Idol
I am afraid of the idol in showcase three
and want to walk quickly away, but can't;
the little fellow compels our stare-
my hair stands up, I'm rooted in place.
You have seen nothing so broad
as its smooth, pale, semi-recurvant face
stretching itself dreamily east-to-west,
eyeless, like the moon in space.
Crooked at the elbows and knees
threatening an attack from the back
as if taught by a boomerang:
shiny-pale, as if fashioned in the days
when whales slid between the Cyclades
grazing the Mittelmeer floor with
cetacean aplomb-gobbling little fishes,
breaching, showing their tempting backs
to the hunters, our ancestors, the troglodytes
who plied the waves in those
whateveryoucall'em-little canoes,
and, captured, yielded their teeth; or
maybe some sculptor blocked you in marble,
if marble you be, hazy in moonlight, and said,
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Like An Old Fashioned Waltz
(sandy denny)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Primrose is pale
On the velvet green hue
Warm summer days
Like cool water falls
Like music we hear
Those things well always hold dear
Like an old fashioned waltz
When the moonlight shines down
On the hollywood world
And the heroine waits
For her love to return
And the violins play
>from behind garden walls
Oh how I love to remain
With the silver refrain
Of an old fashioned waltz
And they dance round the floor
And theres no one else there
In the world is no worry
And is never a care
By the perfect moon
As the nightingale calls
With only the moon
And the nostalgic tune
Of an old fashioned waltz
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nocturne
The earth, still heavy and warm with afternoon,
Dazed by the moon:
The earth, tormented with the moon’s light,
Wandering in the night:
La, La, The moon is a lovely thing to see—
The moon is an agony.
Full moon, moon rise, the old old pain
Of brightness in dilated eyes,
The ache of still
Elbows leaning on the narrow sill,
Of motionless cold hands upon the wet
Marble of the parapet,
Of open eyelids of a child behind
The crooked glimmer of the windown blind,
Of sliding faint remindful squares
Across the lamplight on the rocking-chairs:
Why do we stand so late
Stiff fingers on the moonlit gate?
Why do we stand
To watch so long the fall of moonlight on the sand?
What is it we cannot recall?
Tormented by the moon’s light
The earth turns maundering through the night.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh When Will Autumn Moon and Spring Flowers End
Spring flower autumn moon what time finish?
Past events know so many
Small tower last night again east wind
Old country cot bear recollect moon bright at
Carve balustrade marble steps must still remain
Simply red face change
For gentleman can be how much sorrow?
Just like a river spring water to east flow
Oh when will autumn moon and spring flowers end?
How many past events I've known.
The east wind buffeted my room again last night,
I cannot bear to remember the bright moon of the old country.
The marble steps and carved balustrades must still be there,
The people's rosy cheeks are all that's changed.
How much sorrow can one man have to bear?
As much as a river of spring water flowing east.
Unintelligent Design
An hour a day,
sometimes more,
I chipped away
with mallet and chisel
on a block of marble
I found in Carrara
and shipped to New York
on the deck of a trawler.
I offered the marble
to a famous sculptor
who told me he works
in granite only
so I grabbed his beret
and one of his smocks
and said I'd sculpt
the block myself
with whittling skills
picked up as a kid
from a drunken uncle
named Whittling Sid.
Several weeks later,
to my surprise,
I finished the bust
of a chimpanzee
simply by wielding
mallet and chisel
the way I wield
pencil and eraser
when hewing a poem.
Working with marble
or working with words,
a sculptor or poet
proves less is more
by chipping away
until something emerges
upright and walking
with a soul of its own.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonlight And Roses
Moonlight and roses
bring back wonderful memories
of how our love used to be
before life’s temptations
began to tear us apart.
The walks in the park
under the moonlight
as the roses scented the air.
Now the moonlight and roses
bring back those memories
though you are no longer here.
Each love leaves memories,
moonlight and roses
I associate with all my memories of you.
So as the sun sets in the west
and the moon rises in the east,
the air is pollinated
with the scent of the rose’s perfume
as I walk the paths
I used to walk with you.
7 - 8 August 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waves Of Fear
Waves of fear, attack in the night
Waves if revulsion, sickening sights
My hearts nearly bursting, my chests choking tight
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, squat on the floor
Looking for some pill, the liquor is gone
Blood trips from my nose, I can barely breathe
Waves of fear, Im too scared to leave
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Im too afraid to use the phone
Im too afraid to put the light on
Im so afraid Ive lost control
Im suffocating without a word
Crazy with sweat, spittle on my jaw
Whats that funny noise, whats that on the floor
Waves of fear, pulsing with death
I curse my tremors, I jump at my own step
I cringe at my terror, I hate my own smell
I know where I must be, I must be in hell
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, waves of fear
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seashore Picnic
The picnic blanket spread down upon the ground
On a grassy verge high above the sand
All our toes wiggle so free, with sunshiny tea and cakes
Radio playing with the sound of an old jazz band
We don’t have socks and feel so free,
Sitting in the shade of a Norfolk pine tree
On a sun shiny day for sun shiny play.
The moon tide’s motion curls the waves so to greet the rocks,
A thousand droplets dance toward the sky
Ascending down as natures melodical cymbals break,
White frizzles, bubbles in the blue
Tiny sunshiny dots floating calmly on the sea
Simply turning on and off,
Just to make the twinkles twinkle
Just for you and me
On a sun shiny day for sun shiny play
Everyone stands shouts and points out to sea,
“We see! We see! The Whales, the Whales, ”
'We see! We see! Their whopping tails,
We all jump up for glee.
A mighty splash as the leader jumps and dives back in,
Swimming onward north for a warmer swim,
So gentle these giants of the sea,
Who always stick to harmless rules,
We wave goodbye with a sigh but
Happy to say
What a way to sun shiny play on
A happy sunshiny day.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Marbles I
(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[Marbles I-IV]
Did anyone see my last marble
As it rolled out and over the floor?
It fell through a hole in the corner
Of a room in a town on a tour
It's lonely without your last marble
I miss it not rattling around
As I lie in my bed there's a space in my head
Where there used to be colours and sound..
When I was a child I had marbles
They brought admiration and fame
They were pretty to look at and marbles
Was always my favourite game
We played all the summer days
In the stony alleyways
In the playground after class
We would trade the coloured glass
More valuable than diamonds
More magical than diamonds
Did anyone see..
Did anyone see..
Does anyone see?
There were almost four hundred until the black day
I discovered how high they would fly to the sky
If you used them for tennis instead of a ball..
Zinging glass satellites crueller than fate
Whacked with a racket up into the blue
I'd smashed all the greenhouses on the estate
And a crowd formed a queue at the gate..
That was almost the end of my marbles
Confiscated, I choked back the tears
I hung onto a handful of favourites
That disappeared over the years
Did anyone see my last marble
I swear that I had it before
Sometimes I think I should go see a shrink
In case he can find me some more
Did anyone see my last marble?
I'd saved it to give it away
Since I was a youth
Now I don't have no proof
Only words
Only words
Only words.
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marbles IV
(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[Marbles I-IV]
Did anyone see my last marble
As it rolled out and over the floor?
It fell through a hole in the corner
Of a room in a town on a tour
It's lonely without your last marble
I miss it not rattling around
As I lie in my bed there's a space in my head
Where there used to be colours and sound..
When I was a child I had marbles
They brought admiration and fame
They were pretty to look at and marbles
Was always my favourite game
We played all the summer days
In the stony alleyways
In the playground after class
We would trade the coloured glass
More valuable than diamonds
More magical than diamonds
Did anyone see..
Did anyone see..
Does anyone see?
There were almost four hundred until the black day
I discovered how high they would fly to the sky
If you used them for tennis instead of a ball..
Zinging glass satellites crueller than fate
Whacked with a racket up into the blue
I'd smashed all the greenhouses on the estate
And a crowd formed a queue at the gate..
That was almost the end of my marbles
Confiscated, I choked back the tears
I hung onto a handful of favourites
That disappeared over the years
Did anyone see my last marble
I swear that I had it before
Sometimes I think I should go see a shrink
In case he can find me some more
Did anyone see my last marble?
I'd saved it to give it away
Since I was a youth
Now I don't have no proof
Only words
Only words
Only words.
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 67. When on my bed the moonlight fall
When on my bed the moonlight falls,
I know that in thy place of rest
By that broad water of the west,
There comes a glory on the walls:
Thy marble bright in dark appears,
As slowly steals a silver flame
Along the letters of thy name,
And o'er the number of thy years.
The mystic glory swims away;
From off my bed the moonlight dies;
And closing eaves of wearied eyes
I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray:
And then I know the mist is drawn
A lucid veil from coast to coast,
And in the dark church like a ghost
Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Figure 8
See that face from across the room
and i can feel you're nothing
show your fear its not hard to see
intentions pale its blinding
stop from the place ive been
no good for the shape im in
im slow to the race you win
you wanna take me out
stop with your face off in
my space and the wicked descend
no taste for the place im in
you need to stop
i am all you need to know
and im everywhere you go
no one can save you now
when it all comes around
i am everything you see
and im what you'll never be
no one can save you now
when it all comes around
show your face and stare at me
and i can feel you glaring
showing up and preparing me
you're the one i'll bury
stop from the place ive been
no good for the shape im in
im slow to the race you win
you wanna take me out
stop with your face off in my space and the wicked descend
no taste for the place im in
you need to stop
take you down
song performed by by Trust Company from The Lonely Position of Neutral
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That One Time, When I Saw Her Eyes
I caught a glimpse once,
A long silent stare
Amidst the sickly sunshine blare
Of the green marble starlight show.
The stone lifted and all was gone
Amidst that sultry stare,
Body and soul submerged
Into the midnight pupil
Centered in that
Green marble starlight
Caught within said awkward stare.
Yes, that shell, that silly schoolyard show
So succumb to the
Might of that mystic
Green marble starlight
Glow
And all was right, yes all was right,
If only for a second
Until her shell stood up to go.
(2011)
Samvel Aleksanyan © All Rights Reserved
Water edge suicide
Here I am above the sea'
Sat on the rocks thinking and dying.
Just what is there left for me?
A life of fear and pain in the unknown.
I walk down to the sand
As iI take of my shoes shaking are my hands.
One bare foot placed in front of the other
These are my last steps to freedom.
I walk in to the sea.
Futher and futher I walk.
Waves getting water getting colder.
I walk on without fear,
I am not afraid.
It’s no more threatening
Than the life I shall leave behind me..
Now as I throw My head back.
And sway with the roaring waves
Awaiting my death.
And the final attack.
Amongst this freezing cold water.
Now savaging my body
I take one last look
I have no last regrets.
My eyes have now closed.
At last I am free
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Even-Song
The long cloud edged with streaming grey
Soars from the West;
The red leaf mounts with it away,
Showing the nest
A blot among the branches bare:
There is a cry of outcasts in the air.
Swift little breezes, darting chill,
Pant down the lake;
A crow flies from the yellow hill,
And in its wake
A baffled line of labouring rooks:
Steel-surfaced to the light the river looks.
Pale on the panes of the old hall
Gleams the lone space
Between the sunset and the squall;
And on its face
Mournfully glimmers to the last:
Great oaks grow mighty minstrels in the blast.
Pale the rain-rutted roadways shine
In the green light
Behind the cedar and the pine:
Come, thundering night!
Blacken broad earth with hoards of storm:
For me yon valley-cottage beckons warm.
poem by George Meredith
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Magical Lore of the Sea
When the Moon arouse in the east,
And crimson skies streaked in west,
Sea glimmered in the evening starlight
And the sun sank in the deep blue twilight.
Evening Star shone from afar
And slowly the veil of light unfurled
Diamonds grew as clusters of star
And the wind hummed and chuckled.
The waves strewn and sea hewn
By a magical glow of the Moon,
The sea boomed and life it sewn,
With the cold reflections in gloom
And magical creatures danced and roamed
And plants bloomed upon moonlit mould
Deer ran helter-skelter as the lions roared
And a magical lore of the sea unfold.
Night after night as the time passed
A new life the Sea canvassed
Of warriors of old she portrayed one night
Who fought the foe and hailed a knight.
And once she revealed in her immense womb
Magical fishes and dolphins in the gloom
Sharks and whales plunging up and down
As the waves rolled with a grin and frown
A magical lore of the Sea unfold
As the Moonlight shines onto her
A magical lore of the Sea untold
Fades away as the Moon sinks into her.
poem by Ravenend Frost
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Your dressing table in the hall
In the house in fifth avenue
I put a small pink white marble table
below a mirror in the corridor
with a bowl with flowers standing on it
that acted as your dressing table
and as a place of display
where I saw your face smiling back at me
while you were doing your hair
teasing with curling tongs
or reflections of the rows of paintings
with the wood floor fading into the distance
and now that mirror and table
is probably still there,
but you are living alone
in that big house
and will never again
smile back into my face.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Insecurity
We walk a tightrope most of our life
very much afraid of the fall.
We step carefully one foot after the other
and are not sure-footed at all.
We're afraid to look down
And we fear the height
One false move and our security
fades quickly from our sight.
Insecurity builds up in our mind
and starts its dangerous attack.
We become afraid of what we must face
and know we can't turn back.
Some can overcome this situation
And leave the tightrope behind.
But most will walk that tightrope
And what is it they will find?
Insecurity.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Such luxury is not for me. for friend Thad
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
I do not know but feel I should.
Such luxury is not for me
I am contented with my lot.
I make no effort to impress
I have sufficient for my needs.
It matters not that I have less
than those who feel they must succeed
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
I see no reason to display
I much prefer my privacy.
I live my life in my own way
Accepting life’s reality
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
Though I indulge in fantasy
from time to time like everyone
I know it’s not reality
only a dream that’s quickly gone.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
I earn my living honestly
although I’m just an artisan
Better to live quietly
as befits a simple man.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
Something I’ve never understood.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
Tuesday,10 November 2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blue Scarf
Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded
In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes,
it lies there,
Warm from a woman's soft shoulders, and my fingers close on it, caressing.
Where is she, the woman who wore it? The scent of her lingers and drugs me!
A languor, fire-shotted, runs through me, and I crush the scarf down
on my face,
And gulp in the warmth and the blueness, and my eyes swim
in cool-tinted heavens.
Around me are columns of marble, and a diapered, sun-flickered pavement.
Rose-leaves blow and patter against it. Below the stone steps a lute tinkles.
A jar of green jade throws its shadow half over the floor. A big-bellied
Frog hops through the sunlight and plops in the gold-bubbled water of a basin,
Sunk in the black and white marble. The west wind has lifted a scarf
On the seat close beside me, the blue of it is a violent outrage of colour.
She draws it more closely about her, and it ripples beneath
her slight stirring.
Her kisses are sharp buds of fire; and I burn back against her, a jewel
Hard and white; a stalked, flaming flower; till I break to
a handful of cinders,
And open my eyes to the scarf, shining blue in the afternoon sunshine.
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
poem by Amy Lowell
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My Lady in Her White Silk Shawl
My lady in her white silk shawl
Is like a lily dim,
Within the twilight of the room
Enthroned and kind and prim.
My lady! Pale gold is her hair.
Until she smiles her face
Is pale with far Hellenic moods,
With thoughts that find no place
In our harsh village of the West
Wherein she lives of late,
She's distant as far-hidden stars,
And cold — (almost!) — as fate.
But when she smiles she's here again
Rosy with comrade-cheer,
Puritan Bacchante made
To laugh around the year.
The merry gentle moon herself,
Heart-stirring too, like her,
Wakening wild and innocent love
In every worshipper.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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