My Life
My life is a Corinthian acanthus leaf
On an intricately carved classic column
Enchanted pellucid palace
Silent opaque sandglass
On an amethyst shelf
Byzantine transition
From circle to sphere.
My works are gothic objects
Frail violins
Of crystal madrigals
Bizarre rococo laces
In a darkly rich coloured interior
And sometimes as I stare at them
They are strange and unknown to me
Like my own hand and fingers
At three o’clock A.M.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Strange
It's an egg hunt for dates
On new roller-skates
While grooms and their brides
Take horse-drawn rides
Unless you've seen it
You cannot believe it
It's so, so bizarre
Boys gone bad
With their absentee dads
Who live with their pets
'Cause they're hedgin' their bets
Unless you're seen it
You cannot believe it
It's so, so bizarre
How can it be, that it's only me
How can it be, that it's only me
It's a well-known song
And he's singin' it wrong
But the crowd's on the bong
So they all clap along
Unless you've seen it
You cannot believe it
It's so , so bizarre
It's a summertime vibe
And the park is alive
And the actors arrive to be led on their lines
Unless you're seen it
You cannot believe it
It's so, so bizarre
How can it be, that it's only me
How can it be, that it's only me
That sees the strange
The strange, the strange
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swirls of antique stained glass, blazes of brass, forests of carved wood and waterfalls of crystal combine to make up the city's most fabulously festive interior.
quote by Mimi Sheraton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Day
Well Im hiding my eyes from the morning sun
And I keep on working till the work is all done
But a voice in my head keeps ticking away
As the sweats hosed down from yet another day
Well he works hard
And he lives hard
And he breaks his back without nothing to gain
While the boss man sits around and drinks champagne
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Well Im peeling the blisters off my working hand
Is that what it takes to make you understand?
That its something you read, not something you meant
To be slaving away without a shred of integrity
He worked hard
And he lived hard
And he broke his back without nothing to say
While the man in control was just laughing away
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Was it something you read?
Was it something you meant?
Was it something you said?
Or was it heaven sent?
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Morning Fancy
I drifted (or I seemed to) in a boat
Upon the surface of a shoreless sea
Whereon no ship nor anything did float,
Save only the frail bark supporting me;
And that-it was so shadowy-seemed to be
Almost from out the very vapors wrought
Of the great ocean underneath its keel;
And all that blue profound appeared as naught
But thicker sky, translucent to reveal,
Miles down, whatever through its spaces glided,
Or at the bottom traveled or abided.
Great cities there I saw-of rich and poor,
The palace and the hovel; mountains, vales,
Forest and field, the desert and the moor,
Tombs of the good and wise who'd lived in jails,
And seas of denser fluid, white with sails
Pushed at by currents moving here and there
And sensible to sight above the flat
Of that opaquer deep. Ah, strange and fair
The nether world that I was gazing at
With beating heart from that exalted level,
And-lest I founder-trembling like the devil!
The cities all were populous: men swarmed
In public places-chattered, laughed and wept;
And savages their shining bodies warmed
At fires in primal woods. The wild beast leapt
Upon its prey and slew it as it slept.
Armies went forth to battle on the plain
So far, far down in that unfathomed deep
The living seemed as silent as the slain,
Nor even the widows could be heard to weep.
One might have thought their shaking was but laughter;
And, truly, most were married shortly after.
Above the wreckage of that silent fray
Strange fishes swam in circles, round and round
Black, double-finned; and once a little way
A bubble rose and burst without a sound
And a man tumbled out upon the ground.
Lord! 'twas an eerie thing to drift apace
On that pellucid sea, beneath black skies
And o'er the heads of an undrowning race;
And when I woke I said-to her surprise
Who came with chocolate, for me to drink it:
'The atmosphere is deeper than you think it.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Circle Dream
[ buck/drew/gustafson/augustyniak/merchant ]
[ percussion: paulinho da costa ]
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle I had made were all the worlds unformed and unborn yet.
A volume, a sphere that was the earth, that was the moon, that did revolve around my room.
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle was a maze, a terrible spiral to be lost in.
Blind in my fear, I was escaping just by feel.
But at every turn my way was sealed.
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle was a face.
Her eyes looked upon me with fondness.
Her warmth coming near, calling me sweetness, calling me dear.
But I whispered, no, I cant rest here.
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Chiming Clock
There's a clock on the shelf in the old lady's house
and I have a bad feeling inside,
for it ticks and tocks and it chimes every hour
and I fear it marks time till she dies.
She sits all day long by the fire in a shawl,
knitting in rhythm to its beat.
and she seems quite oblivious to time passing by
as she stops now and then to make tea.
It's dark in her house and the furniture is old
the curtains are brown where they've aged.
I'd really like to stay but it's getting very cold
and the clock on the shelf says it's late.
She rocks in her chair, by the fire, most days,
knitting and watching the TV
Sometimes she will hum a funny little song,
then she'll talk to the cat or to me.
I bring her a newspaper every day
and a loaf of bread twice a week
On Sundays I stay for a lovely piece of cake
that she bakes extra specially for me!
Someday I'll be old like the frail lady there
I'll sit in my house all day long
I might have a cat and a big rocking chair
but I wont have an old chiming clock.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Cold
Cold leaf blows
freezing wind.
Electric milk car,
frozen bottle milks dinging.
Supersonic squab,
eye's bulbs.
Crystal's cold tears
of snow hares.
The sky, plate of steel,
duck's arrows seel.
Horn of wind,
silent blares,
the tea coloured leafs,
through despair.
Cold bones are quivering
in your pocket coat…
poem by Luca Menin
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Trees in the Garden
Ah in the thunder air
how still the trees are!
And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent
hardly looses even a last breath of perfume.
And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of leaves
white, ivory white among the rambling greens
how evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates on the green grass
as if, in another moment, she would disappear
with all her grace of foam!
And the larch that is only a column, it goes up too tall to see:
and the balsam-pines that are blue with the grey-blue blueness of
things from the sea,
and the young copper beech, its leaves red-rosy at the ends
how still they are together, they stand so still
in the thunder air, all strangers to one another
as the green grass glows upwards, strangers in the silent garden.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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On the Stage
Lights, in a multi-coloured mist,
From indigo to amethyst,
A whirling mist of multi-coloured lights;
And after, wigs and tights,
Then faces, then a glimpse of profiles, then
Eyes, and a mist again;
And rouge, and always tights, and wigs, and tights.
You see the ballet so, and so,
From amethyst to indigo;
You see a dance of phantoms, but I see
A girl, who smiles to me;
Her cheeks, across the rouge, and in her eyes
I know what memories,
What memories and messages for me.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Shoe Laces
Shoe laces
Shoe laces
Don't come undone
Don't untie and stop all my fun.
I'm running with friends in this game of tag
To come undone would be such a drag.
Shoe laces
Shoe laces
Don't come undone
Don't untie and stop all my fun.
Trip me you'll do and skin my knee too
People will laugh and call me a foo.
Shoe laces
Shoe laces
Don't come undone
Don't untie and stop all my fun.
Look oh no you’re out of the knot
Unraveling and flaring, about to be caught
Under my foot as I step down
God oh no I'm falling...The ground!
Boom I hit and what do you know
My Knee is bleeding just like I told
People are laughing and pointing and staring
Why oh why did my shoe laces fail me?
Shoe laces
Shoe laces
Did come undone
Did untie and stop all my fun…
The Ballroom-A Pantoum
'And gilded couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since.'
-Sylvia Plath, 'Cinderella'
The orchestra begins a new melody.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part.
Guests sip white wine and champagne, and
scores of couples begin to dance.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part
as the violins and cellos play their song.
Scores of couples begin to dance:
Men in tuxedoes, and ladies in scarlet gowns.
As the violins and cellos play their song,
dancers twirl on the white marble floor.
Men in tuxedoes and ladies in scarlet gowns
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
Dancers twirl on the white marble floor;
guests sip white wine and champagne and
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
The orchestra begins a new melody.
poem by Kimberly Kastner
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Padua
pilgrims
students
art culture
Cognoscenti
The Eight
Byzantine domes
most richly
decorated Basilica
Gothic art
Giotto’s frescoes
Basilica del Santo
Capella degli Scrovegni
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Bananas
(GillanGloverPaiceMorseAirey)
I've got nothing to say today
I used my words up yesterday
I'm just lying here in the sun
Watching you guys having fun
Seven days and seven nights
Working till you got it right
Don't help me I'll help myself
I'll pull some crackers off the shelf
She had her hair done yesterday
Now she's coming out to play
First you pull and then you push
Two in the hand and one in the bush
Oh, my love is
So excited
When I say we've
Been invited
Now we're going
To the palace
Dressing up for
Tea with Alice
Some will rise and some will fall
Some will come to nothing at all
The strangest people have the power
To lead me to my darkest hour
How can you be sure it's me
When it's payment on delivery
Oh, my love is
So excited
When I say we've
Been invited
Now we're going
To the palace
Dressing up for
Tea with Alice
Now my love is
Richer than rich
'Cause I studied
Mathematics
Graduated
Without honours
Everyone has
Gone Bananas
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orange Leaf
Orange leaf passing by
The air is stiff
And cold
Orange leaf passing by
Flying over the snow
Orange leaf passing by
Riding over the snow.
Past the oak tree
The old house is silent
Orange leaf
Fly with the wind
And snow
Fly past the frozen lake
Fish sleeping beneath
Its crystal surface
Orange leaf
fly to the sea
And wait
To be picked up
And carried off
Orange leaf passing by
The air is stiff
And cold
Orange leaf passing by
Flying over the snow
poem by Jesse love
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This Poem Brought To You By The Word Stop
Before me is red
A giant red circle
Glowing in front of me
At the top
Of a strange light contraption
It signals to me
To stop, cease movement
I stopped just to find
The light device
Has a green circle
At the bottom
There’s a strange urge
Within me
That says go
But I wonder
About that red light
That was in front of me
Wondering where it went
And whether or not
I should stay
And wait to see it again
To further find instruction
To know what the next light
Really means
Yellow
I see red again
I experience a sense of euphoria
I stare at the light
And enjoy the radiance
Of its presence
poem by Russell Sivey
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A Real Place- Ice Palace of Fantasy!
Yes, Valentine’s Day’s around the corner!
A year has passed off, since we had last met;
Our romance needs rejuvenation fast;
Let’s celebrate in fantasy again.
We’ll go dear sweetheart to the Ice-island -
A place in Antarctica, where you’ll find
A palace carved all from an ice-berg’s peak:
Well guarded by a dragon that spits fire!
It is a place of everlasting night,
Where Lady Moon illuminates the sky,
And swathes the palace with her golden light,
That cannot melt the ice from which ’tis built!
The palace stands amidst a crystal sea
Of bluish, marble ice with fish alive:
The perfect place for romancing couples-
A paradise on earth in polar cap!
All lovers are allowed entry for free,
With exotic foods served around the clock,
And music throwing hearts in ecstasy-
‘A real place, palace of fantasy! ’
Let’s go there for this year’s Valentine’s Day!
With fun and merriment along the way;
Let’s make our love real in weird a place,
Away from earthly eyes those want to gaze.
And there, I want to kiss your lips again,
With love that kindles memories of past:
Embracing you like nev’r I’ve done before-
Just like the handsome princes of folklore!
So, buck up baby; prepare mind and heart,
And wear your bridal dress I‘m sending now;
Our love is everlasting like the Isle
Of Ice- Earth’s Paradise for lovers all.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-25-2008
poem by John Celes
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The waterfall
Carved between two forests
scented with pine and peat,
crystal cold water rushes
across a mountain shelf
over 200 ft deep.
Splashing,
tangling
in tremendous motion
roaring like the raging tide
over flint grey rock it tumbles
thundering downward
running wild
spraying
sparkling
silver
out into the air.
Filling it
full of misty mornings
smelling of pine damp grass.
Leaving a lingering
taste of
iced spring pearls
served in rock crystal glass.
poem by Diana Rosser
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Sola Sistim
Come get some orange juice, it's great.
[repeated throughout the song, each time in different speaker]
My eyes burn naked,
my black cold numbers,
my insecurities,
my devious nature,
make it go away.
My rest between rubber,
my spider shadow,
my shattered dancer.
Beautiful, broken,
my crystal fingers,
beautiful, broken,
my crystal fingers.
My glass like rain,
my illumination,
my cracks are sliding,
shaker, feather,
rubber, duster,
cold, cool,
your fingers, broken,
beautiful, wonderful,
paper flaps,
how you love,
love to love,
love and stitch,
shaker, rubber, striper.
Beautiful, broken,
my crystal fingers,
beautiful, broken,
my crystal fingers.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Time Clicks Upon A New Point Of View
if you think that poetry is free time,
that is, you only do it because you have nothing to do
you are wrong. It is at the top of the busy day
when pressure becomes too much
when you see the two hands of the clock
in a race
when not one hand knows how to stop
when it is about to have a broken knee
when the numbers become like
a gasoline meter
you stop a while
touch your neck
rub a little balm of balsam
or vick's vaporub
you massage what hurts
with the gentleness of your hands
you run your fingers
as though your vertebral column
is a piano
you make music now
so gently
you free your fingers from that tired body
face the monitor
free your mind
let loose the blue bird inside your mouth
and let it sing
now, you have it
it clicks
the words begin to come out
like hermit crabs from their borrowed houses
made of rugged shells
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song Of The Silent Land. (From The German Of Salis)
Into the Silent Land!
Ah! who shall lead us thither?
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.
Who leads us with a gentle hand
Thither, O thither,
Into the Silent Land?
Into the Silent Land!
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions
Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band!
Who in Life's battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land!
O Land! O Land!
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our faith allotted,
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great Departed,
Into the Silent Land!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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