Ode to Maize
America, from a grain
of maize you grew
to crown
with spacious lands
the ocean foam.
A grain of maize was your geography.
From the grain
a green lance rose,
was covered with gold,
to grace the heights
of Peru with its yellow tassels.
But, poet, let
history rest in its shroud;
praise with your lyre
the grain in its granaries:
sing to the simple maize in the kitchen.
First, a fine beard
fluttered in the field
above the tender teeth
of the young ear.
Then the husks parted
and fruitfulness burst its veils
of pale papyrus
that grains of laughter
might fall upon the earth.
To the stone,
in your journey,
you returned.
Not to the terrible stone,
the bloody
triangle of Mexican death,
but to the grinding stone,
sacred
stone of your kitchens.
There, milk and matter,
strength-giving, nutritious
cornmeal pulp,
you were worked and patted
by the wondrous hands
of dark-skinned women.
Wherever you fall, maize,
whether into the
splendid pot of partridge, or among
country beans, you light up
the meal and lend it
your virginal flavor.
Oh, to bite into
the steaming ear beside the sea
of distant song and deepest waltz.
To boil you
as your aroma
spreads through
blue sierras.
But is there
no end
to your treasure?
In chalky, barren lands
bordered
by the sea, along
the rocky Chilean coast,
at times
only your radiance
reaches the empty
table of the miner.
Your light, your cornmeal, your hope
pervades America's solitudes,
and to hunger
your lances
are enemy legions.
Within your husks,
like gentle kernels,
our sober provincial
children's hearts were nurtured,
until life began
to shuck us from the ear.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Related quotes
The Infinitesimal
small is
Infinitesimal
a small grain of
rice
contains all the food
of this world
need i repeat when he
once said
that one must see the
universe
in the grain of
sand
the whole of love and
affection
in the hands
the magnificence of
creation in the mere spark
of stone
to stone
the magical grace of
the earth
in the sway of the
bamboo tip
of change in the mere blink
of an eye
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grain by grain, a loaf; stone by stone, a castle.
Dark the shadows haunt the night
If I began to cry
The tears would never end
If I lowered my guard
Then how could I defend?
From every side the walls close in
And there is no place that you could stand
That would hide you from this world
And all that it demands
Whoever said that life was fair
Has not lived long enough
When the path takes you along the edge
You'll see them fall off the bluff
But the problem is
If your guard is high
You will wither away
And begin to die
How could something so small
Cast such a shadow on the land?
How was it that it stood so tall
Yet it was just a grain of sand?
I made my way through this world
With the Sun forever at my back
And the shadows went before me
And the shadow it was black
One grain of sand in my eye
Tormented me for many years
And I could never hope to fly
For I was blinded by my fears
Then Jesus came and turned me round
To face the rising Sun
His light it shone upon my face
And my journey had begun
When you walk into the Son
The shadows fall behind
The Sun removes the grain of sand
Now you're no longer blind
Who is your grain of sand my child
That made you stumble, made you fall?
In the light of Christ perhaps you'll find
That persons not so very tall
Dark the shadows haunt the night
That cause you to run and hide
Look to the Son that shines so bright
And He will shine that light inside
O to be filled with the light of Christ
And see the shadows disappear
To lift my eyes to heavens heights
And finally to shed a tear
poem by Frank McEleny
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Pukllay Festival Release Social Tensions
I sing song of life is theme harmony
inspired Andean festival of Pukllay
held in high Andes in month February
over a period of harmonious eight days
eight days singing and dancing
eight days to inspire social harmony
women dance dance with bundles
of maize grain fruit in your shawls
young mothers young mothers bundle
bundle in your infants bundle in life
dance with life your wide-eyed infants
infants learning who bounce wide-eyed
above maternal twirling and stamping
let women sing let men together sing sing
sing in two choirs sing sing back and forth
sing in festival time of whipping dances
sing in teasing sing hearts in love making
sing in time of release release release from
traditional restraints feel do express what
cannot be done expressed at all other times
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Black Cherry
How can it be?
I can taste you now
How can I see
When you're everything
All the world in one grain of sand
And I've blown it
All my world in one grain of sand
And you own it
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Hearing you say it
I could die
Trembling star
Just reminds me
All the world in one grain of sand
And I've blown it
All my world in one grain of sand
And you own it
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Excite me, ignite me
Oh and you know,
I miss you, I kiss you
Oh and you know
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Black cherry
Black cherry
Stone
Excite me, ignite me
Oh and you know,
I miss you, I kiss you
Oh and you know
song performed by by Goldfrapp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anna
The pale discrowned stacks of maize,
Like spectres in the sun,
Stand shivering nigh Avonaise,
Where all is dead and gone.
The sere leaves make a music vain,
With melancholy chords;
Like cries from some old battle-plain,
Like clash of phantom swords.
But when the maize was lush and green
With musical green waves,
She went, its plumed ranks between,
Unto the hill of graves.
There you may see sweet flowers set
O'er damsels and o'er dames --
Rose, Ellen, Mary, Margaret --
The sweet old quiet names.
The gravestones show in long array,
Though white or green with moss,
How linked in Life and Death are they --
The Shamrock and the Cross.
The gravestones face the Golden East,
And in the morn they take
The blessing of the Great High Priest,
Before the living wake.
Who was she? Never ask her name,
Her beauty and her grace
Have passed, with her poor little shame,
Into the Silent Place.
In Avonaise, in Avonaise,
Where all is dead and done,
The folk who rest there all their days
Care not for moon or sun.
They care not, when the living pass,
Whether they sigh or smile;
They hear above their graves the grass
That sighs -- "A little while!"
A white stone marks her small green bed
With "Anna" and "Adieu".
Madonna Mary, rest her head
On your dear lap of blue!
poem by Victor James Daley
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America The Beautiful
(traditional,. arranged by elvis presley)
O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above thy fruited plain
America, america
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea
For beautiful..for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain..majesties
Above the fruited plain...
America!...america!...
God shed his grace..on thee..
And crowned thy good, with brotherhood
From sea...to shining sea...
America!..america!!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea...to..shining..sea!!
America!!!....
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America the Beautiful
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassion'd stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness.
America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.
O beautiful for heroes prov'd
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life.
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine.
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears.
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates (1895)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Box
The brain inside the box, landscapes of maps,
where needless like a compass, stitch the way,
cleaver, but not as often wiser,
like grain of sand, no much important, at the blowing wind.
Hunt by nature, ice and dry, shaping our life
Survivor in this mud, where silence flies emerges.
The ancestor corps
Time and age, the gods we pray.
The primordial silence, now awake
Thunder staring, mountain boiling,
and the valley harvest, grain and maize,
at the cloud shadowing skies.
And the man called it paradise.
And so the city wall, arise
inside our mind.
Dwell in temples, manmade,
for gods to stay.
Just another dream, inside the box,
pouring tears, made for last.
Billion's years,
and then disappears.
Emptiness, is to be fill.
Of dreams made real
by the man's eyes, by the soul light.
The gift that god gave to us
the story of our life's
the faith and the fight
the empty box of life.
To be fill....
poem by Luca Menin
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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America The Beautiful (live 5-7-76)
O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above thy fruited plain
America, America
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea
For beautiful..for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain..majesties
Above the fruited plain...
America!...America!...
God shed His grace..on thee..
And crowned thy good, with brotherhood
From sea...to shining sea...
America!..America!!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea...to..shining..sea!!
AMERICA!!!....
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Man's Wish
If I live to be old, for I find I go down,
Let this be my fate: In a country town
May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
Near a shady grove, and a murmuring brook,
With the ocean at distance, whereupon I may look,
With a spacious plain without hedge or stile,
And an easy pad-nag to ride out a mile.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With Horace and Petrarch, and two or three more
Of the best wits that reign'd in the ages before,
With roast mutton, rather than ven'son or veal,
And clean though coarse linen at every meal.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a pudding on Sundays, with stout humming liquor,
And remnants of Latin to welcome the vicar,
With Monte-Fiascone or Burgundy wine,
To drink the King's health as oft as I dine.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a courage undaunted may I face my last day,
And when I am dead may the better sort say,
In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow,
He's gone, and left not behind him his fellow.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Submergent Heir Apparent 1532
Regardless of their air apparent firm
Of grain, to grain, against the grain, cliff wall
One day must fall, must raftless [d]rift withal
Marked only by the generation worm
Whose earlybird descendant shall not squirm
In spite of stone erosion's crystal ball.
Tintagel's hour of need may heed no call
Hark to prophet-sea-gull, wheeling tern
One day may search its prey where wild waves churn,
Uninterrupted sea soars over all,
That climate change precipitated, squall
Dour squall succeeding Man's high plans, his germ.
Order bows to chaos as the deep
Submerges, legend, castle, climb and keep.
(26 December 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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After The Slow Slipping Of Self
grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand
and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain
until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers
then feel that
your hands
are still yours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Roll Away The Stone
Baby, if you say you still care, I follow you most anywhere
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
And in the darkest night, Ill keep you safe and alright
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
Wont you roll away the stone, why be cold and so alone
Wont you roll away the stone, dont you let it lie
No matter if fools say we cant win, I know Ill fall in love again
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
So sing, we still got a chance, baby for love and sweet romance
Roll away the stone, roll away the stone
Wont you roll away the stone...
..dont you let it die
Just kick it away..
Ian hunter/1973
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ultima Thule: The Windmill
Behold! a giant am I!
Aloft here in my tower,
With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
And grind them into flour.
I look down over the farms;
In the fields of grain I see
The harvest that is to be,
And I fling to the air my arms,
For I know it is all for me.
I hear the sound of flails
Far off, from the threshing-floors
In barns, with their open doors,
And the wind, the wind in my sails,
Louder and louder roars.
I stand here in my place,
With my foot on the rock below,
And whichever way it may blow,
I meet it face to face,
As a brave man meets his foe.
And while we wrestle and strive,
My master, the miller, stands
And feeds me with his hands;
For he knows who makes him thrive,
Who makes him lord of lands.
On Sundays I take my rest;
Church-going bells begin
Their low, melodious din;
I cross my arms on my breast,
And all is peace within.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Grain Of Sand
From every grain of sand
That falls from my hand
Through my fingers to the ground
To utter but not a sound,
For like a Human life
That pasted before my eyes
To be here and then be gone
Forgotten like yesterdays dawn.
For like a grain of sand
The Boy became a Man
Who cries tears of His fate,
For He knows for what Man did,
Is from what Man had made.
Though as being caught up in the air
And being blown to who knows where
For where we go, no man knows
And where we die, is where we lie.
We are all here a lifetime
As though it seems a long time
It is though, but a short time,
To live and love, then die.
Like a grain of sand
That falls upon the beach
To be caught up in the rain or air
And to go where no one can reach,
A Girl becomes a Woman
The Boy becomes a Man
And everyone makes their own fall,
Like a simple, grain of sand.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Corn Song
HEAP HIGH the farmer’s wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn!
Let other lands, exulting, glean
The apple from the pine,
The orange from its glossy green,
The cluster from the vine;
We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,
To cheer us when the storm shall drift
Our harvest-fields with snow.
Through vales of grass and meads of flowers
Our ploughs their furrows made,
While on the hills the sun and showers
Of changeful April played.
We dropped the seed o’er hill and plain
Beneath the sun of May,
And frightened from our sprouting grain
The robber crows away.
All through the long, bright days of June
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummer’s noon
Its soft and yellow hair.
And now, with autumn’s moonlit eves,
Its harvest-time has come,
We pluck away the frosted leaves,
And bear the treasure home.
There, richer than the fabled gift
Apollo showered of old,
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
And knead its meal of gold.
Let vapid idlers loll in silk
Around their costly board;
Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
By homespun beauty poured!
Where’er the wide old kitchen hearth
Sends up its smoky curls,
Who will not thank the kindly earth
And bless our farmer girls?
Then shame on all the proud and vain,
Whose folly laughs to scorn
The blessing of our hardy grain,
Our wealth of golden corn!
Let earth withhold her goodly root,
Let mildew blight the rye,
Give to the worm the orchard’s fruit,
The wheat-field to the fly:
But let the good old crop adorn
The hills our fathers trod;
Still let us, for His golden corn,
Send up our thanks to God!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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If I Could Fall In Love
When I was young
I fell in love
She was a goddess
With a world inside of her mind
When she moved on
Something went wrong
She took my power
And the love I had inside
Now that I found you
I don't know how to
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
I pray in time
I'll come to find
Away to break through
And save this heart of mine
You've waited long
If you can't hold on
I wouldn't blame you
I don't think I'd be that strong
What am I to do
If I can't have you
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
You love me so
Even though I don't know
How do you deal
With a man like me
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
I would
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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