En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Jostling Crowed

Upon the edge of a deserted wide road,
Placed I was to see the dismal vision,
From the distant corner of the upper side,
Turned a procession, following rushingingly,
A coffin of the dead faith, wrapped in shroud,
Advanced it ahead as opaque floody water,
Passes through the banks, on the dry bottom.

In the jostling crowed I did find to see,
The men neither young nor too old,
Of all races, forms, colours and sizes,
With harrowed grisly faces jostling ahead,
Their rebellious legs hastened against their wills.

The crowed passed and passed by unendingly,
To fill the spacious belly of the infernal land,
Stood I stunned, horrified, engrossed in thoughts,
Indecisive, thinking upon my own plight,
“I am an observer or a member of the crowed? ”

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dream

Alongside the wide gray road stood I,
To watch a procession passed by,
Of the damsels, rather all in teen,
Of the same size height and colour,
The bulk and body; dressed in green,
But all bore the features quite different.

Drenched them the incessant rain;
They passed and passed by jostling,
In silence in rows long, unendingly,
Numerous, countless were they all,
Neither worried, nor did seem happy;
Glanced they at me with stealing looks,
And I stood silent with lowering eyes,
Peeping into innerself like a criminal,
When brought among the fellow men.
It confounds, troubles me when I think,
Whether their plight was shown to me,
Or mine to them, I could not decide.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Seven Wonders

When shadows fall, hell close his eyes
To hear the clocks unwind
Powerless to leash the hands of time
Kindoms fall, the earth revolves
The rain will come this spring
And nothing he could say would change a thing
Seven wonders crowed the man
Knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers on
He cant enfold, the sun or moon
Or wind within his hand
But count the times hell shout the great I am
With all the while, a pontiff smile
Veiling his disgrace
At never owning more than second place
Seven wonders crowed the man
Knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers on
[instrumental]
Seven wonders crowed the man
Knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers
While the sad confusion lingers
All the while illusion lingers on

song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Prolonged Noons of Loneliness

In the prolonged noons of loneliness,
And in the scorching sun,
Are the melting roads,
And two loathsome tired eyes.
Gaze into the vacancy.

A few moments ago,
There was hustle bustle,
The jostling crowed on the same spot,
Where now the amuser under the shady tree,
Is dozing, resting his head,
On the filthy bag of gadgets of his art.

Lives are deserted spots of amusement,
On the desolate roads lay,
The sold bodies that inhale the borrowed breaths,
The prayers of the heart-mender only reach,
The broken doors of the ruined city of dreams,
They knock but returned void of charity.

Some in the game of Your consent,
Have woven the mesh,
For the stunned scared characters,
In the arranged spectrum of horror,
The so-called lofty lords,
Award time to time the undemanded pause,
Unbidden breaths, and paralysed day and nights,
The entire scheme is merged,
In the deep remembrance of death:
Ceaseless death,
Awake! And you too think in the spectrum,
Of your ancient thoughts,
In the prolonged noons of loneliness.
For they may shake the veins of life.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Real Game

Uninvited frequent gluttonous guest,
Visited and picked up one by one,
The elder and younger of the family,
Making each time the house desolate.

When I was hardly three years old,
And nothing about painful death was told,
Played carefree with half dressed friends,
And ran around the big tree of acacia,

Staining with dust, mud and water dirty,
Made filthy my legs and arms, feet and face,
My grandmother would then give me a bath,
And I did weep, cryingly protested against,
The act of washing, making me neat.

She then mopped my body, wiped my eyes,
Doting upon me, she caressed my cheeks,
Embracing me she would often warm,
Titillate with the fingers frail and old,
Made me laugh to forget the cold,
She hid behind the door, under the cots,
Played hide and seek to make me please.

Ah! One morning she lay stiff, could not rise,
Then was dressed with the suit of cotton white,
As she would go on the journey long,
Gathered men, women, young and old,
Some wailed, some sniffed, some silent sat.
But played I with the friends of my age,
And ate yellow rice with the belly fill.

In the evening they shouldered the cot,
The procession advanced leaving me depressed,
Turned the corner, with the sacred chorus.
I stood stunned in the middle of the yard,
Staring to the street, questioning the walls,
“Why had they not taken me along? ”

At night I cried aloud when I found,
An empty bed laid in the deserted corner,
I sought under the cots, behind the doors,
Where she did hide, but could not find.
A pair of shoes, the clothes on cord,
Consoled me well, told me the truth,
Ah! The real game at last she had played.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Traveling Through The Dark

Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.

poem by William Stafford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Straight Ahead

Day by day, dream by dream.
I fight to find the way to go.
Every day opens a different door.
Every dream shadows the one before.
But slowly I can see
The way youve made for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Carry on through the night,
When the road is hard to find.
Lying lights tell me to turn around.
Lying thoughts tell me Im lost not found.
But clearly I can see
Youre waiting there for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead).
Straight ahead (straight ahead), I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark (through the dark).
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead....

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was So Lucky

Its no secret Ive been waiting
But I didnt expect this
Nothing will remain
Nothing stays the same
After you came
Its no secret Ive been starving
I never felt anything for years
I sat up all night
Just to watch your smile
When youre sleeping
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
Come on and sail the sea with me
Come on, lets go around the world
Maybe find a flat
Or a canyon house
For the season
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It couldve been someone else
You had in mind
I was so lucky you found me
My rags turned gold and silver
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
What would you make of this, my baby?
The sun through the trees
Is there a better place to be?
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It could have been someone else
You had in mind, oh my
I was so lucky you picked me
My trash turned to silver
Yea, I could have been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldbe passed by

song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Accustomed

The cock crowed twice and you denied me three times,
And like a man carrying a pitcher of water;
But i am accustomed in eating with you together.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Solomon And The Witch

AND thus declared that Arab lady:
'Last night, where under the wild moon
On grassy mattress I had laid me,
Within my arms great Solomon,
I suddenly cried out in a strange tongue
Not his, not mine.'
Who understood
Whatever has been said, sighed, sung,
Howled, miau-d, barked, brayed, belled, yelled, cried, crowed,
Thereon replied: 'A cockerel
Crew from a blossoming apple bough
Three hundred years before the Fall,
And never crew again till now,
And would not now but that he thought,
Chance being at one with Choice at last,
All that the brigand apple brought
And this foul world were dead at last.
He that crowed out eternity
Thought to have crowed it in again.
For though love has a spider's eye
To find out some appropriate pain --
Aye, though all passion's in the glance --
For every nerve, and tests a lover
With cruelties of Choice and Chance;
And when at last that murder's over
Maybe the bride-bed brings despair,
For each an imagined image brings
And finds a real image there;
Yet the world ends when these two things,
Though several, are a single light,
When oil and wick are burned in one;
Therefore a blessed moon last night
Gave Sheba to her Solomon.'
'Yet the world stays.'
'If that be so,
Your cockerel found us in the wrong
Although he thought it. worth a crow.
Maybe an image is too strong
Or maybe is not strong enough.'
'The night has fallen; not a sound
In the forbidden sacred grove
Unless a petal hit the ground,
Nor any human sight within it
But the crushed grass where we have lain!
And the moon is wilder every minute.
O! Solomon! let us try again.'

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Once in My Tender Years

Once in my tender years
I came to an April day
And wrote poetry by faith.
Nothing else held me close
As I held the pen
Writing from within
Simple things to embrace
I let my mind have its say
And pray that you find
Within some praise of an April day
Life is too crowed to be truly caught
But this poem makes its stay.

poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Funeral

The village lay in silence
As I lounged there, on the hill,
The grass so soft and evergreen,
The flowers, petalled still,
The morning sun shone brightly
As I lay, without a care,
And watched the village come awake,
I watched the village stir.

The baker with his basket
Dropping off each loaf of bread,
The milkman chinking bottles
As the wives stirred from their bed,
The countrymen at breakfast
Peering out to greet the day,
The cock had crowed just once that morn,
The fox had had its way.

Then later on that morning
I could hear the church bell toll,
And the mourners, dressed in black
Filed out, the widow in her shawl,
Her walk seemed so familiar,
I guessed it was a friend,
And pondered on this life of ours,
How soon it seemed to end.

The bearers soon appeared, heads bowed,
The coffin seemed so slight,
To carry all those hopes and dreams
Toward that final night,
They led the whole procession
At a stately, regal pace,
Toward the path up on the hill
Where God would lend him grace.

They weaved and turned along the track
Where lay the cemetery,
I stood as they approached, I saw
They'd have to pass by me,
But then the vicar halted as
He came into my view,
I asked: ‘Who is the fallen one? '
He said: ‘We come for you! '

12 August,2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Angelene

Angelene, she's such a pretty thing
All dolled up in her hip-huggin' jeans
Mama's heels and her ruby red rouge
Sneakin' out while her daddy's
passed out
Hangin' out with the wrong crowed
She's got all the right moves
And she's givin' away little pieces of
her innocence
She don't know what she's lookin' for
She just knows something's missin'
:Chorus:
Oh, Angelene, can't you see
What you need ain't what you're
gettin'
Oh, Angelene, you're bein' used
Save some of that love for you,
Angelene
Angelene is sure that he's the cure
He's got a kind of reckless allure
Like a fast ride on the wild side
So she turns her cheek when he's
havin' a mean streak
And if you ask her real sweet
She won't look you in the eye
And she's callin' it love, ah, but there
is no resemblance
It's a drive down a dead end street
on the past of most resistance
:Repeat Chorus:
Yeah, she's givin' away little pieces of
her innocence
She don't know what she's lookin' for
She just knows something's missin'
:Repeat Chorus:

song performed by by Jo Dee Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Go Ahead On

(madeline bell / dusty springfield)
If youre gonna break my heart
Go ahead on
Guess you think youre kinda smart
Go ahead on
(well youve got another girl)
And youre having fun
(got her head in a whirl)
See what youve done
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
I said go ahead on
(go ahead on)
You never call me on the phone
Make me so sad
Sittin all alone
Feelin bad
(tired of being your fool)
cause you told me lies
(I cant take no more)
Of no alibi
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
For a little while
We had a good thing goin
Everything was peaches and cream
But the devil in you started showin
Do you understand now
What I mean?
You put me down
Every night
If you wanna be a clown
Thats all right
(when its all too late)
Then youll see
(shes done the same to you)
Like you did it to me
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
You put me down
Every night
If you wanna be a clown
Thats all right
(when its all too late)
Baby youll see
(shes done the same to you)
Like you did it to me
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Git, git, git
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Youd better pack your bag
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on
(go ahead on)
Bye, bye, bye
(go ahead on)
Go ahead on

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep with the lights on..............

Her first room had bare walls,
pale blue, and a built in wardrobe.
The single bed was
pushed against a wall,
and the blankets were coarse.

Her first room was cold and sterile,
offering no charm, no comfort.
It was but a box, austere,
yet practical, it offered
nothing.

Thinking back,
maybe it was that room,
the starkness,
its high, plain windows,
its bare, tiled floor.

These days it's locked,
except for her night chills,
the way her stomach fell
in the mornings
as the cock crowed.

Her first room lies
belly up on the page….
Here, take it,
make of it what you will,
sleep with the lights on...if you have to.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead Kings

All the dead kings came to me
At Rosnaree, where I was dreaming.
A few stars glimmered through the morn,
And down the thorn the dews were streaming.

And every dead king had a story
Of ancient glory, sweetly told.
It was too early for the lark,
But the starry dark had tints of gold.

I listened to the sorrows three
Of that Eire passed into song.
A cock crowed near a hazel croft,
And up aloft dim larks winged strong.

And I, too, told the kings a story
Of later glory, her fourth sorrow:
There was a sound like moving shields
In high green fields and the lowland furrow.

And one said : ' We who yet are kings
Have heard these things lamenting inly.'
Sweet music flowed from many a bill
And on the hill the morn stood queenly.

And one said : ' Over is the singing,
And bell bough ringing, whence we come ;
With heavy hearts we'll tread the shadows,
In honey meadows birds are dumb.'

And one said : ' Since the poets perished
And all they cherished in the way,
Their thoughts unsung, like petal showers
Inflame the hours of blue and gray.'

And one said : ' A loud tramp of men
We'll hear again at Rosnaree.'
A bomb burst near me where I lay.
I woke, 'twas day in Picardy.

poem by Francis Ledwidge
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A Chase

At one hot noon, in the month of Ramadan,
A huge crowd of men and women,
Young and old, in crude dresses,
Looked to the same direction
With fretful faces and grim eyes.
All of sudden they began to run,
As if they were partaking Marathon Race.
Then they stopped out of breath,
Their chests were heaving,
A pause ensued and again they began to run,
They stopped again out of breath
With heaving chests,
And drops of sweat dropping down.

As my van overtook the crowed I beheld,
They were the denizens of my country,
The voters of my dear land,
Being gamed in the hands of politicians,
They held red currency notes,
And chased a truck of flour.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Chance (and Hope) For All

The cow died
When the rooster crowed
All the seeds were planted
All the crops sowed;
No more land of milk and honey
No more selling forgiveness
For the proper money,
The Rose bloomed
With singular salvation
Upon the sunrise
That alit all creation.
Peter cried-
Judas died,
May both by God
Find forgiveness,
In a Land
Far, far away
From mankinds mortal mess...
For, I have been with them both,
In my own way;
As I wander and look just as much
For that perfect place,
And that perfect day.
- The hope of us all
Standing here with our backs to the wall,
Just may be
Held in the scarred hands of Eternity.

poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man On A Mission

I got a one track mind, my blinders up
Now all I gotta do is get up, go out an get her
Got the first step down, I know what I want
All seven senses tryin to deliver
My baby, let me fill you up inside (up inside)
Spread your wings an open wide (open wide)
So hot, so hot, so hot
Im a man on a mission, straight ahead
Lets talk, more action, with no distractions
Im all conditioned, is it alright
Go for the action, with no distractions
You get every inch, play splat an bone
And its all wrapped up in a tight little bundle
I got an open mind, do anything
I am aware the ball might roll or tumble
So right down to the bottom of the top (ooh ooh)
Im gonna get it all in one big pot (one big pot)
Yeah, she got, she got me hot
Uh, Im a man on a mission, straight ahead
Lets talk, more action, with no distractions
Im all conditioned, Im far off red
Lets talk, more action, with no distractions
Oh yeah, uh, I got no expections, so get on in the way
Only thing thats on my mind - ah, shes forgotten my attention
What you takes the real kind - aw!
(solo)
Uh! ah! come on, she got, she got, ah!
Man on a mission, straight ahead
No talk, more action, I got no distractions
Im all conditioned, what I say
A man on a mission, up ahead
Ah yeah, whew, my kinda action, aw, uh
No distractions, I got no distractions
No distractions, ah, no distractions, Im on a mission, whew, aw

song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bring Me Back First The Season To Write On Sand

These beautiful bracelets of Motia,
This Kagal, this henna,
Glassy bangles and a tray of red-roses,
Beautiful are the green Anchal and scarlet suit,
The same is sound of the mill,
The same is the crowed on the well
Village is the same, same are the rites,
Same are the old faces but bear new looks,
The same tale, the same promises,
The same fraudulent are the oaths,
O! My old well-wisher, it is all right,
But bring me back first the season to write on sand.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Piper

No, he never led them far away,
willing as they were to follow
and not to go back.
The mountain never opened
to take them in.

Just over the mountain
he left them.

Having heard such music,
they believed,
they could never again be the children
of that sad town.

Somewhere ahead must lie,
they believed,
the joyous land from which he came.

But they did not believe
that they might find it without him.

Some, in the end, went forward
and some went back.

You may know them and their kind
by a small empty place
in the corner of the eye
in every town where the young
pine for a distant land,
in every land
where they mourn the remembered town

poem by Eric Torgersen
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