Miracles
I dreamt I saw a huge grey boat in silence steaming
Down a canal; it drew the dizzy landscape after;
The solemn world was sucked along with it—a streaming
Land-slide of loveliness. O, but I rocked with laughter,
Staring, and clinging to my tree-top. For a lake
Of gleaming peace swept on behind. (I mustn’t wake.)
And then great clouds gathered and burst in spumes of green
That plunged into the water; and the sun came out
On glittering islands thronged with orchards scarlet-bloomed;
And rosy-plumed flamingoes flashed across the scene...
O, but the beauty of their freedom made me shout...
And when I woke I wondered where on earth I’d been.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Related quotes
The never-ending road
I saw the landscape passing by,
while the car swept
on with a never-ending road.
Buildings rose up into the air
and everywhere people were
packed square by square
in offices, flats and apartments.
White yellow mine dumps
and huge cranes glided by
and I felt small as a fly,
against the immensity of it all
Acres of corn surrounded me
and all the way to the horizon,
I saw no tree.
The green was all around me
and a mechanical spray point,
where showering water in an arc.
The land flattened
while I drove South
and grey thorn bushes flashed by.
Here and there
some rocky outcrops
stood red brown against the flat plain,
but everything begged for a dropp of rain.
In the far distance up in the sky
a lightning bolt twisted to the ground
and when the rain came gushing down,
life sprouted from the sand.
The road stretched on
and in the distance
the black of the tar
met with the sky
and except for the windmills I passed by,
that road could have been
anywhere on this good great earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Flower of Youth
LEST Heaven be thronged with grey-beards hoary,
God, who made boys for His delight,
Stoops in a day of grief and glory
And calls them in, in from the night.
When they come trooping from the war
Our skies have many a new gold star.
Heaven's thronged with gay and careless faces,
New-waked from dreams of dreadful things,
They walk in green and pleasant places
And by the crystal water-springs
Who dreamt of dying and the slain,
And the fierce thirst and the strong pain.
Dear boys! They shall be young for ever.
The Son of God was once a boy.
They run and leap by a clear river
And of their youth they have great joy.
God, who made boys so clean and good,
Smiles with the eyes of fatherhood.
Now Heaven is by the young invaded;
Their laughter's in the House of God.
Stainless and simple as He made it
God keeps the heart o' the boy unflawed.
The old wise Saints look on and smile,
They are so young and without guile.
Oh! if the sonless mothers, weeping,
And widowed girls could look inside
The glory that hath them in keeping
Who went to the Great War, and died,
They would rise and put their mourning off,
And say: 'Thank God, he has enough!'
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Nature's Favorite Color
The green foliage is an attractive sight
On the vast landscape on a clear summer day,
As the white daisies gradually unfold along the side
Of a winding roadway that is somber and gray.
It is a picturesque view that one will readily admit,
Blesses the color of green to the greatest height,
And yet it is a scene that enlightens one's mind
With euphoria and great pleasure and delight.
It is not the beauty of the unfolding rose,
Nor the mellow sunflowers near the old mill,
But the color green - Nature's matchless green
On the highlands that gives one a welcomed thrill.
It is beholding of the color of green,
On the growth of leaves on a swaying tree,
And on the landscape far and wide indeed,
As green is Nature's favorite color for all to see.
.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Beauty Also Is Not Beautiful
The beauty of a grave
Beneath maggot reigning
The beauty of the brave
oh! Hills of self depending
The beauty of a lady
Men large lake of lust
Where their homes fell in melancholy
The beauty of being trust
Reverse opposite in character
The beauty of being on throne
Manager with great damager
Disease in masses back-bone
The beauty of being loyal to one's land
All in peace but treason during pieces
O the beauty of the world
Earth of ocean of damages
Beauty also not beautiful
But my rhyme is meaningful.
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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The hijol* tree’s shade
Her fault was she had been to the river to look at herself
The god of the river took her down to the water and that’s that
The one who jumped in to bring her from the water
Had a boat of ejar* wood and his calves too were ejar-hued
Leaving boat and oar meandering under water
The light house of truth glimmered in the distance easy as a straight line
Exhausted swimming as they got out of water on to land
Under the shade of the hijol by the river they looked at their eyes
The colour of breath under water was green on land it’s like land
The shade of the hijol hides all unwritten annals of the earth
***
* The Indian oak, Barringtonia acutangula.
* A species of timber tree, Lagerstroemia reginae.
(Translated from Assamese by Prof. Pradip Acharya)
poem by Kushal Dutta
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On embarking to return we could perceive no sign of One Tree Island; and as we swept down towards the sea the leafy top of a tree seen in the clear water under the boat was the only evidence of its existence; though a few hours ago it had formed so prominent an object.
quote by George Grey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Grey Water
Now two have met, now two have met,
Who may not meet again—
Two grains of sand, two blades of grass,
Two threads within the skein—
Beside the Great Grey Water.
Two hands to touch, two hearts to touch;
And, here forgathered, we
Will not forget, may not forget,
Where last forgathered three—
Beyond the Great Grey Water.
Two glasses filled, two pipes to fill—
‘To all our fortunes, brother!’
And as they clink—like so—we drink
Fair passage to the other
Across the Great Grey Water.
For three have sailed, and one has sailed,
His sins, like ours, still on him,
God sleep his soul! five oceans roll
Their long weight all upon him.
O God! thy Great Grey Water!
But I am still, and you are still,
And here our chance has flung us;
True comrades we, but…there were three
And one is not among us
Beside the Great Grey Water.
A breathing space, a biding place,
Soft lights and beakers beaded,
Then out again and on again,
Unminded and unheeded,
Across the Great Grey Water.
Now two have met where three have met
With curses or with laughter;
And so our Day shall pass away,
And so our Night come after—
But, ah! the Great Grey Water
poem by Edwin James Brady
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My Beau
I sat, my back resting against a tree trunk,
The sun shining full on my face,
I felt as if my whole being had shrunk,
As I looked out, at this huge open space.
This tree was enormous, such girth must have been
Created by vast centuries of time,
I was but a speck, when from such distance seen,
Yet it stood strong, as if just in its prime.
The views were stupendous, and over the lake,
Four herons were skimming in pairs,
So elegant were they, as each circle they'd take,
No, rushing with time, and no cares.
And as I sat pondering, the lake sparkled on,
The tree trunk, at my back, my support,
Then all of a sudden the sunshine had gone,
And a shadow across me was wrought.
But still I sat on, in this spellbinding scene,
It held me enraptured as though,
I was part of the landscape, and had always been,
And this tree was my 'soulmate' my 'beau'!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Awaken to Beauty
Sun, sparkling on water
Rainbow in sky.
Full moon, shimmering over cities,
Beauty, beauty is by.
See through the black, the grey,
To colours all around,
Brightening your world, your life;
Beauty, beauty surrounds.
The new leaves on spring trees,
Buds on daffodils.
Flowers, trees bursting with glory,
Beauty, beauty fills.
Snow covering, crystal white,
Summer, green, grass.
Each season brings new pleasures,
Beauty, beauty lasts.
Stand still awhile and see
If you can discern
The loveliness in front of you,
Beauty at every turn.
Bring happiness to your senses,
Bear gladness into you,
Take sometime for yourself,
Beauty is there; stays true.
Sonnet-A New Year's Sonnet
Wake up; Wake up, for a New Year is born!
Spring-time has come and the Oak has acorn;
Wake up; Wake up, for the sweet songs of Birds;
They twitter and chatter, flying in hordes.
Wake up; Wake up, for the meadow is green;
The landscape is so bright, lively, serene;
Wake up; Wake up, for the tall grass in dance,
To the tune of the Wind, marching perchance.
Wake up; Wake up, for the gorgeous flowers,
Have blossom'd after the Spring-time showers;
Wake up; Wake up, for the Sun has come out;
’Tis warm day indeed for running about.
Wake up; Wake up, for the weather is fine;
’Tis time you made peace with neighbours with wine
poem by John Celes
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At 25k Feet Above
on a bed of clouds
feet dangling into the sea
you and me
above the clouds
the horizon beckoned us
we glided in the air
bits and pieces
clouds dispersed below the sky
new horizon teased
in a wink
the clouds spread as one grey spread
we melted as rain
vapour they turned
the heat within melted
we rocked
wings cut
through layers and layers of
moving vapours
slowly descended
we from the clouds above
earth-reality!
ah, you lifted me
above earth; closer to sky
dropped me on land again!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Battle Cry Of Freedom (Southern Version)
Our flag is proudly floating
On the land and on the main,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Beneath it oft we've conquered,
And we'll conquer oft again!
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
CHORUS: Our Dixie forever!
She's never at a loss!
Down with the eagle
And up with the cross!
We'll rally 'round the bonny flag,
We'll rally once again,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our gallant boys have marched
To the rolling of the drums,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
And the leaders in charge cry out,
'Come, boys, come!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
They have laid down their lives
On the bloody battle field,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Their motto is resistance -
'To tyrants we'll not yield!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
While our boys have responded
And to the fields have gone,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our noble women also
Have aided them at home,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
poem by Anonymous Americas
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There was a Boy
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander!--many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone,
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls,
That they might answer him.--And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,--with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild
Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill:
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake.
This boy was taken from his mates, and died
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the churchyard hangs
Upon a slope above the village-school;
And, through that church-yard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe, that there
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute--looking at the grave in which he lies!
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Reptile
The Reptile
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land,
with, perhaps, a crocodile skeleton on.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Crocodile
The crock
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land
and a dusty crocodile.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Afternoon rain
Every day this summer
in the late afternoon
the rain just keep pouring down
as if the milling clouds
and the storm has its clock set.
Thunder flashes here and there
white-blue electric bolts
from a sudden grey sky
and big and small drops fall
rushing down to the earth.
Heat rises in steaming white patches
on the hot black tar road
while the first drops make it wet
and water suddenly streams everywhere
in miniature rivers.
People run to reach their cars
and are stuck in huge traffic jams
where cars crawl meters at a time,
while others go to bars
and enjoy a drink or two
and smoke their cigars.
Two teenage girls
that are soaking wet
with T-shirts clinging translucent
dance on the sidewalk
in the falling rain
and their giggles
catches my ear
and suddenly it’s fun to live.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Colonus' Praise
Chorus. Come praise Colonus' horses, and come praise
The wine-dark of the wood's intricacies,
The nightingale that deafens daylight there,
If daylight ever visit where,
Unvisited by tempest or by sun,
Immortal ladies tread the ground
Dizzy with harmonious sound,
Semele's lad a gay companion.
And yonder in the gymnasts' garden thrives
The self-sown, self-begotten shape that gives
Athenian intellect its mastery,
Even the grey-leaved olive-tree
Miracle-bred out of the living stone;
Nor accident of peace nor war
Shall wither that old marvel, for
The great grey-eyed Athene stareS thereon.
Who comes into this countty, and has come
Where golden crocus and narcissus bloom,
Where the Great Mother, mourning for her daughter
And beauty-drunken by the water
Glittering among grey-leaved olive-trees,
Has plucked a flower and sung her loss;
Who finds abounding Cephisus
Has found the loveliest spectacle there is.
because this country has a pious mind
And so remembers that when all mankind
But trod the road, or splashed about the shore,
Poseidon gave it bit and oar,
Every Colonus lad or lass discourses
Of that oar and of that bit;
Summer and winter, day and night,
Of horses and horses of the sea, white horsffes.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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High Water
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
When the waters rose
In the darkness
In the wake of the endless flood
It flowed into our memory --
It flowed into our blood
When something broke the surface
Just to see the starry dome --
We still feel that relation
When the water takes us home
In the flying spray of the ocean
The water takes you home --
Springing from the weight
Of the mountains
Like the heart of the earth
Would burst
Flowing out from marble fountains
In the dreams of a desert thirst
Something swam through
The jungles
Where the mighty rivers roam --
Something breaks the silence
When the water takes you home
I hear the wordless voices
When the water takes me home --
Waves that crash on the shoreline
Torrents of tropical rain
Streaming down
Beyond our memory
Streaming down inside our veins
When something left the ocean
To crawl high above the foam --
We still feel that elation
When the water takes us home
In a driving rain of redemption
The water takes me home...
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vic 1
THE boat is ready
you hold the paddle
and you step on it
and take the ride
there is this peace
that the pond offers
there is this solitude
of the heart
that speaks the silence
of the water
the boat wades with
you
then you let everything
float away
beside the river bank
a tree grows
with lush leaves
you lay your head
on the side of the boat
you close your eyes
and then dream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Medea and I were in love
I woke up and the world
was just the same
The trees are green
but the trees were always green
I had slept for a length of time
and the sky remained
and the stars
but they were always there
In mind I had an idea
A super crime
I dreamt about Medea
I dreamt about the time
Medea and I were in love
If I were able to alter time
If I woke up the world
would it be the same
With the trees green
but the trees were always green
linz©2003
Silent train journey through my mind
Of all places to go
Secretive passenger what is it that you hide
That at a crossing matters so
Like a whistle in the distance
An attraction to a child
I hear the excitement in the voices
But there is a man waving a red flag at the mouth of the tunnel
Silent train I will not let you into the darkness
I will not let go
Go back out again to the world
where this line stops and the rest of the world begins
poem by Lindsay Crosby
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