Bombardment
Four days the earth was rent and torn
By bursting steel,
The houses fell about us;
Three nights we dared not sleep,
Sweating, and listening for the imminent crash
Which meant our death.
The fourth night every man,
Nerve-tortured, racked to exhaustion,
Slept, muttering and twitching,
While the shells crashed overhead.
The fifth day there came a hush;
We left our holes
And looked above the wreckage of the earth
To where the white clouds moved in silent lines
Across the untroubled blue.
poem by Richard Aldington
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Related quotes
Bombardment
Four days the earth was rent and torn
By bursting steel,
The houses fell about us;
Three nights we dared not sleep,
Sweating, and listening for the imminent crash
Which meant our death.
The fourth night every man,
Nerve-tortured, racked to exhaustion,
Slept, muttering and twitching,
While the shells crashed overhead.
The fifth day there came a hush;
We left our holes
And looked above the wreckage of the earth
To where the white clouds moved in silent lines
Across the untroubled blue.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Tease
shall i fly with you on a first class suite
to the blue skies
the soft cottony clouds our mattresses
the moon our bed
the stars our glittering lights and the wind
of the night
our air conditioning delights
how the grass shall envy us
how the earth shall look at us with suspense
as we make love till dusk and as tired as lovers are
we sleep like two white feathers left inside the nest
we like to think that way
but how can this ever be?
night and day, that is what we are, how can we ever be together?
earth and sky, floor and ceiling
two parallel lines running in opposite directions
we shall never ever meet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Stained the Earth
When white clouds filled the land
Red stained the earth
Thunder roared and lightning struck
Red stained the earth
Darkness devoured the soul
Red stained the earth
Smoke choked the air
Red stained the earth
Cries were loud but never heard
Red stained the earth
Words misunderstood
Red stained the earth
A compromise was in vain
Red stained the earth
Land was stripped of its beauty
Red stained the earth
Raped of dignity, honor and trust
Red stained the earth
Language lost, stories untold
Red stained the earth
No more tradition, no more culture
Red stained the earth
When white clouds filled the land
Red stained the earth
poem by Ema Bovoro
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
Friday
I crashed, I burned
But then I learned
To keep my eye on you
You always say
You'll lead the way
But then you never do
I slowed, I swerved
But lost my nerve
And quickly looked away
When I looked back
The day was black
Then I heard you say
Why is the sun hot?
Why does it rain?
Why is there danger and
Why is there pain?
Why can't the burden we carry go away?
And why isn't it Friday today?
Your lack of trust
Is hardly just
So do as you've been told
Please follow me
Into the sea
Don't worry if it's cold
I knew right then
My chance again
Had quickly slipped away
I crash I cry
I burn but I
Still follow anyway
Why is the sea cool?
Why is it blue?
Why do I stay here?
Why is is you
Notice the danger
But don't help in any way?
Why isn't it friday today?
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unexpected
Dim looked the stars then disappeared
Behind the clouds pale moon appeared.
Like a damsel after a shower,
Combed hair on face lower.
The clouds passed the sky cleared,
The stars and moon again appeared.
As fairy moving away her hair,
Her face appeared so clean and fair.
Things looked calm the night waning,
The clouds gathered anew the planning.
A shawl the sky wore again,
The bitter breeze again began.
On chest of earth fell flakes of snow,
No dawn joy, no life's flow.
The trees and roofs were clothed in white,
Thus harsh became a pleasant night.
poem by Jahan zaib
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Transition
The air was sultry
as the sun stood,
a blazing ball of fire, overhead.
Streams of sweat trickled through
every pore of the skin.
Sheets of light, like waves of water
glistened across the road.
The sky, suddenly into a violent rage, flew.
Dark mass of clouds, driven by the wind
went scurrying from West to East.
A dark shroud, across the sky
from end to end was spread.
The Sun stood veiled behind the penumbra of gloom.
The trees arched convex by the hard pull of the air.
And the heavens started weeping, wailing and roaring
darting gleams of light with fluorescent rays.
Thunder boomed and bounced as boulders,
falling over tin roofs.
Twigs and boughs went flying
like arrows from the archer's bow.
Light went out, as cables and electric lines
snapped down. Like festoons hung on poles
they lay dangling in the air.
Birds with their damp feathers
sat silent, forgetting their chirp and twitter.
Cattle stayed quiet, refusing to chew the cud.
The Earth dappled by a horrid grey mist
lay hideous……..
Every ditch and canal spilled over.
Trees crashed down and vegetation fell head long.
Wreaking havoc, the rain poured down.
Then everything was quiet and still.
Like a child gone to sleep,
after throwing violent tantrums unrelenting,
The sky over head, in her cerulean night gown
fell asleep,
attended by her twinkling handmaids!
poem by Valsa George
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Clouds
Overhead I see the clouds
and know that they see me.
I sometimes wonder when I see them
how it feels to be so free?
Billowy shapes of cotton
that change within my sight
also tend to change my mood
when their movement hides sunlight.
I'm caught up seeing how they change
and always try to view
what object they remind me of
and where they travel to?
I must admit I also love
to see a cloudless day.
Then the clear blue picture of the sky
I wish could always stay.
But if there must be clouds overhead
then let them all be puffy white.
Then maybe I'll see those traveling clouds
in my dreams at night.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Tsunami's passing
The wave has come, now she has past, hush.
Her power, her might, her silent extinguishing strength.
Shhh, lie down, lie down, and sleep.
No longer are you alone, hush.
The four riders black, devestation, they come hush.
Now you can sleep, sleep the best sleep.
No more screaming, no crying, no pain, just sleep.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, shhh!
poem by William Flemming
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Eyes of Death
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes of Death
I killed for those eyes to look into mine
Into my eyes of pain and guilt
I dared to walk into your path
I dared to take your hand into mine
And I dared to tell you my darkest secret
I stared into your Eyes of Death
And I lost my soul to them
When I looked into your Eyes of Death.
To this day, I am still dead
To this day, I can no longer live in the mortal world
To this day, we shall not die of fire, water, or love,
But of our Eyes of Death that rein our souls
I stare into your Eyes of Death and I cringe at the sight
I look into your Eyes of Death and I am no longer alive
I looked into your Eyes of Death
And I died again, before I could run from them
For I cannot stand to be around you to this very day again
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes…of Death
poem by Jade DragonHeart
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The White Rose
A lonely kid had no friends,
within his home his world ends.
He used to dream about colorful roses,
his love for roses was in heavy doses.
His nights filled with fears and tears,
days rolled like million years.
His mom took him to a rose garden one day,
she wanted to buy him a rose plant for his birthday.
The rose plants giggled about the boys face.
Their words wiped his happiness without a trace.
A dropp of his tear fell on a white rose's petal.
The petal turned red like a rare earth metal.
The plant pleaded him 'please don't cry'.
The words of the rose plant made him fly.
He took that plant to his garden.
From then his life was a gladden.
He took care of the white rose like a baby.
Loving that white rose was his full-time hobby.
His dreams and heart were filled with love.
His heart was pure like the whitest dove.
At an evening the rose looked dull and dry.
The kid was full of cry and wondering why,
he didn't stopped his painful weep,
that whole night he didn't sleep.
His tired eyes slept for a minute in a doze,
a voice in his dream told something about the rose,
the dawn broke with the rose blooming,
but the kid was gone missing.
He was never been found not even a hint.
His heart was beating under the roots of the rose plant.
Because in his dream he heard that,
the rose can live forever with a human heart.
So he left his heart and he depart.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
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In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
Ragged and dusty like the roads it took
It sounded apeace like a church and its bell
And the highest steeple that can take a look
Into the sky with never the same clouds
The most secret fourth element of blue
To put the thought into golden moulds
Of a faith and a dream of both me and you
In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
The stones stood still by the burden doors
Perceptions closed divorced heaven from hell
And all tribes rose in ancient folk lores
Into the sky with never the same limits
Reaching beyond a fragile countenance
With numberless marbles in colourful digits
Counting the time of final transcendence
In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
Its robes on fire plague purified paid
For none of its edges could ever tell
An endless faith love and hope there laid
To dawn upon the doom of a clay made hand
Shaping the lines destiny led paths
Too blind to travel too hard to understand
The burdens of life and its aftermath
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sonnet for a Grey Morning
Another grey morning, much like the last
and for tomorrow, more fog’s the forecast.
When days seem the same, life always seems cold.
Night flows to night, the sad world grows old
as clouds wrap my soul in still, fatal pall
but hearts must be silent, though bold blood calls
for death to cruel winter, and end to dark days,
fair spring to release enthralled golden rays.
But looking at you, I see in your eyes
the brilliance lost from blue summer's last sky
and when you smile, in your warm glow I feel
your love overwhelm me, new suns revealed.
Overcast, confined though the earth may be
with you in my day, spring’s born endlessly.
poem by Steven Federle
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Earthquake
Young heart was the king,
Puerile was the spring
The bees were sucking to nature's luring.
But suddenly
The dusk came too early
Thundering clouds raced to the field
Played with the sun and wind
White to black and a fight
Then red!
The young ones wept and we slept.
The dawn was clear
There were no tears
It was luncheon
My stomach shook the whole earth
A noise was heard on the white top
The earth hurt in pain
A new earth was born
In holy land of ours.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Reproach
Had I but known yesterday,
Helen, you could discharge the ache
Out of the cloud;
Had I known yesterday you could take
The turgid electric ache away,
Drink it up with your proud
White body, as lovely white lightning
Is drunk from an agonised sky by the earth,
I might have hated you, Helen.
But since my limbs gushed full of fire,
Since from out of my blood and bone
Poured a heavy flame
To you, earth of my atmosphere, stone
Of my steel, lovely white flint of desire,
You have no name.
Earth of my swaying atmosphere,
Substance of my inconstant breath,
I cannot but cleave to you.
Since you have drunken up the drear
Painful electric storm, and death
Is washed from the blue
Of my eyes, I see you beautiful.
You are strong and passive and beautiful,
I come like winds that uncertain hover;
But you
Are the earth I hover over.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Be Still, My Soul, Be Still
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,-- call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Nighttime Envy
I spend most nights
envious
until the wee hours of morn;
watching
the subtle changes of your face
as you are mentally carried
from one dreamscape
to another.
Did you know I want to sleep like you do?
If only I could sleep like you do…
I lie here each night
jealous
through the darkened hours,
listening
to noises which accompany sleep;
your mumbled words,
your slow intake of breath,
your sighs.
I wish I could sleep like you do. Eh?
If only I could sleep like you do…
I stay here beside you
desirous
of the rest you find with ease.
Until, Finally!
As the sun peeks above the earth,
my eyes leaden with sleep
and, At Last! , I too
am allowed to dream.
poem by Jennifer ParksNolan as LeJenD'Poet
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Life's Seasons
When all the world was Mayday,
And all the skies were blue,
Young innocence made playday
Among the flowers and dew;
Then all of life was Mayday,
And clouds were none or few.
II
When all the world was Summer,
And morn shone overhead,
Love was the sweet newcomer
Who led youth forth to wed;
Then all of life was Summer,
And clouds were golden red.
III
When earth was all October,
And days were gray with mist,
On woodways, sad and sober,
Grave memory kept her tryst;
Then life was all October,
And clouds were twilight-kissed.
IV
Now all the world's December,
And night is all alarm,
Above the last dim ember
Grief bends to keep him warm;
Now all of life's December,
And clouds are driven storm.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Wayfarer of Earth
Up, heart of mine,
Thou wayfarer of Earth!
Of seed divine,
Be mindful of thy birth.
Though the flesh faint
Through long-endured constraint
Of nights and days,
Lift up thy praise
To Life, that set thee in such strenuous ways,
And left thee not
To drowse and rot
In some thick-perfumed and luxurious plot.
Strong, strong is Earth,
With vigour for thy feet,
To make thy wayfaring
Tireless and fleet.
And good is Earth–
But Earth not all thy good,
O thou with seed of suns
And star-fire in thy blood.
And though thou feel
The slow clog of the hours
Leaden upon thy heel,
[Page 52]
Put forth thy powers.
Thine the deep sky,
The unpreëmpted blue,
The haste of storm,
The hush of dew.
Thine, thine the free
Exalt of star and tree,
The reinless run
Of wind and sun,
The vagrance of the sea!
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Taking Time
i tried to ask myself what are days for
they always equate it with walking and the nights
always with sleep. Some have taken the courage
to redefine the colors.
black need not be dark, and white need
not be waking,
sleep would be pink at times
and twilight blue.
i do most of the thinking at night
when everyone hides in the darkness of their sleep.
there are colors and sounds and scents.
and i begin to love the variations,
the aberrations have become adventures
and no one in the house knows
no one understands what is happening to my
eyelids, my mouth does not speak
and my eyes,
having seen much, have desired days
to be the place for the dead,
the white mausoleums, the scents of the flowers
for the weary.
i sleep and dream at noontime and
nobody is there anymore to
mind. I am alone and i have began to love
this moment.
my day is dark. my night is light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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