On A Palmetto
Through all that year-scarred agony of height,
Unblest of bough or bloom, to where expands
His wandy circlet with his bladed bands
Dividing every wind, or loud or light,
To termless hymns of love and old despite,
Yon tall palmetto in the twilight stands,
Bare Dante of these purgatorial sands
That glimmer marginal to the monstrous night.
Comes him a Southwind from the scented vine,
It breathes of Beatrice through all his blades,
North, East or West, Guelph-wind or Ghibelline,
'Tis shredded into music down the shades;
All sea-breaths, land-breaths, systol, diastol,
Sway, minstrels of that grief-melodious Soul.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Short of Breath
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
my breathing’s weak and my chest is sore.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
I have to breathe deeply at a slower rate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
I’m four breaths closer than I was before.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
my mouth’s wide open, but I can’t inflate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
it’ll be the end when I breathe no more.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
I’m sure someone's rattling heaven's gate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
well that’s it, I can't count no more.
poem by Orlando Belo
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4. Blow me down
The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew
The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed
The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best
The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The winds
From the meadows her walks have left a balm so sweet
That whenever summer wind wilts and sighs
It sets the jewel print of her lovely feet
In violet blue hue as her slaying eyes
To the woody hollows in which we hide and meet
And the heavenly valleys of daunting Paradise
A slender bird in foliage high, his wings would not shake
One long white bloom of a tall sturdy tree
The white bloom reed fell bending into the fresh lake
As the pimpernels dozed in the summer sun on the lea
But the rose was all night advocating her sake
Knowing my love promise to me
With the lilies they were all night awake
wondering what my love acts and takes will prove to be
Four winds blowing through the bright sky,
My heart is heavy with forlorn love
You have seen poor me under the burden of love I die,
No remedy from the mountains around or the heaven above
I asked the winds: Tell me then what I shall do
That my maiden love may be honest, virtue and true.
Shall I be stern with her to the haughty
Or shall kisses and sweet talks will sway the maid so naughty
Oh, sighed the spring wind from out the South,
'Lay a kiss upon her voluptuous mouth, '
And the winter grumpy wind from out the West without mercy or taste,
'Wound the heart within the lovely valley of her breast, '
A prompt protest came from the summer wind from out the East,
'On the contrary! Send her a banquet of a lavish feast, '
With disdain and mockery breaths the autumn wind from out the North,
Exclaimed: 'In the tempest winds thrust her forth;
Shall I be cruel and harsh as she
Then her love will pacify and relent to be kind to me
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Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind Of Prediction
As the trees play in the breeze
Do you wonder what it may mean.
Does the wind coming from a certain direction
Mean something we should heed.
North wind blows cold and dry
Originating from the elements of earth
Read as the wind of death, colour black
Time to abondon issues no longer needed
Heed the news from the North.
West wind blows moist and fertile
Elements of water, coloured blue
Soothing, sensitive and healing.
Touch the cleansing power of the West.
South wind blows hot and dry
Of element fire, colour red
Usethe initiative and passion
To boost the ideals
Haste to feel the southern breeze.
East wind blows from the orient light
Assaulting with cold dry feel
Symbol of air, coloured white
Trust new starts from the East.
North South East and West
Thus the world changes
From whence it blows
That is what it will show
Predictions blown around.
poem by Alison Smith
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Beatrice
There's fairies at the bottom of the garden
Beatrice said
And led her brother
Carefully amid the dew
'They use the water lillies for their bed'
'And lie in long grass so quitely out of view'
Her brother said, with a sigh
He thought she was quite crazy.
Oh, the secrets she could share
To change his mind.
He laughed aloud and nicknamed Beatrice
'Miss Fantasie'
One solitary flower was all the treasure
He would find.
So, beatrice with a tear
Was on her own
Nobody else could hear
Their sweetest tone.
And as twilight, still would bring
Many a golden gossamer wing
The world would only miss her when she'd flown.
High above the trees on spectral morning
They did take her
To a land of fragrant azure scented mist.
A sunlight now revealed their heaven dawning
And felt as if by petal she was kissed.
Euphoria of music, watching every colour glisten
Harlequin embroidered
Dress she wore so fair.
In silent cloud she'd float and in awe to beauty listen
The Princess in a land of love mystere.
And as her brother awoke
So early on the morrow
His Mother sat in kitchen, head in hands
'My baby's gone'
She kept repeating ion her sorrow
A 'hit and run'
Her life was done
Who understands?
So. yes, we know
That in her garden are no fairies.
But we know her best embroidered dress is gone.
And Beatrice calls on silent wind
- How sweet their care is.
Now there's a spirit in the trees
Where her light shone.
poem by Kevin East
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The Wind's Journey
Winds blowing from the east
Transplanted scents into the west,
Wandered into jungles of concrete wall,
Struggling to fit in cranny nooks of tall
Structures, that hastens its journey through
Man-made woods – a jungle of towers blew
And drove the wind from western grey mist,
Back to the east, refresh and crisply blest,
While easterly mist touched the west wind
And blow forth again to trees and leaves of green
From east to the west its circular route dawdle
Wanting to re-touch thus lingered to mingle
Attempting to refine a wind made stale
By man’s rancorous ill will, east wind’s wail
The west wind wavered, intertwined forever
To retouch and refresh the earth’s dwindling fresh air
poem by Jona PoloRamirez
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Inherit The Wind
(words & music by eddie rabbitt)
Baby dont fall in love with me
Ill only bring you grief
Baby, dont set your heart on me
Ill only have to leave
cause the north wind flows through my veins
Like my dad theres a dream in my brain
In the morning Ill have to leave again
Thats how it is when you inherit the wind
Inherit the wind
Daddy, he was a traveling man
I hardly knew his face
Momma, she cried for him at night
He never stayed in one place
cause the north wind flows through my veins
Like my dad theres a dream in my brain
In the morning Ill have to leave again
Thats how it is when you inherit the wind
Inherit the wind
Oh I cant give you the love you need
I just wont be here that long
But if you still want me here tonight
Ill love you till the break of dawn
cause the north wind flows through my veins
Like my dad theres a dream in my brain
In the morning Ill have to leave again
Thats how it is when you inherit the wind
Inherit the wind
Inherit the wind, inherit the wind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lyrics Of Love And Sorrow
I
Love is the light of the world, my dear,
Heigho, but the world is gloomy;
The light has failed and the lamp down hurled,
Leaves only darkness to me.
Love is the light of the world, my dear,
Ah me, but the world is dreary;
The night is down, and my curtain furled
But I cannot sleep, though weary.
Love is the light of the world, my dear,
Alas for a hopeless hoping,
When the flame went out in the breeze that swirled,
And a soul went blindly groping.
II
The light was on the golden sands,
A glimmer on the sea;
My soul spoke clearly to thy soul,
Thy spirit answered me.
Since then the light that gilds the sands,
And glimmers on the sea,
But vainly struggles to reflect
The radiant soul of thee.
III
The sea speaks to me of you
All the day long;
Still as I sit by its side
You are its song.
The sea sings to me of you
Loud on the reef;
Always it moans as it sings,
Voicing my grief.
IV
My dear love died last night;
Shall I clothe her in white?
My passionate love is dead,
Shall I robe her in red?
But nay, she was all untrue,
She shall not go drest in blue;
Still my desolate love was brave,
Unrobed let her go to her grave.
V
There are brilliant heights of sorrow
That only the few may know;
And the lesser woes of the world, like waves,
Break noiselessly, far below.
I hold for my own possessing,
A mount that is lone and still--
The great high place of a hopeless grief,
And I call it my 'Heart-break Hill.'
And once on a winter's midnight
I found its highest crown,
And there in the gloom, my soul and I,
Weeping, we sat us down.
But now when I seek that summit
We are two ghosts that go;
Only two shades of a thing that died,
Once in the long ago.
So I sit me down in the silence,
And say to my soul, 'Be still,'
So the world may not know we died that night,
From weeping on 'Heart-break Hill.'
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Ah Me! Ah Me!
Ah, me! Ah, me! My weary doom to labour here in the Palace!
Seven good wine-jars have I - and three in my province.
There where they stand I have hung straight-stemmed gourds of the finest -
They turn to the West when the East wind blows,
They turn to the East when the West wind blows,
They turn to the North when the South wind blows,
They turn to the South when the North wind blows.
And there I sit watching them turning and turning forever-
Oh, my gourds! Oh, my wine-jars!
poem by Sugawara Takesue no Musume
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A Death-Parting
LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Three Island Songs
AFTER the wind in the wood,
Peace, and the night.
After the bond and the brood,
Flight.
After the height and the hush
Where the wild hawk swings,
Heart of the earth-loving thrush
Shaken with wings.
After the bloom and the leaf
Rain on the nest.
After the splendour and grief,
Rest.
After the hills and the far
Glories and gleams,
Cloud, and the dawn of a star,
And dreams.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
O, THE gray rocks of the islands and the hemlock green above them,
The foam beneath the wild rose bloom, the star above the shoal.
When I am old and weary I'll wake my heart to love them,
For the blue ways of the islands are wound about my soul.
[Page 66]
Here in the early even when the young gray dew is falling,
And the king-heron seeks his mate beyond the loneliest wild,
Still your heart in the twilight, and you'll hear the river calling
Through all her outmost islands to seek her lastborn child.
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------
I SAT among the green leaves, and heard the nuts falling,
The broad red butterflies were gold against the sun,
But in between the silence and the sweet birds calling
The nuts fell one by one.
Why should they fall and the year but half over ?
Why should sorrow seek me and I so young and kind ?
The leaf is on the bough and the dew is on the clover,
But the green nuts are falling in the wind.
O, I gave my lips away and all my soul behind them.
Why should trouble follow and the quick tears start ?
The little birds may love and fly with only God to mind them,
But the green nuts are falling on my heart.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Available Light
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
The restless wind
Has seen all things
In every kind of light
Rising with the full moon
To go howling through the night
The sleepless wind
Has heard all things
Between the sea and sky
In the canyons of the city
You can hear the buildings cry
Oh the wind can carry
All the voices of the sea
Oh the wind can carry
All the echoes home to me
Run with wind and weather
To the music of the sea
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Chase the wind around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Play of light
A photograph
The way I used to be
Some half-forgotten stranger
Doesnt mean that much to me
Trick of light
Moving picture
Moments caught in flight
Make the shadows darker
Or the colors shine too bright
Oh the light can carry
All the visions of the sea
Oh the light can carry
All the images to me
Run to light from shadow
Sun gives me no rest
Promise offered in the east
Broken in the west
Chase the sun around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Shadows hide the play of light
So much I want to see
Chase the light around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Ill go with the wind
Ill stand in the light
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Four Places Of Sorrow
There is sorrow for me in the North, where the black wind blows,
(Hush, O Wind of the dirges, O Voice of the restless dead!)
The ache of its cruel keening thro' my heart like an arrow goes,
I see in the tossing waters the sheen of a dear bright head.
There is sorrow for me in the South, where the white wind sings,
(Hush, O Wind of all lovers, crooning a laugh and a cry!)
On the pain of a dream love-haunted breaks the music of wings,
Seagulls, sweeping and swaying, saw ye my dead drift by?
There is sorrow for me in the East, where the red wind burns,
(Hush, O Wind of remorse, O Wind of the scourging flame!)
Under its slow cold dawning the soul of the drowned returns
And wan, in the startled daybreak, a ghost from the sea he came.
There is sorrow for me in the West, where the brown wind raves,
(Hush, O Wind from the bogs, O memory-freighted Wind!)
He is spindrift hither and thither, sport of unweary waves:
Would that my heart were close on his heart, my eyes on his eyes were blind!
poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
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Wind
The calendar-dated joy
The alarm waking breath
The nine-month expectation
The delicacy of a rose
The coarseness of a leaf
The destined seasons
The place of the dayspring
Harmattan's and winter's dry and chill
Autumn, as the leaves leave home and hit the ground
The trees say goodbye as you fall
Summer, your sun's glory days
Rain, God's crying ways, your pain aches
Spring, the flowers they bloom and so do you
Music, the hemoglobin of my heart
The acoustic guitar, the violin...
Words, spoken few, written more
Three words that makes all the difference
Killed some, healed some, made some
God, my lifetime dated lover
The life-timed goodbye, death
Leaves the soil wetter
Turns the light on for those it takes
Dims the lamp for those behind
The winds, ah, the winds
The North wind brought you in nine months
And pours on you the grace to live
And shines on you the light that will guide you back North
The East wind, brought love your way
Hope you loved deeply and truly?
The healing, the rising of your sun
The making of the you, you are
The West wind, it sets your sun
The pain, the love lost, the darkness
The loss, the aching sea, the grief
The South wind, the calender-dated end
Pulling down the poster of the nine-month gift
Ending the sojourn on the countryside
The last string of the violin
The last note of a song
Did you dance while the song was playing?
Did you hear the music or at least feel your heart beat
Me, you, we, are waiting for a purpose to rise
The calender-dated joy
Your wedding day, graduation, golden anniversary
Are you happy today?
Were you with joy as each wind blew
I wasn't, I'm not...I'm wrong
Each wind plays a song
Tells a story...listen...its the story of life
And there's a hand offering to dance
To dance, oh, to dance with you
To the song of all songs
To sway with you as each wind blows
To be your joy every day in your calendar
He's the one who cried the rain
That you may blossom in summer
Who wants to keep you warmer than warm in winter's cruel
And when the South wind blows its last
The winds have stopped
Plays the last note of that beautiful song
He named...your life.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Dantis Tenebrae (In Memory of my Father)
AND didst thou know indeed, when at the font
Together with thy name thou gav'st me his,
That also on thy son must Beatrice
Decline her eyes according to her wont,
Accepting me to be of those that haunt
The vale of magical dark mysteries
Where to the hills her poet's foot-track lies,
And wisdom's living fountain to his chaunt
Trembles in music? This is that steep land
Where he that holds his journey stands at gaze
Tow'rd sunset, when the clouds like a new height
Seem piled to climb. These things I understand:
For here, where day still soothes my lifted face,
On thy bowed head, my father, fell the night.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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For Spring By Sandro Botticelli
WHAT masque of what old wind-withered New-Year
Honours this Lady? Flora, wanton-eyed
For birth, and with all flowrets prankt and pied:
Aurora, Zephyrus, with mutual cheer
Of clasp and kiss: the Graces circling near,
'Neath bower-linked arch of white arms glorified:
And with those feathered feet which hovering glide
O'er Spring's brief bloom, Hermes the harbinger.
Birth-bare, not death-bare yet, the young stems stand
This Lady's temple-columns: o'er her head
Love wings his shaft. What mystery here is read
Of homage or of hope? But how command
Dead Springs to answer? And how question here
These mummers of that wind-withered New-Year?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Four Winds
"Four winds blowing through the sky,
You have seen poor maidens die,
Tell me then what I shall do
That my lover may be true."
Said the wind from out the south,
"Lay no kiss upon his mouth,"
And the wind from out the west,
"Wound the heart within his breast,"
And the wind from out the east,
"Send him empty from the feast,"
And the wind from out the north,
"In the tempest thrust him forth;
When thou art more cruel than he,
Then will Love be kind to thee."
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Love Come To Me
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to lie upon my loveless bed ~
now filled with thorns of passions past,
into the wind, the thorns I cast.
Love, come to me in lilac hue,
with scented breath of lilac blue
and essence of love's lost repast ~
into the wind, lost love I cast.
Love, come to me in leaves of green,
with greening leaves of emerald sheen ~
awaiting in the brambling bough,
into the wind, I cast love now.
Love, come to me in yellowed fields,
lined with the golden daffodils ~
awaiting love to come along,
into the wind, I cast love's song.
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to rest and dream upon my bed ~
with scented breath of lilac blue
and daffodils of golden hue.
Love, come to me in nature's light.
It pleasures me with every sight ~
of red, and blue, and golden hue,
into the wind, I cast love true.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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