Meandering
Meandering
The moon tonight looks like a golden gondola sailing on a black sea
only casting anchor at dawn. I remember a gondola trip in Venice
grey water, cabbage, onions and apple peels, I wished the gondolier
had been quieter. I sailed across the Black Sea once, from Georgia
To the Dardanelles, and sea was frosty white.
We anchored just outside Istanbul waiting for clearance, small boats
came sold us sweet wine and liqueurs. After an endless journey on
an old ship we drank too much and got sick, but for a few hours we
forgot about the poverty of our wretched life.
An endless voyage to Reykjavik, Iceland, the sea around the island
was dark blue. But the beer there was so insipid that we had no chance
to forget our misery. Moon, it has no business looking like a gondola,
it is a balloon. So bring in the empty horses; suave was David Niven
you couldn’t see he was acting his socks off.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Venetian Night
Her eyes in the darkness shone, in the twilight shed
By the gondola bent like the darkness over her head.
Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went;
A white glove shone as her black fan lifted and leant
Where the silk of her dress, the blue of a bittern's wing,
Rustled against my knee, and, murmuring
The sweet slow hesitant English of a child,
Her voice was articulate laughter, her soul smiled.
Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went;
From the sleeping houses a shadow of slumber leant
Over our heads like a wing, and the dim lagoon,
Rustling with silence, slumbered under the moon.
Softly the gondola rocked, and a pale light came
Over the waters, mild as a silver flame;
She lay back, thrilling with smiles, in the twilight shed
By the gondola bend like the darkness over her head;
I saw her eyes shine subtly, then close awhile:
I remember her silence, and, in the night, her smile.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Along the river
Water bends, rolls down
to fiind a place to banks,
waves break by stones
and curl up around them,
yellow poplars,
that watch the river, tremble,
drooping willows wash their locks
in hesitating water.
I remember how I was fishing
under shaded banks
with my friends.
Fishes were avoiding my fishing rod
and were inviting me to the competition with them.
From the river that winds tremblingly,
I hear melancholic verse of the natives
gone to the fishing with the boat.I have felt asleep.
It has seemed to me that a beautiful gondola with a miraculous fairy
has crossed the river.
I was charmed by the beauty of the fairy
that has glittered on the lustre of the water.
On the bank, I have done token to the gondola
and the oarsman has brought the gondola near the bank.
At the light of the torch, I have caught the hand of the fairy
and I have invited her on the bank.
A spark has died out in her heart,
bugle of silver has blown long
the disappearance of the gondola.
The fishers from the village have woken me up:
„ It was getting late.You have to go home”.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Adela
Jupiter Mars P Moon
VENEZIA, "May" 19"th", 1910.
Jupiter's foursquare blaze of gold and blue
Rides on the moon, a lilac conch of pearl,
As if the dread god, charioted anew
Came conquering, his amazing disk awhirl
To war down all the stars. I see him through
The hair of this mine own Italian girl,
Adela
That bends her face on mine in the gondola!
There is scarce a breath of wind on the lagoon.
Life is absorbed in its beatitude,
A meditative mage beneath the moon
Ah! should we come, a delicate interlude,
To Campo Santo that, this night of June,
Heals for awhile the immitigable feud?
Adela!
Your breath ruffles my soul in the gondola!
Through maze on maze of silent waterways,
Guarded by lightless sentinel palaces,
We glide; the soft plash of the oar, that sways
Our life, like love does, laps --- no softer seas
Swoon in the bosom of Pacific bays!
We are in tune with the infinite ecstasies,
Adela!
Sway with me, sway with me in the gondola!
They hold us in, these tangled sepulchres
That guard such ghostly life. They tower above
Our passage like the cliffs of death. There stirs
No angel from the pinnacles thereof.
All broods, all breeds. But immanent as Hers
That reigns is this most silent crown of love
Adela
That broods on me, and is I, in the gondola.
They twist, they twine, these white and black canals,
Now stark with lamplight, now a reach of Styx.
Even as out love - raging wild animals
Suddenly hoisted on the crucifix
To radiate seraphic coronals,
Flowers, flowers - O let our light and darkness mix,
Adela,
Goddess and beast with me in the gondola!
Come! though your hair be a cascade of fire,
Your lips twin snakes, your tongue the lightning flash,
Your teeth God's grip on life, your face His lyre,
Your eyes His stars - come, let our Venus lash
Our bodies with the whips of Her desire.
Your bed's the world, your body the world-ash,
Adela!
Shall I give the word to the man of the gondola?
poem by Aleister Crowley
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The Human Face
upon his face
the smile floats like
a gondola
on the River of
Venice
one can hear the
song of the
gondolier
the eyes of his face
are windows
opening because the
songs are
tempting
they are the eyes of
women
looking for love
the nose serves as
the only bridge
there
to connect the ears
and chin
in that atmosphere
of indifference
the princess is
the tongue
salivating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old Ramshackled Bar
In gondola
On waterway
I traded blues and greens
Today.
And other sunlit colour schemes,
For hidden serenade.
A jazz piano played.
Where notes escaped
Like happy dreams.
From old ramshackled bar.
To burn
And crackle far.
Then quickly die
In twilight creams
Of cooling sunset sky.
A gondolier
On waterway
Took me and my guitar.
To play the blues of 'Frisco bay.
And rock
The old ramshackled bar.
To solve the clues
Of love's dismay.
The songs of pain
Would float away.
And douse
The nearest star.
In gondola
On waterway
I awoke from my reverie
Today.
My lover laying next to me.
Sunlight playing
Through her hair
Like music from a harp.
The day as clear
As bluest eyes so fair
And oh so sharp.
Under lazy Venetian skies.
It was then
That I would realise.
All the notes
The night had cast
Were merely ghosts
Of heartaches past.
Like the old ramshackled bar
- Long gone.
Just leaving a broken guitar
To play in the wind.
Where the moon
Once shone.
From afar.
poem by Kevin East
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The Island Of Endless Play
Said Willie to Tom 'Let us hie away
To the wonderful Island of Endless Play.
It lies off the border of 'No School Land'
And abounds with pleasures, I understand.
There boys go swimming whenever they please
In a lovely river right under the trees.
And marbles are free, no one has to buy;
And kites of all sizes are ready to fly.
We sail down the Isthmus of Idle Delight,
We sail and we sail for a day and a night.
And then if favored by billows and breeze
We land in the harbor of Do-as-you-please.
And their lies the Island of Endless Play
With no one to say to us Must or Nay.
Books are not known in that land so fair,
Teachers are stoned if they set foot there.
Hurrah for the Island so glad and free,
That is the country for you and me.'
So away went Willie and Tom together
On a pleasure boat, in the lazy weather,
And they sailed in the teeth of a friendly breeze
Right into the harbor of 'Do-as-you-please!'
Where boats and tackle and marbles and kites
Were waiting them there in this Land of Delights.
They dwelt on the Island of Endless Play
For five long years; then one sad day
A strange dark ship sailed up to the strand,
And 'Ho! for the voyage to Stupid Land.'
The Captain cried with a terrible noise
As he seized the frightened and struggling boys,
And threw them into the dark Ship's hold,
And off and away sailed the Captain bold.
They vainly begged him to let them out,
He answered only with scoff and shout.
'Boys that don't study or work,' said he,
'Must sail one day down the Ignorant Sea
To Stupid Land by the No-Book strait,
With Captain Time on the Pitiless Fate.'
Then he let out the sails and away went the three,
Over the waters of Ignorant Sea.
Out and away to Stupid Land,
And they live there yet, I understand.
And there's where every one goes, they say,
Who seeks the Island of Endless Play.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Wine and Me
I asked the moon to drink with me tonight;
he just gave me a heavy sigh,
as though he heard that plea from me
a thousand times before.
Morning after morning, I don't see the sun;
that was after the day you were gone.
I filled my cup with wine,
the sounds of it seems music to my ears.
I wish to fade as you fade
with the passing years.
Every gulp of it brings the memory
when you were here by my side.
'You'll be back' - a sentimental lie.
My cup was empty and i filled it again.
Only now, the tears flowed like rain.
'You did want me' - another lie.
And i drink with my shadow
as the time passes by.
I was slowly consumed, like fire down a candle;
like drops of water flowing like a passing river.
The taste of wine on my lips
seems so sweet...I drank again.
'You miss me'- a sweeter lie.
I drank till the dawn is nigh.
I ask only to be drunk forever
and never wake...
to lie forgotten with the darkness;
to sleep forgotten in the depths of a lake.
'You did love me' - the sweetest lie.
I wish to fade as the years pass by.
But tonight, there's just this wine and me
forgotten with the wind.
With our endless torments,
with our bitter tears...
There's just this wine and me to let me forget you
and the sorrows of a thousand years.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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April and Silence
Spring lies deserted.
The velvet-dark ditch
crawls by my side without reflections.
All that shines
are yellow flowers.
I’m carried in my shadow
like a violin in its black case.
The only thing I want to say
gleams out of reach
like the silver
in a pawnshop.
poem by Tomas Transtromer from The Sorrow Gondola
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Blue jeans are the most beautiful things since the gondola.
quote by Diana Vreeland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images
I
Like a gondola of green scented fruits
Drifting along the dark canals of Venice,
You, O exquisite one,
Have entered into my desolate city.
II
The blue smoke leaps
Like swirling clouds of birds vanishing.
So my love leaps forth toward you,
Vanishes and is renewed.
III
A rose-yellow moon in a pale sky
When the sunset is faint vermilion
In the mist among the tree-boughs
Art thou to me, my beloved.
IV
A young beech tree on the edge of the forest
Stands still in the evening,
Yet shudders through all its leaves in the light air
And seems to fear the stars -
So are you still and so tremble.
V
The red deer are high on the mountain,
They are beyond the last pine trees.
And my desires have run with them.
VI
The flower which the wind has shaken
Is soon filled again with rain;
So does my heart fill slowly with tears,
Until you return.
poem by Richard Aldington
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Tonight
Tonight, tonight,
Won't be just any night,
Tonight there will be no morning star.
Tonight, tonight,
I'll see my love tonight!
And for us, stars will stop where they are.
Today The minutes seem like hours,
The hours go so slowly,
And still the sky is light.
Oh moon, grow bright,
And make this endless day endless night!
Tonight... no morning star.
Tonight...Tonight
Today The minutes seem like hours,
The hours go so slowly,
And still the sky is light.
Oh moon, grow bright,
And make this endless day endless night!
Tonight... tonight...tonight
Tonight will be no morning star
Tonight... tonigh
I'll see my love tonight
And for us, stars will stop right where they are.
Today The minutes seem like hours,
The hours go so slowly,
And still the sky is light.
Oh moon, grow bright,
And make this endless day endless night!
Tonight...
Tonight...
Tonight...
Tonight...
[email protected]
song performed by by Gloria Gaynor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twitcher and the Bird Sanctuary
I see many species of birds
from morning till night.
They speak different languages
the migratory birds from all over the world.
What a colourful pagentry and harmony?
Nobody carries weapons
and no any harshness.
So it's very harmless to be with them forever.
Their twitter makes me happy
and I want to be single
whole of the journey.
If she comes I fear the birds won't be here.
She scolded me in her last letter.
'You are good for nothing; a Gooseberry
one day you sink with your birds
in your own bottomless harbour.
Your holey gondola won't be long-standing.
My wicked Gondolier,
you propel with your rickety pole to the hell!
Wind up,
your unfortunate wino Goddess.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Moon, We Look to You.
Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.
Moon, despite the clarity of sky,
Metaphors of cloud that fluff with grey
Drift across your rounded face to spy;
Feeding back, there's awfully much to say.
Moon, you have a role to play up there –
We below must bear the earthly pain.
Duty bound, we shoulder sorrows fair –
You are free from our grotesque disdain.
Moon, we depend on you to shine
When the sun retires down below.
Add to that your grandest role divine:
Tidal Lord, to keep the seas in tow!
Moon, I hope you take to heart our plea –
Needless is the reason for your blue.
Beaming, you should give the night its glee:
We're despairing – so we look to you.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Endless Blue Sky
Endless blue sky
When I look upon that sky, that sky of endless blue, seeing those birds fly. I feel like I’m
flying too, when I stand somewhere so high, look at that endless blue sky. I wished I could flying next to them, looking at the earth with the wind in my hair, the feeling of driving through clouds. O I wished that I could fly in that endless blue sky.
poem by Thomas Tromblee
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Midwinter
A blue light
radiates from my clothing.
Midwinter.
Clattering tambourines of ice.
I close my eyes.
There is a silent world
there is a crack
where the dead
are smuggled across the border.
poem by Tomas Transtromer from The Sorrow Gondola
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Modern Love XXXIV (sun and moon in love)
enamored moon rides a saddle of tears
wearing a belt of silver pistols
on a black star drenched stallion
tender sun wears four bodices of dawn
stretches arms of strawberry orange
above a horizon of sleeping lionesses
moon has only one color, love
moon has adored sun for eternity
letting crickets sing his lament
of dew kisses on flowers
sun rides a gondola of virginal fears
on a periwinkle ocean, peeking beneath
Icebergs pretending to be clouds
fate tempts the moon to invite sun
for a walk by green river, out beyond burr,
thistle, with fireflies orange light
on the hawthorn and reeds
maiden sun, blushing crimson red, accepts
smiling half-moon, half-mystery, extends a starless hand
tender sun holds hands of light with the waxing moon
at the far end of the universe
where there are no street lamps
where trees of silver grow bigger
and mountains of wolves
howl in hunger
sun’s petticoats rustle like wet silk
to moon’s ear, like shoots of hyacinth
the dark nipples on sun’s breasts awake
creating mother of pearl points on lace
under her dawn of auburn hair
under her blush of gold
lost in love moon makes a hollow
In the clay on the wet riverbank
placing a blanket of shimmering stars
on night’s tears
moon takes off his silver necktie
sun unbuttons her morning gown
revealing ankles of fine nard
making the eyes of the moon burn
moon removes his belt of pistols
sun her four bodices of silk
showing a sleeping seagull
on thighs spawning salmons
half swimming towards Greenland’s ices
half swimming towards Africa’s heat
startled moon desires to gallop
without bridle or stirrup,
on suns desire for endless twilights
on a most wonderful road
moon promises not to repeat
sun whispers
splattered with kisses, pepples,
wet as the color of love, empty,
silver moon took magenta sun by green river.
while swords of wild irises
stabbed at morning air.
Sun behaved like a blood gypsy.
giving moon a daughter of corn fields
in a basket of straw-hued satin
promising not to fall in love
when moon took sun to green river.
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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My Ship and I
O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,
Of a ship that goes a sailing on the pond;
And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;
But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out
How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.
For I mean to grow a little as the dolly at the helm,
And the dolly I intend to come alive;
And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,
It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow
And the vessel goes a dive-dive-dive.
O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,
And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;
For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,
To land upon the island where no dolly was before,
And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Sailing In Your Eyes
Sail with you in your oceans of blue
feel the endless waves of joyful and painful tears on my skin
this journey for me now endless
as I sail with you in your oceans of blue
though the ship may list
water may threaten
drowning of me sometimes your thought
I will sail with you in your oceans of blue
your eyes truly the windows journey to your soul
poem by Vincent Armone
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The New Moon
What have you got in your knapsack fair,
White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,
Spinning your bobbins and fabrics free,
Fleet moon, sweet moon, in to the sea?
Turquoise and beryl and rings of gold,
Clear moon, dear moon, ne’er to be sold?
Roses and lilies, romance and love,
Still moon, chill moon, swinging above?
Slender your feet as a white birds throat,
High moon, shy moon, drifting your boat
Into the murk of the world awhile,
Slim moon, dim moon, adding a smile.
Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,
Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this,
Under the spell of your witchery,
Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Pearls Girl
Rioja. rioja. reverend al green.
Deep blue morocco. the water on stone.
The water on concrete. the water on sand.
The water on fire. smoke.
The wind. the salt. the bride boat coming.
Dave in the water. old man.
Einstein on top of his house. white deep blue
Andalusia red yellow red yellow black car.
Red light. far. black place. walls. blue chair.
Morocco. hamburg. paris.
The pieces of the puzzle are waiting.
The water of the dark boats gliding.
The bride boats gone out to sea and
Dave is floating. dave is floating.
And old man einstein crazy in his attic.
Crazy.
White room. sun room. shadow room.
Night transmitting cars across the room.
These things sent to dance across the room.
Eye watching from your bed. returning to you.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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