In Memoriam: Four Poets
1
Searock his tower above the sea,
Searock he built, not ivory.
Searock as well his haunted art
Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts.
2
He loved to stand upon his head
To demonstrate he was not dead.
Ah, if his poems misbehave
'Tis only to defy the grave.
3
This exquisite patrician bird
Grooming a neatly folded wing
Guarded for years the Sacred Word.
A while he sang then ceased to sing.
4
His head carved out of granite O,
His hair a wayward drift of snow,
He worshipped the great God of Flow
By holding on and letting go.
poem by Robert Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
We brag that India is the land of sages and saints
We brag that India is the land of sages and saints
They retired from the world enamoured of divine colloquy
Their feelings have been recorded in the Vedas and the Upanisads
They lived in the forests and sang hymns to Nature
They worshipped Nature in her every mood
They worshipped the storm they worshipped the flood
They worshipped the corn they worshipped the woods
The fiercest and the poisonous animals they loved
Nature was at the centre of their thought
They felt that they were the offsprings of Nature
And they searched Nature in their innermost heart
Today their descendants—I mean the sages and saints
Of India today brag that they inherit the lore of the Vedas and the Upanisads
But they have retired into massive palaces
Built at the places of pilgrimage
And the built space has destroyed Nature in all its aspects
Oh Durkheim Oh Coleridge
Men do distinguish the sacred from the profane even today
But it is no longer the forest where one could wail for her demon lover
It has to be a temple as massive and gorgeous as the Pentagon
Or as imposing as the Eiffel Tower
The gurus have their personal boeings and shatter the primordial noise
With noise
Oh gods have fled from the holy places
Haridwar and Hrisikesh are the sites
Where billions of dollars from India and abroad flow
Alas Adam Smith you could not guess how India could be great and wealthy
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Davie Gellatley's Song
Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
Old men's love the longest will last,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
The young man will brawl at the evening board;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rise Again
(instrumental intro)
Going to jamaica,
Warm and coral waters flow
There she goes
Sun kissed her body, in this magic feel love grow,
Love grows
Feel like letting go
Hey mr. saturday night
? ? right out the hole
It stops in a minute,
Its right down in it
Hey, were really back on a roll
I dont know why, I dont know why
Feel so good I could die, I could die
Great escape, Ill be there, by the skin of my teeth, on a wish and a prayer
With a head full of hammers, both feet in the grave, Im gonna stand Im gonna rise again
Dream time (lavinia? ? ),
Even though the odds are stacked, shes coming back
(moon monkeys barking? ) in a bitter chocolate glow,
There she goes, feel like letting go...
Hey, mr. cool jazz nights, let the fever go,
It stops in a minute, Im down in it
Hey, play it long and slow
I dont know why, I dont know why,
Feels so good I could die, I could die,
With a great escape, Ill be there, by the skin of my teeth on a wish and a prayer
With a head full of hammers, both feet in the grave, Im gonna stand Im gonna rise again
(instrumental)
With a great escape, Ill be there, by the skin of my teeth on a wish and a prayer
With a head full of hammers both feet in the grave, Im gonna stand Im gonna rise again
Ive been stricken, Ill be there, by the skin of my teeth on a wish and a prayer, and im
Not going down, both feet in the grave, Im gonna stand Im gonna rise again.
Dream time (lavinia? ? )
Feel like letting go.
(end!)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Making a Snowman
’Tis snowing in the high mountains
Of great Himalayas:
This winter’s freezing ev’n fountains
Of Poonch, Kargil and Drass!
‘Tis raining flakes of harder snow;
All roads are covered white;
And every tree-top, twig, leaf, bough
Wears a glorious sight!
No blade of grass or bird is seen;
The meadow’s an ice-sheet;
Some Kashmiri children have been
Building a snow-man neat.
Yet, one can hear the booming guns
And smoke billowing up;
While children pile up snow in tons,
Before they go to sup.
With snow in handfuls, they build him:
Belly and head and back;
And soon their snow-man looks quite trim;
Twigs make his hands with knack!
They place a cap on his big head
And make his mouth, nose, eyes;
Their snow-man looks alive, not dead!
Assuming huge a size.
The happy children dance around
The snow-man, they had made;
They sing with joy some rhymes newfound;
Their snow-man looks so great!
Their hearts get filled with joy and thrill,
Seeing their snow-man made;
With snow-balls they play on the hill,
Before snow-man shall fade!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-1999
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am
I an lonely I am scared
I wonder how the eagle fared
I hear voices in my head
I see shadows 'mongst the dead
I want to discover my place
I am a head without a face
I pretend to be like you
I feef that my time is through
I touch the soft down of a bird
I worry that my thoughts are heard
I cry quietly through the night
I am a warrior who cannot fight
I understand that people feel
I say that every wound will heal
I fream of letting people in
I try and try and try again
I hope to someday fly on wing
I and a birf that cannot sing
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rhyme & Reason
Oh well oh well so here we stand
But we stand for nothing
My heart calls to me in my sleep
How can i turn to it
'cause i'm all locked up in this
Dark place--
And i do not know i'm as good as dead
My head aches--
Warped and tied up i need to kill this pain
My head won't leave my head alone
And i don't believe it will
Until i'm dead and gone
My head won't leave my head alone
And i don't believe it willl
Until i'm six feet under gound
How long i'm tied up
My mind in knots--
My stomach reels in concern for what i might do or
What i've done
It's got me living in fear
Well i know these voices must
Be my sould i've had my grave
Lying wired and shut and quiet in my grave
Leave me here
Leave it to me to waste here
So young and here i am again
Talking to myself
A tv blares
Oh man
Oh how i wish i didn't smoke
Or drink to reason with my head
But sometimes this thick confusion
Grows utnil i cannot bear it all
Needle to the vein
Needle to the vein
Take this needle from my vein my fiend
I said
In my grave
Lying, lying cold in my grave
The reason--my reason
Take my head off this terror
The fearing won't come back
I can't see my mind's all wiped clean
The needle
Make my great escape
I seem caught in time
My head leaves me behing
Body fall cold
And i have seen heaven
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Rhyme Reason
Oh well oh well so here we stand
But we stand for nothing
My heart calls to me in my sleep
How can I turn to it
cause Im all locked up in this
Dark place--
And I do not know Im as good as dead
My head aches--
Warped and tied up I need to kill this pain
My head wont leave my head alone
And I dont believe it will
Until Im dead and gone
My head wont leave my head alone
And I dont believe it willl
Until Im six feet under gound
How long Im tied up
My mind in knots--
My stomach reels in concern for what I might do or
What Ive done
Its got me living in fear
Well I know these voices must
Be my sould Ive had my grave
Lying wired and shut and quiet in my grave
Leave me here
Leave it to me to waste here
So young and here I am again
Talking to myself
A tv blares
Oh man
Oh how I wish I didnt smoke
Or drink to reason with my head
But sometimes this thick confusion
Grows utnil I cannot bear it all
Needle to the vein
Needle to the vein
Take this needle from my vein my fiend
I said
In my grave
Lying, lying cold in my grave
The reason--my reason
Take my head off this terror
The fearing wont come back
I cant see my minds all wiped clean
The needle
Make my great escape
I seem caught in time
My head leaves me behing
Body fall cold
And I have seen heaven
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Chicken On A Bone
Follow the river wallow in silver
Voices draw nearer counting out the days wish
Letting it out letting it out I'm letting it out
See it so near it seemed so far
Its when you hear its where you are
See it so clear
Making my head spin
Watching the world sing
Holding me under
Try and get a hold son
Letting it out letting it out I'm letting it out
See it so near it seemed so far
Its when you hear its where you are
See it so clear
Pale and wanton dreams forgotten
No use crying I feel like chicken on a bone
See it so near it seemed so far
Its when you hear its where you are
See it so clear
I've got to get a grip
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In the Letting Go
In the letting go,
A freedom unknown
Becomes as welcomed
As fresh falling snow...
On Pine trees green.
In the letting go,
A release becomes sacred
To experience,
As an unpolluted breeze...
To breathe a feeding done easily.
In the letting go,
One knows a life has arrived to be explored.
In the letting go...
An unexpected flow,
Connects.
To all.
And all that is there to be shared,
Comes.
To the one letting go to let life be as it is,
To live as wished!
Without restricted limits inflicted.
In the letting go,
So much that isn't within reach...
Instantly becomes available to touch.
In the letting go,
There is such a thing called living.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nightbird On A Winter Branch
Nightbird on a winter branch.
Dark blossom of the new moon,
Last kiss on the eyelids of the dead
As the snow falls like apple bloom.
I see you’ve left the door ajar:
The backdoor of an eclipse
To let the first crescent of the light out.
The sacred syllable of the mistfits
Lost in the silence and the solitude
You raise like heretical mystics into songs
That only you alone can sing
So that each in their homelessness belongs
To the false dawn of the same secret
They weep over like empty lockets
That stole the moon from their windows
As they burned at the stake, rockets
Martyred in the fire of the holy books
That inspire them deeper into exile
This late at night far from anywhere
Distance is measured by the mile
And not the wingspan of the light-years
It’s taken me to write this.
Like a bird that flew out of the darkness,
That left no trace of the witness
As it blew a kiss of sudden insight.
A word in passing from the dead
About who’s behind the death mask
Of the snow that’s covering my head
Like the polar ice cap of a planet
With the prophetic wisdom of a skull.
Life in the birthmark of the new.
Death in the harvest of the moon at full.
Emptiness devoid of all light.
The first sign of renewal in the urn
Of a nightbird on a winter branch.
Diamonds of ice and insight that burn
Like coal in the eyes of a snow man
With the passion of a phoenix born
A star in the cold furnace of the sky.
Where every passage is a rite of return
That hides its brightest jewels
blossoming like enlightenment on the wing
In the dark ore of a nightbird
When a deathmask opens its mouth to sing.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From The Freedom Of The Forest
from the freedom of the forest
you trapped and caught this bird
and put it inside your cage
you love it and feed it well
on top of the ivory tower
you want to hear it sing
a love song
you threaten to kill it
and take away all its
colorful feathers
it does not sing still
the following day it lays itself stiff
dead and you tell yourself
it is not your fault
you too, like it, has been so
unloved.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Romance
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Belong
A bird is sitting on the pavement
Someone broke his wing
Now that bird is going nowhere
And hes suffering
Now I understand the setup
I see everything
And the only way to go
Is defy, is defy, is defy
To belong here, to belong here, to belong here
Im giving up my soul
To belong, to belong, to belong
A spider is sitting in a corner
Gonna catch a fly
Ths web is pulling tight around him
And the flys i
But all I do is guard my pile
Cause its my supply
And the only way to go
Is defy, is defy, is defy
To belong here, to belong here, to belong here
Im giving up my soul
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A BeAPoeIt Poem
I say I'm not a poet, For like of which I know it,
Rhymes absurd in metered word,
Describing not a poet
Edgar Allen knew it, The flying raven flew it,
The poems grow for Poe to know,
And Nevermore he drew it
Maya made to wing it, The caging bird to bring it,
With Angelou a freedom flow,
In Stilling bird to sing it
Robert's ride to sigh it, The road with just one by it,
Frost travels one concealing sun,
But Traveling to try it
I'll never be a poet, Descriptions rip to sew it,
Moving here and there with wear,
Encoding how I show it
poem by Paul Moosberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]
Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…
poem by Angelina Pandian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Son
He hurried away, young heart of joy, under our Devon sky!
And I watched him go, my beautiful boy, and a weary woman was I.
For my hair is grey, and his was gold; he'd the best of his life to live;
And I'd loved him so, and I'm old, I'm old; and he's all I had to give.
Ah yes, he was proud and swift and gay, but oh how my eyes were dim!
With the sun in his heart he went away, but he took the sun with him.
For look! How the leaves are falling now, and the winter won't be long. . . .
Oh boy, my boy with the sunny brow, and the lips of love and of song!
How we used to sit at the day's sweet end, we two by the firelight's gleam,
And we'd drift to the Valley of Let's Pretend, on the beautiful river of Dream.
Oh dear little heart! All wealth untold would I gladly, gladly pay
Could I just for a moment closely hold that golden head to my grey.
For I gaze in the fire, and I'm seeing there a child, and he waves to me;
And I run and I hold him up in the air, and he laughs and shouts with glee;
A little bundle of love and mirth, crying: "Come, Mumsie dear!"
Ah me! If he called from the ends of the earth I know that my heart would hear.
Yet the thought comes thrilling through all my pain: how worthier could he die?
Yea, a loss like that is a glorious gain, and pitiful proud am I.
For Peace must be bought with blood and tears, and the boys of our hearts must pay;
And so in our joy of the after-years, let us bless them every day.
And though I know there's a hasty grave with a poor little cross at its head,
And the gold of his youth he so gladly gave, yet to me he'll never be dead.
And the sun in my Devon lane will be gay, and my boy will be with me still,
So I'm finding the heart to smile and say: "Oh God, if it be Thy Will!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bird Song
All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew on,
Tell me all that you know, Ill show you snow and rain.
If you hear that same sweet song again, will you know why?
Anyone who sings a tune so sweet is passin by,
Laugh in the sunshine, sing, cry in the dark, fly through the night.
Dont cry now, dont you cry, dont you cry anymore.
Sleep in the stars, dont you cry, dry your eyes on the wind.
All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew off,
Tell me all that you know, Ill show you snow and rain.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Super Flumina Babylonis
By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,
Remembering thee,
That for ages of agony hast endured, and slept,
And wouldst not see.
By the waters of Babylon we stood up and sang,
Considering thee,
That a blast of deliverance in the darkness rang,
To set thee free.
And with trumpets and thunderings and with morning song
Came up the light;
And thy spirit uplifted thee to forget thy wrong
As day doth night.
And thy sons were dejected not any more, as then
When thou wast shamed;
When thy lovers went heavily without heart, as men
Whose life was maimed.
In the desolate distances, with a great desire,
For thy love's sake,
With our hearts going back to thee, they were filled with fire,
Were nigh to break.
It was said to us: "Verily ye are great of heart,
But ye shall bend;
Ye are bondmen and bondwomen, to be scourged and smart,
To toil and tend."
And with harrows men harrowed us, and subdued with spears,
And crushed with shame;
And the summer and winter was, and the length of years,
And no change came.
By the rivers of Italy, by the sacred streams,
By town, by tower,
There was feasting with revelling, there was sleep with dreams,
Until thine hour.
And they slept and they rioted on their rose-hung beds,
With mouths on flame,
And with love-locks vine-chapleted, and with rose-crowned heads
And robes of shame.
And they knew not their forefathers, nor the hills and streams
And words of power,
Nor the gods that were good to them, but with songs and dreams
Filled up their hour.
By the rivers of Italy, by the dry streams' beds,
When thy time came,
There was casting of crowns from them, from their young men's heads,
The crowns of shame.
By the horn of Eridanus, by the Tiber mouth,
As thy day rose,
They arose up and girded them to the north and south,
By seas, by snows.
As a water in January the frost confines,
Thy kings bound thee;
As a water in April is, in the new-blown vines,
Thy sons made free.
And thy lovers that looked for thee, and that mourned from far,
For thy sake dead,
We rejoiced in the light of thee, in the signal star
Above thine head.
In thy grief had we followed thee, in thy passion loved,
Loved in thy loss;
In thy shame we stood fast to thee, with thy pangs were moved,
Clung to thy cross.
By the hillside of Calvary we beheld thy blood,
Thy bloodred tears,
As a mother's in bitterness, an unebbing flood,
Years upon years.
And the north was Gethsemane, without leaf or bloom,
A garden sealed;
And the south was Aceldama, for a sanguine fume
Hid all the field.
By the stone of the sepulchre we returned to weep,
From far, from prison;
And the guards by it keeping it we beheld asleep,
But thou wast risen.
And an angel's similitude by the unsealed grave,
And by the stone:
And the voice was angelical, to whose words God gave
Strength like his own.
"Lo, the graveclothes of Italy that are folded up
In the grave's gloom!
And the guards as men wrought upon with a charmed cup,
By the open tomb.
"And her body most beautiful, and her shining head,
These are not here;
For your mother, for Italy, is not surely dead:
Have ye no fear.
"As of old time she spake to you, and you hardly heard,
Hardly took heed,
So now also she saith to you, yet another word,
Who is risen indeed.
"By my saying she saith to you, in your ears she saith,
Who hear these things,
Put no trust in men's royalties, nor in great men's breath,
Nor words of kings.
"For the life of them vanishes and is no more seen,
Nor no more known;
Nor shall any remember him if a crown hath been,
Or where a throne.
"Unto each man his handiwork, unto each his crown,
The just Fate gives;
Whoso takes the world's life on him and his own lays down,
He, dying so, lives.
"Whoso bears the whole heaviness of the wronged world's weight
And puts it by,
It is well with him suffering, though he face man's fate;
How should he die?
"Seeing death has no part in him any more, no power
Upon his head;
He has bought his eternity with a little hour,
And is not dead.
"For an hour, if ye look for him, he is no more found,
For one hour's space;
Then ye lift up your eyes to him and behold him crowned,
A deathless face.
"On the mountains of memory, by the world's wellsprings,
In all men's eyes,
Where the light of the life of him is on all past things,
Death only dies.
"Not the light that was quenched for us, nor the deeds that were,
Nor the ancient days,
Nor the sorrows not sorrowful, nor the face most fair
Of perfect praise."
So the angel of Italy's resurrection said,
So yet he saith;
So the son of her suffering, that from breasts nigh dead
Drew life, not death.
That the pavement of Golgotha should be white as snow,
Not red, but white;
That the waters of Babylon should no longer flow,
And men see light.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wayward Heart
Who would love the wayward heart
Prone to being lost in a dream
Who would love the wayward heart
Who so neatly expresses such need
To be loved and nurtured
To feel as though it is the only one
Such is the longing of being alone
For what has been to long
Caught between trust and jealousy
The wayward heart is torn
Does it play to the romantic ideals
Or guard itself from harm
Who would love the wayward heart
And teach it to love again
To have the time and the patience
To understand its ways
Resolve to reap the rewards
Of helping the wayward heart
Finally find its way
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!