Art
Give to barrows, trays, and pans
Grace and glimmer of romance;
Bring the moonlight into noon
Hid in gleaming piles of stone;
On the city's paved street
Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet;
Let spouting fountains cool the air,
Singing in the sun-baked square;
Let statue, picture, park, and hall,
Ballad, flag, and festival,
The past restore, the day adorn,
And make to-morrow a new morn.
So shall the drudge in dusty frock
Spy behind the city clock
Retinues of airy kings,
Skirts of angels, starry wings,
His fathers shining in bright fables,
His children fed at heavenly tables.
'T is the privilege of Art
Thus to play its cheerful part,
Man on earth to acclimate,
And bend the exile to his fate,
And, moulded of one element
With the days and firmament,
Teach him on these as stairs to climb,
And live on even terms with Time;
Whilst upper life the slender rill
Of human sense doth overfill.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Depot Street
I live on the west side, by the county reservoir
And she lives down on depot street, behind the city hall
Behind the city hall
Her fathers name is macintosh, her mothers name is pearl
And they live down on depot street, shes my little girl
Shes my little girl
Down on depot street, Im gonna see my baby
Depot street, Im gonna see my girl
Depot street, baby, baby, baby
Depot street, behind the city hall
We aint got no money, we dont have no car
We stay down on depot street, just dancin in the park
Dancin in the park
And her sister doesnt like me, but I dont really care
I know the only reason is she wants me for herself
She wants me for herself
Down on depot street, Im gonna see my baby
Depot street, Im gonna see my girl
Depot street, baby, baby, baby
Depot street, behind the city hall
Shes my baby, shes my girl
And we aint been to college, we both quit high school
There was way too many people there makin way too many rules
Makin way too many rules
So we got no education, but we dont care at all
Cause it dont mean much on depot street, behind the city hall
Behind the city hall
Down on depot street, Im gonna see my baby
Depot street, Im gonna see my girl
Depot street, baby, baby, baby
Depot street, behind the city hall
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd's Song
Sweet music, sweeter far
Than any song is sweet:
Sweet music, heavenly rare,
Mine ears, O peers, doth greet.
You gentle flocks, whose fleeces pearled with dew.
Resemble heaven, whom golden drops make bright,
Listen, O listen, now, O not to you
Our pipes make sport to shorten weary night:
But voices most divine
Make blissful harmony:
Voices that seem to shine,
For what else clears the sky?
Tunes can we hear, but not the singers see.
The tunes divine, and so the singers be.
Lo, how the firmament
Within an azure fold
The flock of stars hath pent,
That we might them behold,
Yet from their beams proceedeth not this light,
Nor can their crystals such reflection give.
What then doth make the element so bright?
The heavens are come down upon earth tc live
But hearken to the song,
Glory to glory's King,
And peace all men among.
These quiristers do sing.
Angels they are, as also (shepherds) He
Whom in our fear we do admire to see.
Let not amazement blind
Your souls, said he, annoy:
To you and all mankind
My message bringeth joy.
For lo! the world's great Shepherd now is born,
A blessed Babe, an Infant full of power:
After long night uprisen is the morn,
Renowning Bethlem in the Saviour.
Sprung is the perfect day,
By prophets seen afar:
Sprung is the mirthful May,
Which winter cannot mar.
In David's city doth this Sun appear
Clouded in flesh, yet, shepherds, sit we here!
poem by Edmund Bolton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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New York City
You called me last night on the telephone
And I was glad to hear from you cause I was all alone
You said, its snowing, its snowing! god, I hate this weather.
Now I walk through blizzards just to get us back together
We met in the springtime at a rock-and-roll show
It was on the bowery when it was time to go
We kissed on the subway in the middle of the night
I held your hand, you held mine, it was the best night of my life.
cause everyones your friend in new york city
And everything looks beautiful when youre young and pretty
The streets are paved with diamonds and theres just so much to see
But the best thing about new york city is you and me
Statue of liberty, staten island ferry, co-op city, katzs and tiffanys*
Central park, brooklyn bridge, the empire state where dylan lived**
Coney island and times square, rockefeller center
Wish I was there
You wrote me a letter just the other day
Said, springtime is coming soon so why dont you come to stay.
I packed my stuff, got on the bus, I cant believe its true
Im three days from new york city and Im three days from you
cause everyones my friend in new york city
And everything looks beautiful when youre young and pretty
The streets are paved with diamonds and theres just so much to see
But the best thing about new york city is you and me
cause everyones my friend in new york city
And everything looks beautiful when youre young and pretty
The streets are paved with diamonds and theres just so much to see
But the best thing about new york city is you and me.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today
This is To-day, a child in white and blue
Running to meet me out of Night who stilled
The ghost of Yester-eve; this is fair Morn
The mother of To-morrow. And these clouds
That chase the sunshine over gleaming hills
Are thoughts, delighting in the golden change
And the ceremony of their drifting state.
This is To-day. To-morrow might bring death,—
And Life, the gleeful madrigal of birds,
Be drowned in glimmer of sleep. To-day I know
How sweet it is to spend these eyes, and boast
This bubble of vistaed memory and sense
Blown by my joy aloft the glittering airs
Of heavenly peace. Oh take me to yourselves,
Earth, sky, and spirit! Let me stand within
The circle of your transience, that my voice
May thrill the lonely silences with song.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Of Angels
(5/8/12)
There's a city of angels where all angels dwell
A city of angels I can tell.
They wait for their assignments from
The saints up above
To watch over GODS children that he loves.
The city of angels where there is no such thing as sleep
The city of angels where the LORDS words they keep.
This is where they sing and rejoice and give praise
For their destinies have been laid.
This is a world of spirituality - something that
We as humans do not see.
A world where there is no sickness or pain
And all the angels are the same.
There is no such thing as color or religious barriers
For they are all the LORDS carriers.
Many get their wings in the transition
From life to death, and many have not gotten theirs yet.
When they get their wings it is a great feeling
Which gets their souls reeling.
It is like a bright star that enters you
And his love just radiates through.
The city of angels where true happiness lies
That is what you will find.
Your loved ones that have gone before you
Are there to see you thru, and to help you
At every turn, the same way that they had learned.
They see their subjects on a large monitor screen
And what that person is going thru, then the answers
Are left for you.
Like a multiple choice you must pick the one that's right
To get them from the darkness to light.
But not to worry for there are no mistakes
In GODS heaven that can be made
For their destinies have also been laid.
You are there to strengthen them in their hours of need
And on your strength they do feed.
To all in the city of angels - I raise my head
And stand with pride, that one day soon
I'll be by your side.
(angels above - angels below)
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At sixty four! 2012
A smiple celebration to bring in the light
For another many years of journey so bright
Enjoy the trip under God glorious radiant sun
Laughter happiness and days filled with fun
Let the past make you a future so splendid
With days special that no mind can ever rid
May all your wishes, dreams turn to reality
With a road paved for days of everlasting serenity
Happy bday may today open miles with many a smiles
A pleasant sail and every dawning so worth while
Soon one of us will bow out when the angels call
Entrance to the land of no return the heavenly hall! !
Till then enjoy yourself with every sunrise sunset
May Good God give you good health, a life of no regret
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Top Of The City
One more step to the top of the city
Where just a couple of pigeons are living
Up on the angels shoulders
I dont know if Im closer to heaven but
It looks like hell down there
These streets have never been paved with gold
Welcome to the loneliest city in the world
Its no good for you baby
Its no good for you now
Keep looking up for the ladder
I dont know if youll love me for it
But I dont think we should suffer this
Theres just one thing we can do about it
Take me up to the top of the city
Take me up to the top of the city
Take me up to the top of the city
And put me up on the angels shoulders
See how that building there is nearly built
Theres a big fire over on the north of the city
I see you walking down the street with her
I see your lights going on and off
Shes no good for you baby
Shes no good for you now
Look Im here with the ladder
I dont know if you love me or not
But I dont think we should ever suffer
Theres just one thing we can do about this
Take me up to the top of the city
Take me up to the top of the city
Up to the highest point of the city
One more step to the top of the city
Put me up on the angels shoulders
And I dont mind if its dangerous
I dont mind if its raining
Take me up to the top of the city
And put me up on the angels shoulders
Take me up to the top of the city
Mmm yes, one more step to the top of the city
And put me up on the angels shoulders
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hear Voices...
And from the graves, where names were carved in
stone, came a mournful Ballad, of life gone by.
A Ballad sang by mothers, whose children left behind,
and left to sing their ballads, of tears that did remain.
And what of Fathers Ballad, whose job was not complete,
who died and sang his song, of things that could not be.
In a smaller voices, still weeping and confused, the children
sang their Ballad, of parents never knew.
And in some far off place, a Ballad did come fourth, of all
the deaths that happened, that wasn't meant to be.
A soldiers painful Ballad, did seemed so unjust, of the
war that finally killed him, in a land he never knew.
The Ballad, of unknown, thou human, none the less,
were buried here alone, with not a one to care.
In the quiet of a cemetery morn, the Ballad of
the dead, echoes silently across green grass,
and through the granite stones.
It makes one wonder, about the Ballad of the dead,
and what will be our song...when we are finally gone.
White-Collar Spaniard
We have no heart for civil strife,
Our burdens we prefer to bear;
We long to live a peaceful life
And claim of happiness our share.
If only to be clothed and fed
And see our children laugh and play -
That means a lot when all is said,
In this grim treadmill of today.
The price of manhood is too high
When leap the sacrificial flames;
For Justice we refuse to die:
Honour and Pride are empty names.
We will not play the martyr's part,
We will not perish for a Cause;
Leave that to fools - with humble heart
We live according to the Laws.
For see! Comes up the city street,
Communion-clad a shining band
Of timy children, angel-sweet,
Singing and holding hand in hand . . .
So let Might triumph over Right;
From sufferance content we take:
We fight because we do not fight,
And it is for our children's sake.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Chime Of A City Clock
A city freeze
Get on your knees
Pray for warmth and green paper.
A city drought
Youre down and out
See your trousers dont taper.
Saddle up
Kick your feet
Ride the range of a london street
Travel to a local plane
Turn around and come back again.
And at the chime of the city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.
Stay indoors
Beneath the floors
Talk with neighbours only.
The games you play
Make people say
Youre either weird or lonely.
A city star
Wont shine too far
On account of the way you are
And the beads
Around your face
Make you sure to fit back in place.
And at the beat of the city drum
See how your friends come in twos;
Or threes or more.
For the sound of a busy place
Is fine for a pretty face
Who knows what a face is for.
The city clown
Will soon fall down
Without a face to hide in.
And he will lose
If he wont choose
The one he may confide in.
Sonny boy
With smokes for sale
Went to ground with a face so pale
And never heard
About the change
Showed his hand and fell out of range.
In the light of a city square
Find out the face thats fair
Keep it by your side.
When the light of the city falls
You fly to the city walls
Take off with your bride.
But at the chime of a city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Springfield Magical
In this, the City of my Discontent,
Sometimes there comes a whisper from the grass,
"Romance, Romance — is here. No Hindu town
Is quite so strange. No Citadel of Brass
By Sinbad found, held half such love and hate;
No picture-palace in a picture-book
Such webs of Friendship, Beauty, Greed and Fate!"
In this, the City of my Discontent,
Down from the sky, up from the smoking deep
Wild legends new and old burn round my bed
While trees and grass and men are wrapped in sleep.
Angels come down, with Christmas in their hearts,
Gentle, whimsical, laughing, heaven-sent;
And, for a day, fair Peace have given me
In this, the City of my Discontent!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tulip Bed At Greeley Square
You know that oasis, fresh and fair
In the city desert, as Greeley square?
That bright triangle of scented bloom
That lies surrounded by grime and gloom?
Right in the breast of the seething town
Like a gleaming gem or a wanton’s gown?
Ah, wonderful things that tulip bed
Unto my listening soul has said.
Over the rattle and roar of the street
I hear a chorus of voices sweet,
Day and night, when I pass that way,
And these are the things the voices say:
“Here, in the heart of the foolish strife,
We live a simple and natural life.
“Here, in the midst of the clash and din,
We know what it is to be calm within.
“Here, environed by sin and shame,
We do what we can with our pure white flame.
“We do what we can with our bloom and grace,
To make the city a fairer place.
“It is well to be good though the world is vile,
And so through the dust and the smoke we smile,
“We are but atoms in chaos tossed,
Yet never a purpose for truth was lost.”
Ah, many a sermon is uttered there
By the bed of blossoms in Greeley square.
And he who listens and hears aright,
Is better equipped for the world’s hard fight.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Old Man
My old man
Hes a singer in the park
Hes a walker in the rain
Hes a dancer in the dark
We dont need no piece of paper
From the city hall
Keeping us tied and true
My old man
Keeping away my blues
Hes my sunshine in the morning
Hes my fireworks at the end of the day
Hes the warmest chord I ever heard
Play that warm chord, play and stay baby
We dont need no piece of paper
From the city hall
Keeping us tied and true
My old man
Keeping away my blues
But when hes gone
Me and them lonesome blues collide
The beds too big
The frying pans too wide
Then he comes home
And he takes me in his loving arms
And he tells me all his troubles
And he tells me all my charms
We dont need no piece of paper
From the city hall
Keeping us tied and true
No, my old man
Keeping away my blues
But when hes gone
Me and them lonesome blues collide
The beds too big
The frying pans too wide
My old man
Hes a singer in the park
Hes a walker in the rain
Hes a dancer in the dark
We dont need no piece of paper
From the city hall
Keeping us tied and true
No, my old man
Keeping away my lonesome blues
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Of The Angels
City of the angels
City of the angels
Walkin' and talkin' and laughin' about
Dreamin' the things that you want will work out
People in places where you want to be
I'm lost in the city
Who's got the key
City of the angels
Ooh, I hear you callin' me
City of the angels
I've got this feelin' that things will work out
I've got this feelin', and there ain't no doubt
I'm holding on, hoping to find
Life in this city can bring peace of mind
City of the angels
Ooh, I hear you callin' me
City of the angels
City of the angels
Oh, I hear you callin' me
City of the angels
Just like, just like it used to be, yes
City of the angels
I'm goin' home, home
Bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye
Oh, bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye
Yeah, yeah, I'm leavin'
Oh, oh, I'm goin home
My friend I'm leavin'
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scenes In London I - Piccadilly
THE sun is on the crowded street,
It kindles those old towers;
Where England's noblest memories meet,
Of old historic hours.
Vast, shadowy, dark, and indistinct,
Tradition's giant fane,
Whereto a thousand years are linked,
In one electric chain.
So stands it when the morning light
First steals upon the skies;
And shadow'd by the fallen night,
The sleeping city lies.
It stands with darkness round it cast,
Touched by the first cold shine;
Vast, vague, and mighty as the past,
Of which it is the shrine.
'Tis lovely when the moonlight falls
Around the sculptured stone
Giving a softness to the walls,
Like love that mourns the gone.
Then comes the gentlest influence
The human heart can know,
The mourning over those gone hence
To the still dust below.
The smoke, the noise, the dust of day,
Have vanished from the scene;
The pale lamps gleam with spirit ray
O'er the park's sweeping green.
Sad shining on her lonely path,
The moon's calm smile above,
Seems as it lulled life's toil and wrath
With universal love.
Past that still hour, and its pale moon,
The city is alive;
It is the busy hour of noon,
When man must seek and strive.
The pressure of our actual life
Is on the waking brow;
Labour and care, endurance, strife,
These are around him now.
How wonderful the common street,
Its tumult and its throng,
The hurrying of the thousand feet
That bear life's cares along.
How strongly is the present felt,
With such a scene beside;
All sounds in one vast murmur melt
The thunder of the tide.
All hurry on—none pause to look
Upon another's face:
The present is an open book
None read, yet all must trace.
The poor man hurries on his race,
His daily bread to find;
The rich man has yet wearier chase,
For pleasure's hard to bind.
All hurry, though it is to pass
For which they live so fast—
What doth the present but amass,
The wealth that makes the past.
The past is round us—those old spires
That glimmer o'er our head;
Not from the present is their fires,
Their light is from the dead.
But for the past, the present's powers
Were waste of toil and mind;
But for those long and glorious hours
Which leave themselves behind.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Big Candy Apple
New York City is hoppin'
The Big Apple is Candy-Red
Times Square is quite an affair
Never mind the thoughts slinking outta our heads;
The lights of broadway are neon flashin'
The Rocketts are doin' their dance-
New York City is hoppin'
All glamour-all glitz-all romance;
Forgive me if i miss ya
'Cause i've got so much here to do
The Big Apple has called out to me
And i'm busy takin' in the view;
The Statue of Liberty she beckons
Central Park is bidding me to come as well
So much to do and so little time left
And riding the subways can be h-! ;
But in the end its really all worth it
The Big Candy Apple is great
Check it out and learn what its all about
I'll meet you on Broadway at half past eight;
Dedicated to New York-Then-Now-and Forever.
To The Movie: Sex in The City 2- Soon to Be Released.
Sarah Jessica Parker-actress-producer-New Head of Halston-etc.
To Carla Cravens-Soul daughter-Interior Designer..movie maker
To Katie-My cuz
To Nancy Grace who is every victims Angel
May 10,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sense Of Wonder
I walked in my greatcoat
Down through the days of the leaves.
No before after, yes after before
We were shining our light into the days of blooming wonder
In the eternal presence, in the presence of the flame.
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder
Didnt I come to lift your fiery vision bright
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder in the flame.
On and on and on and on we kept singing our song
Over newtonards and comber, gransha and the
Ballystockart road.
With boffyflow and spike
I said I could describe the leaves for samuel and felicity
Rich, red browney, half burnt orange and green.
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder
Didnt I come to lift your fiery vision bright
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder in the flame.
Its easy to describe the leaves in the autumn
And its oh so easy in the spring
But down through january and february its a very different thing.
On and on and on, through the winter of our discontent.
When the wind blows up the collar and the ears are frostbitten too
I said I could describe the leaves for samuel and what it means to you and me
You may call my love sophia, but I call my love philosophy.
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder
Didnt I come to lift your fiery vision
Didnt I come to bring you a sense of wonder in the flame.
Wee alfie at the
Castle picture house on the castlereagh road.
Whistling on the corner next door where
He kept johnny mack browns horse.
O solo mio by mcgimsey
And the man who played the saw
Outside the city hall.
Pastie suppers down at daveys chipper
Gravy rings, barmbracks
Wagon wheels, snowballs.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My city hall
At the foot of my city hall lay stairs to nowhere
My city hall holds flags that have lost meaning
It’s become a place for bureaucrats to lay waste in my city
No open doors for citizens so where do I go
With my problems a glass bottle may work
But it won’t float where needed
But maybe the finder can do more than me
Because my city hall isn’t open to the public
poem by Ronald Speight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sydney Exhibition Cantata
Songs of morning, with your breath
Sing the darkness now to death;
Radiant river, beaming bay,
Fair as Summer, shine to-day;
Flying torrent, falling slope, ~Chorus~
Wear the face as bright as Hope;
Wind and woodland, hill and sea,
Lift your voices - sing for glee!
Greet the guests your fame has won -
Put your brightest garments on.
~Recitative and Chorus~
Lo, they come - the lords unknown,
Sons of Peace, from every zone!
See above our waves unfurled
All the flags of all the world!
North and south and west and east
Gather in to grace our feast.
Shining nations! let them see
How like England we can be.
Mighty nations! let them view
Sons of generous sires in you.
~Solo - Tenor~
By the days that sound afar,
Sound, and shine like star by star;
By the grand old years aflame
With the fires of England's fame -
Heirs of those who fought for right
When the world's wronged face was white -
Meet these guests your fortune sends,
As your fathers met their friends;
Let the beauty of your race
Glow like morning in your face.
Part II
~Solo - Bass~
Where now a radiant city stands,
The dark oak used to wave,
The elfin harp of lonely lands
Above the wild man's grave;
Through windless woods, one clear, sweet stream
(Sing soft and very low)
Stole like the river of a dream
A hundred years ago.
~Solo - Alto~
Upon the hills that blaze to-day
With splendid dome and spire,
The naked hunter tracked his prey,
And slumbered by his fire.
Within the sound of shipless seas
The wild rose used to blow
About the feet of royal trees,
A hundred years ago.
~Solo - Soprano~
Ah! haply on some mossy slope,
Against the shining springs,
In those old days the angel Hope
Sat down with folded wings;
Perhaps she touched in dreams sublime,
In glory and in glow,
The skirts of this resplendent time,
A hundred years ago.
Part III
~Children~
A gracious morning on the hills of wet
And wind and mist her glittering feet has set;
The life and heat of light have chased away
Australia's dark, mysterious yesterday.
A great, glad glory now flows down and shines
On gold-green lands where waved funereal pines.
~Solo - Soprano~
And hence a fair dream goes before our gaze,
And lifts the skirts of the hereafter days,
And sees afar, as dreams alone can see,
The splendid marvel of the years to be.
Part IV
~Basses and Chorus~
Father, All-Bountiful, humbly we bend to Thee;
Heads are uncovered in sight of Thy face.
Here, in the flow of the psalms that ascend to Thee,
Teach us to live for the light of Thy grace.
Here, in the pause of the anthems of praise to Thee,
Master and Maker - pre-eminent Friend -
Teach us to look to Thee - give all our days to Thee,
Now and for evermore, world without end!
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Boy Blues
Fireflies in dogfights
Runnin hot in the heat
Street noise, another bribe
Things too hard to believe--so head out
My hearts in the country
My feets in the city with you
All my friends are eatin sushi
Talkin bad about you know who-who-who
My tongues talkin riddles
But I just cant seem to find a clue
So I take a swig of whiskey
And jump into the saddle with you-you-you
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
Cats in the alley
Rats in my snakeskin boots
All my neighbors think Im crazy
And my girl thinks Im losin my cool-cool-cool
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
I got the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
Dont look to jesus to change your seasons
Its the american dream
Souls of gypsies, road of stone
Cant seem to find no peace--so head out
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
I got the blues, I got the blues, got the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
And I just cant seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues
I got the blues, I got the blues,
I got the blues, I got the blues
I got the blues, I got the blues,
I got the blues, I got the blues
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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