Mussorie, the Hill Resort (India)
We collected cobbled stones on
the dried tributaries of the Ganges.
Our coach was then winding around the hills
towards the hill resort, Mussorie.
Suddenly we saw the sprinkled stars afar!
Aha! All the shapes we could form
from the gleaming lights of Dehradun.
The night was calm and chill
but we were agile at dawn.
Our eyes ransacked through the crevice
to see the snow-covered peaks.
Crystal streams were gushing down
and defied us to have a dip
in its nerve-chilling elixir.
I went deep and deep behind my friends
to put my head under its rush.
Oh, my lungs lost the air!
I retreated to make it airy.
The fall of Celsius caused chasms
in our feet and made us tumble on the hills.
It is a heaven for the roisterers
and a haven for the weak and old.
The roads on the slopes to the interiors
of the mighty Himalayas and its ice-caps
are sights lingering for ever.
---------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Related quotes
A Trip to Simla
Pinjore Gardens heralds the dawn
of that hilly kingdom Simla.
The streams had cleft gorges deep
and a peep at them would clip our wings.
Our vision failed to count the rows
of mountains beyond seven.
Springing down from one road to the next
and falling last into the flooded gorge
to swim and see the swimming trees
is a joy in life with thrills and throbs!
Threw bits of bread and drew the rhesus
jam the highway, our noble driver!
No fault of his tilted the lilt of our life.
The clime lulled us all to have a nap
and the girls of schools clapped to wake us up.
“ Oh! Is it rains or hailstones? ”,
we had time to boot and rive the ice.
The runnels roared with rush of water
and the rivulets laid roads on slopes.
A risk to ride the yak or the crock
might trap us in the bowels of the hills!
We beholded through the crevice at Kufri,
the snow-clad ranges of the Himalay.
“ O God! Glissading from those silverbelt
will take us into the realm of Heaven! ”
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Hollywood Nights
Words and music by bob seger
She stood there bright as the sun on that california coast
He was a midwestern boy on his own
She looked at him with those soft eyes,
So innocent and blue
He knew right then he was too far from home he was too far from home
She took his hand and she led him along that golden beach
They watched the waves tumble over the sand
They drove for miles and miles
Up those twisting turning roads
Higher and higher and higher they climbed
And those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
She was looking so right
In her diamonds and frills
All those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
She had all of the skills
Hed headed west cause he felt that a change
Would do him good
See some old friends, good for the soul
She had been born with a face that would her
Get her way
He saw that face and he lost all control
He had lost all control
Night after night, day after day, it went on and on
Then came that morning he woke up alone
He spent all night staring down at the lights of la
Wondering if he could ever go home
And those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
It was looking so right
It was giving him chills
In those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
With a passion that kills
In those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
She was looking so right
In her diamonds and frills
All those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
She had all of the skills
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)
Passing through a long stretch of woodlands
and fields above the hills,
we saw a terrain with knolls in circles,
where the mountain-rat Shivaji held sway,
with a drawn sword when the Moghuls ruled India.
When we were going up, the shining bunds of lights
one above the other on the slopes of the hills,
made our jaunt fascinating!
A fine morning drizzle fell to make the hills smile
and the spreading mists tried in vain to veil the hills
from our ravening looks.
The mists were wreathing upwards
while our eyes were scaling down the slopes.
And it was a vertiginous dropp to the vales below!
Sparkling sparks of teachers, my friends were,
taking neck or nothing risks
and travelling in routes unheard of
to retreat into hills and forests,
not as jungle bandits with prize catches
or as bogus ascetics with all delicacies
but with passions unbridled
to get wet in the breeze of the hills
and be shrouded in the all pervading mists.
------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Snowed In By A Warm Fire
A visit to an Inn on top of a hill.
A view, a valley, a village, a pond.
Snow already covering the ground.
Snow falling steadily all around.
The hills, the trees, the branches,
The drives, the roads, the highways.
All are covered in new fallen snow.
All are silent as the snow falls.
Snowflakes large, silent, slowly falling.
Snowflakes drifting, covering the ground.
Snow falling steadily through the day;
Snow falling steadily through the night.
Soon ankle deep, then up to your knees;
Soon three feet covers all there is.
Snowed in. The highways are closed.
Snowed in, as I wait by the warm fire.
poem by Joe Wocoski
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Exile
These hills are sandy. Trees are dwarfed here. Crows
Caw dismally in skies of an arid brilliance,
Complain in dusty pine-trees. Yellow daybreak
Lights on the long brown slopes a frost-like dew,
Dew as heavy as rain; the rabbit tracks
Show sharply in it, as they might in snow.
But it’s soon gone in the sun — what good does it do?
The houses, on the slope, or among brown trees,
Are grey and shrivelled. And the men who live here
Are small and withered, spider-like, with large eyes.
Bring water with you if you come to live here —
Cold tinkling cisterns, or else wells so deep
That one looks down to Ganges or Himalayas.
Yes, and bring mountains with you, white, moon-bearing,
Mountains of ice. You will have need of these
Profundities and peaks of wet and cold.
Bring also, in a cage of wire or osier,
Birds of a golden colour, who will sing
Of leaves that do not wither, watery fruits
That heavily hang on long melodious boughs
In the blue-silver forests of deep valleys.
I have now been here — how many years? Years unnumbered.
My hands grow clawlike. My eyes are large and starved.
I brought no bird with me, I have no cistern
Where I might find the moon, or river, or snow.
Some day, for lack of these, I’ll spin a web
Between two dusty pine-tree tops, and hang there
Face downward, like a spider, blown as lightly
As ghost of leaf. Crows will caw about me.
Morning and evening I shall drink the dew.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Amazing Sights of Mt.Buller(near Aussie Melbourne))
As we reached the Horse Hill
amazing sights of snow-falls,
our searching eyes, filled.
The old and the kids
slide down in snowboards
on a small stretch of slopes.
Wonderful feasts of Nature
we enjoyed at Mt.Buller.
From the bottom of the snow-clad vale
I moved up in my snow walking boots.
In that awesome sunny day
my boots sank a bit in some places.
But the boys give the snow a good boot
catch the ice crystals and shoot them off.
Icicles hang from the roof-tops
of the restaurants, clinics and sheds.
On the branches of dead trees
snowy pythons are lying on them.
The children practise skiing
but the youths slide fast on the slopes,
swerve around and make ski-jumps off
on the thick layer of ice.
There was no bleak weather
to stop the old from sunning
by sitting on the icy terrain.
The skiers go to the top in ski-lifts
and skid down the hill in thrilling speed.
The skidded skiers are rushed to clinics.
The lovers get wet in the flakes of snow
by throwing handfuls of it on each other.
The cameras could take rest
only if the internal memory is full.
The sun glasses-wearing jolly fellows
walk over the snowline,
see the snow-capped peaks afar
and chase each other running on it.
Marvellous sights of parallel snowy roads
while climbing down were spectacles of beauty.
-----
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Making a Snowman
’Tis snowing in the high mountains
Of great Himalayas:
This winter’s freezing ev’n fountains
Of Poonch, Kargil and Drass!
‘Tis raining flakes of harder snow;
All roads are covered white;
And every tree-top, twig, leaf, bough
Wears a glorious sight!
No blade of grass or bird is seen;
The meadow’s an ice-sheet;
Some Kashmiri children have been
Building a snow-man neat.
Yet, one can hear the booming guns
And smoke billowing up;
While children pile up snow in tons,
Before they go to sup.
With snow in handfuls, they build him:
Belly and head and back;
And soon their snow-man looks quite trim;
Twigs make his hands with knack!
They place a cap on his big head
And make his mouth, nose, eyes;
Their snow-man looks alive, not dead!
Assuming huge a size.
The happy children dance around
The snow-man, they had made;
They sing with joy some rhymes newfound;
Their snow-man looks so great!
Their hearts get filled with joy and thrill,
Seeing their snow-man made;
With snow-balls they play on the hill,
Before snow-man shall fade!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-1999
poem by John Celes
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Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Vale of Chamouni
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC,
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form!
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it,
As with a wedge! But when I look again,
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee,
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer
I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought,
Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy:
Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty vision passing--there
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the Vale!
O struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink:
Companion of the morning-star at dawn,
Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald: wake, O wake, and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth?
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?
And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad!
Who called you forth from night and utter death,
From dark and icy caverns called you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jaggéd rocks,
For ever shattered and the same for ever?
Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy,
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?
And who commanded (and the silence came),
Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown enormous ravines slope amain--
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
Who made your glorious as the Gates of Heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?--
God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest!
Yet eagles, play-mates of the mountain-storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the element!
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!
Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks,
Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast--
Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou
That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low
In adoration, upward from thy base
Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears,
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,
To rise before me--Rise, O ever rise,
Rise like a cloud of incense from the Earth!
Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills,
Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven,
Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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~Cold
! Lost raindropps in the snow
Covered in ice cold regret
Never-ever to be found
In the chill of Winter-Set
Frozen are the rainbows
Made of colour spectrum lights
Covered up by dancing
Snowflakes
Of the blanket white-covered night
poem by Theodora Onken
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Rivers
In dreams we see the magical flight,
Of crystal waves flying free,
To where the glass of waters meet,
Cruise in a dream upon the sea.
Darkness split the billowing floods,
Flung out brooks into mighty rivers,
To wash the steps down the slopes,
Into slippery streams of tributaries.
Rivers of water run down our eyes,
And let fountain disperse into tears,
In search we find the painful wishes,
Define the sum of all our fears.
The rush of tears we cannot control,
Memories enter the draining basin,
Sorrows like rivers meanders in our soul,
Feelings poured into floodplain.
We heard their voices from the deep,
Soul of our soul where we cannot reach,
The cry which leaves the darken void asleep,
In lonely shadow seen on the beach.
Together we stand, amidst the defiant roar,
And souls that lie at ease deep beneath,
Sleep in tragic tombs amidst the surfing water,
And spirits sail on to the safest harbour.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Kailash of the South (Coimbatore, TamilNadu, India)
A huge boulder slopes on another
lying on the top of the tor,
and in the cave-like abode formed,
reigns supreme the self-developing ‘Linga’.
With an awesome, high, tower-like rock
standing nearby as the kingly tower,
overlooking at the Siruvani river below
on the peak of the seventh hill,
shrouded often by passing mists,
the vast mountainous terrain
offers a fascinating sight!
11
My God! Still we are in wonder,
how at sixty, we reached
the serene retreat of Lord Siva!
A colossus earthquake in times of yore
had caused these seven hills one over the other.
This Kailash of the South lures the pilgrims
who climb over a flight of stone-steps,
using a torch in the dead of night,
and a bamboo stick to keep the aged steady.
What a boycott of reptiles and animals wild
in that month of Chitra-fullmoon(May) !
It was sweaty to traipse upwards,
but our will to be on top of the hills pulled us up. 24
When we were ascending over the fourth hill,
the stars seemed nearer and nearer.
A bath in the chill-stream flowing down the sixth hill,
relieved our pain and refreshed us to go up.
A slip in your trek on the narrow track
would push you down to the deep of the earth.
When the mid-day heat boils your feet,
you can walk over the sward along the sides.
Pony, dolly, rover-car or winch is not there;
Your bare-foot walk would break your hip.
When you step on small sharp stones,
you would scream in pain.
Ascent and Descent are arduous in these hills! 37
When we slumped down to the base of the hills,
after 23 hours as hungry and weary travellers,
the priest there queried us how we were?
“We won’t try again even if you assured a crore”,
we yelled and fell to the ground.
The priest sprayed spring water on our faces
and said aloud to console us:
“The four famous Saivite Saints
dared not climb up this Vellingiri.
But you have succeeded! ”
47
I’m sure! The Lord has guarded us against hunger
and brought us back home safe;
of course with bulging legs and broken joints.
O you boys! You might have overtaken us
and completed the trip in 5.5 hours.
It may be your sixth or sixtieth trip.
But God’s favour is ‘No’ to you as most of you
drowned in liquor and flew over the hills. 55
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Do you want to hear the hills groan
Do you want to hear the hills groan?
Have a walk along the uphill and downhill road
That zigzags around one hill and thenanother
Till it reaches you to an altitude of 11000 feet
All along the way you will see
The forest cover of the hills are being torn off
The stony bones of the hills are being hit hard by dynamite
And any one who has ears can hear the mountains
Writhing in silent pain
The p ilgrim walking along the winding road
Which mounts to the shrine of Lord Siva
Doesnot know that gods have taken flight
From hills and dales
Nature is being made a parking place
For pleasurehunting cars
They have not only made the tigers and the pythons homeless
They have made the gods flee
Hence out of the day and night
Ajoy has taken flight
With the surging pleasure seeking of man
And the diabolic brain of the scientists
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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From Thimpu to Gelefu in Bhutan
The miniature of heaven
hewed of the Himalayas
is the serene Thimpu.
The green meads with flowers colourful
and the dazzling glacial peaks afar
catch our eyes enroute Gelefu.
The streaming water in the deep ravines
with roaring sounds of rush and gush
casts an alarming spell.
The blooming orange-orchards
and the frisking water-course downwards
feast our eyes with pleasure.
The monkeys carrying their little ones
slide to the end of the boughs,
swing and spring off and vanish.
Fraud, filth and fracas don’t we see.
The Bhutanese aren’t overstrung
as our men do with an ounce of wine. 18.
--------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Wish
I'd like to show your eyes the plains
And a forest green and ruddy,
Far off and soft
Under clear skies on the horizon,
Or some hills
With lovely slopes
So changing and supple and misty,
Seeming to melt in the sweetness of the air,
Either hills
Or forest.
I'd like
For you to hear
Strong, vast, deep, and tender,
The great dull voice of the sea
That moans
Like Love;
And once in a while
Right next to you,
In the interval,
I'd like you to hear
Right next to you
A dove
In the silence
Both soft and weak
Like Love a trifle in the shadows,
I'd like you to hear
The gushing of a spring
For your hands I'd like some flowers,
And for your steps
I'd like a little path, grassy and sandy
Going up a bit and coming down,
Turning and seeming
To approach the limits of silence.
A very little sandy path
Where your steps would leave faint marks,
Our steps
Together.
poem by Henri de Regnier
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Our Hills
Dear Mother-Earth
Of Titan birth,
Yon hills are your large breasts, and often I
Have climbed to their top-nipples, fain and dry
To drink my mother's-milk so near the sky.
O ye hill-stains,
Red, for all rains!
The blood that made you has all bled for us,
The hearts that paid you are all dead for us,
The trees that shade you groan with lead, for us!
And O, hill-sides,
Like giants' brides
Ye sleep in ravine-rumpled draperies,
And weep your springs in tearful memories
Of days that stained your robes with stains like these!
Sleep on, ye hills!
Weep on, ye rills!
The stainers have decreed the stains shall stay.
They chain the hands might wash the stains away.
They wait with cold hearts till we "rue the day".
O Mother-Earth
Of Titan birth,
Thy mother's-milk is curdled with aloe.
-- Like hills, Men, lift calm heads through any woe,
And weep, but bow not an inch, for any foe!
Thou Sorrow-height
We climb by night,
Thou hast no hell-deep chasm save Disgrace.
To stoop, will fling us down its fouled space:
Stand proud! The Dawn will meet us, face to face,
For down steep hills the Dawn loves best to race!
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Deep
blank stare
disrepair
there's a big black hole gonna eat me up someday
(but) someday
fades away
like a memory - or a place that you'd rather be
some place
lost in space
an itch in my head that's telling me somewhere
somewhere
out there anywhere I don't care get me out of here
if I could feel
all the pins and the pricks
if you were real
I could take what's apart and put it all back together now
this will come true
help me get through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
driving me through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
one track
got you on your back
your skin speaks up but you lips couldn't say it
right now I know somehow
we could take the chance and we could make it make it
right here make it all disappear
everything that we've been missing missing
you make me feel
like there's a part of me
that I want to get back again
make this come true
help me get through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
pushing it through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
driving on through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
you're slipping through
I'm coming, too
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
we could become
two into one
leave this behind
over and done
everything new
I'm getting through
into you
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City Of Choan
The phoenix are at play on their terrace.
The phoenix are gone, the river Hows on alone.
Flowers and grass
Cover over the dark path
where lay the dynastic house of the Go.
The bright cloths and bright caps of Shin
Are now the base of old hills.
The Three Mountains fall through the far heaven,
The isle of White Heron
splits the two streams apart.
Now the high clouds cover the sun
And I can not see Choan afar
And I am sad.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Toboggan
1 Down from the hills and over the snow
2 Swift as a meteor's flash we go,
3 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
4 Down from the hills with our senses lost,
5 Jealous of cheeks that are kissed by the frost,
6 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
7 With snow piled high on housetop and hill,
8 O'er frozen rivulet, river, and rill,
9 Clad in her jacket of sealskin and fur,
10 Down from the hills I'm sliding with her,
11 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
12 Down from the hills, what an awful speed!
13 As if on the back of a frightened steed,
14 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
15 Down from the hills at the rise of the moon,
16 Merrily singing the toboggan tune,
17 "Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!"
18 Down from the hills like an arrow we fly,
19 Or a comet that whizzes along through the sky;
20 Down from the hills! Oh, isn't it grand!
21 Clasping your best winter girl by the hand,
22 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
23 Down from the hills and both growing old,
24 Down from the hills we are nearing the fold:
25 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
26 Close to the homestead we hear the ring
27 Of children's voices that cheerily sing,
28 "Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!"
29 Down from the hills and we hear the chime
30 Of bells that are ringing out Old Father Time;
31 Down from the hills we are riding away,
32 Nearing the life with its endless day;
33 Toboggan! Toboggan! Toboggan!
poem by Benjamin Franklin King
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Beverly Hills
Where I come from it isn't all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little whack
And my friends are just as screwy as me
I didn't go to boarding schools
Preppie girls didn't look at me
Why should they?
I ain't nobody
got nothin' in my pocket
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Look at all those movie stars
They're all so beautiful and clean
When their house maids scrub the floors
They get the spaces in between
I wanna live a life like that
I wanna live just like a king
Take my picture by the pool
'Cause I'm the next big thing!
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
The truth is I don't stand a chance
It's somethin' that you're born into
And I just don't belong
Well I know I'm a beat-down fool
And I will always be that way
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars fall
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills!
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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