall it had been a lasting friendship!
is it your death now
or the rest into the dusty chambers of history?
wear this pearl of my tear-dropp around your heart
as you slowly fall into your deep rest-
i leave you in intolerable pain
as i have no chance of meeting you ever in life!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Silence and Stealth of Days
Silence, and stealth of days! 'tis now
Since thou art gone,
Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow
But clouds hang on.
As he that in some cave's thick damp
Lockt from the light,
Fixeth a solitary lamp,
To brave the night,
And walking from his sun, when past
That glim'ring ray
Cuts through the heavy mists in haste
Back to his day,
So o'r fled minutes I retreat
Unto that hour
Which show'd thee last, but did defeat
Thy light, and power,
I search, and rack my soul to see
Those beams again,
But nothing but the snuff to me
Appeareth plain;
That dark and dead sleeps in its known
And common urn,
But those fled to their Maker's throne
There shine and burn;
O could I track them! but souls must
Track one the other,
And now the spirit, not the dust,
Must be thy brother.
Yet I have one Pearl by whose light
All things I see,
And in the heart of earth and night
Find heaven and thee.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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The Sun-Dial at Wells College
The shadow by my finger cast
Divides the future from the past:
Before it, sleeps the unborn hour
In darkness, and beyond thy power:
Behind its unreturning line,
The vanished hour, no longer thine:
One hour alone is in thy hands,--
The NOW on which the shadow stands.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 16)
‘I‘ve told you so that you don’t go astray;
They’ll expel you from all the synagogues;
The hour has come when people kill you too;
And think they worship God by offerings’
‘They neither know me well nor my Father,
And so, they’ll try to do these crimes and sins;
When comes the hour, remember what I’ve said;
I didn’t tell earlier for I was with you.’
‘And now, I go to my Father’s abode,
And no one seems to ask, to where I go,
Because I told you, grief has filled your hearts;
The truth is that ’Tis better that I leave;
For, if I don’t, the Advocate won’t come;
But when I go, I’ll send him to you fast.’
‘And when he comes, he’ll convict world in sin
And condemn evils done upon the earth:
Sin, because they don’t believe in me;
Righteousness, as you can’t perceive me well;
Condemnation, for the earth’s ruler;
I have much more to tell, but you can’t bear.’
‘Spirit of Truth will guide you just to truth;
He’ll speak whatev’r He hears and not on own;
He will declare the things that are to come;
He’ll glorify me and declare to you;
All things my Father has are also mine;
He’ll take what’s mine and declare unto you;
A little while and you will not see me;
A little while and you’ll see me again! ’
‘What He meant by a little while? ’ they asked
We do not know what He means really;
When Jesus saw they were discussing this;
‘Amen, amen, I say to you, said He;
You’ll weep and mourn while world still rejoices;
Your grief will joy become with fleeting time! ’
‘Woman in labor lies in anguish great;
The hour has come to deliver a child;
She forgets all the pain, she underwent,
Because the joy of bringing forth a child,
Surpasses pain of any delivery! ’
‘Likewise, you are afilled with anguish now;
But when I see you once again later;
Your hearts will surely rejoice endlessly,
And none can take away that joy from you.
That day, you’ll question me not anything.’
‘Amen, amen, amen, I say to you,
Whatev’r you ask of my Father in heav’n,
He’ll give you when you ask it in my name;
Till now, you have not asked for anything;
You will receive until complete is joy! ’
‘I have told you in figured speech before;
The hour has come when no longer I talk;
But I will clearly reveal my Father.’
‘That day, although you’ll ask in my name but,
I tell you I shall ask my Father not;
My Father Himself loves you much because
You’ve loved me and believed that I’m from God.
From Father, I had come into this world;
I’m leaving to my Father to return.’
‘His disciples told, ‘Now your talk is clear,
And spoken well without figures of speech;
We realize that you know everything,
And need not have to question anyone,
Because, we all believe you are from God.’
Then Jesus answered, ‘You do now believe! ’
‘Behold the hour has come to be scattered
To homes and you will leave me all alone;
But I am not alone, my Father’s with me.
I’ve told because you might have peace in me;
This world will give you troubles aplenty;
But be courageous, I’ve conquered the world!
poem by John Celes
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No Message
She heard the story of the end,
Each message, too, she heard;
And there was one for every friend;
For her alone -- no word.
And shall she bear a heavier heart,
And deem his love was fled;
Because his soul from earth could part
Leaving her name unsaid?
No -- No! -- Though neither sign nor sound
A parting thought expressed --
Not heedless passed the Homeward-Bound
Of her he loved the best.
Of voyage-perils, bravely borne,
He would not tell the tale;
Of shattered planks and canvas torn,
And war with wind and gale.
He waited till the light-house star
Should rise against the sky;
And from the mainland, looming far,
The forest scents blow by.
He hoped to tell -- assurance sweet! --
That pain and grief were o'er --
What blessings haste the soul to meet,
Ere yet within the door.
Then one farewell he thought to speak
When all the rest were past --
As in the parting-hour we seek
The dearest hand the last.
And while for this delaying but
To see Heaven's opening Gate --
Lo, it received him -- and was shut --
Ere he could say "I wait."
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
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Genius
Woe unto him! the child of this sad earth,
Who, in a troubled world, unjust and blind,
Bears Genius--treasure of celestial birth,
Within his solitary soul enshrined.
Woe unto him! for Envy's pangs impure,
Like the undying vultures', will be driven
Into his noble heart, that must endure
Pangs for each triumph; and, still unforgiven,
Suffer Prometheus' doom, who ravished fire from Heaven.
Still though his destiny on earth may be
Grief and injustice; who would not endure
With joyful calm, each proffered agony;
Could he the prize of Genius thus ensure?
What mortal feeling kindled in his soul
That clear celestial flame, so pure and high,
O'er which nor time nor death can have control,
Would in inglorious pleasures basely fly
From sufferings whose reward is Immortality?
No! though the clamors of the envious crowd
Pursue the son of Genius, he will rise
From the dull clod, borne by an effort proud
Beyond the reach of vulgar enmities.
'Tis thus the eagle, with his pinions spread,
Reposing o'er the tempest, from that height
Sees the clouds reel and roll above our head,
While he, rejoicing in his tranquil flight,
More upward soars sublime in heaven's eternal light.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Earth Hour - It's just a click
earth hour
in the darkness
brightness
earth hour
i bask in the energy of love
wrapping round earth
earth hour, just
a click to reduce
mother earth's woes
earth hour
just a click to unite
the world
earth hour
needed - the same spirit
to fight the recession
from MSN:
Do you want to show you care about energy conservation? Simply switch off your lights on March 28 from 8: 30 to 9: 30 p.m., local time.
This is Earth Hour, and Saturday is the third annual worldwide event. Earth Hour is both a symbolic act and the start of a practical habit.
Millions of homes and businesses and hundreds of major landmarks will go dark for one hour to show that energy conservation is important and to send this message to political leaders attending the United Nations Climate Change Conference in December 2009.
At the same time, Earth Hour reminds each of us how easy it is to conserve - just turn off non-essential lights and electronics to reduce our own power consumption.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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