En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To C.C.C.

Oh for the nights when we used to sit
In the firelight's glow or flicker,
With the gas turned low and our pipes all lit,
And the air fast growing thicker;

When you, enthroned in the big arm-chair,
Would spin for us yarns unending,
Your voice and accent and pensive air
With the narrative subtly blending!

Oh for the bleak and wintry days
When we set our blood in motion,
Leaping the rocks below the braes
And wetting our feet in the ocean,

Or shying at marks for moderate sums
(A penny a hit, you remember),
With aching fingers and purple thumbs,
In the merry month of December!

There is little doubt we were very daft,
And our sports, like the stakes, were trifling;
While the air of the room where we talked and laughed
Was often unpleasantly stifling.

Now we are grave and sensible men,
And wrinkles our brows embellish,
And I fear we shall never relish again
The pleasures we used to relish.

And I fear we never again shall go,
The cold and weariness scorning,
For a ten mile walk through the frozen snow
At one o'clock in the morning:

Out by Cameron, in by the Grange,
And to bed as the moon descended . . .
To you and to me there has come a change,
And the days of our youth are ended.

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Postnatal Depression

I fear my little child.

I fear that she will not feed and grow strong and healthy,
I fear that she will stop breathing when I am out of the room or selfishly asleep,
I fear that she will become ill because of something I have done or did not do,
I fear that she will be in pain and I will not know why.

I fear that her father will reject her,
I fear that her father will reject me,
I fear that her father will compete for her love and that she will love him more,
I fear that her father will be distant and that she will not love him enough.

I fear that others will think that I am incompetent,
I fear that others will assume that I am capable,
I fear that others will force upon me unhelpful or unwanted advice,
I fear that others will believe I can cope.

I fear the loneliness of endless days without contact,
I fear the emptiness of endless nights without love,
I fear the weakness of endless days without proper meals,
I fear the weariness of endless nights without sleep.

I fear inexperience.
I fear uncertainty.
I fear guilt.
I fear despair.

I fear my little child.

poem by Teedy Dawn
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The Bear, The Fire, And The Snow

'I live in fear of the snow,' said the bear.
'Whenever it's here, be sure I'll be there.
Oh, the pain and the cold,
when one's bearish and old.
I live in fear of the snow.'

'I live in fear of the fire,' said the snow.
'Whenever it comes then it's time I must go.
with its yellow lick flames
leaping higher and higher,
I live in fear of the fire.'

'I live in fear of the river,' said the fire.
'It can drown all my flames anytime it desires,
and the thought of the wet
makes me sputter and shiver.
I live in fear of the river.'

'I live in fear of the bear,' said the river.
'It can lap me right up, don't you know?'
While a mile away
you can hear the bear say,
'I live in fear of the snow.'

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Now Those Times Are Here Again (from Minutes of Falling Days)

Now those times are here again
When the days will become darker
And in the hearts of various men
Yesterdays shall become sparker

When the snow will fall and glow
Bringing chilliness and holidays
As each month to darkness will go
In the glisten down falling glaze

When the snow is back in here
Silvery white on a frozen earth
For now this time’s coming near
With its mistletoes and mirth

With its snow-white cold ice
Bracing windows in a frosty rose
Morning dark and twilight skies
When on treetops cold wind blows

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Warchild

Ill take you down to that bright city mile ---
There to powder your sweet face and paint on a smile,
That will show all of the pleasures and none of the pain,
When you join my explosion
And play with my games.
Warchild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
No unconditional surrender; no armistice day ---
Each night Ill die in my contentment and lie in your grave.
While you bring me water and I give you wine ---
Let me dance in your tea-cup and you shall swim in mine.
Warchild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
Open your windows and Ill walk through your doors.
Let me live in your country --- let me sleep by your shores.
Warchild dance the days, and dance the nights away.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Shall Never Love the Snow Again

I never shall love the snow again
Since Maurice died:
With corniced drift it blocked the lane,
And sheeted in a desolate plain
The country side.

The trees with silvery rime bedight
Their branches bare.
By day no sun appeared; by night
The hidden moon shed thievish light
In the misty air.

We fed the birds that flew around
In flocks to be fed:
No shelter in holly or brake they found,
The speckled thrush on the frozen ground
Lay frozen and dead.

We skated on stream and pond; we cut
The crinching snow
To Doric temple or Arctic hut;
We laughed and sang at nightfall, shut
By the fireside glow.

Yet grudged we our keen delights before
Maurice should come.
We said, 'In-door or out-of-door
We shall love life for a month or more,
When he is home.'

They brought him home; 'twas two days late
For Christmas Day:
Wrapped in white, in solemn state,
A flower in his hand, all still and straight
Our Maurice lay.

And two days ere the year outgave
We laid him low.
The best of us truly were not brave,
When we laid Maurice down in his grave
Under the snow.

poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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An Old Chiming Clock

There's a clock on the shelf in the old lady's house
and I have a bad feeling inside,
for it ticks and tocks and it chimes every hour
and I fear it marks time till she dies.

She sits all day long by the fire in a shawl,
knitting in rhythm to its beat.
and she seems quite oblivious to time passing by
as she stops now and then to make tea.

It's dark in her house and the furniture is old
the curtains are brown where they've aged.
I'd really like to stay but it's getting very cold
and the clock on the shelf says it's late.

She rocks in her chair, by the fire, most days,
knitting and watching the TV
Sometimes she will hum a funny little song,
then she'll talk to the cat or to me.

I bring her a newspaper every day
and a loaf of bread twice a week
On Sundays I stay for a lovely piece of cake
that she bakes extra specially for me!

Someday I'll be old like the frail lady there
I'll sit in my house all day long
I might have a cat and a big rocking chair
but I wont have an old chiming clock.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Frozen

Frozen
By: Adam M. Snow

Memories frozen and gone,
like sands in broken time,
'gainst the blackest of dawn,
yet cold with no love sublime.
To be alone in ice of despair,
with hearts cold and frozen.
There's nothing left to bear,
for all who are chosen.

Like frost in the wind,
chilling a lonely being,
leaving nothing to mend,
like a ghost without seeing.
Dreams now cold like ice,
falling to pieces,
not once but twice,
as the days decreases.

What else is there to know,
with everything oh so cool?
Like being ghost in the snow,
and you being the fool.
All's now cold like a winter's night,
like little breezes dusk and shiver,
and with unpleasant delight,
with fear all is quiver.

Staring now out a hoar frost window,
alone, cold and wilted,
with your sufferings and woe,
waiting to strike you dead.
All's now cold hearted,
like frozen in ice,
as all's departed,
and you're the sacrifice.

poem by Adam M. Snow
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Summer’s Now Coming Near

Summer’s now coming near
Nature in its bright giving

Soon again is spring’s year
In the freshly days of living

Ground with new blossoms
In colored shade symphony

Tinctured in fairest bosoms
Whitish and yellow lemony

Easter days impending April
From under snow-white drift

Innovation so much undeniable
In their inventive makeshift

Summer summer‘s soon here
In its delicate scent pleasures

Shining burgeons in its hair
Days of breathing treasures

Now the night is growing thin
In the brightness days ahead

Summer dreams in their spin
With growth in gardens bed

Their Love songs never ending
Tides of variation atmosphere

So much happiness blending
As the new emblems appear

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Relish The Time

RELISH THE TIME

Another memorable moment in your journey
Memorable achievement one among many
Beginning of a dream of bouquet of dreams
In choice of colors in life’s bigger schemes

Relish the time on hand embellish with joy
Light a candle of delight in mantle of sky
For always to shine leading you the way
Reminding you forever not to drift away

Another triumph in your sincere attempt
Admirable from every facet without exempt
Something to be very proud of for always
Platform to leap into future with grace

Relish the moment like it’s truly meant
Something to remember feeling content
Stirring your thoughts feeling fervent
Inspiring to strive for more achievement

This poem written for my nephew Arjuna Hayes for his high school graduation

poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Cold Feet

There was a little boy once upon a time
Who in spite of his young age and small size knew his mind
For every copper penny and clover he would find
Make a wish for better days the end of hard times
For no more cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
His clothes were always clean
His face was always scrubbed
There was food on the table enough to fill him up
His house was full of life - his house was full of love
But when winter days arrived
There was never money enough to shod his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He grew up to be a worker determined to succeed
He made a life for himself, free from worldly wants or needs
But with nobody to share the life hed made
No body to keep him warm at night
When hed go to sleep hed sleep alone with his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
One night he walked the street looking to the heavens above
Searching for a shooting star a benevolent god
When a woman passing by brushed his arm
He turned and found love
He then wished for the courage to ask this stranger
Who she was to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought shed like the party life and want the finer things
So he promised more than he could buy
And he promised her the sun and moon to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He worked day and night his fingers to the bone
Hi worried mind guilty conscience drive him on
He cant give her what she needs
He wants to give her what he thinks she wants
Her sad-eyed face, his empty pockets drive him on and his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
Hed struggled all his life to be an honest man
Proud that the dirt on his palms was the soil of the land
But some guys he knew from high school days
Said they had a plan to get rich quick
And they could count him in if he dont have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought about their offer accepted it without qualms
Dreamt about the life hed buy
The comfort that would come without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He decided to tell his wife things would soon turn around
He said the little boy is dead
A man stands with you now without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
Without cold feet - cold cold cold cold feet
He thought hed set his clock right - he though hed read his watch
He left in such a hurry he didnt think to wish for luck
Makes no difference if youre early - no difference if youre late
When youre out of time - the flowers have been laid
Youre six feet underground
With cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet

song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas To Remember

Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Strangers meet and they willingly surrender
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Almost went to aspen but something told me no
I considered mammoth but there wasnt enough snow
And I even thought of gatlinburg but that seemed so far to go
So I headed up to tahoe for a christmas on the slopes
And I had fantasized about christmas in this way
Curled up by a fireplace in a tahoe ski chalet
With a fast talking lover and some slow burning wood
But even in my wildest dreams it never got this good and
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Change the radio and Ill turn the lights down dimmer
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Strangers when we met, lovers as we leave
Christmas to remember, too good to believe
Dont know how or when, but I know well meet again
Well come blowin back to somewhere like some wild restless winters wind
And youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Neath the mistletoe you kissed me warm and tender
Oh! what a christmas to remember
We loved and laughed and played and joked
Sang christmas songs and talked to folks
Sleighed the fields and skied the slopes
Then to the lodge for dinner
But now its time for us to go
As our hearts melt like chimney snow
Theres just one thing I want to know
Can we do this next winter
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Though the fire is hot, well just have to let it simmer
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Though its cold outside well just stroke the burning embers
Oh! what a christmas to remember

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September

If there's a month to remember
it must be September
and remember it we do.
For the summer has baked all in its sight
and we are ready for the view
of cooler days
and apples to munch,
and cider to drink
along with our lunch
The days will grow shorter
and the nights will linger
and sweaters and scarves will be worn.
The moon in the sky will start to turn orange.
And we'll remember September in the morn.
Yes the month of September, the one we remember
makes me happy that I was born.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Three Days

I

So, I shall see her in three days
And just one night, but nights are short,
Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn!
Feel, where my life broke off from thine,
How fresh the splinters keep and fine,—
Only a touch and we combine!

II

Too long, this time of year, the days!
But nights, at least the nights are short.
As night shows where her one moon is,
A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss,
So, life's night gives my lady birth
And my eyes hold her! What is worth
The rest of heaven, the rest of earth?

III

0 loaded curls, release your store
Of warmth and scent as once before
The tingling hair did, lights and darks
Outbreaking into fairy sparks
When under curl and curl I pried
After the warmth and scent inside,
Thro' lights and darks how manifold—
The dark inspired, the light controlled!
As early Art embrowns the gold.

IV

What great fear, should one say, "Three days
That change the world, might change as well
Your fortune; and if joy delays,
Be happy that no worse befell!"
What small fear, if another says,
"Three days and one short night beside
May throw no shadow on your ways;
But years must teem with change untried,
With chance not easily defied,
With an end somewhere undescried."
No fear!—or if a fear be born
This minute, it dies out in scorn.
Fear? I shall see her in three days
And one night, now the nights are short,
Then just two hours, and that is morn.

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Wish To Change Your Lifestyle

against the cliffs of high resistance
your habits shall never give you the chance to change

you make the resolution to change every word
of your sentence

but with the fast palpitations of your pulse every morning
you doubt whether these travails have an end trail.

this morning you wake up beside the grave of fear

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovely truth for temporal beauty

There was a beautiful queen living in a tower
Asking the mirror everyday she did,
with the same question in the same voice pitch:
Mirror hanging on the wall
Who is the fairest of all
The mirror always replied:
Your beauty is the one and never dy

Days became month and months became years
Ages gone by with the same ly that shed her fear
of aging and getting wrinkles on all her face
and very soon reaching the grim fate
in which she slept for eternity in her chair
with the old mirror of old lies answers
that she were the fairest of all

poem by Wicha Surin
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Flame-Heart

So much have I forgotten in ten years,
So much in ten brief years! I have forgot
What time the purple apples come to juice,
And what month brings the shy forget-me-not.
I have forgot the special, startling season
Of the pimento's flowering and fruiting;
What time of year the ground doves brown the fields
And fill the noonday with their curious fluting.
I have forgotten much, but still remember
The poinsettia's red, blood-red in warm December.
I still recall the honey-fever grass,
But cannot recollect the high days when
We rooted them out of the ping-wing path
To stop the mad bees in the rabbit pen.
I often try to think in what sweet month
The languid painted ladies used to dapple
The yellow by-road mazing from the main,
Sweet with the golden threads of the rose-apple.
I have forgotten--strange--but quite remember
The poinsettia's red, blood-red in warm December.

What weeks, what months, what time of the mild year
We cheated school to have our fling at tops?
What days our wine-thrilled bodies pulsed with joy
Feasting upon blackberries in the copse?
Oh some I know! I have embalmed the days,
Even the sacred moments when we played,
All innocent of passion, uncorrupt,
At noon and evening in the flame-heart's shade.
We were so happy, happy, I remember,
Beneath the poinsettia's red in warm December.

poem by Claude McKay
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BLACK APRIL (Genocide) Pt 2..

It is time again for the
ridiculous month it's by
the door again, the mouth
that goes down in the black
man history as the most
horroable month.Whenever it
april i fear that history won't
repeat itself.What a month, i can
remember children running from
one pillar to the other, with
fear in their eyes.

Youth are participating in the
kill of our patriot, raping our
mothers, innocent blood flow like
stream that never dry.If i should
have my way i would in same month
with the instigators no where to
be found, the innocent pay for been
fool by the egotist leaders

poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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As The Day Goes By

Seven days make a week is a known fact, Seven days in the United State of America, is seven days in the United Kingdom, Seven days in Canada, is seven in Nigeria, Seven days in South Africa is seven days in Liberia, Seven days in Ghana is seven days in Togo A thousand years is like a day before God When you sleep and wake up the next day, you are a day older When you sleep wake up, you are a day older i say It takes the man of understanding to know that he is older than the previous day The day is counting fast The time is counting fast as well The time is ticking like lightening in the sky There is a sharp competition between the day and the time There is a sharp competition between the day and the night There is a sharp competition between the day and the month There is a sharp competition between the day and the year As we getting to the end of the year As we are getting to the end of December As December is fast approaching As December is staring us in the face, As the New Year is fast approaching a day of the following year is not far away from our nose As the day on the calendar stipulates that December closer than we expected As that day fall on December As the day of Christmas sparks like lightening of merrymaking events because of the birth of Jesus Christ As the people rejoice and shout for joy so the daredevil armed robbers, armed to the teeth and body loaded with ammunition's strike their victims leaving sorrow tears and blood Kidnapping increase Ritualist go after their unsuspecting victims I am yet to understand why evil run like tap water in the
mind of people It make my eyes cover in shame, that people are lovers of money rather than their flesh and blood, blood is thicker
than water so they say but when money engulfs the heart of man like tsunami engulfs the land he becomes wild in his thinking like the
lion becomes wild in attacking its prey Money is the root of all evil so also money answereth all things As the days go by, money making evil scheme engulfs the heart of man without having anything to do to that The reason evil continues to grow in the heart of man like a tree with a tap root is yet to be understood It is still a mirage which is yet to be unraveled as the day goes by A day of reckoning is fast approaching, is falling down like the London bridge A day of reckoning is fast approaching, is falling down like a ripe fruit scattering into irreparable pieces which can never be gathered together again The day goes by with evil

poem by Olayemi Ayo
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Old Scout

Is it because I'm bent and grey,
Though wearing rather well,
That I can slickly get away
With all the yarns I tell?
Is it because my bleary eye
No longer beams with youth
That I can plant a whopping lie,
And flout the truth?

I wonder why folks hark to me
Where once they would have laughed?
They treat my yarns respectfully,
No matter how they're daft.
They count the notches on my gun
And stroke its polished butt,
Wanting to know why every one
Of them was cut.

Indeed were I to stick to fact
Their interest would flag;
Dramatically I must act
The rôle of scalliwag;
A battle veteran to be,
A frozen argonaut,
A castaway in coral sea,--
Such a tommyrot!

And so with unction I conceive
Invention wild and new,
Until I'm coming to believe
My taradiddles true . . .
Is it because I'm old and sage,
I draw a bow that's risky?
Or can it be--that lies with age
Improve like whisky?

poem by Robert William Service
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When it will be spring

see flowers on my window
Cold winds whipping about
Soon I think
Wolves will begin to howl
When will it be spring?

Frozen days
When nature stands statue still
Cold hands, cold feet, cold heart
When will it be spring?

Haven’t heard a bird sing
The sun shines through a frozen haze
Sad days, cold days
When will it be spring?

poem by Jaya Ghosh
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