Song Of Heat: A Tribute
no cloud to dark
your hottie lagoon
wind sometimes travel
in the garden
rest the day
draught cracks the surface
water lost its layer
to feed the thirsty crown
....once long dawn
of rising amber
touched the wake
never to die the hallucination
of a monarch to play.........
riding rough
stone alley through the greens
of morbid
Draculic door of lying agony
generous to be haunted
to hunt the feverish apocalyptic pale
and forbidden feature
cloud alone covered
the drowsy dipper
who smelled blood
from scattered flesh
who tasted breath
from boneless cheeks
today
the thousand ponds and ditches,
river and sandy beds
raising hands above
crying shelter to suck
drops of wetly build
shouting burns to burn
your creepy scarlet
dozens of bead
made of dust
yet thirst screaming
the night in dense
of wild
and wordly dots and dashes
yet your hottie lagoon
crawls to blend
the barrels of soup to sip
if the dry goes round
the clocks of easy rounding
moments to hour
none could turn
the leaves and roots,
none could breed
the sin bypassing love...
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Related quotes
There was a gorgeous summer
There was a gorgeous summer
at the sea,
when she still loved me.
She sat under a umbrella on Uvongo beach
and the hot water,
of the lagoon touched our feet.
She smiled and her hand was in mine
and her dark curls,
hugged her face.
I rubbed lotion unto her back
and the softness of every curve,
felt like magic to my hands.
We watched the azure blue sea
and children dived from the hillock past the waterfall,
somersaulting into the lagoon.
Like all great holiday’s that one passed to soon
and like our relationship,
Uvongo beach and the lagoon is gone.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Redmption Of The Self
when i stand there
there was a dark cloud of shame
above my head
the cloud is heavy
and it poured
dismay
i am drenched with
humiliation
i fell like i am a tree with
wilted leaves
that keep on falling to
the ground
until i become nothing
but twigs
mere fingers of the hands
skeletal to the sky
i do not have those roots
that keep me strong
but then there is always that
redemption
ally to the sun
shall i be when tomorrow comes
i grow my leaves again
spread my roots
deeper than the
hands of the rivers
to the cracks of the earth
where gold resides
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Will the sun ever shine again
The cloud took over the sky covering it with a black blanket
will the sun ever shine again
the sun ran from east to seek refuge av the west
all because the cloud over threw him
will the sun ever shine again
the stars and moon all peep in to mourn their master 'sun' who was murder by the cloud
will the sun ever shine again
who could appeals the cloud to be lenient on the sky for it cries all day, mourning it master
will the sun ever shine again
the sky cry and earth couldn't go out
will the sun ever shine again
our roads filled with water
the canals over flown paving ways into our houses
will the sun ever shine again
the sky cry, and vehicles were park'd at their owner's lodge
will the sun ever shine again
the tears from the sky has turn'd the house into lagoon
will the sun ever shine again
yeah! my clothe is wet
my stomach is empty
at the same time my throat is dry,
for the sun had stop shining
will the sun ever shine again
plant could not germinate because the sun went to bed
the land was over floaded
will the sun ever shine again
[2]
ho! could we plead you to go and come back some other time for we know we need you more as we don't need you now please make the sun shine again so it could dry our land,
for we know sun cannot exist under you
look dear cloud our bed had been carried away by your furious no were to pass the night
our legs ache because the tears from the sky took away our sit
ho! cloud get a sit for yourself to rest your long time labour
so the sun could have hope for it's lost glory again
and shine on our wet soul
will the sun ever shine again
if the sky keep throwing tears
will the sun ever shine again
if it keep raining.
poem by Adidu Adebowale Emmanuel
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Jeckoyva
They made the warrior's grave beside
The dashing of his native time:
And there was mourning in the glen--
The strong wail of a thousand men--
O'er him thus fallen in his pride,
Ere mist of age - or blight or blast
Had o'er his might spirit past.
They made the warrior's grave beneath
The bending of the wild elm's wreath,
When the dark hunter's piercing eye
Had found that mountain rest on high,
Where, scattered by the sharp wind's breath,
Beneath the ragged cliff were thrown
The strong belt and the mouldering bone.
Where was the warrior's foot, when first
The red sun on the mountain burst?
Where -- when the sultry noon-time came
On the green vales with scorching flame,
And made the woodlands faint with thirst?
'Twas where the wind is keen and loud,
And the gray eagle breasts the cloud.
Where was the warrior's foot when night
Veiled in thick cloud the mountain-height?
None heard the loud and sudden crash--
None saw the fallen warrior dash
Down the bare rock so high and white!
But he that drooped not in the chase
Made on the hills his burial-place.
They found him there, when the long day
Of cold desertion passed away,
And traces on that barren cleft
Of struggling hard with death were left--
Deep marks and footprints in the clay!
And they have laid this feathery helm
By the dark river and green elm.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 07: Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers
Midnight; bells toll, and along the cloud-high towers
The golden lights go out . . .
The yellow windows darken, the shades are drawn,
In thousands of rooms we sleep, we await the dawn,
We lie face down, we dream,
We cry aloud with terror, half rise, or seem
To stare at the ceiling or walls . . .
Midnight . . . the last of shattering bell-notes falls.
A rush of silence whirls over the cloud-high towers,
A vortex of soundless hours.
'The bells have just struck twelve: I should be sleeping.
But I cannot delay any longer to write and tell you.
The woman is dead.
She died—you know the way. Just as we planned.
Smiling, with open sunlit eyes.
Smiling upon the outstretched fatal hand . . .'
He folds his letter, steps softly down the stairs.
The doors are closed and silent. A gas-jet flares.
His shadow disturbs a shadow of balustrades.
The door swings shut behind. Night roars above him.
Into the night he fades.
Wind; wind; wind; carving the walls;
Blowing the water that gleams in the street;
Blowing the rain, the sleet.
In the dark alley, an old tree cracks and falls,
Oak-boughs moan in the haunted air;
Lamps blow down with a crash and tinkle of glass . . .
Darkness whistles . . . Wild hours pass . . .
And those whom sleep eludes lie wide-eyed, hearing
Above their heads a goblin night go by;
Children are waked, and cry,
The young girl hears the roar in her sleep, and dreams
That her lover is caught in a burning tower,
She clutches the pillow, she gasps for breath, she screams . . .
And then by degrees her breath grows quiet and slow,
She dreams of an evening, long ago:
Of colored lanterns balancing under trees,
Some of them softly catching afire;
And beneath the lanterns a motionless face she sees,
Golden with lamplight, smiling, serene . . .
The leaves are a pale and glittering green,
The sound of horns blows over the trampled grass,
Shadows of dancers pass . . .
The face smiles closer to hers, she tries to lean
Backward, away, the eyes burn close and strange,
The face is beginning to change,—
It is her lover, she no longer desires to resist,
She is held and kissed.
She closes her eyes, and melts in a seethe of flame . . .
With a smoking ghost of shame . . .
Wind, wind, wind . . . Wind in an enormous brain
Blowing dark thoughts like fallen leaves . . .
The wind shrieks, the wind grieves;
It dashes the leaves on walls, it whirls then again;
And the enormous sleeper vaguely and stupidly dreams
And desires to stir, to resist a ghost of pain.
One, whom the city imprisoned because of his cunning,
Who dreamed for years in a tower,
Seizes this hour
Of tumult and wind. He files through the rusted bar,
Leans his face to the rain, laughs up at the night,
Slides down the knotted sheet, swings over the wall,
To fall to the street with a cat-like fall,
Slinks round a quavering rim of windy light,
And at last is gone,
Leaving his empty cell for the pallor of dawn . . .
The mother whose child was buried to-day
Turns her face to the window; her face is grey;
And all her body is cold with the coldness of rain.
He would have grown as easily as a tree,
He would have spread a pleasure of shade above her,
He would have been his father again . . .
His growth was ended by a freezing invisible shadow.
She lies, and does not move, and is stabbed by the rain.
Wind, wind, wind; we toss and dream;
We dream we are clouds and stars, blown in a stream:
Windows rattle above our beds;
We reach vague-gesturing hands, we lift our heads,
Hear sounds far off,—and dream, with quivering breath,
Our curious separate ways through life and death.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Water
water for water is water, thirst made me dried
eyes tears flow water, leaves skin broken
need water, cure my pain smooth my rough
surface makes it clean
pure and perfect water made so bright, all the
day expose heat dried my sweat, in my face
and lips tears seen in the eyes
all day long I seat in my brow, waiting the sun
down to lead me low, hunger and thirst open
my throat, water spelled drops like a dew
wash my warm body as you can see, the limps
legs and the hands would be easy, where ever
in my body, the water comes refreshing to me
slowly, slowly, fell the cool water beneath
my delicate skin, in my buttock where you have
to stay, hold on, I sit you in my dream, my living
water makes me the same
oh! water, please always watered me in each
new day and fell the real me
poem by Antonio Liao
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Texas Cowboy
From garden-beds I tend, it is not far
To those great ranges where he used to ride;
Time’s shadowy Door still stands a rift ajar,
And Fancy, glancing backward and aside,
May glimpse him whirling in a storm, of dust,
A flashing bronze against a burning sky,
Before a sea of tossing horns up-thrust,
A peril thousand-pronged, to breast or die;
Or lying with locked hands beneath his head,
Watching the stars beside a lonely fire,
About him dim immensity outspread
Within, dim gulfs of question and desire.
He is a Thought; he is not flesh-and-bone;
He is immortal Youth astride a Dream:
The hungry flame that eats to ash and stone
The gorgeous fruitage of the things that seem;
And I (who sand, with pang and toil enough,
My roots at last down to the nether springs,
Yet, born to coax the shapely from the rough,
Have shunned the red and jagged edge of things),
A Woman with a bird, a book , a flower,
Who, sifting life, has kept the quiet part,
Whose days like pearls are sorted, hour by hour -
Why is it that he gallops through my heart?
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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The German Legion
In the cot beside the water,
In the white cot by the water,
The white cot by the white water,
There they laid the German maid.
There they wound her, singing round her,
Deftly wound her, singing round her,
Softly wound her, singing round her,
In a shroud like a cloud.
And they decked her as they wound her,
With a wreath of leaves they bound her,
Lornest leaves they scattered round her,
Singing grief with every leaf.
Singing grief with every leaf.
Sadder grief with sadder leaf,
Sweeter leaf with sweeter grief,
So't was sung in a dark tongue.
Like a latter lily lying,
O'er whom falling leaves are sighing,
And Autumn vapours crying,
Pale and cold on misty mould,
So I saw her sweet and lowly,
Shining shining pale and holy,
Thro' the dim woe slowly slowly,
Said and sung in that dark tongue.
Such an awe her beauty lent her,
While they sang I dared not enter
That charmed ring where she was centre,
But I stood with stirring blood
Till the song fell like a billow,
And I saw them leave her pillow,
And go forth to the far willow,
For the wreath of virgin death.
And I stood beside her pillow,
While they plucked the distant willow,
And my heart rose like a billow
As I said to the pale dead-
'Oh, thou most fair and sweet virginity,
Of whom this heart that beats for thee doth know
Nor name nor story, that these limbs can be
For no man evermore, that thou must go
Cold to the cold, and that no eye shall see
That which thine unsolved womanhood doth owe
Of the incommunicable mystery
Shakes me with tears. I could kneel down by thee,
And o'er thy chill unmarriageable rest
Cry, 'Thou who shalt no more at all be prest
To any heart, one moment come to this!
And feel me weeping with thy want of bliss,
And all the unpraisèd beauties of thy breast-
Thy breast which never shall a lover kiss!''
Then I slowly left her pillow,
For they came back with the willow,
And my heart sinks as a billow
Doth implore towards the shore,
As I see the crown they weave her,
And I know that I must leave her,
And I feel that I could grieve her
Sad and sore for evermore.
And again they sang around her,
In a richer robe they wound her,
With the willow wreath they bound her,
And the loud song like a cloud
Of golden obscuration,
With the strange tongue of her nation,
Filled the house of lamentation,
Till she lay in melody,
Like a latter lily lying,
O'er whom falling leaves are sighing,
And the Autumn vapours crying,
In a dream of evening gleam.
And I saw her sweet and lowly,
Shining shining pale and holy,
Thro' the dim woe slowly slowly
Said and sung in a dark tongue.
In the cot beside the water,
The white cot by the white water,
English cot by English water
That shall see the German sea.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Standing On The Ashes
Night long
night dark
night dense
standing on the ashes of dying values
see my land camouflaging with forgotten ancestors
globalisation sounds high to uproot us from our origin
values takes another shape to combat time well
confronting old with new
but reality dictates mother is yet mother
...after finishing such profound speech
drank mouthful of water from costly bottle
the speaker unlocking his laptop
tried to demonstrate some docus
in favour of uttered truth
at the same time same premises
the peasants behind the fence
shouting with rage
'we would not seed
the bio-tech seeds,
change the plan
change the scheme of loaning'
Speaker took high hand to disperse the gathering
first with stick then with bullet...
scenario changes and speech gets another shape
hi-breed mother took seed from test tube
hi-breed mother gives birth of hi-breed child...
bone ash of our togetherness
flying with desperate dark anger
everywhere the death likes the death of destiny
everywhere the soil getting cracks
crack crackles the gulf within ourselves
root gets lost its origin
origin finds its original destination
self-destruction becomes the choice to begin again
Night long...
night dark...
night dense...
standing on the ashes of old values
yet cry can't stop its crying
since we all are tired to be a being....
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Everyday I Feel That I Am Slowly Buried
i try to wake up and rise from my lowly state
and every hour that you face me i feel like a small turtle
in my silence beside the still river and you speak and explain
and argue like the wind and the leaves and the clouds
everyday when i am with you i feel like am being buried everyday
layer and layer of sand and pebbles and stones and twigs
and branches and heaps of leaves
i am losing my art of breathing and i am beginning to accept the fact
that you have the capacity to lose me
the world shrinks and the river becomes deeper
the view around me is crowded and dark and i look for you
i call for you and you are no longer there
sometimes i need to redefine love when companionship loses the grip
of hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One night we walked
When it still was there
one night we walked
hand in hand on the white beach
at Uvongo
and there was no wind
on the lagoon
and the waves crashed from the sea
and I could hear the waterfall
splashing into the lagoon
and a great yellow moon
was magical in the sky
and somehow that world
was just made for you and me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hot Wit U
Hot wit U
CHORUS:
I wanna get hot wit U
Get U underneath the cream and ooh
Get U doin' things U thought U'd never do
Make U suck your tongue and say, "Ooh!"
I wanna get hot wit U
Take U upstairs 2 the 14th room
Multicolored lights and an ocean view
Ooh, I wanna get hot wit U
I wanna get hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U {x2}
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna get U underneath the cream and do the marshmallow
Ooh I wanna get hot with U
I wanna get U 2 do something
U thought U'd never do
Like dance in front of my headlights
On a hot summer night - nude
I wanna get hot with U
CHORUS
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna make U climb this chain around my waist so I can prove
That I'm the only one that brings out the freak in U
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna get hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U {x2}
Know the body bangin', got U singin'
No shouts from the neighbors, telephone ringin'
Put me in positions thought I'd never do proper
Created a machine, now U know U can't stop her
Tryin' 2 turn me out, it never happen, so stop this
I'm suppose 2 tremble cuz they call U "The Artist"?
Let's wild out - can U handle ruff ridin'?
Treat U like the freak of the week and had U hidin' from me
I'd do whatever U like if U could take it
If I could be your girlfriend, U could catch me naked
Can't front sexually, I'd like a sample
But I don't think that I'm ready 4 U 2 make me an example
I mean - come on - why front on
I'd never place time - queen of your life
I'm there, whenever
The things that U're feeling 4 me - mutual
But I'm ready 2 call U daddy, even get hot wit U
Meet me early morning (Meet me in the morning, baby)
In a 4th dimension plane (In a 4th dimension plane)
Astral travelin' hottie, (Hottie hottie) I know U know my game
Underneath the cream I'll meet U (I'll U meet down there)
And then we'll rearrange (Turn the child 'round)
Everything U know of love (Everything)
I'll give U reason 2 change
Hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U (Wanna wanna)
I wanna get hot wit U (I wanna get)
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna steal a kiss in the middle of an overcrowded room
Yeah, that's what I wanna do
I, I wanna get hot with U
Hot with U, boo
CHORUS
(Hot wit U) repeated
So we could drive 2 the ocean
And drown U in a wave of 100,000 compliments, boo
I want your everyday 2 be cool
And the only way 2 do that is every night - get hot, get hot with U
Yeah, baby
CHORUS
(Never never)
(Oh, baby)
(Can't U see it?)
Hot wit U (Yeah) I wanna get hot wit U
I wanna get hot wit U
Get U underneath the cream and ooh
Get ya doing things U thought U'd never do
Make U suck your tongue and say "ooh"
Ooh, I wanna get hot wit U
Wanna get hot wit U
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A River Poem
Inside the river are
the sky, the cloud, and the sun.
In my hands’ bowl is the river.
If I throw up my hands,
the river spills in drops, scattering
sky, cloud, and sun all o’er me.
From my hands’ bowl, if I drink
the river, then within me,
the sun, the cloud, and the sky.
Tell me, who is in who?
poem by Mamta G.Sagar
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The lost lagoon
It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.
It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.
O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,--
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Flesh n Blood
Over time Ive come to feel
That everything must come apart it seems
From the little child to the man of power
From the beggar to the angel of my dreams
From the thinnest thread we are sewn together
From the finest string we dangle over time
From the highest wire do we walk through fire
Should our balance ever falter
Should our steps be unaligned
Such a big storm yeah such a strong wind blowing
Such a loud voice calling for me to cross the line
Chorus
But Im not gonna give up the ghost
No, not gonna give up the ghost
Im not gonna give up the ghost, no not gonna give it up
cause I havent the strength to hold out too long
If we both hold on together we can make each other strong
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh n blood
After all were flesh
Drop the mask take away the house
And forget about the income and the car
Were all the same underneath our shell
Weve all been to hell and we know what its like
And weve shared each others sins
We all know what its like to give up the fight
Weve all been ashamed at one time or another
We all have dreams and nightmares too
When it all comes down well look out for each other
(no one else will)
But when I hear the call when I feel the thirst
When the catcher comes to take my soul
Hes gonna have to fight me first
Chorus
Every cloud has a silver lining
And every soul is tender to the touch
We are made of stone, we are made of steel
And were all the same when we return to dust
But when I hear the call when I feel the thirst
When the catcher comes to take my soul
Hes gonna have to fight me first . . .
Chorus out
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted In Old Japan
I
Music of the star-shine shimmering o’er the sea
Mirror me no longer in the dusk of memory:
Dim and white the rose-leaves drift along the shore
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
II
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Silent, silent voices, cry no more of home;
Soft beyond the cherry-trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large low moon.
III
We that loved in April, we that turned away
Laughing, ere the wood-dove crooned across the May,
Watch the withered rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
IV
We that saw the winter waste the weeping bower,
We that saw the young love perish like a flower,
We that saw the dark eyes deepening with tears,
Hear the vanished voices in the land beyond the years.
V
We that hurt the thing we loved; we that went astray,
We that in the darkness idly dreamed of day . . .
. . . Ah! The dreary rose-leaves drift along the shore.
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
VI
Lonely starry faces, wonderful and white,
Yearning with a cry across the dim sweet night,
All our dreams are blown a-drift as flowers before a fan,
All our hearts are haunted in the heart of old Japan.
VII
Haunted, haunted, haunted; we that mocked and sinned
Hear the vanished voices wailing down the wind,
Watch the ruined rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
VIII
We, the sons of reason, we that chose to bride
Knowledge and rejected the Dream that we denied,
We that mocked the Holy Ghost and chose the Son of Man, [1]
Now must wander haunted in the heart of old Japan
IX
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the sound of falling tears,
Haunted, haunted, haunted, by the yearning of the years;
Ah! the phantom rose-leaves drift along the shore;
Wind among the roses, blow no more!
X
All along the purple creek, lit with silver foam,
Sobbing, sobbing voices, cry no more of home:
Soft beyond the cherry trees, o’er the dim lagoon,
Dawns the crimson lantern of the large, low moon.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Lethe
Through the noiseless doors of Death
Three passed out, as with one breath.
Two had faces stern as Fate,
Stamped with unrelenting hate.
One upon her lips of guile
Wore a cold, mysterious smile.
Each of each unseen, the pale
Shades went down the hollow vale
Till they came unto the deep
River of Eternal Sleep.
Breath of wind, or wing of bird,
Never that dark stream hath stirred;
Still it seems as is the shore,
But it flows for evermore
Softly, through the meadows wan
To the Sea Oblivion.
In the dusk, like drops of blood,
Poppies hang above the flood;
On its surface lies a thin,
Ghostly web of mist, wherein
All things vague and changing seem
As the faces in a dream.
Two knelt down upon the bank
And of that dark water drank.
But the Third stood by the while,
Smiling her mysterious smile.
Rising up, those shades of men
Gazed upon each other, then
Side by side, upon the bank,
In a bed of poppies sank.
“What,” one to the other saith,
“Sent thee through the doors of death?”—
“While life throbbed in every vein,
For a woman I was slain.
“Love is but a fleeting spell,
Hate alone remembers well.
“For my slayer I shall wait,
And though he at Heaven’s gate
“Stand, and wear an angel’s crown,
I shall seize and drag him down!”
So the stern shade made reply.
Then the first that spake said: “I
“For a woman’s sake, also,
Slew myself—and slew my foe.
“Slew myself, that in no shape
He my vengeance should escape,
“Till Oblivion swallow both:
And I swore a solemn oath
“I would—hate remembers well—
Hunt his spotted soul to hell.
“But I left, ere leave-taking,
Round her throat a dark red ring.
“I shall know her—you shall note—
By that red ring round her throat.
“Well I loved my fair, false wife,
And perchance in this new life
“She may love me—we shall see—
She shall choose ’twixt him and me.”
Softly did the other sigh:
“My love’s love will never die.
“Love is not a fleeting spell—
Love, like hate, remembers well.
“Soon—mayhap on this dim shore—
We shall meet to part no more.”
Then the first Shade spoke and said:
“In this Kingdom of the Dead
“Let us, who so strangely meet,
Pledge each other in this sweet
“Water, our revenge to wreak
Side by side, and so to seek,
“Side by side, whate’er our fate,
Those we love and those we hate.”
Kneeling on the dim shore then,
Side by side, they drank again.
And they saw, like drops of blood,
Poppies nodding o’er the flood,
And they gazed upon the thin
Ghostly web of mist, wherein
All things vague and changing seem
As the faces in a dream;
And by some enchantment weird,
As they gazed thereon appeared
Unto each, down-bending low,
Form and features of his foe,
For a moment, then were gone,
And upon the meadows wan—
Half in Death and half a-swoon—
Shone a pale and spectral moon.
Then these twain rose, drowsy-eyed,
And departed side by side.
But the Woman Shade the while
Smiled her cold, mysterious smile.
And her beauty made a light
In that realm of pallid night
(Beauty laughs at worm and grave)
Like the moon beneath the wave.
Back she flung her hair of gold,
Glowing, gleaming, fold on fold,
Showing—all but these might note—
The red ring around her throat.
But they passed with cold surprise,
And unrecognising eyes.
Lightly laughed she then, and said:
“In this Kingdom of the Dead
“Strange the sights that one may see!
There go twain who died for me
“Seeking, through Creation wide,
For each other—side by side!”
Then she wove a poppy crown,
Placed it on her head, and down
On the river’s margin sank
Midst the poppies of its bank,
Saying: “In the world above
Long he tarries, my true love.
“Here beside this river’s rim
I will sleep, and wait for him.”
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Two Swans
There's a big park just close to where we live —
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
The fair yachts sail
In loveliness that makes the water pale.
Last night I went to walk along the road
Beside the park
And feel the kisses of the wintry dark.
It's the best place to watch the evening come
For mists are there
And lights and shadows and the lake is fair
And last night looking up I saw two swans
Fly overhead
With long black necks and their white wings outspread.
Above the houses citywards they went,
An arrowy pair
In secret — white and black and dark and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ravenlord
Grey morning, dawn won the fight
Daylight drives away the night
Fog's rising out in the fields
The birth of winter is in sight
Dark shadows fall from the sky
They alight on gallows tree
black feathers, amber beaks
waiting for their deity
Leaves are spinning 'round
Lost and never found
When the king takes the crown
Can you feel
The autumn wind blowing
Ravenlord is coming to stay
Can you hear
The passing bell tolling
Ravenlord - takes you far away
Sharp talons, pinions of ice
The obscure the new-born day
Hot breathing freezes to snow
piercing caws lead you astray
Leaves are spinning 'round
Lost and never found
When the king takes the crown
Can you feel
The autumn wind blowing
Ravenlord is coming to stay
Can you hear
The passing bell tolling
Ravenlord -
Takes you far away
[Stormwitch Cover]
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost’s Petition
'There's a footstep coming: look out and see,'
'The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;
No one cometh across the lea.'—
'There's a footstep coming; O sister, look.'—
'The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;
No one cometh across the brook.'—
'But he promised that he would come:
To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,
He must keep his word, and must come home.
'For he promised that he would come:
His word was given; from earth or heaven,
He must keep his word, and must come home.
'Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane;
You can slumber, who need not number
Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.
'I shall sit here awhile, and watch;
Listening, hoping, for one hand groping
In deep shadow to find the latch.'
After the dark, and before the light,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,
Who had watched and wept the weary night.
After the night, and before the day,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping—
Watching, weeping for one away.
There came a footstep climbing the stair;
Some one standing out on the landing
Shook the door like a puff of air—
Shook the door, and in he passed.
Did he enter? In the room centre
Stood her husband: the door shut fast.
'O Robin, but you are cold—
Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white you
Look like a stray lamb from our fold.
'O Robin, but you are late:
Come and sit near me—sit here and cheer me.'—
(Blue the flame burnt in the grate.)
'Lay not down your head on my breast:
I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you
In the shelter that you love best.
'Feel not after my clasping hand:
I am but a shadow, come from the meadow
Where many lie, but no tree can stand.
'We are trees which have shed their leaves:
Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;
Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.
'I could rest if you would not moan
Hour after hour; I have no power
To shut my ears where I lie alone.
'I could rest if you would not cry;
But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping—
Watching, weeping so bitterly.'—
'Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.
Oh night of sorrow!—oh black to-morrow!
Is it thus that you keep your word?
'O you who used so to shelter me
Warm from the least wind—why, now the east wind
Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.
'O my husband of flesh and blood,
For whom my mother I left, and brother,
And all I had, accounting it good,
'What do you do there, underground,
In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.
What do you do there?—what have you found?'—
'What I do there I must not tell:
But I have plenty: kind wife, content ye:
It is well with us—it is well.
'Tender hand hath made our nest;
Our fear is ended, our hope is blended
With present pleasure, and we have rest.'—
'Oh, but Robin, I'm fain to come,
If your present days are so pleasant;
For my days are so wearisome.
'Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake:
Why should I tease you, who cannot please you
Any more with the pains I take?'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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