Portugal In September
Portugal in September.
Perfect translucent day and I can see the peculiar nature again,
as it is no longer a blur of glaring sunlight. It is like meeting
an old friend, one who was rumored to have died, in a country
I will not see again. Evergreens, carob and olive trees lost in
the mist of time, forever alone in the transience of seasons.
I also see glimpses of the sea it doesn’t interest me, not today
anyway, but I do notice it is deep blue and has white sails on.
On my scooter I drive across a narrow bridge they have been
working on so it can take heavy lorries, a road is being built
somewhere out of sight. Wish I were a painter, fair clouds on
azure sky, could be smoke signals sent by an Indian tribe yet
to be discovered, I see the past and future at the same time.
Bewildering, do I drive in a landscape of ancient dreams?
I better stop find at a café, drink a “Bica” (coffee) before I fade
into the mystery of nature and can’t find my way back home.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
The joy of the road
It’s a big joy
to take the road
and drive past cornfields
and to get the sweet sour smell
that water leaves there
for the first time
in your nose.
It’s a big joy
to drive on a road
that allures black in front of you
and goes up and down through the landscape.
There’s something indescribable
if you become part
of the sun and the wind
and with a motorbike
to find your place
in the world around you.
There’s something magical
to hear the insects
in the bushes
outside of Pieter Maritzburg
and to smell the summer sun
on the plantation trees.
Still greater is
to catch the smell of the see
on the wind
to see the blue waters
lying in the distance,
while free like a bird
you drive nearer to it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Allison Road
(robin wilson)
Ive lost my mind on what Id find
And all of the pressure that I left behind
On allison road
Fools in the rain if the sun gets through
Fires in the heaven of the eyes I knew
On allison road
Dark clouds file in when the moon is near
Birds fly by a.m. in her bedroom stare
There was no tellin what I might find
I couldnt see I was lost at the time...
Yeah I didnt know I was lost at the time
On allison road
So she fills up her sails with my wasted breath
And each ones more wasted than the other you can bet
On allison road
Now I cant hide so why not drive
I know I want to love her but I cant decide
On allison road
I didnt know I was lost at the time
So I went looking for an exit sign
All I wanted to find tonight...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love Time Out With Nature
I love time out with Nature and I love peace and quiet
To walk along the gravel path in the evening sunlight
When the wild birds are singing and Spring is in her prime
And even memories of such inspire the soul to rhyme.
I love time out with Nature a brief release from care
For Nature she is generous her gifts with all she share
We drink of her clear spring waters and we breathe in her life sustaining air
And Nature's splendid beauty is around us everywhere.
I love time out with Nature the only God I know
Her stream from the high country down to the river flow
The skylark from the rank grass in the mood for song he fly
One of Nature's feathered minstrels he carols in the sky.
In time out with Mother Nature from life's cares I find ease
The sounds of the leaves rustling in the freshening evening breeze
And we much like the Seasons to life we come and go
But Nature lives forever the only God I know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On A Storny Day While You Are Driving Alone
you drive towards home
alone
under a strong rain
and wind
the storm has come again
inside the car
you hear nothing
you only see
the mess outside
you
you do not turn on
the radio
there is nothing there
only the buzzing
the FM stations lost
in the midst of this
chaos
you hear the silence inside you
talking
it is tired of the day's
heavy workload
you hear the sound
of the windswiper
you see the water
ahead of you along the
way
as the car cleans itself
so you may see the road
ahead
meeting you
the white bridge,
the thick lines of rain
like walls
like some liquid ropes
bursting on the glass
there are no cars
meeting you
no lights
except the darkness
and
the leaves blown away
from you
you think and you know the
difference:
you are losing your sense
of home
the sense of direction
insists
still towards this road
you do not like it
anymore,
you still think in the middle
of this storn
you want to stop and
watch the river
overflow
you wish the bridge is broken
you want it taken away
dismantled
you imagine there is
no more connection
whatever
you see nothing at the end,
what you see is simply
the storm
you stop again on the side of the road
where the tree shall fall and
you are under it,
you do not think of the car,
or of yourself anymore
what is there anyway?
there is no one waiting,
there is nothing worth meeting
and surely
life is not worth living
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dream On!
Clouds hang low today covering the ridge,
if I drive up there on my bike I can hide in
a steel blue cloud and people will say:
where is he? Him! He is trying to find
the milky way where postmen wear red
uniforms and say good morning sir before
handing you the gas bill.
Sigh, here back on earth the post has been
privatized low status, casual work, they
wear jeans and anorak and have no time for
a chat, their route is long and a man with
a timepiece follows them around.
When coming down from the ridge I will not
carry tablets, stay silent drive home and
make a cup of coffee.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Helping Me Get Over You
(Featuring Lari White)
(Travis Tritt/Lari White)
You ask who's lying in my bed
Is it really love we're making
My heart's hanging by a thread
She's the only reason it ain't breaking
Do you ever cross my mind
Darling fact is you still do
That's the reason she is here
Wiping your old memory clear
She's helping me get over you
Helping me get over you
One kiss at a time
'Cause all the pain that we've been through
Still weighs so heavy on my mind
Getting past the love we lost
That's a lonely bridge to cross
So I did what I had to do
I had to find somebody new
Who's helping me get over you
I know you'd never ask his name
But in your heart I know you wonder
I'm not much good at playing games
I'm just trying to keep from going under
There's no forever in his eyes
It's not the love that we once knew
Oh and it might be a sin
But tonight I've got a friend
Helping me get over you
Helping me get over you
One kiss at a time
'Cause all the pain that we've been through
Still weighs so heavy on my mind
Getting past the love we lost
That's a lonely bridge to cross
So I did what I had to do
I had to find somebody new
Who's helping me get over you
Oh I did the best that I could do
I had to find somebody new
To help me get over you
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossroads
Time has washed away
And now I may wonder
How did it all slip by
Cause I always thought
We had forever
Future calls to me
To take me away from things
I dont want to leave behind
Like Im slipping away
I cant hold on
Find that path alone
Crossroads lead me away
But thats not what worries me
I just want to know whats home
Through it all
My mind still wanders
To the one who touched my soul
Though her road leads away
Shes still my
True love
I could believe
Will is not enough when all those
Lost days stand in the way
But she was
My hopes and dreams my
Whole world
I could believe
I still want to know
Who can see for me
Crossroads tell me
Now youll have to trade
Your past away
And find another day
So is change a friend or an enemy
Through what comes to pass
Ill find my way
Ive seen it all before
But is the best you can be
The best thing to be
Some people say
Youre just wasting time
But thats not what worries me
I just want to know whats home
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shining Light
Shining Light
Sometimes light in Algarve is too sharp I can see
the lot at once, the future, past and the landscape.
All is white, have I been where I’m going, or I’m
coming back from where I have not been?
I sit in the shade under a carob tree and watch ants
going down a hole with bits of twigs preparing
for a nuclear holocaust, and the catastrophe that
befalls all groups of people sooner or later.
Light is no longer white but amber and a magazine
editor says I’m Danish, yet published my poem; it
doesn’t matter that I have lost my old identity, he
could have called me a Palestinian for all I care.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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An Old-Country Drive
On a cloudy gray
Late fall day,
I spontaneously decide
To take an old-country drive...
Trees without leaves
Line the roadside,
Dark and shadowy
Like rigid statues that see nothing nearby.
Paintless wood frame houses archaic stand
Scattered here to there,
Relics of a long past day
Lost to something, somewhere.
Like abandoned old friends of former lives
Along the way they lie,
Quietly calling out
To each passer-by.
Bach, through the radio
Gives the surreal scene deep feeling,
As I drive into this past world
With its hinted vision of life and being.
Life as old as humanity itself
Seen along this meloncholic view,
Like long memories of deeply missed old-folks
Recalled by so very few.
Who shall remember them all?
The homes. The animals. The people and the barns,
The work and the play
Of these glorious forgotten family farms.
Perhaps, it's all still there! Somewhere-everywhere...
Within the course trees, under the silent stones,
Behind the decaying boards
Of the leaning abandoned homes.
Or barely out of reach
Just beyond the recollections of another time,
Those of the heart
And those of the mind.
The crooked road is
As the houses near it, quite old,
Time like a seductive snake slithers on-
It could be now - or very long ago.
(as through this country-side I wander,
I'm ever increasingly inclined to wonder :)
Why none live here anymore?
Where have they all went?
Was the lure of city money too strong?
Is all they wanted -and made- already spent?
Do they ever late at night awake
Wish they'd stayed on the grandparents farm,
Would their own children be any wiser and safer
Out here, farther from hostilities charm?
There is no way such answers to know
With absolutely no doubt,
For who can say how anything, any different
Could have turned out?
Pondering such I drive on
More melancholy than ever before,
Longing so, to stop and look
Behind the old cracked doors.
It's then I come upon
An old weathered and worn country church,
Empty except for the blackbirds
Using the bent cross as a perfect perch.
A stasis of time
These feathered parishioners seem to be,
I look at them resolute
As they distrustfully eye me.
I realize I am the foreigner
Who doesn't belong,
They'll still be here, their home
Far after my kind has passed on.
Perhaps it was such as them
Who drove the old pilgrims out,
And now the translation of their squawk
Is a defiant victory shout.
For they and their kind are still here
And shall always be,
Long after the humans are gone
And have only left behind run down memories.
As the turning road winds its way
Into a crowded burg,
I reenter time
Far from the old world I'd just observed.
I stop for coffee and gas
On my return home,
Pondering why it is amongst all these hurried people
I often feel so very alone.
As I pull away from the station
I spy a single blackbird flying out of town,
I smile, for I know
To where he is surely bound.
Considering if with him I went
Perhaps the answers to all these questions could be heard,
If only I could speak and understand
The lofty language of the spirited blackbird.
These are the thoughts
Of an old-country drive,
Way out, where memories and blackbirds
Thankfully, are still very much alive!
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Portugal In May
These rounded hills surrounding my valley is lush
green with yellow flowers, wish I were a horse, no
jutting military granite jaws around here; God, when
making Portugal, had women in mind.
A flock of sheep eagerly graze have no time to look
up and see the blue spring sky, doomed as they are
to produce wool and meat for Irish stew, watched
over by the shepherd who sits in the shade of a carob
tree and wonders what's for tea.
Pretty red tractors plough soil around olive trees,
perfume of newly mowed grass and roses hang in
translucent air as sun filters through a mystic veil
of aromatic mist of history. Yet, a slight discord in
the day lingers, the donkey is absent, the last one,
a grey jenny, was given to a sanctuary. That is sad,
the long eared made the scenery more peaceful.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I look at clouds
I look at clouds
which sails past
in the blue sky
and it’s almost as if white
is part of the blue colour
and maybe every thing here
is more pure
and yesterday and the rain
from days long
and grey clouds
have disappeared
and the sneeze
that comes
from lawn
that had to be mowed
even Allergex
Cannot stop
and it’s so different
from where you are,
where the air
is much deeper and dark blue
with things much more intense.
Maybe today I long
just a little too much
and look at two toddlers in pink
playing on the grass
next to the road
and I wish
that life could turn back
as it had been,
but I am here
and you are there
and now I have
to sit and stare
at the clouds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Right Roads
Sometimes we have to detour
to get back on the right road.
We stop at different places
and get a little lost at times.
Something or someone
then comes along to guide us
back to the road where we belong.
Life has this way with us
when we’ve turned our dreams away.
It steers us to something or someone
to guide us along the way.
Once back on the right road
we find ourselves again
and travel down it happily
with a new purpose we’ve acquired.
As we go along that road
we inspire others to do the same
so they can find their dreams
and hold their personal fame.
7 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Sons Snd Daughters Of My Country...
yes, they all come back,
sons and daughters of
my country
wherever they may have sailed
wherever they may have flown
to search
that greener pastures in their
minds,
after a while
on dreams fulfilled or
dreams that failed
they all come back
and repair what had been neglected
and put back what had been lost and broken
their children lost from the warmth of their love
soon shall find a home in the memory of their minds
their country destroyed
soon shall find the comfort back to their working hands
yes, they all come back
no matter what
this country is their home
the place where their dead hearts shall soon be entombed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mystery Of Love
Seasons are changing
Children of love are alive
People reach out to survive
Together
Love is the message
We carry across the sky
Down through the passage of
Time forever
History unfolds
As this storys told
(and its) the mystery of love
How we go on and on forever
(and its) the mystery of love
Coming to rescue
Rescue me
A man and a woman
Lost in each others embrace
Star-crossed in time in a place
Far away
Innocent dreamers
Turning the wheels of chance
Searching to find romance
Forever
We will surely find
Love is for all time
(and its) the mystery of love
How we go on and on forever
(and its) the mystery of love
Only one heart can turn the key
Down through the history
Of love
Time is the one that holds
The answer
(and its) the mystery of love
Oh, will it set me free
For all time
(and its) the mystery of love
How we go on and on forever
(and its) the mystery of love
Only one heart can turn the key
Down through the history
Of love
Time is the one that holds
The answer
(and its) the mystery of love
How we go on and on forever
(and its) the mystery of love
Only one heart can turn the key...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impressionism in paint, in music, in words
To know the impossible to be impossible
and yet to love the attempt;
to demonstrate that beauty is eternal, yet
seen only in that moment now,
never to be captured, ever changing -
'evanescent' holds a little of the sound of it -
this, the heroic failure that betokens love.
Monet was that hero. For perhaps you may
catch beauty's shadow in a photograph;
even glimpse its joy, there, in the sound of song;
but try to catch it - dab by dab of brush -
when in the time it takes to do this, yet another leaf
- there, watch it as it drops -
has fallen from that distant orange-yellow-brown
blur of an autumn wood - knowing as you render nature's generality
or catch a church, a haystack, in a sundown glow,
that all things pass -
that love's heroic: and when, in irony that surely
needs no underlining, blindness comes upon you, yet
you go on painting, as the water-lilies blur
into the water-weed, into the bridge,
into the time that runs down to the river, to the sea...
and in turn, Renoir, in his 'Moulin a la Galette' dance-cafe,
catching the human reflection of this flow, our yearning
for the perfect moment to remain, frozen, set, fresh-baked,
forever caught - this is what my life has led to,
this is what, surely, I deserve - under the lanterns in the trees
the young girls with their cheeks of peaches, apricots,
and lips like fruit that's waiting to be pressed,
dream of forever to be loved; while their tonight's men
smoke, and drink, and dream of where a young man's lust
might just be step into another world -
while in that room up there that looks down on this scene,
Proust, seeing the cafe's dance of fleeting beauty, writes to catch
those moments lived and lost and yet remembered;
and Debussy, his tentative composer's piano notes
heard just above the cafe's resident accordionist
whose sentimental music you too will remember
to your dying day, and smile a gentle tear - and when
past midnight, as the silence falls upon the thinning dance, and
couples, singing, arm-in-arm it home, and
Monsieur le patron extinguishes the lanterns in the trees,
and the humble workers' square is suddenly a nowhere place,
Debussy will hear the moonlight sliding through the window
onto the piano's keys...
of beauty, we can say not much
of all that may be said.
(To Michael Gessner, who reminded me about poetry.)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Grey land traveller
One day in summer
when the freeway is open,
I will take the Honda
and turn the accelerator open
until the revolution counter
touches the red.
One day I will see
what my motorbike is able to do
when I drive from here to Cape Town
with all the power that it has
and see how the speed needle
goes past the last mark.
One day I will feel
it roaring under me
and cut lightning fast
past cars, pickups and lorries
and speed will make
that it seems
as if I am coming out of the road itself
and I will be like a spectre.
One day I will really know
how much power my motorbike has
and will be part of the wind,
the sun and freedom
and the road will belong to me
and I to the road.
One day time will stop for me
and I might never reach the Cape
and will drive into the grey land
and maybe you
will read about me in the newspapers
and a motorbike
that lies in pieces for a distance of kilometres.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Two Kinds Of Women
There are two kinds of women
in this world of ours.
The ones you love
and the ones that drive you crazy.
If you are lucky,
you only find the ones you love,
unlucky and you’ll find
the ones that drive you crazy.
Unfortunately, you have to live with them
to find out, which is which.
I have been lucky until recently
when a friend came on holiday
and for the two weeks, she stayed,
she wanted to control our lives,
hijacking everything
we had dreamed about.
Happily, as we pack up today
we will part company
I say with a smile
and I can get back to leading a normal life.
Fingers crossed that is.
26 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Ill Find My Way Home
You ask me where to begin
Am I so lost in my sin
You ask me where did I fall
Ill say I cant tell you when
But if my spirit is lost
How will I find what is near
Dont question Im not alone
Somehow Ill find my way home
My sun shall rise in the east
So shall my heart be at peace
And if youre asking me when
Ill say it starts at the end
You know your will to be free
Is matched with love secretly
And talk will alter your prayer
Somehow youll find you are there.
Your friend is close by your side
And speaks in far ancient tongue
A seasons wish will come true
All seasons begin with you
One world we all come from
One world we melt into one
Just hold my hand and were there
Somehow were going somewhere
Somehow were going somewhere
[interlude]
You ask me where to begin
Am I so lost in my sin
You ask me where did I fall
Ill say I cant tell you when
But if my spirit is strong
I know it cant be long
No questions Im not alone
Somehow Ill find my way home
Somehow Ill find my way home
Somehow Ill find my way home
Somehow Ill find my way home
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Sweetheart
I reach out to let you know someone is there
I reach out to let you know that I care
But you keep smacking my hands away
You are going to need those arms someday
Strongly you try to stand
But no man is an island
Independent is what you are
You need no one to make you feel like a star
Sometimes you resonate in the back of my mind
For a good friend sometime is hard to find
Don’t you see I’ve tried to reach you
Or is that you just don’t have a clue
On yourself you want to depend
But don’t you know I am just a friend
You’ve said I’m that and nothing more
So why do you keep closing your door
It’s your song so let us dance
I’m not trying to get in your pants
I am a friend you can rely
But how much longer should I try
Rejection is very hard to take
Why won’t you open up for goodness sake
You never miss the water till the well runs dry
One day I won’t be there to dry you eye
I was there to pick you up and such
I was there to drive you home when you had too much
I was there to turn your frown into a smile
You know my number so why won’t you dial
All I need to know is that you’re doing fine
But in your eyes all I see is a question sign
How much longer do you think it will last
Till all will be in the past
You are beautiful but you refuse to you see
So for now I will just let it be
You are perfect in every way
Just a simply smile and you’ve made my day
My eyes were blind but now I see thee
For your eyes has always captivated me
You are cool and a wit for you are clever
In your eyes I saw God and forever
You like the trill of the hunt and the chase
But my time I can’t afford no more to waist
Seeking something that can’t be sought
Pursuing something that can’t be caught
You can run but you cannot hide
Someday I won’t be by your side
Now it’s time for me to cease and desist
For my friendship you have dismissed
Lord knows that I’ve tried
But something inside for me has died
Bitter sweet it was my friend
For your love for me has come to an end
My eyes cried and my lips are quivering
My body shakes, my soul is shivering
My heart breaks and my mind forsakes
My ears won’t hear, my being fears
I refuse to say goodbye but see you later
Someday you might find something greater
No longer two for we are now apart
So long, fair thee well my golden sweetheart
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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A welcome change
How come nature doesn’t change?
Why writings remain same on page?
Some excuses are found to adjust
Does it require or is must?
Nature too changes with arrival of seasons
It has various implications or reasons
Nature can’t remain static for so many causes
It has to offer so many things and can’t pause
It comes back to its original position when change is over
It readies to accept heavy showers when clouds hover
The energy level is in spate and so much eagerness to welcome
This is acceptable phenomena and in any case has to come
If we adopt the same theory and adjust for good
Then it will have nice combination to come out of wood
Timely change and adjustment may help you to overcome
All the difficulties that may be waiting to come
Any welcome change is never resented
You may find it with favor and consented
It is the way you find it nicely presented
It may end your thrust as you have for long waited
Things may not turn out as per your wishes
You will have to give enough thrust with fine finish
It may turn out to be grand success
You will find it easy to stand and face
You need to adopt change for the bad
It may bring you unhappiness and will make you sad
You won’t be able to digest the failure
You may go with half heart and will never be sure
You will be known as great opportunist
Your future will be shrouded in mystery and lost in mist
The haze and dark clouds may shadow you till the end
The known foes may show false sympathy to prove as friends
If you are expert in turning the table against odds
Then it may save you from possible frauds
You will have enough strategy to counter it to your advantage
You may at par with excellence and have clear edge
Nature has its own role to play and so the human being
All efforts will have to be put for possible changes to bring
Some flexibility may be permitted here and there
It may enhance your capability to land safely somewhere
So the nature as the man and resultant will be result
Possible ways out as you constantly monitor and consult
The change may be expected but with reason and logic
Melody can emerge only when tuned with good music
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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