Two at sea shore
Sitting
together
in quiet moments
looking into world of water,
torrent of waves;
freeze fire of hearts
young couple,
evoke current of soul
reminiscence of past
the old
on strand
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Related quotes
One Whisper of the Beloved
Lovers share a sacred decree –
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.
At times we flow toward the Beloved
like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor –
that is the job of the Beloved.
He breathes into my ear
until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul –
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?
He will melt your pride
making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.
We search for Him here and there
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
'O Beloved, where is the Beloved?'
Enough with such questions! –
Let silence take you to the core of life.
All your talk is worthless
When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.
Quiet Moments
While sitting in the quiet moments
faces from the past flicker pass,
old loves and friends from a bygone era
mingle together in days gone by.
Some have passed away
and other are simply gone
swallowed up within the mist of time.
None are forgotten for the joy they brought
when the heart was at its lowest ebb.
They remain to be remembered
each day that passes through
when we sit in our quiet moments
for a few second each day.
8 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Sitting by the Fire
Barren Age and withered World!
Oh! the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth!
Sitting by the fire,
Watching in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro.
Oh, the nights - the nights we've spent,
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow;
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago!
If the days were days of toil
Wherefore should we mourn;
There were shadows near the shine,
Flowers with the thorn?
And we still can recollect
Evenings spent in mirth -
Fragments of a broken life,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow,
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago.
Beauty stooped to bless us once,
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow;
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.
Words of love were interchanged,
Maiden hearts we stole;
And the light affection throws
Slept on every soul.
Oh, the hours went flying past -
Hours of priceless worth;
But we took no note of Time,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow,
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.
Gleesome children were we not?
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.
Laughing voices filled the room;
Oh, the songs we sung,
When the evenings hurried by -
When our hearts were young!
Pleasant faces watched the flame -
Eyes illumed with mirth -
And we told some merry tales,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.
Barren Age and withered World!
Oh, the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Watching, in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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In twin
It needs a couple of wings
To fly
A couple to walk
A couple to talk
And for love a couple of hearts
to beat
To rain it needs a couple
To shine it needs a couple
And the life it needs to share
With couple
For one smile it needs
two hearts
In one band
in the bundle of love
The heart is not alone
Not bachelor
That is way
They beat
In twin.
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Drowning
My smile has been declined
The laughter in my world silenced
I feel stone weights around my ankles
And tomorrow seems like a year away
I feel blocks of cement on my shoulder
And waves of muddy water pulling me under
I travel close to walls and windows
And in quiet moments my breathing ceases
I yearn for bodies of crystal clear ice cold water
Waves of surrender shattering my soul into pieces
Pieces that will start new life in a different place
A place where every sunrise will renew my life
I want to dance on the ground of oceans
Embrace the shadows of shipwrecks
Float in the nothingness of currents
Be caressed by wild flocks of sea grass
Surrounded by soft masses of liquid
I could find reason in a world of pain
Then I wake up to the dawn of a new morning
And no thoughts of drowning remain
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Beauty
i agree what you say about inner beauty
the windows of your soul
through your eyes
to the secret chambers of your heart
holiness and peace
glow like burning fire in your head
as you evoke your presence
forgive me, but i am more tempted
as usual
to the external
the flesh that wraps your bones
the curves that travel around your body
the warmth of your arms
the softness of your touch
your lips
and breasts your thighs and groins
i see them more now as i kiss you
i am young. so young to see
to want these all.
i do not bother about your soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire and Water
Fire and water.
Fire and water, closer than we think.
We always think of fire
The destroyer, the demolisher.
We always think water
The life-bringer, the rebuilder
But, what about flash floods?
Rushing, raging taking all.
What about forest fires?
Spreading nutrients,
And maintaining habitats?
Also, without fire there is no passion
No love, no drive
But, without water no serenity,
no restraint, or peace
we need to keep balance in our lives
fire and water duality
kindness in our hearts
passion in our work
Fire and water.
poem by Matt Daffern
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102
beauty
i agree what you say about inner beauty
the windows of your soul
through your eyes
to the secret chambers of your heart
holiness and peace
glow like burning fire in your head
as you evoke your presence
forgive me, but i am more tempted
as usual
to the external
the flesh that wraps your bones
the curves that travel around your body
the warmth of your arms
the softness of your touch
your lips
and breasts your thighs and groins
i see them more now as i kiss you
i am young. so young to see to want these all.
i do not bother about your soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shelter From The Rain
When our hearts were young
We put our hands into the flames
Felt the heat from our emotions
We had fire in our veins
All those night wed spend
Alone in your room
Though my silent thoughts
I still remember
We would use the power of love
Free our souls in endless love
We would sacrifice
Our hopes and dreams
Because without love
Our world would surely die
When our hearts were young
We never thought that
Life would change
Now the seasons go on
Oh why do we shelter from the rain
And all those nights wed spend
Alone in your room
Through my silent thoughts
I still remember
When our hearts were young
We had fire in our veins
And each time we touched
Wed melt in the flames
When our hearts were young
We knew pleasure, we knew plain
But each time we kissed
Wed burn in the flames
Feel the fire in our veins
When our hearts were young ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boy with Fire in His Eyes
The boy with fire in his eyes
Stands there waiting.
It is his soul inside;
It keeps him standing.
And if ever the fire goes out,
He will freeze in the cold.
It is his heat
And all that keeps him living.
Or if it never is put to use,
It will consume him;
He will burn to the ground
His ashes left behind.
But if the fire blazes,
If kindled, kept and carried,
If the boy with fire in his eyes
Finds life inside that fire,
His fire will light the world,
Will pierce the mist,
A fire to drive the dark away
Forever and ever more.
poem by Daniel Nairn
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Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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`Oh, if that Rainbow up there!
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Spanning the sky past the hill,
Slenderly, tenderly fair
Shining with colours that thrill,
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment could reach
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach!
Here where the waves wash the strand,
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go.
Climb its frail rigging and go?
Where is its haven of rest?
Out in the gleam and the glow
Of the blood-red waves of the West?
Or where the isles of the dawn
Lie on an amethyst sea,
Does it drift, pale and forlorn,
Ghost of the glory I see?
Is there, ah, is there a land
Such as the Icelanders say,
Or past the West's ruddy strand
Or on the edge of the day,
Some undiscovered clime
Seen through a cloud's sudden rift,
Where all the rainbows of Time
Slowly and silently drift?
Some happy port of a sea
Never a world's sail has made,
Where till the earth shadows flee
Never a rainbow may fade.
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment would reach,
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach.
Here where the waves wash the strand
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go!
poem by Ethel Turner
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Quiet Thunder
The whisper comes
so close
feather light
on my face,
warm
to my cheek,
a low
Quiet Thunder.
Whispers
are where intimacy lives
where moments freeze
where time is mesmerizing;
all faculties
peak;
alert
anticipating another
whisper-leaf tone
falling
to my ear
still half asleep.
But the content is clear;
someone is whispering
'I love you'
Only the intimacy
which comes on
whisper wings
floats true.
I imagine
God's first call
was
a whispering one.
That Love's first utterings
were not loud
but soft
rustlings
from a softly lilting heart.
Sadly too.
my moms last words
were whispers;
her breath
wispy
tailing off
whisper lost.
Most of my real moments-
small child hurt
or comforted-
come in whispered tones
or moments said
'You'll be alright.'
All in all
its clear
whispers come
when the soul speaks
which is why I listen
to the Quiet Thunder
they represent.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Faces Of My Past
Just lately for some reason
faces of old, friends
who have passed away
flicker across my memory
constantly day after day.
Sometimes I even dream of them.
Holding conversations
with them there.
I know of late that I’ve been
feeling lonely within myself.
It could be the past
I yean for once more.
A past unattainable,
something that has gone forever.
The more I think of it,
the more the faces I see.
In quiet moments I sit
like I’ve always done
and try to concentrate,
but the faces of the past
begin to reappear again.
It would seem like
the past doesn’t want to let me go
and times then races by.
Before you know, the quiet space
has all but gone.
21 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Clouds Beg Admiration
clouds wind race
over eternal skies
chasing dream horizons
whispering revelations
in hearts soul soaring
hearts touching sky
hearts swimming
cosmic wind surfing
solar winds waves
into universal mysteries
keys entice unlocking
moments in meditations
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Love Is A Ship
My love is a ship living on
I have given back my life to God since I was born
that is a proof with which I live as hard as possible
on a calm day with quiet waves
on a stormy day with ghost waves
I try to deal with the proplems I have to take care of at any current times
on a pleasant day I would make the day sound twice happier with precious words
on a lonely day I would make the day sound half sad with my warm memories
and someday
the shore I would reach
where I would be rooted with my soul
I keep dreaming of the day
Throwing me away
As missing the world sent away
I begin beckoning
Missing the world
The boring world came closer one strand by one strand
That one strand and one strand pierce me
I just start to beckon, though
Since I can't hold my heart
I struggle toward that world with trembling heart
Until the whole world is mine
You have to be mine
poem by Chulsoo Kim
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Sunset By The Sea
I'm unable to visit a seaside town, and not see the mighty ocean;
I find myself being pulled there, with a sense of magnetic motion.
I sit surveying the sea, for a while, with a completely rested mind;
Moments like these, in everyday life, can be so very hard to find.
The lamps which line both sides of the long, wooden panelled pier,
Shine brightly, through the gathering gloom, bringing some cheer.
Despite the bitterly cold weather, and the now fast fading daylight,
Dozens of joggers disappear down the prom, running into the night.
Between the sea and sky, there is usually a distinct horizon to see,
But the sight which I see before my eyes, seems very strange to me:
The sea and sky seem to appear as one: both a shade of light grey;
To onlookers, only the foam crested waves, give the game away.
Waves rapidly rush towards the beach, and they furiously foam.
Along the water's edge, only the odd few stragglers still do roam.
On the shining, sodden sand, I see a young couple's reflection;
Looking relaxed, they stroll, hand in hand, in the sea's direction.
A couple rest on the railings, watching the roaring, rolling surf;
Nothing can measure what moments, like these, are really worth.
The pearly sky is streaked with shades of greys, blues, and pinks.
In the far distance, a string of white lights seems to urgently wink.
The light is fading, but, still, people are drawn towards the sea;
For some, it seems the only place where they really want to be.
The effect which water has on people, seems to be very calming;
Towns situated by the sea, are always considered very charming.
Once I'm stood before the ocean, I so desperately want to stay,
And I find it almost impossible to have to drag myself away.
But, in the end, I have to leave, as tonight I have a concert date;
It is the sole reason for my being here, so I really can't be late.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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