Late August
Everything expires.
Even the cicadas seem
to run out of steam
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes
The Song of the Cicadas
Yesterday there came to me
from a green and graceful tree
as I loitered listlessly
nothing doing, nothing caring,
light and warmth and fragrance sharing
with the butterfly and the bee,
while the sapling-tops a-glisten
danced and trembled, wild and willing
such a sudden sylvan shrilling
that I could not choose but listen
Green Cicadas, Black Cicadas,
happy in the gracious weather,
Floury-baker, Double-Drummer,
all as one and all together,
how they voiced the golden summer.
Stealing back there came to me
as I loitered listlessly
'neath the green and graceful tree,
nothing doing, nothing caring,
boyhood moments spent in sharing
with the butterfly and the bee
youth and freedom, warmth and glamour
while Cicadas round me shrilling,
set the sleepy noontide thrilling
with their keen insistent clamour.
Green Cicadas, Black cicadas,
happy in the gracious weather
Floury-bakers, double-drummers
all as one and all together---
how they voice the bygone summers!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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0029 This night, this night of endless miracle
On this Mediterranean night with its light breeze
scented with the sun-warmed herbs
drifting down from cooling, stony hills,
a million stars you’ve never seen before
shine on a million crickets singing
as if from eternity to eternity
and you cannot say, and there’s
no need to say, which is which;
the trembling of the stars,
the susurration of cicadas,
join as in endless praise
of the imagination of their maker
who made imagination too
and though the cicadas, singing, may never know
that the stars they sing to
are shining from a thousand years ago
and though the stars may never know
that the cicadas that they shine upon
are a thousand years here from their now,
it’s all known, to the mind that made the vines
that made the grapes that made the wine
singing in my veins tonight
like cicadas susurrating in the starlight
as you hear them now
this night, this night of endless miracle
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Steam
Ah steam
You know it's steam
It's now been fifteen days since you've been steamed at me
And I don't want your frustration and your madness
Pushed and blamed on me
'Cos you're crazy through the day
And you're crazy through the night
And, what the hell, you've been crazy all your life
And I don't want people thinking I'm not treating you right
It's the nature of it
Steam
It's the nature of it,
Steam
When you 're saying those things
that you don't really mean
You can blame it on the rain
You can blame it on the heat
It's the nature of it
Steam
You seem to put it all on me
The sky, your health
Your dreams and your beliefs
And I seem to protect and respect everything
too naturally
Steam,
You know it's steam
More days, more days
I'm steamed in every way
I said, no way, no way,
I'm steamed in every way
You can blame it on the rain
You can blame it on the heat
It's the nature of it
Steam
It's the nature of it,
Steam
When you 're saying those things
that you don't really mean
You can blame it on the rain
You can blame it on the heat
It's the nature of it
Steam
More days, more days
I'm steamed in every way
I said, no way, no way,
I'm steamed in every way
I said more days, more days,
I'm steamed in every way
I said, no way, no way,
This is where I stay.
song performed by by Vanessa Amorosi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voiceless! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Climbed the stairs slowly due to arthritis
Rummaged in the bag for the house keys.
Unlocked the main door, and wearily stepped in
Laughing Buddha seemed to mock and grin…
Kept her stuff, and rushed to the refrigerator.
Took out frozen food along with a bottle of water.
The house was quiet, after the din of work place.
Badly, needed some solitude and her own little space.
Just then she got two messages from her family on mobile.
Hubby- sorry, a client meet, she read with a taste of bile.
Son- ma, last moment decided to go for Oscar winner,
‘Slum Dog Millionaire’, so please don’t wait for dinner.
Was she mad or glad when she threw the TV remote?
She took out her pen and made some notes.
Later, she made a salad and chicken roast
And had it with chilly pepper and garlic toast.
Outside the cicadas were performing a concert
There was a light drizzle, as she had a dessert.
A shower of rain and cicadas come alive.
Is it because they have voiceless wives?
In his book ‘The wonderful world of Insects, trees and wild flowers’
Ruskin Bond, quotes a Greek poet
‘Happy are the Cicadas for they have voiceless wives.’
Apparently, female Cicadas are dumb.the Greek used to keep male Cicadas in cage, as they loved their music.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Steam Engine
Lead vocal: micky dolenz
Produced by: chip douglas
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
Mr. engineer, you see Ive got a little problem here.
My baby, shes aboard your train,
She says shes never comin back again.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
She told me good bye, she said Im leavin you behind.
I think Im gonna die, if I hear that whistle whine.
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
(steam engines)gotta keep on keep on rollin.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quiet Steam
Released as b-side of digging in the dirt single, 1992.
Stand back
Stand back
What are those dogs doing, sniffing at my feet
Theyre onto something, pickin up, pickin up
This heat
This heat
Give me steam
How you feel can make it real
Get a life with this dreamers dream
Oh, give me steam
Real as anything you see
Get a life in this dreamers dream
You know your culture from your trash
You know your plastic from your cash
When I lose sight of the track
You know the way back
But I know you
You know your stripper from your paint
You know your sinner from your saint
Whenever heavens doors are shut
You get them open, but
I know you
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Get a life in this dreamers dream
Oh, give me steam
Real as anything you see
Get a life in this dreamers dream
You know your green from your red
You know the quick from the dead
So much better than the rest
You think youve been blessed
But I know you
You know your ladder from your snake
You know the throttle from the brake
You know your straight line from the curve
Youve got a lot of nerve
But I know you
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Get a life in this dreamers dream
Oh, give me steam
Real as any place youve been
Get a life with this dreamers dream
Oh yeah, I need steam
Feel your steam around me
Turning up the heat
I start to dream aloud
You move my hands and feet
Wont you step into this cloud
Of steam
This steam
Give me steam
How you feel can make it real
Real as anything youve seen
Get a life with this dreamers dream
Give me steam
How you feel can make it so real
Get a life in this dreamers dream
Help me yeah
Comin alive
In your steam
Comin alive
In your steam
Comin alive
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back any more — the feeling that I could last for ever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling that lures us on to joys, to perils, to love, to vain effort — to death; the triumphant conviction of strength, the heat of life in the handful of dust, the glow in the heart that with every year grows dim, grows cold, grows small, and expires — and expires, too soon — too soon before life itself.
quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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1: 55 A.m.
the cicadas still sing
that early
in this small town and
everyone is
in fact everything is
so quite that if you
are awake at this hour
unholy as they call it
(but so holy to me
i think)
i can still hear
the voice wanting
to be spoken
deep inside the
linings of my
esophagus
there is this mummy
of the sarcophagus
wanting to be
reborn
honestly the name
still slips
in my tongue
perhaps this could
be the poem
about cicadas
and their songs
or the sound of
quiet
the murmur
of peace
long gone
now
trembling at the
tip of my lips
who knows?
if at a little stare
on the wall
soon i shall understand
and decipher
what slime is there
that wants to speak
inside my
throat
but still wanting to
be swallowed
honestly
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Of The Steam-powered Trains
Like the last of the good ol puffer trains,
Im the last of the blood and sweat brigade,
And I dont know where Im going, or why I came.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Im the last of the good old renegades.
All my friends are all middle class and grey,
But I live in a museum, so Im okay.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Like the last of the good ol choo-choo trains,
Huff and puff till I blow this world away,
And Im gonna keep on rollin till my dying day.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Like the last of the good ol puffer trains,
Im the last of the soot and scum[? ] brigade,
And all this peaceful living is drivin me insane.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
Im the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I guess the two things I was most interested in were telescopes and steam engines. My father was an engineer on a threshing rig steam engine and I loved the machinery.
quote by Clyde Tombaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under the Purple Flowers
In the purple flowers’ shade
You kissed me the first kiss.
The moon lit its light of jade;
The cicadas sang their song of bliss.
Then, time passed fast and blind;
You went to your studies above
Leaving the purple flowers behind
With such a dreamlike love.
In each letter sent to the old place
You said you still missed this start
With the purple flowers of grace
And this young and true heart.
I have come back each day alone
To see the old flowers obsess
And hear the cicadas groan;
I feel such a vague distress.
I have nurtured my pastoral love
Now that summer is back to see
With the purple flowers above
I am an amorous banyan tree.
poem by ThanhThanh NhuanLe
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The Power of Steam
We now do sing a new theme,
It is prodigious power of steam ;
And our little fast steam horse,
How he works with mighty force.
Instead of hay and oats, we thrust
In his mouth chips and saw dust ;
Which heats the blood in his veins,
Then how he saws and bores and plains.
He's never troubled with the botts,
But all the time he gaily trotts,
And every day he is full able
To make many a chair and table.
Work for him is only sport,
He feels so good he oft does snort,
As he trotts along his course,
Our little frolicksome steam horse.
poem by James McIntyre
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Preparing To Fly
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
Im in love all over again
Im head over heels
I cant even begin
To tell you how it feels
She lives on a rock
Surrounded by light
Shes young and shes wild
And shes treating me right
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
I shed some light
I change my address
I havent felt so great
Since I first went west
Ive got brilliant intentions
Unthinkable plans
Ive got sparks and electric shocks
Just exploding from my hands
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
Im back in the saddle
Im out in the clear
I got no regrets
Ive got nothing to fear
Ive battled my demons
Come out on top
Im gonna love you as hard as I can
Never gonna stop
Im preparing to fly
Under my own steam
Im preparing to fly
Into a dream
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Janice and You at Waterloo Station
At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up
to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in
the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you
her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high
her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I'm older
you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in
that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said
maybe you'll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful
she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be
what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added
you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside
on a big black train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head
out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train
will knock it off
that'd be horrible
Janice said
she clutched
closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud
and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you're an engine driver
you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes
you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off
I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled
and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly
when I grow up
and when I am older.
poem by Terry Collett
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When steam first began to pump and wheels go round at so many revolutions per minute, what are called business habits were intended to make the life of man run in harmony with the steam engine, and his movement rival the train in punctuality.
quote by George William Russell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Welsh Highland Railway
A belch of smoke and steam,
and a whistle wail
we move with a clickty-clack along the rails.
Then with the train then gathering speed,
our journey begins with more whistle wails.
The carriage throws us around this way and that
as the old steam train rolls down the track.
Visions of happy days gone by,
with billowing smoke and steam.
Fragrancing the air on our ride
of nostalgic days and old ways.
As we ride the rails on a train
of the Welsh Highland Railway.
poem by David Harris
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Steam
Stand back!
said stand back!
What are those dogs doing sniffing at my feet?
Theyre on to something, picking up
Picking up this heat, this heat
{chorus 1:}
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Real as anything youve seen
Get a life with the dreamers dream
You know your culture from your trash
You know your plastic from your cash
When I lose sight of the track
You know the way back
But I know you
You know your stripper from your paint
You know your sinner from your saint
Whenever heavens doors are shut
You kick them open, but
I know you
{chorus 2:}
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Real as any place youve been
Get a life with the dreamers dream
Stand back!
said stand back!
Cant you see Ive lost control? Im getting indiscreet
Youre moving in so close til Im picking up
Picking up this heat, this heat
[chorus 1]
You know your green from your red
You know the quick from the dead
So much better than the rest
You think youve been blessed
But I know you
You know your leather from your snake
You know the throttle from the brake
You know your straight line from a curve
Youve got a lot of nerve
But I know you
[chorus 2]
Everybody nosedive
Hold your breath, count to five
Backslap, boobytrap
Cover it up in bubblewrap
Room shake, earthquake
Find a way to stay awake
Its gonna blow, its gonna break
This is more than I can take
Oh yeah, I need steam
Feel the steam around me
Ah youre turning up the heat
When I start to dream aloud
til youre movin hands and feet
Wont you step into this cloud of steam
This steam
[chorus 1]
Help me yeah
Ready to steam out the log jam
Stir crazy from the freezer to the boil
Waters bubbling, its b..b..b..bubbling
Bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling
Life is coming to the boil
Gimme steam, lady
Gimme the steam around me now
On a high, coming alive
said gimme some steam!
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Poetry
How I hate those modern Poems
Vaguer, looser than a dream!
Pointless things that look like poems
Only, to some held-back theme!
Wild unequal, agitated,
As by steam ill-regulated -
Balder-dashie steam!
And if (in fine) not super-lyrical,
Then vapid, almost to a miracle.
poem by Charles Harpur
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cicadas' frenzied song
a new summer day
has dawned
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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hot summer night -
on a sycamore tree
the crescendo of cicadas
haiku by Marijo Pinero (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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