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Winter Loom weaves a sad cloth?

[Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work.]-The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth

In this winter gloomy morning
I see your sad face like in a dream
and the silent whisper of an old poem
I could hear at the threshold.
'Is this a morning or a night
I cannot see you or touch
and hear too friend.
Am I alive or dead? '

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Solitary Reaper

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Reaper

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again!

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I am not quite sure where I have to turn in the midst?

Gloomy sky shows the symptoms
of the sick Autumn,
And purposely hides somewhere the old Sun?
A dull morning
I hear a flock of black birds're singing
merrily search in the withered grass
and struggle to survive the small insects!
Please listen Chum and leave all the puffy arguments
Wherever you go
and whatever you touch
You see the suffering
and feel the enormous pain?
Insects' cry dragged away with the strong winds
and I am not quite sure where I have to turn
in the midst?

to the poet Michael L.P in gratitude!

['The clue to happiness is being interested in Life.People's happiness is as great as they can create it.']-L.Ron Hubbard

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brother! It seems to be an off-season

The magical song birds flew away from the uncle's orchard without informing him.
The trees some were uprooted and old as same as uncle's gray beard.
I remember the bygone days when the fruits were laden and ripen on the tree tops how they danced merrily?
But now no more any singsong or a friendly chat and only you hear is the faint whisper of decaying leaves over his pet dog 'Marco's' silent tomb.

*Hey! My dear friend nothing could be hold firmly as everything disappears like in a sad dream.
This poem is a dedication to my friend George.Murdock in gratitude.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Softie moves smoothly

It's an early gloomy morning.
And it seems Sun forgets to rise!
The single's door is open.
A black cat mewls on the doorstep
And a gadfly enters and stays for a while.
The next door maiden comes in to give the newspaper.
You can hear a faint cry inside the house
And the penniless old man is no more.
He belongs to the pauper's graveyard
And the funeral is over quietly.
The doleful maiden writes a memorandum.
'At last he left leaving the black cat his will for me.'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sandra Fowler is no more!

Dear Nimal,
Sandra passed away in the early hours of this morning. She flew away to be with Jesus, her King.
God Bless,
Nancy

I have no words
when the West Virginian Nightingale
was quiet forever?
I write to Comrade Jesus
please loook after her well
and this deepest sympathy to my poor poet God
to inform me when she comes to us
as a poetess again!
Your painted sky is gloomy today
And I know why?
I have a teardropp in my heart!
And I hear your song till I close my eyes forever
'Before the music ends? '*

*fondly to my life-school teacher who taught me when I argued sometimes about certain things, she muttered that life is a song and you have to sing before the music ends?

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A twitter bird cries?

I hear early in the morning
on a Cypress branch
That covered with snow flakes.
O this sad song!
'How do we bear all these pains
and we have little hearts
One of our friends
passed away two days back
a songbird!
Is God too dies? '

to Harriet Beecher Stowe for her 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'!

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shadows Of The Big Man

Wake up see the morning light
This is you
This is today
You try so hard to get it right
Can't help thinking somewhere you lost your way
When was the last time
You saw a smile?
There's a scream on every silent face you see
They're singing set me free
I got a friend
Who burns like a fire
Says there's only one thing you'll ever know
It's out there somewhere
Way past the sunset line
Way out on the open road
And me I'm always looking down
Down that road out of town
Each morning and night
You can see me
I'm singing set me free
Set me free
Goodnight auberge
I leave you now
You must sleep
While I work the day
Till I return
To dream of you
Through the night
And that free, freeway

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Morning In May

One morning, one morning, one morning in may
I spied a young couple, they were making their way
One was a maiden so bright and so fair
And the other was a soldier and a brave volunteer
Good morning, good morning, good morning said he
And where are you going my pretty lady
Im goig out a walkin on the banks of the sea
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Now they had not been standing but a minute or two
And out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
And the tune that he played made the valleys all ring
Oh hark cried the maiden hear the nightingale sing
Oh maiden fair maiden tis time to give oer
Oh no kind soldier please play one tune more
For Id rather hear your fiddle at the touch of one string
Than to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Oh soldier kind soldier will you marry me
Oh no pretty maiden that never shall be
Ive a wife in london and children twice three
Two wives and the armys too many for me
Well Ill go back to london and Ill stay there for a year
Its often that Ill think of you my little dear
And if ever I return it will be in the spring
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
To see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Set Me Free

Wake up
See the morning light
This is you
This is today
You try so hard to get it right
Cant help thinking somewhere youve lost your way
When was the last time
You saw a smile?
Theres a scream on every silent face you see
Theyre singing set me free
I got a friend who burns like a fire
Says theres only thing youll ever know
Its out there somewhere
Way past the sunset line
Way out on the open road
And me Im always looking down
Down that road out of town
Each morning and night you can see me
Im singing set me free
Set me free
Goodnight auberge
I leave you now
You must sleep while I work the day
Till I return
To dream of you
Through the night
And that free, freeway

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A little angel who sings beneath an old bachelor's little sick heart

Thank you my dear little angel
Sing little louder please
As my hearing is little weak
Like the fragile little heart.
I remember once
I too sang my sad song
With my little companion viola,
Low pitch in solitary parks.
But angels were not seen
Those days.
Yes, my lost youth full of songs
But nobody knows
And only the withered flowers
Just smiled with a teardrop
In their innocent eyes
But I was little scared of unnecessary taboos
And left behind!

* I humbly dedicate this poem to my silent poet friend Dave Tanguay who resides in Florida!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unknown Painters & Paintings!

Tiny kettle whistles in the kitchenette
and the rusty alarm clock cries
on the bedside table.
She must have woke up early
with a bad dream?
and prepares the morning cup of tea!
I too woke up lazily and wiped the frosty window
with my criss-cross palm?
O the faraway gloomy sky's covered
with heavy winter clouds!
Invisible Master! Have you done
this Masterpiece?
The entire life I tried but in vain
and my painting named 'Depression'
Not finished yet for the Exhibition?

['Nearly everyman who develops an idea, works at it up to the point where it looks impossible and then gets discouraged.That's not the place to become discouraged.']-Thomas Alva Edison

to my poet friend Nightmute in gratitude!

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hear America Singing

I Hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

poem by Walt Whitman
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Dora

Lead vocal : eric woolfson
Dora, in the middle of the night
Will you wait for me
Till the morning sun shine bright
For its all a dream
And its only make believe
Dora, oh it hurts to hear you say
Youre all alone
And the pain wont go away
But its all a dream
And its only make believe
Listening through the hours of the day
Waiting for the night to end
Thinking, though its not for me to say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
Forget the lies they whisper in your ear
And every superstitious word you hear
Dora, though the truth is hard to face
And the fantasy
Is not easy to replace
Its all a dream
And its only make believe
Oh, I keep thinking
Of the words I shouldnt say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
And every doubt they whisper in your ear
And all the half-forgotten past you fear
One day will fade away and disappear
Dora, in the middle of the night
Do you wait for me
Where the morning sun shine bright
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe
Is it all a thread
Of the tangled web you weave
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Hear A Poem This Morning

I DON’T HEAR A POEM THIS MORNING

I don’t hear a poem this morning
I hear nothing but a computer hum
A silence which has no beauty in it
A fear which has no name.

I hear loneliness and sadness and doubt and trouble
I don’t hear ‘kindness’ and ‘love’
I hear ‘worry’
I hear Fear.

I hear nothing of Beauty or Kindness or Love
I hear a poem which once again
Says how difficult it all is.

What a troubled person I have always been
Even as I calmly write this now.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Dirge

A child came singing through the dusty town
A song so sweet that all men stayed to hear,
Forgetting for a space their ancient fear
Of evil days and death and fortune’s frown.
She sang of Winter dead and Spring new-born
In the green fields beyond the far hills’ bound;
And how this fair Spring, coming blossom-crowned,
Would cross the city’s threshold on the morn.

And each caged bird in every house anigh,
Even as she sang, caught up the glad refrain
Of Love and Hope and fair days come again,
Till all who heard forgot they had to die.

And all the ghosts of buried woes were laid
That heard the song of this sweet sorceress;
The Past grew to a dream of old distress,
And merry were the hearts of man and maid.

So, at the first faint blush of tender dawn,
Spring stole with noiseless steps through the gray gloom,
And men knew only by a strange perfume
That she had softly entered and withdrawn.

But ah! the lustre of her violet eyes
Was dimmed with tears for her sweet singing maid,
Whose voice would sound no more in shine or shade
To charm men’s souls at set of sun or rise.

For there, with dews of dawn upon her hair,
Like a fair flower plucked and flung away,
Dead in the street the little maiden lay
Who gave new life to hearts nigh dead of care.

Alas! must this be still the bitter doom
Awaiting those, the finer-souled of earth,
Who make for men a morning song of mirth
While yet the birds are dumb amid the gloom?

They walk on thorny ways with feet unshod,
Sing one last song, and die as that song dies.
There is no human hand to close their eyes,
And very heavy is the hand of God.

poem by Victor James Daley
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And I write this on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal

When I see the twilight sky
I think of you and your poem paintings!
When I hear a bird's chirping faraway
on a tree, I count your unsung poems?
Whenever I pass burial grounds
I believe that you're still alive
and write?
But you're gone and it's certain.
Do you remember we made a promise once
That one of us do our Epitaph?
Yes, it's my turn and I write this
on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal
and who writes on mine in your absence?

I dedicate this poem to the celebrated poet Khalil Gibran for his love letters!

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quietude

His music teacher complains with a cello in hand
'I cannot hear your song though you move your lips.'
Nobody understands my song
And it's a song without words.
Like a somber sky.' He whispers.

To my dear friend Jerry Hughes for his 79th birthday falls today.
Night is still young my friend and we sing together the old song that we are friends.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Face & Ghost

You got it bad
You got it good
You saw the sun
Like i knew that you would
We gotta make this better
Gotta make this right
Ain't no peace in the valley baby
'til the darkness turns to light
Can you hear that children's song?
Can you take me to that place?
High above the lamentation up on the desert plane
Do you hear that children's song?
Can you take me there?
Lost in the maya
Overboard in the sea
There was void and then that water broke
Then something called "me"
Now a trip to the desert to look at the sky
It's like never-ending mirrors
Playin' tricks on my eyes
Can you hear that children's song?
Can you take me to that place?
High above the lamentation up on the desert plane
Do you hear the children's song?
Can you take me there?
The face and ghost my guide
I must move on
It's the face of one ravaged by love
It's both dead and alive
You got it bad lover
No you got it good
You saw the sun
Like i knew that you would
In spite of my confusion
Up above all my pain
I gotta death-grip on this vision
Here we go again
The face and ghost my guide
I must move on
It's the face of one ravaged by love
It's both dead and alive
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Can you hear them singin'?
Can you hear them singin'?
Can you hear that children's song?
Can you take me to that place?
Do you hear that pilgrim's song?
Can you take me there?

song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face And Ghost

you got it bad
you got it good
you saw the sun
like you knew that you would
we gotta make this better
gotta make this right
ain't no peace in the valley baby
'til the darkness turns to light
can you hear that children's song?
can you take me to that place?
high above the lamentation up on the
desert plane
do you hear that children's song?
can you take me there?
lost in the maya
overboard in the sea
there was void and then that water broke
then something called "me"
now a trip to the desert to look at the sky
it's like never-ending mirrors
playing tricks on my eyes
can you hear that children's song?
can you take me to that place?
high above the lamentation up on the
desert plane
do you hear that children's song?
can you take me there?
the face and ghost my guide
i must move on
it's the face of one ravaged by love
it's both dead and alive
you got it bad lover
no you got it good
you saw the sun
like you knew that you would
in spite of my confusion
up above all my pain
I gotta death-grip on this vision
here we go again
the face and ghost my guide
i must move on
it's the face of one ravaged by love
it's both dead and alive
sha la la la la la la
sha la la la la la la
sha la la la la la la
can you hear them singin'?
can you hear them singin'?
can you hear that children's song?
can you take me to that place?
do you hear that pilgrim's song?
can you take me there

song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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