En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Between The Lines Of Our Longings

i offer you some words like three white carnations
on the table of our existence
between us is this distance
a sea of silence
and you look at me and begin to speak
what i see are but waves arriving to my shore
some hushes of the wind that i hear
some foams of the water
there is this drift this lull
this sleep that does not want to wake up
above us are the gray clouds
soon, soon, we shall hear the dragging footsteps of the rain.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do Yiu Listen..Or Do U Hear

s the sun rises, , all is quite no chatter of people no cars goin by
but in this silence i hear

i hear the wind as she sings her song
i hear the birds in the sky as they fly by
this is the best silence of all
no phones ringing, no engines reviing as they race by
i hear everything in nature in its glory
can u hear it too..or can u not silence ur selfs

i hear the clouds as they roll in
its this silence that i take pen in hand
and write
u think as u read but thier is no silence
for u can hear the horses roam
u can hear the thunder off in th distance
but when we are loud we caint hear
the beauty of what surrounds
so as u read this poem silence ur mind
and next time u walk out side
silence you mouth ur mind
and u can see silence of the
of all things
then u can truly hear
as i do
and a beautfull sound to see
greyicewolf

.

poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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Footsteps

Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
Whenever trouble comes around
Or lonely nights lead underground
And far in the dark
Abandoned cars suddenly start up
An anxious sound
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
When loneliness induces fear
Like waves against a
Ramshackle pier
When thunder and rain
Scar the windowpane once again
I want you near
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Im longing to see you
I want you, I need you
Like a child who feels afraid
Of the dark at night
Hoping to hear a gentle touch
Turning on a welcome light
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps

song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anticipation

I sleep in the morn.
I do not wish to rise.
I hear the rain
and I know the skies
are crying big raindrops
and the clouds are gray.
The approaching hours
will begin my day.

Oh how I need to see the sun
come out from the clouds
to burn my skin
and heat up this frame of mind I'm in.
I can't stay put in this tiresome bed.
Too many thoughts will destroy my head.
All I need is one word from you,
then the rain and clouds could not get through.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Babbling....

the sea has mastered the mass
production of waves
like millions of white foamy
eyelashes
the shore multiplies its own sands
that gleam like diamonds at noon
the trees grow leaves upon its twigs
the spiders spit their own silk
just like the worms
air is breathing upon its own
molecules
no one notices all these miracles
every aspect is normal
there is nothing extraordinary
things flow like water
coolness gush like wind
clouds flit, rain pours, the winds from
the sea hushes
my hands type the words for anything
trying to make poetry unnoticeable
there is nothing extraordinary now about
words on feelings long numbed
when you read this
you shall notice nothing but mass production
too, and you tell yourself
what kind of desecration of the words
is this phenomenon?
desanctify fear, disedify what is divine
make things flow like water
let the air be but just molecules
now, what is so extraordinary about you?
there is no such thing now
as discriminating taste...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Morning

the house is surrounded by trees
and birds sleep there
some of those who do not have fears
made their nests
and this early morning i hear them sing

chirp if you may call it
but there is this feeling that nature is there
in the songs of birds
and the hush of the wind and the coming
bright rays of the sun

my dog is beside me
still asleep as i begin my prayers and rituals
for the day

behind the black shadows of the trees
the gray horizon starts
to brighten and now the mountains begin to
appear in view

their peaks touching the skies
as the clouds hang and float and drift....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wish You Were Here

Footsteps, I can hear footsteps in the hall
I hear footsteps, seems like Ive been through this before
Some time has come now, some time has passed
But things still look the same
Is heaven all above, and paradise below
And the questions still remain
Ooh, can we see you?
Ooh, are we near you?
How could you disappear out of here?
I wish for something, I wish you were here
Footsteps, I can hear footsteps in the hall
I hear footsteps, it seems like Ive been through this before
Well we loved you then, I guess we always will
We love you still from here
Birds of a feather always stay together
And never separate, no fear
Ooh, can we see you?
Ooh, are we near you?
How could you disappear out of here?
I wish for something, I wish for something
I wish you were here, I wish you were here
I wish you well
Footsteps, I can hear footsteps in the hall
I hear footsteps, seems like Ive been through this before
If all the world was turning blue and gold
Like through your eyes so clear
The time has come to celebrate our past
And crystalize this sphere
Ooh, can we see you?
Ooh, are we near you?
How can you disappear out of here?
I wish for something
Ooh, can we see you?
Ooh, are we near you?
How can you disappear out of here?
I wish for something
I wish you were here, I wish you were here
I wish you well
There will come a day
Oh some day our day will come
Our day will come, our day will come
Words and music : simple minds (c) emi music (publ) ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Time

Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place

poem by GJC boyle
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In Silence

In silence, you can hear
the scratching of a pen across paper.
In silence, you can hear
the rhythmic sound
of your heart beating
telling you you are alive.

In silence, you can hear
the screech of a demon call.
In silence, you can hear
the murmur of a baby
just moments before
they begin to awake.

In silence, you can hear
your memories calling.
In silence, you are transported
back in your life
into days long gone by
under sun-drenched skies.

In silence, you can hear
your voice of loneliness.
In silence, you are there
within the confines
of your inner self
and forever alone in silence.

11 May 2012

poem by David Harris
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As One Listens To The Rain

Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
not attentive, not distracted,
light footsteps, thin drizzle,
water that is air, air that is time,
the day is still leaving,
the night has yet to arrive,
figurations of mist
at the turn of the corner,
figurations of time
at the bend in this pause,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
without listening, hear what I say
with eyes open inward, asleep
with all five senses awake,
it's raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables,
air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
wet asphalt is shining,
steam rises and walks away,
night unfolds and looks at me,
you are you and your body of steam,
you and your face of night,
you and your hair, unhurried lightning,
you cross the street and enter my forehead,
footsteps of water across my eyes,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the asphalt's shining, you cross the street,
it is the mist, wandering in the night,
it is the night, asleep in your bed,
it is the surge of waves in your breath,
your fingers of water dampen my forehead,
your fingers of flame burn my eyes,
your fingers of air open eyelids of time,
a spring of visions and resurrections,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the years go by, the moments return,
do you hear the footsteps in the next room?
not here, not there: you hear them
in another time that is now,
listen to the footsteps of time,
inventor of places with no weight, nowhere,
listen to the rain running over the terrace,
the night is now more night in the grove,
lightning has nestled among the leaves,
a restless garden adrift-go in,
your shadow covers this page.

poem by Octavio Paz
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Sunset On The Beach

Warm wind blows on my skin,
waves splash as I splash my fin.
Warm blue water of the ocean,
fish swim around me in motion.
I stare up at the setting sun,
clouds of yellow, pink, purple
wrapped into clouds swirling into one.
A lonely pelican flies by,
as more clouds cross the sky.
I see lovers walk through sand,
each holding each other hands.
Then waves become white with force,
I realize I’ve stayed my course,
leaving before rain starts to pour,
I say “goodbye sunset” as I transform and walk to shore.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Sea Loving People

The true sea loving people never live far from the sea
They pine if the ocean they can't hear or see
The feel of the sea spray where the wild breakers roar
Where huge waves pound the stony cliffs overlooking the shore.

They can only live near to where the surf waves roll
And to them the breath of the sea air is good for the soul
In towns by the ocean they grow old and gray
From salt-water they could not live far away.

The sea loving people enjoy the coastal sunshine
Inland from the ocean they surely would pine
To live two miles from the ocean for them does seem far
Though in distance that only a short drive by car.

The sea loving people love the rumble of the big surf waves
In cemetery close to the cliffs are their ancestors graves
They would pine if they could not hear the sea breakers roar
They only could live in towns near the Sea-shore.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Table Bay [2]

I can hear the waves roar,
slamming shingle on the rocks, the beach
drawing in and out
on Bloubergstrand
and the cadence is a age old shuddering
of waves breaking, continuing like before

and in the distance Table Bay
lies stretched out specked with
hundreds of little lights
like a enormous crown

with the flat mountain top
on display, etched against the night sky
and its full tide, the moon is full
yellow and magnificent

and the place of good hope,
lies on the shore
with waves breaking forever more
and lonely the beach stretches out before me,
in a long white ribbon
and the dark water goes out to the horizon,
almost as far as I can see

and the sea wind is fresh and new
and there's no light in sight
on the wavering ocean
just a darkness that envelopes me
as the waves
are throwing pebbles out
and drawing them in
before breaking on the beach

and there's nobody to be true to,
nobody to trust, only the reality of the here and now
and all hope, all promises, all joy and pain
remains the same
swept in and out of a confused world
forever breaking, forever rushing in.

poem by Gert Strydom
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In Memory of David Archer (LIV)

The words are always as
strange and dead as those
fragments and oddments that
the wave casts up on the shore:
I stand in the sea mist
gazing down at the white
words and old bits of wood
and wonder what they were for.
I think that they were not
ever intended to do
what, when we seek to speak,
we believe that they may:
they cannot bear us up
the frothy words and like
wings at the lame foot
lift us out of the clay.

For all the reflections
I call up out of the sea
(they seem to speak as the shell
seems to speak for the sea)
are no more truly here
than the wind weaving sand
into shapes of things
we think that we know and see.

When in the evening sky
a single star appears
over my head, and the moon
out of the cloud lifts its face,
when the white gull turns
or the high plover hovers
to tell me with a cry
I trespass in this place:

What I see, then, with
that cloud my witness is
not shapes of the mind or wind
like the slow rainbowings
of the dolphin's skin as it dies
but, as though from the cloud
I saw my bone walk the shore,
the theology of all things.

The white stones and the old
odd bits of sea blanched wood,
Overstrand and the swinging
lighthouse glimpsed in the mists,
they flash in the prisms and I
believe for a moment I see
the dazzling atoms dancing
in every thing that exists.

The children dance on the shore.
The waves dies on the sand.
The spray blows to and fro,
the children dance and die.
What waves are these that dance
with the children on the sand?
I hear them calling, but cannot
hear what it is that they cry.

I neither understand
nor know why I am moved
beyond these words by the
odd bits of bleached wood
cast up on Overstrand
or by the black and twisted
October evening tree
dying beside the road.

or by the child of midnight
so deep asleep but still
lost in the corridors
of the mansions of dust,
by any or by all
ceremonial evidence
attesting that we love
simply because we must.

I walk upon Overstrand shore
and the crab at my foot
inscribes praise in the sand.
The wave bursts with glory
because it rises up like
angels out of the sea,
and the dead starfish burns
on Overstrand promontory.

Why do I hear them cry
out from the far side of life,
those forms and impulses
unborn beyond the sky?
Why should they hope and seek
above all else to be?
Tonight on Overstrand
I know for one moment why.

poem by George Barker
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Music of waves

I see the waves, washing away the steps on sand,
I hear the wind, singing its song strange,
I hear the strings of trees playing it -
A music of waves, music of wind.

Here it is hard to say, where is asphalt,
Here it is hard to say, what is a car.
Here you should throw a water up to hear:
The music of waves, music of wind.

Who could remember about those, that took the wrong way?
Who could remember about those, that were singing and laughing well?
Who could remember, feeling the cold butt, indeed,
Music of waves and music of wind.

song, lyrics by Victor Tsoi, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Talk To Me

Talk to me in the dark of night
when there's silence, only your voice.
Speak to me of your daytime thoughts
so I may hear you and rejoice.

This is my time with you alone.
Your words can still my heart.
All through the busy hours of day
my body plays its part.

But, nothing I do can ever compete
with the sounds you give to me.
All that I do is never complete
'Til I'm lying next to you.

So talk to me in the dark of night
and lull me off to sleep.
Let all my dreams be of your words,
the words that I shall keep

'til the morning breaks my reverie
and brings me another day.
I will move forward through the hours
awaiting the words you will say.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Silence in my world..

I lay back and close my eyes
As memories of laughter
And countless conversations, fill my head
I hear the wind moving
And the sound of my breathing
I hear the leaves rustling
And the sound of footsteps fading

The laughter is long gone
The only voice I hear is mine
As Silence invades my world
Mercilessly, thoughtlessly
Our song comes to my mind
And I struggle to sing it
But the words don't come to me
As Silence fills my world with emptiness
Deafening it, endlessly.

poem by Gauri Gupta
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Rain

Since I lived a stranger in the City of Hsün-yang
Hour by hour bitter rain has poured.
On few days has the dark sky cleared;
In listless sleep I have spent much time.
The lake has widened till it almost joins the sky;
The clouds sink till they touch the water's face.
Beyond my hedge I hear the boatmen's talk;
At the street-end I hear the fisher's song.
Misty birds are lost in yellow air;
Windy sails kick the white waves.
In front of my gate the horse and carriage-way
In a single night has turned into a river-bed.

poem by Bai Juyi
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Your Silence

I have spoken long enough
I have spoken well enough
Now let me be silent
And see how Silence speaks
Hear the words unspoken
For you could never speak
And whenever I asked you
All I could ever hear, was:
Your Silence…

Yes, that very Silence of yours
Which sucked all my life out
making me feel miserable
day in and day out
Still I kept holding on,
hoping on and hanging on…
If you could ever speak

Yet you never spoke up
Instead, offered me a challenge
A challenge to a broken heart?
A challenge to a defeated soul?
Oh! How Ruthless you could be…

And still you ever want me
To keep hearing your silence
And make some meaning of it all
I told you long before
Silence never works for me
I am a woman of words…
It might work well for you
So be it, my love…
If that is what you call ‘friendship’

Let you be silent
And me be too
And we can still remain ‘friends’
For if you speak
And I speak too
Who knows, One day
We might become foes…
And I would rather die
A Friend of yours
Than choose to be a Foe.

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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A Pleasant Inconsequence

- does anyone hear
that something, so near
an ear, an eye
an eagle, a fly
a friend or a foe
where does it all go
I speak alone
words to a gamboling poem
left to right
not a care in sight
even the wind
in a rain decides to take a swim
souls soar to the clouds
where bodies are not allowed
those who hear
without fear
and who see
beyond the trees
and who shall fly
before a time to die
know life's more serious plot
is not to be got
they just enjoy their short time
and make up pleasant little rhymes -

poem by Smoky Hoss
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To Hear Those Words Again

To hear those words again,
Would be music to my ears.
Eliminating all my worries,
Smashing all my fears.

To hear those words again,
Coming straight from your heart.
It's easy to know when you are here,
But distance now keeps us apart.

To hear those words again,
To let me know you are there.
For everyday I say it to you,
To let you know I still care.

To hear those words again,
Even though I know you do.
Just once after all this time,
Let me hear 'I love you'.

poem by Adam McKim
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