The View At The Top
it is 3000 steps from the
ground. You begin climbing
on an early morning
when the grass are still
rich with dew
and then the sun
starts to shine and then
the birds start to gather
the sweet sap of the
fruit with their
tiny, and long, black beaks
along the way.
it is not strange to see
a variety of colored
butterflies hovering
from one flower to
another. They too
gather the nectar
from the wildflowers
along the way.
you climb slowly
each cemented stair
of this old shrine
you tackle each
station of the cross
of this catholic rite.
finally at noon you
reach the top and
see the whole of the
city below.
a river winds like a
snake.It is the same river
that you pass seven times
before reaching the
ground of this peak.
you see the sea beyond
like a basin with still water.
you see boats like
floating petals of a
white flower, and those
biggers ones appear
to you like leaves
that had fallen to the ground.
you see clouds and clear skies
and you feel that up here
you are both king and god.
do not look down on this cliff
the feeling that everyone pulls down
your feet is still there.
you have felt it before in the office
where you are working and you
want to quit.
just like the butterfly that gathers
the nectars or the birds that gather
the sap of the ripe fruits
you come here to gather
your spirit. You want to be strong.
You want to be whole again.
You like to move on.
There is so much silence at the top.
There is no noise except the comforting silence of the wind.
There is so much to gather here.
Memories. Thoughts. Solitude. Peace.
Harmony. The unity of the universe in the
palm of your hand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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At the River
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide for ever flowing
by the throne of God?
Gather at the river!
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Yes well gather at the river
that flows by the throne of God.
Shall we gather? Shall we gather at the river?
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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When we reach the mountaintop
3000 steps up
we climb
we take the rope
beside a cliff
we keep our feet secure
we keep our grip strong
climbing this trail
toward the mountaintop
when we reach there
both of us
we see the whole city
cars running like ants
on its belly
people walking like
small worms
the sun like a bulb
the trees like some
feathers and the
other mountains
bald like brownies
the sea is so blue
from far
the horizon bold
like a departure
the boats sail away
to another island
the plane on a
touchdown on the
cemented pavement
near the shore
some green palms
on the river
look like leaves
of grass
some clouds we touch
cold to our hands
3000 steps up
one hour up to the sky
just to feel
this loneliness
we see what we want to see
we feel what we want to feel
then we go down again
without a word
for ourselves
too tired
we console ourselves
that was solitude
we shall now talk about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Last Assembly
As I walked to the last assembly,
There were tears in the back of my eyes,
And I saw all my friends all around me,
They were there to wish me goodbye.
As I stood in a line with my comrades,
I felt such a feeling of pride,
And I forgot all the grief and the hatred inside,
As we sang for the very last time.
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
Come and join our last assembly,
Let us smile, wipe away all the frowns.
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
As we stood at the last assembly,
All my friends came to wish me goodbye.
Gather round, gather round,
Gather round, gather round,
Everybody gather round.
As I stand at the last assembly,
I just cant keep the tears from my eyes.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Gather Together...
We Gather Together...
We gather together...
...for there is strength in your name
We gather together...
...to rekindle the flame
We gather together...
...Your kingdom we claim
We gather together...
...Your words we proclaim
15 Jan 2008
MacGregor's Gathering
The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach!
Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;
We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,
MacGregor despite them, shall flourish for ever!
Come then Grigalach, come then Grigalach,
Come then, come then, come then Grigalach!
Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
The rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Sundowner.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
As in the bush a traveller for his fire
Sticks and dry leaves, as eerie the light fades;
Till from those sticks and leaves there comes a flame,
Beside which in a weird infinity
The man will sit and gather lonely thoughts.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
The great Sundowner in a painless sphere.
poem by Robert Crawford
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The Gold And Beyond
On a snow crystal morning
Some place close to heaven
On the side of a mountain
In a race for the sun
In a matter of moments
The dream of a lifetime is won
There's a fire in the heart
And it feels like the hunger
The spirit is burning
Consumed by the flame
To be one of the best
Of the best in the world
Is its name
To go faster and farther
Than anyone ever before
To be braver and stronger
And truer than ever before
To be all that you can be
And all that you've ever longer for
In the eyes of the mountain
All people are equal
In the eyes of all people
Our souls can be seen
In the course of our struggle
We'll know what humanity means
To be all that you can be
And all that you've ever longed for
We gather together
To face one another
We gather in silence
And sing for the sun
We gather in peace
To go for the gold and beyond
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Hilly-Wood
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me;
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,
But not an eye can find its way to see.
The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile,
So thick the leafy armies gather round;
And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while,
Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground.
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen,
Perks up its head the hiding grass between.-
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
poem by John Clare
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Early Morning
the rain just stops showering.
the leaves are wet and some dews are staying.
the sun peeps.the petals of the flowers open up.
some buds follow. some fruits hang heavily on the mango tree.
a pig is tied under and starts burrowing the muddy ground.
some leaves fall. orange in color.
soft winds from the sea come.
the twigs sway. a ripe papaya falls.
a stone receives it.
a cat comes to check if there is any fish.
a dog barks.a bystander runs to the other side of the road.
the canal is full of rainwater. some leaves clog.
moss thickens on the side of the cemented drainage.
a cockcroach runs away and hides on a crevice.
a rat looks over a railing on the roof of the camarin.
an ylang-ylang flower gets caught on the tin roof.
the white sampaguita opens up finally to the
sunny sky. a butterfly hovers. a bee buzzes near my forehead.
my hand makes a snap. it escapes away.
some fruitflies find a new territory on the rotten apple
which i threw last night in the garbage can.
i start the engine of my car. and then to the office i am gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring
The alder by the river
Shakes out her powdery curls;
The willow buds in silver
For little boys and girls.
The little birds fly over
And oh, how sweet they sing!
To tell the happy children
That once again ’tis spring.
The gay green grass comes creeping
So soft beneath their feet;
The frogs begin to ripple
A music clear and sweet.
And buttercups are coming,
And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows
The dandelions shine.
And just as many daisies
As their soft hands can hold
The little ones may gather,
All fair in white and gold.
Here blows the warm red clover,
There peeps the violet blue;
O happy little children!
God made them all for you.
poem by Celia Thaxter
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Over And Over Again
Sitting under a
weeping willow
wind rustling
in the leaves
they began
whispering a
name
over and over
again.
Reaching in the
shadows
grasping for
your hand
tiny pools
so near, almost
touching
yet suddenly
jerked away
In the distance
my shadow
approaching
now walking
beside me
vague memories
linger.
Looking out over
the water
clouds gather
moisture
rain-drops create
tiny pools
reflections of
your handsome
face appear.
poem by Heather Burns
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Maker of Heaven and Earth (All Things Bright and Beautiful)
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
poem by Cecil Frances Alexander
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A Coronal
WITH HIS SONGS AND HER DAYS TO HIS LADY AND TO LOVE
Violets and leaves of vine,
Into a frail, fair wreath
We gather and entwine:
A wreath for Love to wear,
Fragrant as his own breath,
To crown his brow divine,
All day till night is near.
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine
For Love that lives a day,
We gather and entwine.
All day till Love is dead,
Till eve falls, cold and gray,
These blossoms, yours and mine,
Love wears upon his head,
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine,
For Love when poor Love dies
We gather and entwine.
This wreath that lives a day
Over his pale, cold eyes,
Kissed shut by Proserpine,
At set of sun we lay:
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Climb
Step by step
I've come closer to reaching the top
Every step must be placed so that I don't fall off
Looking down to see about how much higher I am
Another cool wind comes through and brushes my skin
The harder I push the tension does grow
I gather my thoughts the further and further I go
With some luck I just might keep on climbing
So better to climb than to face a fall
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Pulling myself up by a rope
I better my view
The only thing in sight is what I must do
As I turned I could see myself falling
Which in return save me strength for the climb
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Although many failed I must now prevail with no question
Have no time to stop
Onward to the top of the mountain
And I can't turn back now
Its so very high but I can't turn back now
If I keep it up
song performed by by No Doubt from Tragic Kingdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Runes of Weland's Sword
1906
A smith makes me
To betray my Man
In my first fight.
To gather Gold
At the world's end
I am sent.
The Gold I gather
Comes into England
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
The Gold I gather
A King covets
For an ill use
The Gold I gather
Is drawn up
Out of deep Water.
Like a shining Fish
Then it descends
Into deep Water.
It is not given
For goods or gear,
But for The Thing.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Home Sweet Home
sunday on a home sweet home
from the city
to this little nipa hut
on top of a hill
that father built
where the guava trees are filled
with ripe fruits
where i climb and gather and taste
the sweetness of its pink flesh
where the carabaos rest
in the coolness of mudholes
where i take my ride on them
in the river nearby
on crystal clear waters
where some fish swim on shallow waters
inviting me to fish and catch them
for lunch of pearl white glutenous rice
and with banana leaves as plates
and some wild chicken's barbecued breast
and with my bare hands and
some childhood friends
we shall take this simple feast
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thoughts On A Fallen ' Paarijaatham ' Flower.
thoughts on a fallen 'paarijaatham ' flower.
&
i was wading through my vague thoughts
as i walked along the roadside-
i came to senses with a sudden start-
o god! i was about to tread on a small flower
full of grace and simple beauty with a mild fragrance-
it is considered a holy flower;
it is 'paarijaatham' or ' pavazhamalli '
with one 'cm' orange stalk
and six perfectly merging white petals-
there always seems to be a swirl frozen on its petals
resembling the wheel-like weapon of gods-
memories of bygone years visit crowding me
whereupon we, brothers, rushed to gardens and groves
to gather these lovely flowers
with the greediest arms encircling in whirls
to corner these gems outwitting other valiant competitors
as they lay spread like mats on the ground
while rained in blossom-showers over our heads-
we also had gentlemen agreements among boys
not to invade the territories of others not so clearly marked out-
and to offer duty bound to our father
for his daily morning worship-
yes those were the cheerful days
as if on an expedition in the cool dawn hours
waiting impatiently for the 'keyman ' to unlock the premises-
why this flower blossom stealthily at night
with none to enjoy its fragrance and beauty?
why its life is so short-lived?
why even the whisper of a gentle breeze knocks it down?
o tree! are you so heartless to disown your kids
like some soulless mothers of their illicit infants?
or do the stars order that these star-children
also to depart at the invent of the dawn?
o tiny flower! ever you kindle sweet memories
of our joyful association from ages past-
blessed i am, o charming friend,
i have ever my rebirth as a child at your sight!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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A Gathering
Watching the birds gather
in the sky before they roost.
They gather in great numbers
for their final arial display
near the closing of the day.
They swirl around in large circles
gathering more and more
as they fly calling to one another
before they settle for the day.
18 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Leaves of Autumn
The leaves of autumn are brilliant again
as they've been before.
They will shine for a while and start their fall,
fluttering to the floor.
The earthly floor accepts each one
and as we look around
we gather the rakes and blowers
to get them off the ground.
Why do we feel we must interrupt
all that nature does?
We change her scene and presume to know
all there ever was.
Well, maybe Mother Nature knows best
what we do not know,
like how she'll send the winds of fall
to let the leaves all blow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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