The Boat
I must launch out my boat.
The languid hours pass by on the
shore---Alas for me!
The spring has done its flowering and taken leave.
And now with the burden of faded futile flowers I wait and linger.
The waves have become clamorous, and upon the bank in the shady lane
the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon!
Do you not feel a thrill passing through the air
with the notes of the far-away song
floating from the other shore?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author2
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Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author
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On The Water
The sound of bank and water is all I hear,
The sad resignation of a weeping spring
Or a rock that hourly sheds a tear,
And the birch leaves' vague quivering.
I do not see the river bear the boat along
The flowering shore flits past, and I remain;
And in the watery depths that I skim,
The reflected blue sky flutters like a curtain.
Meandering in their sleep, you might say the waters
Waver, no longer sure where the bank lies:
And the flower thrown in hesitates to choose.
And like this flower, all that man desires
Can settle on the river of my life,
Without teaching me which way my wishes lie.
poem by Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
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On the other shore of my song Original by Rabindranath Tagore
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The wind is pretty strong somehow
Don’t be late; please sail your boat now
Anchor your boat in my heart right where you belong.
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The game of song that I play with you
It makes me sad and it’s nothing new!
When will you take my flute of love
And play it to charm me enough
In the darkness full of happiness all night long?
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Stranded On The Island Of Life
Life sometimes seems like
You're stranded on a desert island
Waiting for the ship to come and rescue you
When no one knows you're missing
So you keep waiting and hoping they will come for you
Not knowing that they don't know your missing
There having so much fun on the yacht
That they won't come back for you
So you keep hoping that one day
They'll come back for you
And not knowing that your
Only 5 miles off shore
You sit there and wait
Not knowing you could swim to shore
It's only 5 miles away
You're so close to the shore
And you don't even know it
But you keep waiting
For them to come back for you
So years pass
Months pass
Weeks pass
Days pass
Hours pass
Minutes pass
Seconds pass
Eventually you give up
Not knowing you're so close to shore
And all you had to do was swim 5 miles
There might be some danger in the water
But it's worth all that you go through
Just to get to the main land
Where all the other people are
To what shore would you cross
To what shore would you cross,
O my heart?
there is no traveller before you,
there is no road:
Where is the movement,
where is the rest,
on that shore?
There is no water; no boat, no boatman, is there;
There is not so much as a rope to tow the boat, nor a man to draw it.
No earth, no sky, no time, no thing, is there: no shore, no ford!
There, there is neither body nor mind:
and where is the place that shall still the thirst of the soul?
You shall find naught in that emptiness.
Be strong, and enter into your own body:
for there your foothold is firm.
Consider it well,
O my heart!
go not elsewhere,
Kabîr says: 'Put all imaginations away,
and stand fast in that which you are.'
Men, the waves
The sea waves meet the shore.
The waves ebb; the shore stays ashore.
He, the wave, meets her, the shore.
The waves carry the carcass of the tryst.
The shore buries the debris of the tryst.
Man sticks to the past, woman to the future.
13.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Primrose (Novelinee)
Quite early in spring it is flowering,
delicate flowers on an erect stem
while all the birds in excitement sing,
at the beginning of spring I see them,
there is something in its simple beauty,
drawing big butterflies that do flutter,
is given in love, respect and duty,
in the colour of yellow-white butter,
bringing sweet words that other can utter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Golden Boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Drifting Too Far
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storm's so violently sweeping,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Chorus:
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o'er shadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering neigh,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before it's too late
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
You're drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to Jesus today. Let him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gardener IV: Ah Me
Ah me, why did they build my
house by the road to the market
town?
They moor their laden boats near
my trees.
They come and go and wander at
their will.
I sit and watch them; my time
wears on.
Turn them away I cannot. And
thus my days pass by.
Night and day their steps sound
by my door.
Vainly I cry, "I do not know
you."
Some of them are known to my
fingers, some to my nostrils, the
blood in my veins seems to know
them, and some are known to my
dreams.
Turn them away I cannot. I call
them and say, "Come to my house
whoever chooses. Yes, come."
In the morning the bell rings in the
temple.
They come with their baskets in
their hands.
Their feet are rosy red. The early
light of dawn is on their faces.
Turn them away I cannot. I call
them and I say, "Come to my garden
to gather flowers. Come hither."
In the mid-day the gong sounds
at the palace gate.
I know not why they leave their
work and linger near my hedge.
The flowers in their hair are pale
and faded; the notes are languid in
their flutes.
Turn them away I cannot. I call
them and say, "The shade is cool
under my trees. Come, friends."
At night the crickets chirp in the
woods.
Who is it that comes slowly to my
door and gently knocks?
I vaguely see the face, not a word
is spoken, the stillness of the sky is
all around.
Turn away my silent guest I
cannot. I look at the face through the
dark, and hours of dreams pass by.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Ocean
1969 live version
--------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the shore
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Earth is a hollow hair bought of a bigger head
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things down
...(unknown)
But here comes the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land
That has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the shore
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the sea
(incense or in sex or insects) for evil thoughts, thought of by selfish men
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things done
...(unknown)
Here comes the waves down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land that has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Peel slowly and see version
---------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Where have they been?
Silver and black with night
Heres to a summers night
An empty splendid castle
Glowering alone at night
The princess has had a fright
Madness seeks out the lover
And here come the waves down by the shore
Washing the soul of the body
That comes from the depths of the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves, where have they been
Dont swim tonight my love
The tide is out my love
Malcoms curse haunts our family
Oh yes, loud in which, ruler of filthy seas, revelling heavans justice
And here come the waves
And save for a scream
Theres much like a song
To be heard, in the wind, that blows by the sea.
Like the wind
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where cries begin when a broken tear smiles
I rest under a shady tree
Autumnal faded leaves tremble
with the peevish wind.
It looks like a Beethoven's symphony.
And I gaze at a faraway roof top flag post.
Torn flag waves in its sad rhythm
But the flag post stands straight
Like a young recruit.
Oh! If I am a newly painted flag post in the battlefield of life
Then I could have teach the flag how to show its true colors.
* To my unseen friend the silent song smith Nick Percowycz.
No palpitation heard since a long time from your territory. [Anchorville/Michigan] Are you passing well my dear?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Voyager's Dream Of Land
His very heart athirst
To gaze at nature in her green array,
Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd
With visions prompted by intense desire;
Fair fields appear below, such as he left
Far distant, such as he would die to find:
He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. ~ Cowper
The hollow dash of waves!–the ceaseless roar!
Silence, ye billows! vex my soul no more.
There's a spring in the woods by my sunny home,
Afar from the dark sea's tossing foam;
Oh! the fall of that fountain is sweet to hear,
As a song from the shore to the sailor's ear!
And the sparkle which up to the sun it throws,
Thro' the feathery fern and the olive boughs,
And the gleam on its path as it steals away
Into deeper shades from the sultry day,
And the large water-lilies that o'er its bed
Their pearly leaves to the soft light spread,
They haunt me! I dream of that bright spring's flow,
I thirst for its rills, like a wounded roe!
Be still, thou sea-bird, with thy clanging cry!
My spirit sickens, as thy wing sweeps by.
Know ye my home, with the lulling sound
Of leaves from the lime and the chestnut round?
Know ye it, brethren! where bower'd it lies,
Under the purple of southern skies?
With the streamy gold of the sun that shines
In thro' the cloud of its clustering vines,
And the summer-breath of the myrtle-flowers,
Borne from the mountain in dewy hours,
And the fire-fly's glance thro' the dark'ning shades,
Like shooting stars in the forest-glades,
And the scent of the citron at eve's dim fall
Speak! have ye known, have ye felt them all?
The heavy rolling surge! the rocking mast!
Hush! give my dream's deep music way, thou blast!
Oh! the glad sounds of the joyous earth!
The notes of the singing cicala's mirth,
The murmurs that live in the mountain pines,
The sighing of reeds as the day declines,
The wings flitting home thro' the crimson glow
That steeps the wood when the sun is low,
The voice of the night-bird that sends a thrill
To the heart of the leaves when the winds are still
I hear them! round me they rise, they swell,
They call back my spirit with Hope to dwell,
They come with a breath from the fresh spring-time,
And waken my youth in its hour of prime.
The white foam dashes high away, away!
Shroud my green land no more, thou blinding spray!
It is there! down the mountains I see the sweep
Of the chestnut forests, the rich and deep,
With the burden and glory of flowers that they bear,
Floating upborne on the blue summer-air,
And the light pouring thro' them in tender gleams,
And the flashing forth of a thousand streams!
Hold me not, brethren! I go, I go,
To the hills of my youth, where the myrtles blow,
To the depths of the woods, where the shadows rest,
Massy and still, on the greensward's breast,
To the rocks that resound with the water's play
I hear the sweet laugh of my fount give way!
Give way! the booming surge, the tempest's roar,
The sea-bird's wail, shall vex my soul no more.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Lord Of My Life
Thou who art the innermost Spirit of my being,
art thou pleased, Lord of my Life?
For I give to thee my cup filled with all
the pain and delight that the crushed
grapes of my heart had surrendered,
I wove with rhythm of colors and song cover for thy bed,
And with the molten gold of my desires
I fashioned playthings for thy passing hours.
I know not why thou chosest me for thy partner,
Lord of my life.
Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?
I see thine eyes gazing at the dark of my heart,
Lord of my life,
I wonder if my failure and wrongs are forgiven.
For many were my days without service
and nights of forgetfulness; futile were the flowers
that faded in the shade not offered to thee.
Often the tied strings of my lute slackened
at the strains of thy tunes.
And often at the ruin of wasted hours
my desolate evenings were filled with tears.
But have my days come to their end at last,
Lord of my life, while my arms round thee
grow limp, my kisses losing their truth?
Then break up the meeting of this languid day!
Renew the old in me in fresh forms of delight;
and let the wedding come once again in
a new ceremony of life.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A Summer Mood
BUT wait. Let each by each the days pass by,
One faded and one blown like summer flowers;
What need of hope, with summer in the sky?
What of regret, with all fair morrows ours?
If yesterday be gone,No reck, 'twas not alone,
To-morrow will have just so sweet long hours.
But yet to-day is sweetest till 'tis flown.
But wait. Let summer day be changed from day,
Like following surges of the ebb and flow;
And flow brings breath of saltness and blithe spray,
And ebb long music of seas plashing low.
The waves, stolen out of reach
,Have no farewell for speech;
Next tide will roll as swift, as rippling go.
And yet 'tis now that's best along the beach.
Ah wait. The while we linger our lives live,
Our summer ripens purpose through our dreams;
Flower-petals fallen leave a seed to thrive,
Spent tides heap treasures from the deep sea streams;
Now drifts by unaware,
And Afterwards is heir;
To-morrow wins the wealth of yester gleams.
Yet 'tis to-day that summer makes most fair.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Drifting Too Far From The Shore
(traditional)
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storms so violently sweeping,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Chorus: drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Today, the tempest rose high,
And clouds oershadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering nigh,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before its too late
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
Youre drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to jesus today. let him show you the way
Youre drifting too far from shore.
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tides
O patient shore, thou canst not go to meet
Thy love, the restless sea, how comfortest
Thou all thy loneliness? Art thou at rest,
When, loosing his strong arms from round thy feet,
He turns away? Know'st thou, however sweet
That other shore may be, that to thy breast
He must return? And when in sterner test
He folds thee to a heart which does not beat,
Wraps thee in ice, and gives no smile, no kiss,
To break long wintry days, still dost thou miss
Naught from thy trust? Still wait, unfaltering,
The higher, warmer waves which leap in spring?
O sweet, wise shore, to be so satisfied!
O heart, learn from the shore! Love has a tide!
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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The Seasons Are Like You
The seasons are like you
Flowers bloom humming birds come home everything
Changes but not you you stay the same they must
Leave and you will stay cause you are my winter
Spring summer and fall you stay with me through
The seasons cause you are my winter spring summer
And fall stay with me you have the eyes of winter
The face of spring the body of summer the hair of
Fall because you are like winter cool and calm you
Are like spring beautiful and blossoming you are
Like summer warm and caring you are like fall
Gentle and long lasting cause you are like winter spring
Summer and fall you are my seasons without you I
Am nothing do not leave me I need you careing stay
Please I need you
this is dedicated to savannah
poem by Tucker Lane
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