Heap Cassia, Sandal-Buds and Stripes
Heap Cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.
poem by Robert Browning
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Song from 'Paracelsus
HEAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smear'd with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unroll'd;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vow'd,
With moth'd and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.
poem by Robert Browning
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As the Pine Cypress tree would say
I want to be like the Cassia tree-
The Cassia tree by the river side
I want to be like the Cassia tree
firmly rooted in the soil inside
so when the winds play its tune of tempest
I will sway left and right as it would have me sway
Sway and not break or lose a footing
as the pine cypress tree would say
I want to be like the Cassia tree-
The Cassia tree by the riverside
I want to be like the Cassia tree
firmly rooted in the soil inside
so when the clouds gather and dress the sky in
dark clothing, for the ritual of the rain
I will stand its pour to the rage of the thunder
Stand and not break or lose a footing
as the pine cypress tree would say
You Hung Me
It's dead, it'd dead you killed it all
you fucked me over, you watched me fall
the life you sucked right out of me
dead you hung me from tree.
My blood spills out onto the ground
it screams, it cries without a sound
there is no victory here for me
dead you hung me from a tree.
You can run but you can't hide
you'll try to say it's suicide
torn apart for all to see
dead you hung me from a tree.
I'll prove to you your world is wrong
your power has gone on way to long
watch my body swing so free
dead you hung me from a tree.
Free from you I find my peace
in a grave that's six feet deep
the cage unlocked, I found the key
dead you hung me from a tree.
poem by CJA Anderson
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Cobwebs Dust
Island goodbye, island goodbye
We been too long together, my island and i
cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, my island and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you I must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Unlock the gate, unlock the gate
Lower the drawbridge the hour is late
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my drawbridge and me
Troubles goodbye, troubles goodbye
We been too long together, my troubles and i
cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, my troubles and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you I must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Tear down the walls, tear down the walls
Gather my treasure and scatter it all
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my treasure and me
Kisses goodbye, kisses goodbye
We been too long together, my kisses and i
cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, her kisses and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you I must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Run to her side, run to her side
Run to my island and make her yer bride
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my island and me
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cobwebs & Dust
Island goodbye, island goodbye
We been too long together, my island and i
'cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, my island and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you i must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Unlock the gate, unlock the gate
Lower the drawbridge the hour is late
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my drawbridge and me
Troubles goodbye, troubles goodbye
We been too long together, my troubles and i
'cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, my troubles and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you i must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Tear down the walls, tear down the walls
Gather my treasure and scatter it all
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my treasure and me
Kisses goodbye, kisses goodbye
We been too long together, my kisses and i
'cross the blue sea, cross the blue sea
We been too long together, her kisses and me
Cobwebs and dust, cobwebs and dust
I hate to leave you but leave you i must
Float through the sky, float through the sky
We been too long together, my cobwebs and i
Run to her side, run to her side
Run to my island and make her yer bride
Whom shall it be, whom shall it be
We been too long together, my island and me
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Thrush
Though leaves have fallen long since,
The wagtails flirt and flit,
Glad in the morning sun;
While, on the knotted quince,
The dewdrops, pearled on it,
Bead to a little run. . . .
Soft as a breathing air
There came a lovely sound
Out of the branches bare;
So rich it was, and round,
Sense stood, in listening bound,
Stilled to its sweetness there!
It was the thrush's note,
That seemed as though his heart
On some loved thing did dote;
As though he yearned apart,
Knowing some hidden smart,
Pain in the long sweet rote.
There, as the spider hung
Grey-breasted 'gainst the brown
Skin of the quince, he sung
A song that o'er the town,
Rose up as though to crown
The tree-tops whence it sprung.
And now, it seems to me,
That long full breath he drew,
Like perfume shed on air,
Still dwells within the tree,
Though long ago he flew,
And left it naked there.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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Little Island
LITTLE ISLAND
Randy Newman
In two long wars, my country bled
To save the world for everyone
As through the years, the fight we've led
Too long, we stood alone, too long alone
And when at last, the battle won
We asked for no reward
An empire gone
Two generations turned to blood and dust
Only the best were lost
Only the best
And now the years have passed
The times have changed
The foe is risen up
He stands astride the world
His dreams of conquest all fulfilled
Little island, little island
Glory lost in the mists of time
They will pay for what was done
To those of us who died so young
They will pay for what was done
Little island, little island
Little island
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonliness (Smells)
lonliness...
smells like,
my grandmother's kitchen,
after working outside all day.
rain, just before it falls,
a fresh plowed field.
my mother's old Bible,
a fireplace too long unused.
old nuts, your pillow,
the old pine tree that fell
and lay rotting in the yard.
a well oiled glove,
the tractor in the barn.
your hair, a rose just opened,
the box too long
in the back of the closet.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sea-Gifts
Give thou a gift to me
From thy treasure-house, O sea!
Said a red-lipped laughing girl
While the summer yet was young;
And the sea laughed back and flung
At her feet a priceless pearl.
Give thou a gift to me
From thy treasure-house, O sea!
Said the maiden once again
On a night of wind and rain.
Like a ghost the moon above her
Stared through winding-sheets of cloud.
On the sand in sea-weed shroud,
Lay the pale corpse of her lover.
Which is better, gain or loss?
Which is nobler, crown or cross?
We shall know these things, maybe,
When the dead rise from the sea.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Better Sleep.
Suddenly it’s so tired that made me felt asleep.
Laid on deck no feeling slowly slept so deep.
No matter the sounds of how many beeper beeps.
I could not control myself has fallen sleep.
My tired body was unable to sit on my deck.
I pulled it go to my bed really took a sweet sleep
I did not care so many books on the deck junk heap
This is the first experience, I felt better after a little sleep
How wonderful I got back my good spirit.
After this experience I learned afternoon sleep.
In the passed fifty years I have never been so tired.
This might be a signal to train myself get rest.
It is why there in Perking teach children noon sleep.
Yes, sleep can help people get healthier.
Why not go to sleep when you’re tired?
You have better learn the advantageous sleep.
About sleep I remember twenty years ago one day.
My eye balls were uncontrollable automatically leaped
It was my experience during my long way’s drive.
That time I had to park my car aside to get half hour sleep.
I scared to drive any more when I really felt tired.
It is my serious warning to you won’t be risk on this.
poem by Albert Wong
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I met people who did not know
How to pick up a lily
And that its skin breaks under the steel
Of a too long gaze from the mountain top
And that its petal knows nothing of its root
And that the night falls only when it lowers the buds
Thirsty of the sun and the sun's only the wolf's one
Howling at the wounds of a torn out flower
Srela sam ljude koji nisu znali
Kako se bere ljiljan
I da njegova koža puca pod celikom
Suviše dugog pogleda sa vrha planina
I da njegova peteljka ne zna njegov korijen
I da kad spusti latice tek onda padne noc
Žedna sunca a ono samo vucje
Zavija na rane pokidanog cvijeta
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sonnet 03
Life ever seems as from its present site
It aimed to lure us. Mountains of the past
It melts, with all their crags and caverns vast,
Into a purple cloud! Across the night
Which hides what is to be, it shoots a light
All rosy with the yet unrisen dawn.
Not the near daisies, but yon distant height
Attracts us, lying on this emerald lawn.
And always, be the landscape what it may --
Blue, misty hill or sweep of glimmering plain --
It is the eye's endeavor still to gain
The fine, faint limit of the bounding day.
God, haply, in this mystic mode, would fain
Hint of a happier home, far, far away!
poem by Henry Timrod
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The Shroud Of Midnight
As the shroud of midnight falls
over sleeping garden walls
and the moon hides behind a cloud
the ghosts of lovers past lay bare
the tracks they used to follow.
Down leafy lanes and against trees
where they used to lean,
the summer evening vents scents
that fill the air with mystic perfume
to enthral the senses of anyone
who may pass there.
A cooling breeze follows
the shroud of midnight
as it gently touches everything
and the lives of present lovers
lay hidden and unseen
until the moon peeks
from behind the cloud
and brightens things a little
around the midnight shroud.
16 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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Regrets Galore...
the drag is quite long.
it takes us to a street of dryness and dust makes eddies behind our feet.
i remember those dead gladiators being dragged away from the theaters
i am amazed as Luna was once and he painted such
Spolarium,
Death and being taken away
No bargains.
the drag of life is quite long. There is thirst and hunger.
when you sit upon an old chair and look far into another island.
No one waits for you there.
all you have here is the cold wind, the haze outside, the howling silence.
everything from me is taken away.
i had the foolish thought that all the while you love me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Morning-Watch
1 O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flow'rs
2 And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds!
3 All the long hours
4 Of night, and rest,
5 Through the still shrouds
6 Of sleep, and clouds,
7 This dew fell on my breast;
8 Oh, how it bloods
9 And spirits all my earth! Hark! In what rings
10 And hymning circulations the quick world
11 Awakes and sings;
12 The rising winds
13 And falling springs,
14 Birds, beasts, all things
15 Adore him in their kinds.
16 Thus all is hurl'd
17 In sacred hymns and order, the great chime
18 And symphony of nature. Prayer is
19 The world in tune,
20 A spirit voice,
21 And vocal joys
22 Whose echo is heav'n's bliss.
23 O let me climb
24 When I lie down! The pious soul by night
25 Is like a clouded star whose beams, though said
26 To shed their light
27 Under some cloud,
28 Yet are above,
29 And shine and move
30 Beyond that misty shroud.
31 So in my bed,
32 That curtain'd grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide
33 My lamp and life, both shall in thee abide.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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I Better Be Quiet Now
Wish you gave me a number
Wish I could call you today,
Just to hear a voice.
I got a long way to go
Getting further away.
If I didnt know the difference,
Living alone would probably be ok.
It wouldnt be lonely.
I got a long way to go
Getting further away.
A lot of hours to occupy it was easy
When I didnt know you yet,
Things Id have to forget.
But I better be quiet now,
Im tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on, getting upset.
Maybe I have a problem,
But thats not what I wanted to say.
I prefer to say nothing.
I got a long way to go
Getting further away.
Had a dream as an army man with an order
Just to march in my place
But a dead enemy
Screams in my face
But I better be quiet now,
Im tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on, not over it yet.
Wish I knew what you were doing.
Why you want to do it this way.
So I cant go the distance,
I got a long way to go,
Im getting further away.
I got a long way to go
Getting further away.
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road to Emmaus
Did you ever wonder why,
As you hung upon the cross,
we weren’t ready for your words?
if we were worth the price it cost?
At a place they call the skull,
hung upon a tree to die,
With nails that pierce your wrists and feet,
and dying thieves on either side.
“Others he did save,
but he cannot save himself”
Executed like a slave,
By a Rome malignant to itself.
As you spoke your final words
And then hung your head to die
Did you fear you were heard only
By the sparrows and the sky?
When the Pilus pierced your side
And the water flowed like blood
Had you already breathed your last?
Had darkness overcome the sun?
Do you miss the wine and water?
The perfume in the Magdalene’s hair?
When I journey to Emmaus,
Will you accompany me there?
Our hearts will burn like fire
For love of him thought dead
When again we recognize you,
In the breaking of the bread.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Queen Sheba-Ra
To the Snake Island,
To the Fish Island,
To the Love Island,
To the Peace Island,
To where our muses do meet;
Like a message from Queen Sheba-Ra.
Many want to see my face but,
I am faceless;
Many want to know my name but,
I am nameless;
Many want to see my home but,
I am homeless;
Many want to hear my voice but,
I am voiceless;
Many want to see my hair but,
I am hairless;
You can change your life by making the right choices.
A message from Queen Sheba-Ra,
The Queen from Nubia in Ethiopia;
Like the message from a poet without a name.
I am from a land of an entity but of different people,
My muse is all that i leave for mankind;
Queen Sheba-Ra,
Love must come from the heart;
Of the traditions of Africa,
Queen Sheba from Nubia;
Let's free ourselves from mental slavery.
I eat Cassava but i don't eat Gari,
You eat eggs but you don't eat chicken;
Yes, like Queen Sheba who met King Solomon.
My 73-year-old mother-in-law rides a bicycle,
My 82-year-old father-in-law rides a bicycle,
So pass it on to the next generation;
Like Amen-Ra from the roots of Egypt.
A call for the African Chiefs,
Queen Sheba-Ra III met Nii Adjei Karku II;
Hannibal the cannibal,
Queen Sheba-Ra III met Nii Tetteh Otu II;
Queen Sheba,
Queen Sheba-Ra I,
Queen Sheba-Ra II,
Queen Sheba-Ra III,
Of the African Chiefs and Queens;
46664 is in our hands today and,
Nelson Mandela has enough for us.
Of a cloud as small as a man's hand,
Of a poem as sweet as your muse,
Of a head taller than the others;
Life is like the one who puts off his armour.
Queen Sheba-Ra,
A man is measured by his strength;
Queen Sheba-Ra,
A woman is measured by her wisdom;
Queen Sheba-Ra,
I am very old and grey-headed;
So, i will rather have my donkey saddled.
Listen oh Heavens,
Hear oh Earth;
I am the shadow from the mountains!
Let my poetry fall on you like rain,
Let Queen Sheba-Ra III carry on her message,
Let wisdom abound to those who want to learn;
Like a lamb in front of the Balsam tree.
Brazil won a football tournament,
Italy won a football tournament,
Egypt won a football tournament,
Spain won a football tournament;
46664 is in our hands today and,
We have to learn more from Nelson Mandela!
From Ur to Rome,
From Queen Sheba to Queen Sheba-Ra III;
Africa has more to tell the world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Villeggiature
My window, framed in pear-tree bloom,
White-curtained shone, and softly lighted:
So, by the pear-tree, to my room
Your ghost last night climbed uninvited.
Your solid self, long leagues away,
Deep in dull books, had hardly missed me;
And yet you found this Romeo's way,
And through the blossom climbed and kissed me.
I watched the still and dewy lawn,
The pear-tree boughs hung white above you;
I listened to you till the dawn,
And half forgot I did not love you.
Od, dear! what pretty things you said,
What pearls of song you threaded for me!
I did not-till your ghost had fled-
Remember how you always bore me!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Acorn
An acorn swung
On an oak-tree bough;
So long it had hung,
It would fain fall now
To the kindly earth,
That its germ within
Might burst into birth,
And its life begin.
And the autumn came
With its burning hand,
And each leaf grew a flame,
And each bough a brand.
And a worm came up
And began to eat
Though the hard, dry cup
To the acorn sweet.
And the acorn thought,
“I shall soon see now
The life I have sought,
When I fall from the bough;
For the worm gnaws through
Each tendon slight,
That about me grew,
And bound me tight.”
And with dying day
Came the zephyr’s sound;
And the acorn lay
Next morn on the ground;
But its germ was gone
By the worm’s sharp teeth;
And the ground it had won
Was its grave in death.
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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