The Tryst Of Light And The Cliff
when the sun is
up the hills
and light is strong
and hot
the tryst with
the cliff begins
surging light
piercing through
a slit in the cliff
vibrating the
tiny bodies of the
sands of
desire
the moment
is enduring
but not that
ecstatic
like us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All I Ask Of You
CLIFF: No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears;
I'm here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.
Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears'.
I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.
SARAH: Say you love me ev'ry waking moment,
turn my head with talk of summertime.
Say you need me with you now and always,
promise me that all you say is true, that's all, I ask of you.
CLIFF: Let me be your shelter, let me be your light;
You're safe no one will find you, your fears are far behind you.
SARAH: All I want is freedom, a world with no more night;
And you always beside me, to hold me and to hide me.
CLIFF: Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,
let me lead you from your solitude.
Say you want me with you here beside you,
anywhere you go, let me go too, that's all I ask of you.
SARAH: Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,
BOTH: Say the word and I will follow you.
Share each day with me, each night, each morning,
SARAH: Say you love me;
CLIFF: You know I do;
BOTH: Love me, that's all I ask of you.
Love me, that's all I ask of you.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pen Light
it is in the movie house
where the pen light gets more of its relevance
you figure out the seat
with its slit of light
as you ascend
as you find that emptiness
right in front
of you behind the darkness
that you have
chosen
in broad daylight
when everything runs carefree
and obvious
nothing seems to be right
everything goes berserk
awry
sometimes i equate darkness with
being cautious
that with such a tiny light
one cannot stumble
like what the pen light does
too tiny
and yet we can never think
that we can do wrong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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when I met Sir Cliff
When I Met Sir Cliff
I once met Cliff Richard at a newsagent he bought a conservative paper
which, makes sense since he is loaded? Cliff smiled to everyone in the shop,
I did not, can’t see why I should smile buying a newspaper.
That is the difference between us except he can sing bland songs that are
pleasing to the ear and has got hair. We spoke he was pleased to have
someone to talk to who wasn’t an adoring fan. We drank wine, too much
and I walked him home, he lived nearby. He had forgotten his keys to
the gate, but jauntily jumped over the wall. And that was the last I saw of
Cliff, a slim bum disappearing behind a wall
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Two To The Power Of Love
(duet with cliff richards)
Janet: I know we just met, but I feel like Ive known you before
Cliff: but something about you my heart has been searching
Janet: I dont understand it, its over my head
Cliff: so dont try to solve it, just feel it instead. ooh
Chorus:
It isnt really such a mystery
Anyway you add it up it turns out to be
Attraction automatic, a simple mathematics
Two to the power of love
Janet: I look in your eyes and everything falls into place
Cliff: you dont have to say it, its written all over your face
Janet: by my calculation, Im falling for you
Cliff: its a perfect equation
Janet and cliff: and I know that its true
Repeat chorus
Janet and cliff:
Its complicated, but its easy to see
A combination that was meant to be
Its something you can count on
Repeat chorus
It isnt really just a shot in the dark
Somebody mustve worked it out on the chart
Attraction automatic, a simple mathematics
Two to the power of love
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ripe Guavas
on top of a hill
beside a cliff
the branches of
the guava tree
are filled with
ripe fruits
a bird with
small wings
flew and
perched on
one of the
branches
it is pecking
on the biggest
and the ripest
which at any
moment may fall
right on the
sharp rocks
just below
the cliff
where the hands
of death keep on
waving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By the Hoof of the Wild Goat
By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed
From the cliff where she lay in the Sun
Fell the Stone
To the Tarn where the daylight is lost,
So she fell from the light of the Sun
And alone!
Now the fall was ordained from the first
With the Goat and the Cliff and the Tarn,
But the Stone
Knows only her life is accursed
As she sinks from the light of the Sun
And alone!
Oh Thou Who hast builded the World,
Oh Thou Who hast lighted the Sun,
Oh Thou Who hast darkened the Tarn,
Judge Thou
The sin of the Stone that was hurled
By the goat from the light of the Sun,
As she sinks in the mire of the Tarn,
Even now--even now--even now!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Cliff Klingenhagen
Cliff Klingenhagen had me in to dine
With him one day; and after soup and meat,
And all the other things there were to eat,
Cliff took two glasses and filled one with wine
And one with wormwood. Then, without a sign
For me to choose at all, he took the draught
Of bitterness himself, and lightly quaffed
It off, and said the other one was mine.
And when I asked him what the deuce he meant
By doing that, he only looked at me
And smiled, and said it was a way of his.
And though I know the fellow, I have spent
Long time a-wondering when I shall be
As happy as Cliff Klingenhagen is.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Imitators
A boat came in; the cliff was baked;
The noisy boat-chain fell and clanked on
The sand-an iron rattle-snake,
A rattling rust among the plankton.
And two got out; and from the cliff
I felt like calling down, 'Forgive me,
But would you kindly throw yourselves
Apart or else into the river?
Your miming is without a fault-
Of course the seeker finds the fancied-
But stop this playing with the boat!
Your model on the cliff resents it.'
poem by Boris Pasternak
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He who climbs a cliff may die on the cliff, so what? Always a risk-taker by nature, now I became one by intent.
186,000 Miles A Second
Light begins from within
Light begins with a belief
Light begins when we see without sight
Light is simply electricity mixed with sincerity
Light can be humanly explained but inhumanely detained.
poem by Jeff Rushton
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The Passion
how can i be too stupid not
to know the power of attraction
which for years my body was starved
my throat strangulated by the hands of
my denial
there is slit of light outside piercing
the foulness of my room
my body aches for more of this
light
this pouring of light in the bowl
of my head
how i not know the passion of the body
from the strains of my constraints
the pain is over now
when i have awakened from the sweetness of sleep
i will touch you and kiss you and make love with you
at whatever
cost.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When You Push
When you push...
Don't turn your back upon a cliff.
Or try to balance on the edge of it.
When you push.
When you push...
Don't think for a moment,
I will insist you resist this!
Or think not to inflict...
An exchange with you conflict!
When you push...
And you have been warned!
A visit to your end will come to you quick.
As your fingertips slip...
From that cliff,
With my assistance.
When you continue to push!
And push.
And push!
Think of it,
As a gift to realize your wishes.
When you push to give...
Expect to receive!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Iron Man came to the top of the cliff. How far had he walked? Nobody knows. Where did he come from? Nobody knows. How was he made? Nobody knows. Taller than a house the Iron Man stood at the top of the cliff, at the very brink, in the darkness.
quote by Ted Hughes
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sick And Tired Of...
im so sick of your lies
im so tired of the fights
i just want to sream
i just want to shout
im sick of what you did to me
your so blind u couldnt see
the pain your caused
to me, to my life...
© AJ CLIFF
poem by Adam Cliff
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Lamp Of Love
Light, oh where is the light?
Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!
There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame--is such thy fate, my heart?
Ah, death were better by far for thee!
Misery knocks at thy door,
and her message is that thy lord is wakeful,
and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless.
I know not what this is that stirs in me--I know not its meaning.
A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my sight,
and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the night calls me.
Light, oh where is the light!
Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!
It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the void.
The night is black as a black stone.
Let not the hours pass by in the dark.
Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Once by the Pacific
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the light was spoken.
poem by Robert Frost
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The Song of Callicles
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.
Not here, O Apollo!
Are haunts meet for thee.
But, where Helicon breaks down
In cliff to the sea.
Where the moon-silver'd inlets
Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,
O speed, and rejoice!
On the sward at the cliff-top,
Lie strewn the white flocks;
On the cliff-side, the pigeons
Roost deep in the rocks.
In the moonlight the shepherds,
Soft lull'd by the rills,
Lie wrapt in their blankets,
Asleep on the hills.
—What forms are these coming
So white through the gloom?
What garments out-glistening
The gold-flower'd broom?
What sweet-breathing Presence
Out-perfumes the thyme?
What voices enrapture
The night's balmy prime?—
'Tis Apollo comes leading
His choir, The Nine.
—The Leader is fairest,
But all are divine.
They are lost in the hollows.
They stream up again.
What seeks on this mountain
The glorified train?—
They bathe on this mountain,
In the spring by their road.
Then on to Olympus,
Their endless abode.
—Whose praise do they mention:
Of what is it told?—
What will be for ever.
What was from of old.
First hymn they the Father
Of all things: and then,
The rest of Immortals,
The action of men.
The Day in his hotness,
The strife with the palm;
The Night in her silence,
The Stars in their calm.
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Apollo Musagetes
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame;
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.
Not here, O Apollo!
Are haunts meet for thee.
But, where Helicon breaks down
In cliff to the sea,
Where the moon-silver'd inlets
Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,
O speed, and rejoice!
On the sward at the cliff-top
Lie strewn the white flocks,
On the cliff-side the pigeons
Roost deep in the rocks.
In the moonlight the shepherds,
Soft lull'd by the rills,
Lie wrapped in their blankets
Asleep on the hills.
--What forms are these coming
So white through the gloom?
What garments out-glistening
The gold-flower'd broom?
What sweet-breathing presence
Out-perfumes the thyme?
What voices enrapture
The night's balmy prime?
'Tis Apollo comes leading
His choir, the Nine.
--The leader is fairest,
But all are divine.
They are lost in the hollows!
They stream up again!
What seeks on this mountain
The glorified train?--
They bathe on this mountain,
In the spring by their road;
Then on to Olympus,
Their endless abode.
--Whose proase do they mention?
Of what is it told?--
What will be for ever;
What was from of old.
First hymn they the Father
Of all things; and then,
The rest of immortals,
The action of men.
The day in his hotness,
The strife with the palm;
The night in her silence,
The stars in their calm.
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Nest
in your heart
there's a nest,
where those with
broken wings go,
to rest and to heal
in the arms of love...
may i abide there forever!
in your soul a cliff,
where the daring go
to test their wings
against freedom's skies...
may i leap from that cliff,
without looking back!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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No One Wants to Admit They Have Been That Foolish
We must stop blaming those,
Who led us to the edge of this cliff.
It is more appropriate,
To hold the ones now...
Desiring to be accountable,
For attempting to climb down safely...
As if those responsible did not exist.
Isn't this the idealistic point of view?
No one wants to admit they have been that foolish,
To skip gleefully towards an approaching danger.
To do so would mean stupidity had been involved.
And those feasting without eyes opened...
Have to blame someone new,
For a changing of venue on the menu.
Whoever is in the kitchen will be the one who will do.
Isn't that what making excuses are meant for?
To eliminate one's exposed incompetence?
And accuse the one using the correct ingredients.
But deciding too late,
The one with the best credentials...
Also wants us to wash our own plates.
'Oh no.
Who does he think he is?
He has to go.'
But...
What about the cliff?
'What cliff?
We'll continue to pretend it doesn't exist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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