The Message Of The Wind
it is your
coldness
typed in
sighs
in the
wind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
When the wind sighs
When the wind sighs
When the wind sighs
The blind-fold statue sings
The faces of the skies are dark
And the cloud flies.
When the wind sighs
From the door-crevice in
It begs to enter in
How darker are the shadows on the walls
How sad how sad the flame wavers
As on the wall it flickers:
When the wind sighs
The sea’s black turns to green
And on the city-bastions tall
The first chill blow of wind
The first chill dropp of rain
And in the alley strait
Rain-waters gurgle down
The old stone-cobbled streets:
When the wind sighs
When the wind sighs.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Who Would Be A Poet?
Tell me, who would be a poet?
Just think what it entails...
And we know we'll sometimes blow it,
For every writer fails...
To think, that when we're feeling down,
We write to raise a smile,
But then we often have to frown,
Restricted by some style...
Eight syllables, then six below,
That's how I try to write...
Eight syllables to match the flow
Then six to keep it light...
So pretty soon verse three's arranged
Before the poem's done
And then verse four gets somewhat changed,
But don't tell anyone!
Some names get swapped and switched around,
Some placenames, too, replaced...
And suddenly an ending's found
And that has to be phrased...
My, my, it's like a Mystory Tour!
All jumbled jolly stuff,
With heartfelt tales of sweet amour
And that weird thing called lurv...
For thirty years, I've typed and typed
And typed and typed again...
I've either griped or else I've hyped
And emptied every pen...
The Writing Bug's still bugging me...
And yet how much I owe it!
Except no sweetheart's hugging me!
So who would be a poet! ?
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Blocked
I walk slowly, letting the rain hit my face.
I try to zone out and stay in my own little world to block the coldness out.
BAM!
Coldness tries to bring me back to the other world.
BAM!
This time it takes me back.
I feel the coldness again and the sounds of yelling.
I plug in my headphones and try to go back, but the coldness is to strong and makes me
STAY
poem by Christina J. Williams
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A Cold Night
the night's branches
cast the darkness
its stillness like a tree
unshaken by
the coldness of
the earth
the leaves fall silently
like sighs
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Earth And Myself...
as i lay my body
upon the grass
coldness seeps
in my garment
then to my skin
penetrating my
body
into the recesses
of my brain
it is the logic
and emotion conjoining
like twins
there is this coldness
that i allow
somehow
from the earth
to my spine
to my heart
it comforts me
that we are still connected
the warmth of my flesh
and blood
into the silence and
coldness of
this Earth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song Of Winter
Cool cool winter,
The air is dewy fresh,
In the morning
sweet the sun rays.
Almost darkness,
Foggy wind does blow,
In this winter,
Life does run slow.
Mist appeares all day,
Hide the sun rays,
In this winter,
Very well you can tress.
Wear we warm cloths,
In this season,
Shivering coldness,
Is the reason.
In this coldness,
Under sun we bake,
Many veggies do grow,
And take fruits and cake.
poem by Uttam Biswas
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Licia Sonnets 08
Hard are the rocks, the marble, and the steel,
The ancient oak with wind and weather tossed;
But you, my love, far harder do I feel
Than flint, or these, or is the winter's frost.
My tears too weak, your heart they cannot move;
My sighs, that rock, like wind it cannot rent;
Too tiger-like you swear you cannot love;
But tears and sighs you fruitless back have sent.
The frost too hard, not melted with my flame,
I cinders am, and yet you feel no heat.
Surpass not these, sweet love, for very shame,
But let my tears, my vows, my sighs entreat;
Then shall I say as I by trial find;
These all are hard, but you, my love, are kind.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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The coldness of a friend and the coldness of linen -- they never lasted long.
Sometimes Wind Moves In Secret
Sometimes wind moves in secret
Like a lover or a moon
Sometimes a board will answer
Or a shutter or a loon
Sometimes wind answers itself
Like a woman at the mirror
And sometimes no one's present
Or unwilling to hear
Wind moans over graveyards
As if weeping for the dead
Wind howls at the windows
Like it wants you, in your bed
Wind steals kites of children
Without making any sound
And wind tears off your head scarf
But lifts hair, like a crown
Wind sighs round a lighthouse
Like a sailor blown off course
Wind whispers in the rigging
Like a breeze has lost its voice
Wind dies in the harbor
When the moon is sailing high
But wind sings before morning
When the twilight blush is nigh
poem by Patti Masterman
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Summer Wind
The summer wind, came blowin' in
From across the sea
It lingered there, to touch you hair
And walk with me
All summer long, we sang a song
And strolled the golden sand
Two sweethearts, and the summer wind
Like painted kites, the days and nights went flyin' by
The world was new, beneath a blue umbrella sky
Then softer than, a piper man one day it called to you
And I lost you, to the summer wind
The autumn wind, and the winter winds have come and gone
And still the days, the lonely days go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies through nights that never end
Well my fickle friend, the summer wind
That old summer wind
Talkin' 'bout the summer wind
The summer wind
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Symbiosis
you are the glass
and on your open mouth
i am the water
i will fill every space
of your body
do not feel my coldness
you do not deserve it.
keep the thirst
i shall quench it.
do not be carried away
by my coldness
do not spill me
i need you as vessel
of my directionless fluidity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alunan 5
Poet travelling over water
befriend the wind
let it ride easy
in the hollows
of your bones
open your bosom
for wind to go through
storm rising
fron the abyss
could pitch your
on the rocks
blow the skull apart
for darkness and sun
coldness and heat
to flow in without staying
salt-caked and split
your tongue will breed
secret words
of the wind's singing
now then
will the wind
command the billows
to bear you
the tide to lay your bones
under the moon
to bleach wothout rancor
without bliss everything forgiven
your name that wind spells
on water the syllables
so very kindly
very gently leave
where it will
posted by merlie alunan @ 12: 18 AM
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change my mood! Oxytocin, Adrenalin and the rest!
The drizzle of yet to shower rain,
The breeze of yet to blow wind,
The coldness of eternal spring,
The elasticity in the coils of spring,
Hormones run in arteries and veins.
When the Shower changes into a storm,
When the breeze changes into tornado,
When the coldness changes into fire,
When the suppleness changes into rigidity,
One exits and others enter fiercely.
when we like someone, we forgive them,
when we hate someone, we torture them,
When we are praised, we adore them,
When we are questioned, we doubt them.
As our moods change, the hormone change or,
the hormone changes, our mood changes?
The more the love hormone, we are happy,
The more the fly or fight hormone,
we are sad and bold.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Trying...
if your coldness at dawn
cannot tackle the
morning sunshine
try some amount of
time convincing yourself
that you also know
how to outstrip that coldness
that you also know
how to win sometimes
that your love for sunshine
is a prize that you have to win
because if you do not
then who will?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Licia Sonnets 36
Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind;
See how my tears are pitied by the rain;
Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind;
Taste but the grief which I possess in vain.
Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass,
And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed,
And if no flame like mine nor is nor was,
Nor grief like that whereon my soul doth feed,
Relent, fair Licia, when my sighs do blow;
Yield at my tears, that flintlike drops consume;
Accept the flame that doth my incense show,
Allow the grief that is my heart's perfume.
Thus sighs and tears, flame, grief shall plead for me;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Now I Know Why It Must Rain Sometimes
there is no significance at first
when age is a little boy, the moon is the moon
nothing else, the wind is like anybody's wind
mother's breaths, like a pillow,
such a small world, of less significance
are the little things, unaccounted
laughters are laughters, sighs are sighs,
but today, the metaphors keep hovering
over my hair, like some flowers in my dreams
turning into butterflies, somehow,
the window becomes a framework of
my future, the door an opportunity
that i, as a pair of hands, must either close
or open,
this is it, every word is accounted and saved
and then something grows,
seeds are words now, and the flowers my deeds.
it rains sometimes, a cry for an unburdening.
sleep is again cruel to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Summer Wind
The summer wind, came blowin' in - from across the sea
It lingered there, to touch your hair and walk with me
All summer long, we sang a song - and then we strolled that golden sand
Two sweethearts, and the summer wind
Like painted kites, those days and nights - they went flyin' by
The world was new, beneath a blue - umbrella sky
Then softer than, a piper man - one day it called to you
I lost you, I lost you to the summer wind
The autumn wind, and the winter wind - they have come and gone
And still the days, those lonely days - they go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies - through nights that never end
My fickle friend, the summer wind
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wounded Wind
the wounded wind
spirited messages
she does send
disturb not the bark of this tree
ancient soul
it does speak to me
disturb not the pureness of this stream
trickling tears
it does haunt my dreams
the wounded wind sighs
ghostly shadows still dance before her eyes
the wounded wind cries
like the coyote who splits the silence of night howling at the moon
Warning, the wrath of the wounded wind will be upon us soon
poem by by unknown author
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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem For A Cold Woman....
gradually i feel the coldness of
your touch
your words are sour
the change is noticeable
i do not beg for affection
i do not force myself in your coldness
you need the warmth of the sun
i am not the sun
you must need someone
other than my begging which i do not have for now
i know where to go
i go home
and my home is myself
you have become a stranger
an alien port where my boat cannot dock
perhaps
this is what goodbye is all about
a ripe fruit
which is not for my picking
it is now all yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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