To The House
I am heaping the bones of the old mother
To build us a hold against the host of the air;
Granite the blood-heat of her youth
Held molten in hot darkness against the heart
Hardened to temper under the feet
Of the ocean cavalry that are maned with snow
And march from the remotest west.
This is the primitive rock, here in the wet
Quarry under the shadow of waves
Whose hollows mouthed the dawn; little house each stone
Baptized from that abysmal font
The sea and the secret earth gave bonds to affirm you.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Related quotes
Mother Dawn
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Mother dawn
Dancing round the fire
Circling the flame
Listen to the shadows calling out my name
They say
Rock me like a baby
Cradle me in the light
Bathe me in a rainbow
Sun restore my sight
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Look into the light
Come and take a journey through the land of night
Darkness strokes the face and
Steals away the sight
Night is all around me
Stars are in my hair
I feel them tangled in the secrets well
Find hidden there all right
Reaching through the madness
To the other side
Where the sun is rising
With her arms held wide
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
(till the dawn light comes)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long)
(I know youre gonna love me)
(I know youre gonna love me)
One star flew against the tapestry of the night
And the earth revolved in perfect symmetry
To a symphony of sun
The moon danced its final bow
As the birth of day
Exploded
In my eyes
Reaching through the madness
To the other side
Where the sun is rising
With her arms held wide
Rock me like a baby
Cradle me in light
Youre gonna bathe me in a rainbow
And the sun restore my sight
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Hold me, hold me (all night long yeah)
Breathe the light into me
(till the dawn light comes yeah)
Hold me, hold me (all night long yeah)
Mother dawn (I know youre gonna love me yeah)
I know youre
Gonna love me
All night long yeah
Till the dawn light comes
All night long yeah
I know youre gonna love me love me
All night long yeah
Till the dawn light comes
All night long yeah
I know youre gonna love me love me
Mother dawn
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homecoming
Grandfather built, with his own hands
The house we children called our home.
A fine expanse of stone and brick,
a castle that was ours alone.
That was before the threatening storm
turned us into refugees
The howling wind, the battering surge
Let loose the Ocean's enmity.
Of our fine home scant trace remains:
Some stone and the foundation walls
Keepsakes and memories long displayed
Sadly we have lost them all.
No loss of life, no death to weep
But still a sense of loss pervades.
The certainty of Youth is gone
And fallen trees can give no shade.
We'll build again with our own hands
The house our children will call home.
I think, perhaps, on higher ground,
Where Ocean waves do seldom roam
There we will make new memories
Those things we lost will matter not.
We have each other, that is enough.
We'll build our heaven on this spot.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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A Piori Love
In dreams / I formed you
In sweat / I gave you life
In tears / I gave you passion
In the heat / I gave you molten eyes
In the night / I gave you raven hair
In the morning / I gave you dawn’s smile
In the tremor / I gave you love
With the spark of infinity / I brought you forth
poem by Guillermo Veloso
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And The Rains Descended And The Floods Came
NOW the far waves roll nearer and more near,
The wind's awake, the pitiless wind's awake,
It shrieks the menace that I dare not hear,
Soon at my feet the angry waves will break
In desolating wrath--and here I stand
Helpless my house is built upon the sand.
O you, whose house upon a rock is set,
Laugh, safe and sure, at threatening wave and wind.
You chose the better part and yet--and yet,
There was no other ground that I could find,
And I was weary and I longed to raise
A house to guard my shivering nights and days.
And it was pleasant in the house I made,
While still the floods and winds were held asleep.
I blessed it at the dawn, at night I prayed
As though its dear foundations had been deep
Sunk in the rock. I whispered in surmise,
'What if winds never wake, floods never rise?'
And now the waves are near and very near,
And here I wait and wonder which may be
The wave in which my house will disappear,
My little house that loved and sheltered me,
Where joy still sings, her garland in her hand,
Built on the sand, oh God, built on the sand!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Mother ocean
Slide deeply into my bones
and make my fears go away.
i want to be blue, like the ocean.
i want to be strong and beautiful,
made with water and emotions
just like mother ocean.
I loved to be like the ocean
cause my heart has been broken with too many hard blows.
i want to be brave and deep as mother ocean.
The sky is like a spy, always gazing back at you.
but the ocean is like a melody
when breaking on the shore at dawn,
every inch of his freshness wakes up your soul.
poem by André Lopes
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The Temple - What Makes It Of Worth
You may delve down to rock for your foundation piers,
You may go with your steel to the sky
You may purchase the best of the thought of the years,
And the finest of workmanship buy.
You may line with the rarest of marble each hall,
And with gold you may tint it; but then
It is only a building if it, after all,
Isn't filled with the spirit of men.
You may put up a structure of brick and of stone,
Such as never was put up before;
Place there the costliest woods that are grown,
And carve every pillar and door.
You may fill it with splendors of quarry and mine,
With the glories of brush and of pen —
But it's only a building, though ever so fine,
If it hasn't the spirit of men.
You may build such structure that lightning can't harm,
Or one that an earthquake can't raze;
You may build it of granite, and boast that its charm
Shall last to the end of all days.
But you might as well never have builded at all,
Never cleared off the bog and the fen,
If, after it's finished, its sheltering wall
Doesn't stand for the spirit of men.
For it isn't the marble, nor is it the stone
Nor is it the columns of steel,
By which is the worth of an edifice known;
But it's something that's living and real.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Inter Vias
'Tis a land where no hurricane falls,
But the infinite azure regards
Its waters for ever, its walls
Of granite, its limitless swards;
Where the fens to their innermost pool
With the chorus of May are aring,
And the glades are wind-winnowed and cool
With perpetual spring;
Where folded and half withdrawn
The delicate wind-flowers blow,
And the bloodroot kindles at dawn
Her spiritual taper of snow;
Where the limits are met and spanned
By a waste that no husbandman tills,
And the earth-old pine forests stand
In the hollows of hills.
'Tis the land that our babies behold,
Deep gazing when none are aware;
And the great-hearted seers of old
And the poets have known it, and there
Made halt by the well-heads of truth
On their difficult pilgrimage
From the rose-ruddy gardens of youth
To the summits of age.
Now too, as of old, it is sweet
With a presence remote and serene;
Still its byways are pressed by the feet
Of the mother immortal, its queen:
The huntress whose tresses, flung free,
And her fillets of gold, upon earth,
They only have honour to see
Who are dreamers from birth.
In her calm and her beauty supreme,
They have found her at dawn or at eve,
By the marge of some motionless stream,
Or where shadows rebuild or unweave
In a murmurous alley of pine,
Looking upward in silent surprise,
A figure, slow-moving, divine,
With inscrutable eyes.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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The Threshold Stone
WHEN I went to live in the little house,
That stands on the hilltop alone,
What touched me most of all
Was neither roof nor wall,
But the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
For when I entered that little house,
With its four rooms cool in the heat,
And its windows clean and bright,
There it lay, new-washed and white,
With its tale of the coming and the going of feet.
Then I lost count of time in that little house,
And the world and its things all about,
And I hearkened there, alone,
To the footfalls on that stone,
Of the young coming in and the old going out.
And the folk that had dwelt in that little house,
They were mute, spectre-mute, at my side —
The young man, strong and bold,
And the grey man, wise and old,
And the little, pinched woman and the new-made bride.
Oh, often in haste to that little house
Came love in the night-time alone,
And dallied there a while,
With a little, wistful smile,
And with feather-weight feet on the old threshold stone.
And men hurried home to that little house
When the round of the daytime was o'er
With its worry, heat and noise,
And kissed their girls and boys,
And the patient little mothers that waited at the door.
Though I dwell now no more in that little house
That stands on the hilltop alone,
Yet this I got from it —
This human story writ
On the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
Though they take stone from stone in that little house,
Making litter of all it has been.
Yet they shall not destroy
All the grief, all the joy,
All the youth, all the love that its threshold has seen.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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The Spilling Of The Wine
The soldiers lie upon the snow,
That no longer gyrates under the spinning lights
Night juggles in her fat black hands.
They will not babble any more secrets to loose-mouthed
nights
Expanding in golden auras,
While sleigh-bells jingle like new coins the darkness
shuffles . . .
They will not drink any more wine—
Wine of the Romanoffs,
Jewelled wine
The secret years worked slowly at
Till it was wrought to fire,
As stones are faceted
Until they give out light.
The soldiers lie very still.
Their shadows have shrunk up close
As toads shrink under a stone;
And night and silence,
The ancient cronies,
Foregather above them.
But still over the snow, that is white as a ram's fleece,
Arms swing like scythes . . .
And shadows in austere lines
Sway in a monstrous and mysterious ritual—
Shadows of the Kronstad sailors
Pouring blood and wine. . .
Wine
Spurting out of flagons in a spray of amethyst and gold,
Creeping in purple sluices;
Wine
And blood in thin bright streams
Besprinkling the immaculate snow;
Blood, high-powered with the heat of old vineyards,
Boring . . . into the cool snow . . .
Blood and wine
Mingling in bright pools
That suck at the lights of Petrograd
As dying eyes
Suck in their last sunset.
The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-piles—altar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice— Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 16
I remember having in the days of my youth passed through a street, intending to see a moon-faced beauty. It was in Temuz, whose heat dried up the saliva in the mouth and whose simum boiled the marrow in my bones. My weak human nature being unable to endure the scorching sun, I took refuge in the shadow of a wall, wishing someone might relieve me from the summer heat and quench my fire with some water; and lo, all of a sudden, from the darkness of the porch of a house a light shone forth, namely a beauty, the grace of which the tongue of eloquence is unable to describe. She came out like the rising dawn after an obscure night or the water of immortality gushing from a dark cavern, carrying in her hand a bowl of snow-water, into which sugar had been poured and essence of roses mixed. I knew not whether she had perfumed it with rose-water or whether a few drops from her rosy face had fallen into it. In short, I took the beverage from her beautiful hands, drank it and began to live again.
The thirst of my heart cannot be quenched
By sipping limpid water even if I drink oceans of it.
Blessed is the man of happy destiny whose eye
Alights every morning on such a countenance.
One drunk of wine awakens at midnight,
One drunk of the cupbearer on the morn of resurrection.
Call of Typhon
My eyes are set in fury made by raging flame
Every god will tremble at the mention of my name
Time itself will fissure at the ripples of my veins
The planes of all creation will be shattered by my pain
The seas will spit out waves of incalculable height
The mountains will cough steaming blood to light up all the night
The faults of earth will ring so loud no city will still stand
Pillars made of granite I will turn into sand
The gods will cry for mercy as I shatter all their bones
The earth will be in darkness like none have ever known
Where existence used to be, there shall only be a hole
Filled with all my rage and all my conquered souls
poem by Scott Marek
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Gravity And Desire
frozen...
the trees, grasses partly covered,
the smoke from the chimney,
the light in the window.
the streets with silence,
even the darkness suspended.
conversation, a stray cat,
the cup cracked in the sink.
the pouring, and the fire,
shadow held by shadow.
the heart buried in dawn,
the dawn held by the dark!
ghosts?
or just snowflakes,
no one names or remembers,
falling and gravity, gravity and desire...
frozen...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Drowning Away From Your Tears
I stare at you while you were sitting on top of the rock
looking back and forth between the ocean breeze and you
one glance at you a pang of tearing in my heart makes me
want to crawl towards you and comfort you
tears flow with the crashing waves of the ocean
I take shelter, protecting you, afraid you might get lost in the waves
holding you tight and close the tears kept pouring
just sitting on top of the rock with you I cry
I screamed at you; to make you understand that the ocean waves
isn't going to calm down unless you stop crying; shivering so much
the wind just kept blowing making us cold, our dripping wet clothes
gave us nothing but less comfort in the breeze
you cry again, I stare you and wondered what is making the rain pour from your eyes
the only thing I could do is sit there and hear you cry
the only comfort I could give is a hug and asking you whats wrong
as guilty as I feel I do nothing but lead you into the ocean
walking gently on the soft, wet sand I hold your hands
and walked in the ocean as if we were entering another world
discovering a new place to live; we thought if we could just walk in the ocean a new world presents
I let go of your hands and I walked away into the ocean and left you there
crying on the rock, I tried walking back but it was to late
I felt guilty just leaving you there on the rock crying by yourself
for others to easily attack you; I failed to protect you
my plan to let you enter with to another world
but nothing is accomplished, the tears you cry only brought me deeper
into the ocean not only once did I drowned, I drowned because I had
fears I was no use.....♥
poem by Alecia Nak
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Shola
Do not eat it raw nor boil it with water,
But only roast it on the fire!
For the young woman was very beautiful around you.
I will affirm your words,
I will affirm your love,
I will affirm your romance,
I will affirm your passion,
I will affirm your emotion,
I will affirm your kiss,
Like a vow to your maidservant.
'I alone am left of all the prophets of Yahweh but,
The prophets of Baal number 450 men'!
Do not eat it raw nor boil it with water,
But only roast it on the fire;
Like the long sufferings of my journey with hopes and dreams.
Of all our possessions accumulated on this earth,
They will not follow us into the graves;
So let us help and love one another than hate.
Shola, you are like the stone of Zoheleth;
But my love towards you is very special.
Shola, you are the one!
And do remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy;
For i have come to learn many things on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Beneath The Feet Of Love....
be it only then the phoenix
that rises from the ashes?
then who walks the valley of bones,
hearing voices from another world?
whose footprints in the waters?
whose scream etched in stone?
whose hands rising from the darkness,
whose grunt births the dawn?
can you feel this heat of nearness?
the softness inside this shadow?
even the candle's flame flickers,
as if whispering some hidden truth!
and the moments tick by shaking tambourines,
while words undress revealing sound...
it must be the sound of silence,
or the name not yet revealed.
i am the tongue cleaving to your breastbone,
the taste of hunger bitter on your lips.
i am the song of the ages,
you the conch shell of desire.
i am the hollow in the mockingbird's longing,
you the grain of the weathered oak.
i am the rhythm of the pounding waves,
you the shore that never ends.
perhaps the light of the faraway lighthouse,
or the hint of beckoning stars...
will guide this ship to its destination,
to lie beneath the feet of love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fire Air Water
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their snakish humor
Blessed you with beauty-
What a horrible solitary beauty they blessed you with;
And cursed the men in touch with you with the lust of flies.
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their punning humor
Pour passion on me to produce poetry:
As though I am fire air water too,
As though I am producing you,
As though your face is not blood, nor flesh, nor lust
But a nightly deodar island;
A desolate distant bluish island;
Nevertheless you are being used by the vulgar hands
And being dissolved across the earth of soil;
And I am being dissolved amid the shadow of stars over the distant island.
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their kaleidoscopic humor
Keep on spreading the seed of beauty,
The seed of dream on earth.
I ponder with surprise,
Where are you tonight?
Why can't beauty recognize the shadow of the stars over the solitary deodar island-
The beauty of that lady of the earth?
By the vulgar hands her beauty is being used- used- used- used- used-
Being used- used-
Fire air water: the primitive deities burst into laughter 'ho ho'
'Being used again and again and turning into pork? Ho ho'
'Ho ho ho' my troubled heart burst into laughter too! -
Amid this terrible laughter all around, the dark sea seemed to bloom
With a dead body of the enormous whale of darkness;
All the beauty of the universe stinks like the dead body of the enormous whale of darkness,
Wherever I go, among the comets over those seas and oceans
How normal, how natural!
Translation by S M Maniruzzaman
poem by Jibanananda Das
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An African Mother Advice
Tonight witches shall gather
Soon the sun will go to bed
Ndubisi my son come home
Come lay in your mother's arm
Let my love protect you
Under my bosom you will dwell
Till dawn in my warmth
Come my son
The moon is full tonight
Let me tell you stories
The morals you must hold
Close to your heart all your life
Let them guide your thoughts
Leading you through life's path
My son
You're a prince
Like an ant be wise
Let your judgment be sound
Let your heart be filled with mercy
Give alms to the poor
Give food to the hungry
Son
Fear the woman
Her love is sweet
Her heart is dark
Keep your strength
For the love you shall find
And you shall be fruitful
My dear son
I have watched you grow
Your temper is quick
I fear it would destroy you
Hold it in check
Say but a few words
Let them be your bonds
My son
Your are my strength
Do not forget me when am old
Remember the breast that fed you
Let my old bones cling unto you
Let my dry skin feel your warmth
My son soon
I will be gone from here
Uphold your father's name
Let not his legacies die
Do me proud in your deeds
From the spirit land I will smile
For even in death I will watch you
poem by Charles Bernard
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Darkness
Gene pitney
Darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
Voices, I hear voices
Sounds in the still night everywhere
But youre not there
No, youre not there
Imagination brings you so near
I reach for your lips, but theyre not here
All of my memories are closing in as one
I walk a little faster, than I start to run
Darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
I long to hold you, thrill to your charm
But how can I hold shadows in my arms?
I reach to find you, stumbling through the night
Searching in my sadness, looking for the light
But theres darkness, only darkness
Land of shadow
Thats where my heart goes
Now Im alone, Im on my own
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodbye Mother Dear
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Can you hold me close, can you hold me near?
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
Will you listen, listen to my words of fear?
Mother, I am inside your womb.
Mother, you hold the key.
Mother, is it too late, too soon?
Mother, what do you see?
I hear your heart beat, beat, beat,
It comforts me when I am asleep.
I feel your warmth, I feel your heat,
But mother dear, I feel you weep.
Mother, I am so full of fear.
Mother, I see it in your tear.
Mother, I know you cry and why.
Mother, I know we must say goodbye.
(if only you could let me grow
my love to you then i could show
but that i know cannot be so
the time has come for me to go)
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Do not feel guilt, do not feel fear.
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
For a while, you held me near.
© Morney Wilson
poem by Morney Wilson
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Alunan 5
Poet travelling over water
befriend the wind
let it ride easy
in the hollows
of your bones
open your bosom
for wind to go through
storm rising
fron the abyss
could pitch your
on the rocks
blow the skull apart
for darkness and sun
coldness and heat
to flow in without staying
salt-caked and split
your tongue will breed
secret words
of the wind's singing
now then
will the wind
command the billows
to bear you
the tide to lay your bones
under the moon
to bleach wothout rancor
without bliss everything forgiven
your name that wind spells
on water the syllables
so very kindly
very gently leave
where it will
posted by merlie alunan @ 12: 18 AM
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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