The Great Sunset
A flight of six heavy-motored bombing-planes
Went over the beautiful inhuman ridges a straight course northward;
the incident stuck itself in my memory
More than a flight of band-tail pigeons might have done
Because those wings of man and potential war seemed really intrusive
above the remote canyon.
They changed it; I cannot say they profaned it, but the memory
All day remained like a false note in familiar music, and suggested
no doubt
The counter-fantasy that came to my eyes in the evening, on the
ocean cliff.
I came from the canyon twilight
Exactly at sunset to the open shore, and felt like a sudden extension
of consciousness the wild free light
And biting north-wind. The cloud-sky had lifted from the western
horizon and left a long yellow panel
Between the slate-edge ocean and the eyelid cloud; the smoky
ball of the sun rolled on the sea-line
And formless bits of vapor flew across, but when the sun was
down
The panel of clear sky brightened, the rags of moving cloud took
memorable shapes, dark on the light,
Whether I was dreaming or not, they became spears and war-axes,
horses and sabres, gaunt battle-elephants
With towered backs; they became catapults and siege-guns, high-tilted
howitzers, long tractors, armored and turreted;
They became battleships and destroyers, and great fleets of warplanes
... all the proud instruments
Of man imposing his will upon weaker men: they were like a
Roman triumph, but themselves the captives,
A triumph in reverse: all the tools of victory
Whiffed away on the north-wind into a cloud like a conflagration,
swept from the earth, no man
From this time on to exploit nor subdue any other man. I thought,
'What a pity our kindest dreams
Are complete liars,' and turned from the glowing west toward
the cold twilight. 'To be truth-bound, the neutral
Detested by all the dreaming factions, is my errand here.'
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Related quotes
Clouds By Number
Cloud Nine lived a life of fantasy,
Barely conceding the existence of Cloud Eight,
Who felt jealousy for Cloud Seven's
Silver lining,
Although it was saturnine.
Cloud Six lived a life in a daze,
Dozing in the sun's rays;
While Cloud Five held a bellyful of rain
That it wept onto
The arid plain.
Cloud Four came out of nowhere,
Hugging Cloud Three,
Making way, hurriedly, for Cloud Two,
Who shot lightning and thunder,
And like a magic trick
Became Cloud One.
The Great Funnel Cloud,
Who left nothing after its short reign
But a painful memory and a swollen path to be filled with regrets.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Wamblee
High up on a rocky crag,
Wamblee, near to the cliff edge
sat cross legged in a circle on the ground
calling softly to the four winds.
His long plaits, threaded with silver
lay beneath feathers running down his back.
Far below him the canyon stretched out
dusty and red hot.
As the hypnotic chant of his words
caught the warm air riding the canyon top
his heart took flight
soaring above the high dusty plain.
Born on the wind,
his eagle wings outstretched
he sailed aloft snow covered mountains
glinting in the light of Grandfather Sun.
South through deep valleys,
lush with green and wonder,
feeling the rhythm of the world
beneath his feathers.
Across the turbulent southern ocean
full of the whale's song,
eastward across the great African Plain,
northward towards the Northern lights.
Onward and upward
feeling the firmament and the dawn of stars
he flew between darkness and light.
There, in that sacred space between
the creator and the created
Wamblee saw with clear vision
the beauty of the Great Spirit
laid out before him in the earth below
and the heavens above.
poem by Diana Rosser
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Dreamin'
Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like I'm blind, it's all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
'Cause there's a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I'm sailing like a ship on the sea
I don't care if I'm lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
Time's the enemy
That you never see
Won't you come slip away
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
Yeah
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
Yeah
I am only dreaming
Dreaming
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is the cloud to the sun?
For what is the cloud to the sun,
It is nothing. The wind has always
Driven it away and the sun does not
Care. For want of love and care, the
Cloud plays with the fields and the
River and the sea. Impregnated it
Has conceived, and gives
Birth to the rain. The fields and the
Sea and the rivers feasted. The fields
Grow the grass and the flowers.
The sea and the rivers have
Seeded its waters with more fish.
The cloud does not like it. It has
Always dreamt of the sun but the
Wind has always blown it away.
At night the cloud talks to the moon.
And seeing the likeness of its light
To the sun that it loves, the cloud
Makes love with the shining moon.
It has given birth to the stars.
The following morning, the cloud
Is exhausted. It floats with the
Chastisements of the wind. There
Is no more direction. It still dreams
Of the sun. It dies and becomes
Taken as part of the wind. The
Cloud has become a white, clear
Sky. It is nothing. It is what you
See, when love is unrequited.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreaming
Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like Im blind, its all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
Im only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
Im only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, cant tell the daylight from the night
Im only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
cause theres a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
Im only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
Im only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, cant tell the daylight from the night
Im only dreaming, dreaming
Im sailing like a ship on the sea
I dont care if Im lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
(? )come dream of me(? ), that you never see
Wont you come slip away
[solo] I am only dreaming
Im only dreaming (x 6)
Dreaming
Dreaming.
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 15
The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlight
Pigeons huddle against the wind.
The music of evening is attenuated and thin —
The moon seen through a wave by a mermaid;
The crying of a violin.
Far down there, far down where the river turns to the west,
The delicate lights begin to twinkle
On the dusky arches of the bridge:
In the green sky a long cloud,
A smouldering wave of smoky crimson,
Breaks in the freezing wind: and above it, unabashed,
Remote, untouched, fierly palpitant,
Sings the first star.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Cloud In The Fog
The cold wind cuts through my face like glass,
Along two lines on my cheeks it was exceptionally sharp.
The moon shone down on me covering me with a silver hue,
The icy ground like indigo stained my feet frosted and blue.
My fingers crackled as I tried to move them
My toes refused to move however much I told them.
My clothes threadbare, hung along my body with no other choice,
My hair scattered all over my shoulder holds the raining ice.
There is no sign of life in this isolated venue
I’ve left all hope of any possible rescue.
As the streaks of pink show up on the horizon,
The fog sets into play as appears the sun.
The sun is nothing but a show of nature,
Even it is cold with no warmth in its features.
As the fog robs me of my partial vision
I see a little cloud appearing like an illusion.
The little cloud was made up of the vast fog
Yet they felt as different as a desert and a bog.
The cloud seemed to grow as it neared me,
It held me gently and cut me free:
Of my cold bondages. It tried to melt my heart
That had frozen in the long icy past.
It defeated all the fog and protected me fruitlessly from the cold
As the fog cleared the sun shone on my face bold.
The cloud wrapped me in a beautiful gown
It swung me on itself and flew me north along.
I flew like the wind over mountains and molehills
Still frozen as ice, the wind giving me chills.
The sun drew closer, closer every second,
After rising for seven days there began my descent.
Below me loomed a warm tropical village,
I landed square on my feet before a tiny cottage.
The cloud gave me a message that it had done all this for me,
But it didn’t for once know my history.
I look south with my fog blinded eyes new to the vision
The warmth after cold is like handcuffs when out of prison.
I still stand as frozen as an idol
Even after saving me, it left me alone, the cloud.
The tropics now cut through my face like a knife
Exceptionally cold on two lines of my cheeks like ice.
poem by Isabella Francis
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Mirror Image
a cloud shapes a geese
then hover on the clear pond
looking upon itself,
enjoying to the full its
own way of changing things,
even itself,
it forms another image
of itself,
now a cloud which is a cloud
but still not contented
it shifts places
then loses itself to the
caprices of the
south bound wind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Phenomena
Great-enough both accepts and subdues; the great frame takes
all creatures;
From the greatness of their element they all take beauty.
Gulls; and the dingy freightship lurching south in the eye of a
rain-wind;
The airplane dipping over the hill; hawks hovering
The white grass of the headland; cormorants roosting upon the
guano-
Whitened skerries; pelicans awind; sea-slime
Shining at night in the wave-stir like drowned men's lanterns;
smugglers signaling
A cargo to land; or the old Point Pinos lighthouse
Lawfully winking over dark water; the flight of the twilight
herons,
Lonely wings and a cry; or with motor-vibrations
That hum in the rock like a new storm-tone of the ocean's to
turn eyes westward
The navy's new-bought Zeppelin going by in the twilight,
Far out seaward; relative only to the evening star and the ocean
It slides into a cloud over Point Lobos.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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O That A Chariot Of Cloud Were Mine!
O that a chariot of cloud were mine!
Of cloud which the wild tempest weaves in air,
When the moon over the ocean’s line
Is spreading the locks of her bright gray hair.
O that a chariot of cloud were mine! 5
I would sail on the waves of the billowy wind
To the mountain peak and the rocky lake,
And the...
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Canto XLIX: For the Seven Lakes
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.
Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk's bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.
Where wine flag catches the sunset
Sparse chimneys smoke in the cross light
Comes then snow scur on the river
And a world is covered with jade
Small boat floats like a lanthorn,
The flowing water closts as with cold. And at San Yin
they are a people of leisure.
Wild geese swoop to the sand-bar,
Clouds gather about the hole of the window
Broad water; geese line out with the autumn
Rooks clatter over the fishermen's lanthorns,
A light moves on the north sky line;
where the young boys prod stones for shrimp.
In seventeen hundred came Tsing to these hill lakes.
A light moves on the South sky line.
State by creating riches shd. thereby get into debt?
This is infamy; this is Geryon.
This canal goes still to TenShi
Though the old king built it for pleasure
K E I M E N R A N K E I
K I U M A N M A N K E I
JITSU GETSU K O K W A
T A N FUKU T A N K A I
Sun up; work
sundown; to rest
dig well and drink of the water
dig field; eat of the grain
Imperial power is? and to us what is it?
The fourth; the dimension of stillness.
And the power over wild beasts.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Canto 49
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.
Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk's bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.
Where wine flag catches the sunset
Sparse chimneys smoke in the cross light
Comes then snow scur on the river
And a world is covered with jade
Small boat floats like a lanthorn,
The flowing water closts as with cold. And at San Yin
they are a people of leisure.
Wild geese swoop to the sand-bar,
Clouds gather about the hole of the window
Broad water; geese line out with the autumn
Rooks clatter over the fishermen's lanthorns,
A light moves on the north sky line;
where the young boys prod stones for shrimp.
In seventeen hundred came Tsing to these hill lakes.
A light moves on the South sky line.
State by creating riches shd. thereby get into debt?
Thsi is infamy; this is Geryon.
This canal goes still to TenShi
Though the old king built it for pleasure
K E I M E N R A N K E I
K I U M A N M A N K E I
JITSU GETSU K O K W A
T A N FUKU T A N K A I
Sun up; work
sundown; to rest
dig well and drink of the water
dig field; eat of the grain
Imperial power is? and to us what is it?
The fourth; the dimension of stillness.
And the power over wild beasts.
poem by Ezra Pound
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An autumn storm
An autumn storm
~
The sky turned grey, clouds rolled over
A wind picked up howling through trees
Birds took flight, flew into hiding
Rain patted down gathering pace
The horizon drew a charcoal grey
While winds picked up and rain ran down
Windows rattled, trees swayed
Whistling high pitch, almost screaming
The storm it came and raged wild
Then as quickly, as sudden as it came
It broke to clear skies, wisps of cloud
A gentle wind rolling through leaves
Rain soaked water dripping down
Drying in the sun now shining
An autumn storm in its passing
Captured the imagination to write
On an otherwise ordinary day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Twilight
When a heavy surf is droning
In the twilight on the bar;
When our Mother Sea is crooning
Her quaint cradle-song afar;
When the wild black swans are lining
To some still, remote lagoon;
And above the headland, shining,
Hangs a quiet, crescent moon;
When the panoply, the splendor
Of the tropic sunset dies, —
Then my Fancy turns to tender
Dreams beneath the queenly skies.
Dear-loved Loadstone of my longing.
Fair, fond Woman of my heart!
When the twilight thoughts are thronging.
Art thou dreaming, too, apart?
Yes, my Spirit echoes truly;
'Circling seas shall, with the tide.
Pulse on either shore of Thule,
In the Dream Beatified.
'Surely as the mystic Crescent
Silvers now a garden fair,
Will the shining, white, liquescent
Light of Love burn also there!**
So I mourn not that the splendor
Of the dead Day lies in pall.
When the Night her brooding, tender
Wings of fantasy lets fall.
In the dusk Tm sitting, building
Tall cloud-castles by the sea ;
In the dusk my Love is gilding
Castles fair for her and me.
poem by Edwin James Brady
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An Orange Painting! ! !
An orange photograph
painted on the sky
a canvas far and high
my thought then flies
as wind it blows
to a day many years ago
I was a boy, a child
dreams were big and wild
it was a usual evening
I lied on the grass daydreaming
I saw the sky was empty
no twilight I perceived
Then I raised my hand
to the sky my fingers went
I drew a line on the sky
so lengthy and so high
I depicted conscientiously
the twilight I'd like to see
As my point finger moved
an orange color bloomed
An orange twilight was formed,
an empty sky was gone.
Long from that day I age already
older today I might have been
It's been nine years passed
I don't even recall where it was
Years have passed from that day,
many things change too,
If many have changed,
I might have changed too.
But when today I see the twilight,
a familiar thought flashes bright
and a question appears to me,
so warmly and so vividly
'Is the orange color in the sky today,
is the same twilight I've drawn that day? '
poem by Kite Remedy
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The Cloud And The Wind
back to the basics of our longing
back to the cloud and the wind
and the river
and the grass and our shadows
those were the times when what we need is all that we carry
light and cloudy
less light more shadows
less words more of the silence
there was more understanding then
no arguments about
the winding paths as to where these may finally lead us
to destruction or construction
to life or death?
i zip my pants and then move on.
you stay and settle for more imagination
i am the cloud and the wind
pieces of lightness and shapelessness
you are the earth and the tree
heavy and stuck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Progeny
From seven-palm-tree depth of ocean
Tsunami of desires blew up.
Pushed the cloud away
But
Since than the ocean wails
With bouncing waives
To get back.
Teen eager and Alexandrian desire
Monsoon cloud eager to pervade
Floats on and on
For gold and glee.
Stag jumped off to a valley of bounty,
Ampule opened to mesmerize.
Instigated to roll on gold to squelch
And amused to squeal.
Wailing ocean embossed on
The amulet hanging on cloud.
Stag saw, recalled and turned squirrel
To climb up the cloud
Drained out to detergent white
And being towed away.
Cloud: with conflicts but consistent
Ocean: wailing but deep and calm
Hugs on bosoms
Cloud melts to drops in ocean.
***
Hrushikesha Mohanty
19th April 2008
poem by Hrushikesha Mohanty
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I Want To Be A Cloud Above You
I want to be a cloud above you,
To travel in the world,
To be on highest sky,
Nearest stars and moon.
Wind to be my carrier,
Sun to be my warmth,
I am just a cloud filled with memories,
On the infinite sky of life.
I am balancing my wings everywhere,
Seeking for peace and love,
Following you wherever you go,
Seeing you near brings me relief.
I am for you only a memory,
In an ocean of happenings of your life,
I 'll be always above you watching,
My tears will always fall to you with my love.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Clouds
Yellow, glowing
Softness, soothing
There...never a sound,
Somewhere between
A cloud and ground
Between lips and thought
Somewhere where there is nowhere
Somehow when we don't know-how
Somewhat of an afterthought
As silently as a whisper
From an owl
In the darkest reaches
Of loneliness hidden in the
Corners of sorrow, hide tiny tears.
Painful tears
Too small to see streaks
Upon those cheeks
The cloud is all fluff,
Vapor and dust
Come cloud my memories
Away
April 1,2002
poem by Midnights Voice
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