Fragment: The Lake's Margin
The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses
Track not the steps of him who drinks of it;
For the light breezes, which for ever fleet
Around its margin, heap the sand thereon.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Related quotes
Intersecting Paths
Counting steps
But how many in that
10X12 space and
How many times?
The steps measured
In certain uncertainity
Yes...one
No...two
Went the count
A pen looted in broad day light
Hearts waiting for a release!
But permenantly sealed...
Yes...no Yes...no!
Left their impressions
On either cheek
Sealed hearts fluttered their wings, in vain
Fell flat in a heap, tired!
The tired hearts in the heap morphed:
Words, scents, sentences...
Pink and perfumed on palms
Stubborn pinkperfume!
The airconditioner hanging on the window
Whirred like a routine fan. Failed to lick the heat
No remote!
Did Cavafy say anything
On intersecting paths?
I've to check...
After an aesthetic dislocation
Words found their way
In the mild chillness of the east balcony
On an early winter morning
Before the break of dawn
Words, do they need light?
They lead light
Or turn light into darkness
The pen too didn't want light
It went on lighing its way
And rested on the 'Three pillars of Zen! '
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fragment: A Wanderer
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
Through the dim wildernesses of the mind;
Through desert woods and tracts, which seem
Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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A Step
There are these steps
which rule my life;
I look behind
and see them:
pathways I've taken,
impressions here and there
from the baby ones
to my teens
all there in the sand
trailing behind me.
I've stepped up to challenges;
my first apartment
my first home
career and children
all steps along my way;
I see the future ones
arrayed in front of me
marker points to strive for.
Sadly too
I have known
the 12 steps
of sister who
needed these.
I have known the 12 pillars of light;
stairways to heaven;
the two-step dancing
and step-ford wives.
I've looked behind
and at times,
there was only one set of tracks;
my walking alone.
There have been big steps
and little steps
none greater than
the one
I took
stepping up to you
who awaited me
at the stair case height
taking my arm
to ascend
to the preacher standing there-
the biggest,
happiest,
most wonderfullest
step
I have ever taken
in my life.
Thanks Dear
for walking with me
for all these years.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Merciful Maker of Waters and Whiles
Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles,
Then he too will know you.
I'll rear him to fear you.
He cannot survive in the waters of the Nile.
This trial is too great! The boy is my child!
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Pharoah's command is most certainly vile:
'Kill each boy child born in all of Israel! '
I hear mothers weeping.
The monsters are feasting.
A child's meat is sweet to those beasts in the Nile.
Revile this intrusion lest I fall beguiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles.
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles!
Alas, and I fear never more will I smile.
They've taken my baby boy down to the Nile.
My son is not screaming.
It sounds like he's singing;
Though soon he will bathe as among pedophiles.
Denial will not spare him nor savoring bile.
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles,
But spared instead Moses,
And he will deliver
All children of Israel from out of the Nile.
In this trial I'll praise you and smile in this while,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Deliverer Moses resembles your child,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles;
Though Moses was rescued
But your son not spared-
Devoured his flesh as with beasts of the Nile.
You meanwhile were pleased as you stood by and smiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not your own son to make me your child.
Gulf Of Mexico
Teddy gentry/robert byrne, 3:59
I live to work and work to live
Oh but what I wouldnt give
For a ray of sun and a little piece of beach
Where the sand dollar is the only currency
Chorus:
I vote we go to the gulf of mexico
You and me by the sea
Palm trees call me, oh thats the place I want to be
Down where the southern breezes blow
On the gulf of mexico
Right at five oclock today
Ill pick you up, well drive away
And I cant wait to feel the sand beneath my toes
And I can almost see the sunburn on your nose
Repeat chorus
Vamos we go... (repeat chorus again)
Tag
Down where the southern breezes blow
On the gulf of mexico
On the gulf of mexico
Thats the place I want to be
Down where the southern breezes blow
On the gulf of mexico
(c) 1990 maypop music (a division of wildcountry, inc ) (bmi) / roberty byrne music (ascap). all rights reserved.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sea(1994-1995)
The sea, the sea: calling out to you and me
Waves rush in to caress the sand
Only to roll out again
The sea, the sea: calmness in its water
But in one fowl swoop
The calm has turned sour
The sea, the sea: breezes clear as day
Salty air meets our lips
Longer, will we stay?
The sea, the sea: soft sand beneath our feet
Breeze cooling our hot hands
One look at your eyes and I Know
The sea, the sea: our ally and friend
The seascape drawing us in
In triumph, two sweethearts together
Creating Minstrels in the sand.
poem by Lillian B. Rose
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Bahrain 's margin of freedom is growing day after day as we head into the future with steady steps.
quote by Hamad bin Isla Al Khalifi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ay, workman, make me a dream
Ay, workman, make me a dream,
A dream for my love.
Cunningly weave sunlight,
Breezes, and flowers.
Let it be of the cloth of meadows.
And -- good workman --
And let there be a man walking thereon.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Journey Home
The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my
voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,
and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.
The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.
My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!'
The question and the cry `Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Hollywood
Orange and yellow and purple and green
The lights of the city at night set the scene
Stumble through the bars of forget-me-not lane
Sparkle through the glitter but dont show the pain
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
Heartbeats echo through a cavern of love
Come to the tavern Ill meet you up above
Soaring through the heavens, what a fabulous ride
But everybodys heading for the same place to hide
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Heap’s peak
Everyone has a heap,
Each heap has a peak,
Be it a mountain or an ant hill.
Priding on such heap one would die,
Each soul thus getting some respite.
15.06.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Win the Disease
Disease
Are called...
New new...
Name for today...
Disease...
All are come
Comenley same...
For nasty water...
For colour full drinks...
For fasted food...
Cross sex...
Bad habiets...
With out execise...
That is...
Todays for disease...
Name is new...
All disease are old...
Change your steps
On...
Food...
Drinks...
Habits. ..
Normal sex...
win the disease...
With your life...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Roman Sentinel
Death or dishonor, which is best to taste?
A Roman sentinel in Pompeii,
When God’s hot anger laid that city waste,
Answered the question, and resolved to die.
His duty was, upon his post to bide
Till the relief came, let what might betide.
He stood forgotten by the fleeing guard,
Choosing that part which is the bitterest still,
His face with its fixed purpose cold and hard,
Cut in the resolute granite of his will.
“Better,” he said “to die, than live in shame;
Death wreathes fresh flowers round a brave man’s name.”
Life is the wave’s deep whisper on the shore,
Of a great sea beyond. The sentry saw
That day the light in broad sails hoisted o’er
The drifting boat of dawn; nor dreamed the flaw,
The puff called death, would blow him with them by
Out to the boundless sea beyond the sky.
The sentry watched the mountain’s fire-gashed cheeks,
And saw come up the sand’s entombing shower.
The storm darts out its red tongue when it speaks,
And fierce Vesuvius, in that wild hour,
Put forth its tongue of flame, and spoke the word
Of hatred to the city from the Lord.
The gloom of seventeen centuries skulked away,
And standing in a marble niche was found
A skeleton in armor all decay;
The soulless skull was by a helmet crowned,
Cleaving thereon with mingled rust and sand,
And a long spear was in the crumbling hand.
In Pompeii are beasts of stone with wings,
Paved streets with marble temples on each side,
Baths, houses, paintings, monuments of kings;
But the arched gate whereat the sentry died,
The rusted spear, and helmet with no crest,
Are better far to see than all the rest.
O heart, whatever lot to thee God gives,
Be strong, and swerve not from a blameless way;
Dishonor hurts the soul that ever lives,
Death hurts the body that is kin with clay.
Though Duty’s face is stern, her path is best:
They sweetly sleep who die upon her breast.
poem by Henry Abbey
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The River That Flows On and On
In the mist of darkness,
Lies Deep Dark Woods,
Where the river of hatred flows on and on,
The river is dark, it is black
It is filled with sins really so bad,
It has no light, for it gives no light,
It makes the surrounding worse than night,
The people there are worse than monsters,
Never go there; it’s really very dreadful,
Then one day there came a man filled with light,
He wasn’t scared, he was alright,
He went into the Woods so dark,
And saw everything with not even a frightful start
He saw the people, who were really weird,
But still his mind was not filled with fear,
He went to river, he looked at it,
He saw the sins of mankind and sobbed with tears,
He returned home and reported his sighting,
He said it’s because of humans that the river was spoilt,
The people did their best, good not bad,
The woods grew brighter and brought out joys,
It had many visitors, not so spoilt,
The river then flowed with a gleaming light,
It was filled with the goodness of mankind,
And soon the Deep Dark Woods were called the Woods of Light.
poem by Meriam Joseph
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When sun's rays be tears
When sun's rays be tears
When we lost our shadow
When the sky and the earth cry
When the desert's sand swallow our steps
When the face of our dreams be dark
Who can awaken the sun?
To roll down
The warm rays of the sun
The shadows to be clear
The laugh of earth and sky
The way to our steps over the sand
The face of our happy dreams
No one. Only me and you
Thanks for my dear friend Ahamed Khaled 'Who can awaken the sun? '
poem by hosny Soliman
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As Time ~runs By
As Time Goes By
Each grain of sand
On the waste of Sahara
Is a word spoken
A lover´s whisper
A story told and
A song sung.
And now lizards and
Snakes burrow under
The sand to
Escape the fierce sun.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Paralysis
For moveless limbs no pity I crave,
That never were swift! Still all I prize,
Laughter and thought and friends, I have;
No fool to heave luxurious sighs
For the woods and hills that I never knew.
The more excellent way's yet mine! And you
Flower-laden come to the clean white cell,
And we talk as ever - am I not the same?
With our hearts we love, immutable,
You without pity, I without shame.
We talk as of old; as of old you go
Out under the sky, and laughing, I know,
Flit through the streets, your heart all me;
Till you gain the world beyond the town.
Then - I fade from your heart, quietly;
And your fleet steps quicken. The strong down
Smiles you welcome there; the woods that love you
Close lovely and conquering arms above you.
O ever-moving, O lithe and free!
Fast in my linen prison I press
On impassable bars, or emptily
Laugh in my great loneliness.
And still in the white neat bed I strive
Most impotently against that gyve;
Being less now than a thought, even,
To you alone with your hills and heaven.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1909)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Lonely Woods
in the lonely woods i'm lost
surrounded by shards of frost
is there a path i haven't crossed?
no. yet in the lonely woods i'm lost
in the lonely woods at night
trapped and locked up in deep fright
no movement, no heat and no light
just the sound of my breath in the lonely
woods
poem by Jonathan Fabianski
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What is man without the beasts If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
quote by Chief Seattle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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