New Year’s Eve
Staggering homeward between the stream and the trees the unhappy
drunkard
Babbles a woeful song and babbles
The end of the world, the moon's like fired Troy in a flying
cloud, the storm
Rises again, the stream's in flood.
The moon's like the sack of Carthage, the Bastile's broken, pedlars
and empires
Still deal in luxury, men sleep in prison.
Old Saturn thinks it was better in his grandsire's time but that's
from the brittle
Arteries, it neither betters nor worsens.
(Nobody knows my love the falcon.)
It has always bristled with phantoms, always factitious, mildly absurd;
The organism, with no precipitous
Degeneration, slight imperceptible discounts of sense and faculty,
Adapts itself to the culture-medium.
(Nobody crawls to the test-tube rim,
Nobody knows my love the falcon.)
The star's on the mountain, the stream snoring in flood; the brain-lit
drunkard
Crosses midnight and stammers to bed.
The inhuman nobility of things, the ecstatic beauty, the inveterate
steadfastness
Uphold the four posts of the bed.
(Nobody knows my love the falcon.)
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Related quotes
On a Young Lady's Sixth Anniversary
Baby Babbles--only one,
Now to sit up has begun.
Little Babbles quite turned two
Walks as well as I and you.
And Miss Babbles one, two, three,
Has a teaspoon at her tea.
But her Highness at four
Learns to open the front door.
And her Majesty--now six,
Can her shoestrings neatly fix.
Babbles, babbles, have a care,
You will soon put up your hair!
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Falcon
They're near cracking.
And tracking a balloon,
On rumors.
They're near cracking.
And hoping that ballon lands soon.
A boy is claimed to be alone.
And flying on his own,
Alone...
High in the sky and crying.
But he was found to not have flown.
And hiding in a box.
Hoping that his daddy wouldn't fuss at him a lot.
They're near cracking.
And tracking a balloon,
On rumors.
They're near cracking.
And hoping that ballon lands soon.
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon? '
~Yes, daddy? ~
'Falcon no more hiding to start rumors.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clear blue water stream
Gleeful song of spring babbles
summer's promise sings
haiku by Dorothy Holmes (07 June 2008)
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The singing falcon (hybridanelle)
I heard the falcon’s cry,
a myth of native lore
from high up in the sky
like a golden-hot ray
it came from the sun
at the break of day
sublime the notes came as I
walked the veldt, with beauty at the core.
I heard the falcon’s cry;
it was very high and far away
only a speck in the solar gradient,
it came from the sun.
I could not see it with my eye
it turned on upper winds to explore
from high up in the sky
it was triumphant, glowing radiant,
pure as light turned to sound
only a speck in the solar gradient,
the air was azure and the day was dry
and I was on the track of a lone lion before
I heard the falcon’s cry
and great beauty that I found
as if hearing a flying trumpet sing
pure as light turned to sound
I saw the soaring predator fly
with claws and beak ready to gore
from high up in the sky
and it made my ears ring,
inside its resonance
as if hearing a flying trumpet sing
a thing no money could buy
or imitate in a musical score.
I heard the falcon’s cry
from high up in the sky
pristine without dissonance
like a golden-hot ray
inside its resonance
at the break of day.
[References: The Singing Hawk by Roy Campbell. With great thanks to Ronald Peat for his help.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Paper Nest
Dementia begins. The ending starts.
Death had many names;
The mountain owls. They fly in flocks
and take prey diving on rabbits or great
bustards. Have you seen the courtship
display of bustards? They are heavy birds. Fly,
but also run very fast.
Soaring flight of eagle. Keen sight and a massive
hooked bill. Hawk takes prey by surprise.
Falcon catches prey from above.
I think water. Don't cry. Your son was
drowned in a tank when he was three. Head
down. We pulled him out after half-an-hour.
Brain damaged. He babbles now, lives a vegetable.
Neat. Death had many faces. You want her.
It will not come on asking. I think flames. We
must lock the house, and come out on skywalk.
poem by Satish Verma
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I have some more thoughts about your dreams of late
The storm has passed.
Was beautiful but beauty
was ruined by the fact
that many there are a river
away without warmth still
or who finally got it then
lost it instantly in the
new storm without name.
Still, the gingko trees on
my block are golding up,
lost few leaves to snow
weight and wind; snow softly
sits accenting a white feather
boa between limb crotches,
winking through powder and
gold glitter over pedestrians
below who feel a sudden heat,
a flush of love,
and don't know why.
Isn't love always above us?
poem by Warren Falcon
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What Is Seen
a fly
strolls a realm
just on the other
side of light
only silhouettes
guesses thrills
motion so
slight framed in
window gray
in love with
small things
keep what
is seen where
hides the wind
poem by Warren Falcon
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The super moon
The super moon shines over the mountain with silvery shining light,
Moon so big in size sends the wise owl flying in fright,
Hyenas stop laughing for a while to watch the smile on moon's face tonight.
The mountain and its trees adore this beautiful sight.
The mountain and its trees adore this beautiful sight,
The silvery charm brings the memory of my mom's lullaby,
'Uncle moon, please come down and bring the rice and milk for my child in the golden pot tonight',
My heart tries to search the beauty of my love in the big smiling moon so nearby.
My heart tries to search the beauty of my love in the big smiling moon so nearby,
It is hard to decide who is prettier, the moon or my love tonight,
The silver rays mesmerize my eyes with so much love and tranquility,
That I wish we will be together in love forever we are in sight.
That I wish we will be together in love forever we are in sight,
When I rub my sleepy eyes in the dawns early light,
With heavy heart I bid goodbye to this sight,
May be in next hundred years, my roaming soul will watch again this beautiful sight.
poem by Jay P Narain
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Big As I Can Dream
(montgomery)
I know they dont think that Ill amount to much
But your love has given me the magic touch
Just put your faith in me and strange as it may seem
I will build a dream for you
Big as I can dream
I know that they want the best things for you
That is just what I have planned
If they only knew.
Theres no mountain thats too high
I can ford any stream
For your love I can be
Big as I can dream.
Theres no mountain thats too high
I can ford any stream
For your love I can be
Big as I can dream
Big as I can dream
Big as I can dream.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still You
There's a stream through a glen
Where wild apples grow
It runs down to old cliffs
Where foxes and deer
Watch the wild waters foam
White upon winter shores
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
On the braes by that stream
In cool morning dew
There's a world fresh and free
and still time to dream
of the old and the new
to remember what's true
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
Now the stream calls me home
And in its wild song
There's a lost harmony
And here in this glen
By the moon's rise and fall
I know where I belong
And it's with you, still with you
By the waves on the shore
By the stream through the glen
With you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
where I'm with you, still with you
If There Is No Moon
If there is no moon,
How possible could it be?
Your lips
Won’t wobble
Far from your chin.
It will be only a gazer
Shouting
Cold words
In a lost deserted Cancun.
If there is no moon,
You won’t irrupt
And spill out
Any of
Your hot and angry lavas,
But a
Liquid of
Dormant
Crystallized feelings;
They awake
And then swoon.
If there is no moon,
Your
Tides
And oceanic waves
Won’t crash
Against my chest
No flood,
No touch down,
No damage done,
No hurricane, and
No typhoon.
If there is no moon,
Words come flat
Undistorted;
Your kisses
Lose its own cycles
Between a croissant
And a full moon.
If there is no moon,
Love’s
Tears will be
Only
A crack of memories
On the ice
Lying strewn.
If there is no moon,
God and goddess,
Supreme Deity, and
Divinity
Will be
A song
Writing
Between Saturn’s
Rings
And the Martian's dunes.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Brittle Goes the Bone
for Ocean
The animal we are
reserves just rights
to complain -
empty bellies,
encroached territories,
crotch urgencies,
skin withers,
fur falls -
brittle goes the bone,
so small the gathered human corners,
so great the needed mercies.
We must not dishonor
the animal we are.
We fight for blood right,
birth right, some bread,
a place to lie down
with kindred beings.
A patch beside a stream,
a doll house street,
sweat-and-blood won,
proclaims a personal kingdom.
Listen now.
Milky or Muddy Ways
somewhere require stunning loss.
We are falling,
battered lips praising
still.
We have
witnessed,
yes,
cracked
all this.
With a kiss
love in the crush
and crank is
sealed.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Lover's Gifts IV: She Is Near to My Heart
She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is
sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs. My love for her is my life
flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with
serene abandonment. My songs are one with my love, like the murmur
of a stream, that sings with all its waves and current.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Concord Hymn
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The Falcon
the falcon encased in stone,
on the steps of the temple...
silent too long, boils with rage.
and with one final surge,
of unrestrained passion,
breaks free from the pedestal,
with the fury of need!
long wings covered with dust,
unfurling with beauty.
take to the air,
almost gulping with flight.
eyes too long dim,
blaze with raw hunger.
the falcon loosed,
driven for the taste of flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Orange Rose - Parody John Boyle O’REILLY – A White Rose
White rose peeps, weeps too purely,
while red shows scarlet sins,
subjectivism’s surely
a set of moral gins.
Yet an orange rose shows gaily,
a ball of fire and flame,
but when it blows away we
may ask - “what’s in a name? ”
Both white and red demurely
like angels sit on pins
and needles - immaturely
lapelled ere bloom begins; -
But an orange! rows of trees we
plant carefully and claim
the orange rose to tease, - see
love came to play the game.
Though passion in a fashion
attracts at Valentine's
true love one should not ration
to sprightly Columbines.
Some send bud blood, cream, peachy,
flush plush on petal tips,
with a dress from Nina Ricci
and a wallet full of tips,
I, eyeing orange grandeur,
from red, white, thorny, change, -
chromatic spectrum's splendour
finds preconceptions strange
as love to true beholder
no colours sees but stream
whose energies true hold a
soul's music, tender dreams.
Poor falcon wings so lonely,
no rhyme therewith we find,
and as for love there's only
above glove, dove, - shove signed!
That red rose wings like falcon,
that white dove rhymes with love,
may colour poets' balcon
-y pruned by critic's glove,
yet an Orange rose flamboyant
leaves red, white, in the shade,
its petals bright flame, buoyant
of such are poems made...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I Am Happy Now
She came to me at last
and I am happy now
I bask in afterglow of love
and I am happy now.
She came to me in night
in magic of a starlit night
full moon shining bright
an enchanting full moon night.
Wearing a sexy, little summer dress
perfumed, bright eyed, seductive now
looking, vibrant stunning; enticing temptress,
allured, bewitched, beguiled; I am happy now.
She wore a sexy, little summer dress
showing off curves, of exposed naked flesh
and perfume, of anticipating; sexual suspense
and I am happy now, I am happy now in flesh.
The memory of this sensual spicy night
shines radiant clear and brilliant bright,
memory of her intoxicating boundless love
shines brighter, than all burning stars above.
In summer love springs water that flows
from a sweet secret mountain stream,
from a hidden cliff in surrounding rocks
where I have, pleasantly swimming been.
I love the fair forest that grows
near this secret mountain stream,
with these sweet memories dreams
I am happy, contemplating beauty seen.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My life passes so quickly
My life passes so quickly
like a stream passing in flood
with water rushing against every thing
My life passes so quickly
that every deed and every word
frolic whirling together and are corded.
My life passes so quickly
like a stream passing in flood.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Homer
Homer, thy song men liken to the sea
With all the notes of music in its tone,
With tides that wash the dim dominion
Of Hades, and light waves that laugh in glee
Around the isles enchanted; nay, to me
Thy verse seems as the River of source unknown
That glasses Egypt's temples overthrown
In his sky-nurtured stream, eternally.
No wiser we than men of heretofore
To find thy sacred fountains guarded fast;
Enough, thy flood makes green our human shore,
As Nilus Egypt, rolling down his vast
His fertile flood, that murmurs evermore
Of gods dethroned, and empires in the past.
poem by Andrew Lang
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While Gazing on the Moon's Light
While gazing on the moon's light,
A moment from her smile I turn'd,
To look at orbs that, more bright,
In lone and distant glory burn'd.
But too far
Each proud star,
For me to feel its warming flame;
Much more dear
That mild sphere,
Which near our planet smiling came;
Thus, Mary, be but thou my own,
While brighter eyes unheeded play,
I'll love those moonlight looks alone
That bless my home and guide my way.
The day had sunk in dim showers,
But midnight now, with lustre meet,
Illumined all the pale flowers,
Like hope upon a mourner's cheek.
I said (while
The moon's smile
Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss,)
"The moon looks
On many brooks,
The brook can see no moon but this;"
And thus, I thought, our fortunes run,
For many a lover looks to thee,
While oh! I feel there is but one,
One Mary in the world for me.
poem by Thomas Moore
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