En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Canada

It was formerly believed, on a sea-battered shore
though the storm at home blasted,
that in the distant west there still lay lands,
where calm and sun never ended,
for there the good season had found it's retreat
and freedom and compassion - all that is best.

They set no sail, but thought high,
by the ocean they dreaming stood,
as the sun slid into the lowest west
in the evening's blue-misted spring dusk,
then hope and desire glide out with the breeze
on the still-blank, sun gilt, wide armed sea.

Though oceans still flood, that separate lands,
the passage across is effortless.
And our Markland, Canada, its genius and care
the world held out to you over the sea.
To the Greeks you could only appear in a poem -
but to Icelandic sea kings you gave yourself first.

Still human hope turns its tired eyes
from the east, to dream about you -
you proved good to all, who loved you fervently,
who possess here rapture and home.
And all with you is fullfilled and able to root
which the unquiet spirit has dreamed best.

poem by Stephan Stephansson
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The Three Kings [1]

The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb—
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
‘I’ve been to the West,’ the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
‘They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.’

‘I’ve had my fling on the Sydney-side,’ said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he can’t be taught: I’ve learnt what’s good for me.’
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dim—grown dim in his softened eyes—
With a pain in his heart that was good for him—as he saw the Three Kings rise.

A pale girl sits on the foc’sle head—she is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him ‘saloon.’
There is refuge still in the old folks’ arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farm—and the Three Kings will not tell.

’Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.

Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and gold—and the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So it’s off and away in our youthful pride—but the Three Kings bide our time.

poem by Henry Lawson
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You Are Here

-nine!
From liverpool
To tokyo,
What a way to go.
From distant lands,
One woman, one man,
Let the four winds blow.
Three thousand miles over the ocean.
Three thousand light-years
From the land of the rising sun.
Love has opened my eyes,
Love has blown right through.
Wherever you are, (wherever you are)
You are here. (you are here)
Wherever you are, (wherever you are)
You are here. (you are here)
Three thousand miles over the ocean.
Three thousand light-years
From the land of surprising sun.
Well, now east is east
And west is west,
The twain shall meet.
East is west and west is east,
Let it be complete.
Three thousand miles over the ocean.
Three thousand light-years
From the land of the morning star.
Uh hu -

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are Here

From liverpool to tokyo
What a way to go
From distant lands one woman one man
Let the four winds blow
Three thousand miles over the ocean
Three thousand light years from the land of the rising sun
Love has opened up my eyes
Love has blown right through
Wherever you are, you are here
Wherever you are, you are here
Three thousand miles over the ocean
Three thousand light years from the land of the surprising sun
Well now east is east and west is west
The twain shall meet
East is west and west is east
Let it be complete
Three thousand miles over the ocean
Three thousand light years from the land of the morning star

song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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West End Girls

(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys
And west end girls
And west end girls
And west end girls
East end boys
The west end girls
The west end boys
And west end girls
The west end girls
The west end boys
The west end girls

song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunrise, Sunset

O Sun, When you rise,
It’s morning dawn.
When you set,
It’s evening dusk.

O Sun, Seeing your beauty lighting
Shining on landscape from dawn
Shining on seascape from dusk
It comes from dawn to dusk.

O Sun, rise from East
O Sun, set to West
From East to West,
Celestial light comes and go,
Seasons come and go.

Here come four seasons
North to South, East to West
From Spring comes Autumn,
From Summer comes Winter.

O Sun, From rising East
To setting West
O Moon, Come rising East
To setting West

Cycle never end,
It’s endless cycle,
Seeing sunset every dusk,
Seeing sunrise every dawn.

Making us pondering..
Make us wondering
Where, When will be next..
Sunrise, sunset..

poem by Lawrence Hiung
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A Fine Culture

They were indeed simple people
the people of the east
A FINE CULTURE they did have
the people of the east

A FINE CULTURE
the east should have given the rest
when the west brought out the 'machine'
the east brought out the 'human'

Today's world is not lacking in machine
Today's world is lacking in human

Today's east is sending 'productive men' all over
the east should have sent 'human men' all over
How did the east stray?
when did it loose it's way?

The east then found everything in simplicity
simplicity was it's strength and beauty
simplicity gave the east it's integrity
simplicity never ever gave the east an inferiority

Today the east mocks the west
the 'material' wealth of the west..has
put to rest...the
true spirit of the east

We blame it on simplicity
we say we were plundered due to our simplicity
a handed down book on simplicity
only became a liability..we say

What the west had gained
everybody did gain...the 'machine'
what the east had lost
everbody did loose...the 'human'

Today what are we in
an 'un human' man is managing a dangerous dumb 'machine'...and
THAT'S THE DANGER WE ARE IN...without
a fine culture

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Dreaming A Dream

Dreaming of a dream
A dream were skies are blue oceans are clear and life scared
Dreaming of dream
were a dream of peace and love rule and hate is a myth
Dreaming of a dream
having food for all, and all not thirst
Dreaming of a dream

Dreaming of a dream
were skin color is just that, us all just one
Dreaming a dream
no pain, war the only true crime
Dreaming a dream
were the rich give, and the poor have a chance
Dreaming a dream

Dreaming a dream
were we can look on a future of happiness'
Dreaming a dream
were the children are the future
Dream a dream
were lives are fullfilled, and getting old is not a bad thing
Dreaming a dream

World wonderess, happy, clean, perfect

Dreaming a dream

poem by Vincent Armone
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I Dreamed.

I dreamed a dream and in that dream,
I dreamed that I had dreamed a dream,
Of hope and fairytales come true,
I dreamed a dream and thought of truth,
I dreamed a dream of life and love,
Of fate and angels and God above,
I dreamed a dream of good wishes and friends,
I dreamed a dream I dreaded to end,
But then I woke into my dream,
I dreamed I woke in a world obscene,
I dreamed a dream of violence and hate,
And once again I dreamed of fate,
I dreamed a dream of terror and fear,
I dreamed that each word went unheard,
And so children never spoke a word,
I dreamed a dream of demons and beasts,
I dreamed a dream that ended at last,
I woke in my bed and wondered if,
I dreamed a dream of dreams or if,
I dreamed a dream of truth that night,
And if so I wondered which was truth,
And which was merely a dream.

poem by Emma Wright
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A Tribute To Canada Revised

Canada is home to the Roccky Mountains
Canada is home to the golden mine
Canada is home to the Fishery in dustries
Canada is home to the oil industries
Canada is a land that was made for the refues from all over the world
That came here to start a new lives also
Canada is multicultural
Canada stand strong and free
Canada is my home also and I am proud also to call Canada my home
Canada is home to thte seaguls and the robyns
Canada is home to the foxes
Canada is home to the wild bears
Canada is home to the deers

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Hope & Pray

I see the headlights
Shining on the wall
It seems Ive got a visitor
Who is kind enough to call
And I hope and I pray, everyday
I hope and I pray its you.
I thought I heard some footsteps
On the floor
And tell me am I dreaming
Or is it someone at the door
cos I hope and I pray
Everyday
I hope and pray, its you
Autumn turns to winter
And winter turns to spring
I only know the passing of the days
And if you were to ask me
About the meaning of my life
It kind of lost its meaning
On the day you went away
You know that when it comes
To matters of the heart
I thought I had it covered
But its tearing me apart
And I hope and I pray
Everyday
I hope and I pray, its you.
Autumn turns to winter
And winter turns to spring
The summer sun still lingers
In my head
If it wasnt for the letters
That you wrote me from the heart
Id sometime wonder baby
If I dreamed it all instead
You see Ive got to feel your hand
Upon my face
I need to get the calling
To rejoin the human race
And I hope and I pray
Every day
I hope and I pray, its you.

song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lothlorien

(TRANSLATION)
Olorin, who once was...
Sent by the Lords of the West
To guard the lands of the East
Wisest of all Maiar
What drove you to leave
That which you loved?
Mithrandir,Mithrandir O Pilgrim Grey
No more will you wander the green fields of this earth
Your journey has ended in darkness
The bonds cut,the spirit broken
The Flame of Anor has left this World
A great light,has gone out

song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To Big Blue

The oceans of the world were the home of big blue
He was the greatest monster that the world ever knew
And the place that he loved best
Was the waters to the west
Around the blue pacific he did roam
Big blue moved alone for a mighty blue was he
And the battles of the whales was an awesome sight to see
And he took them one by one and he drove them all away
In the mating of the day he was the king
Big blue had fifty wives and he sired forty sons
Though most of them feel victim to the cruel harpoon guns
Ah but he was too much wise to get caught by the gunners eyes
And so he lived at sea a hundred years
His mouth was as large as a tunnel so they say
His hide was thick as leather and his eyes quick and small
And his back was all scarred by the times he got away
And he knew the smell of whalers did big blue
Big blue passed away to his natural decay
Beside the arctic circle as he travelled up that way
And there never was a man who was born with a gunners hand
Who ever took a pan to big blue
Now the gray whale has run and the sperm is almost done
The finbacks and the greenland rights have all passed and gone
Theyve been taken by the men for the money they could spend
And the killing never ends, it just goes on
The oceans of the earth were the home of big blue
He was the greatest monster that the world ever knew
And the place that he loved best was the waters to the west
Around the blue pacific he did roam

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sun Burns East to West

The Sun Burns East to West
(Earth’s Creation to the end of an Ice Age)
© 2008 (Jim Sularz)

Sun’s first rise over life-less skies,
the Earth cools, and the waters pool -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the planet’s broken plates quake and move.

Lightning strikes, the waters stir,
and the bonds of life begin to churn -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the waters swirl in a living urn.

Strange aquatic things, they all evolve,
some spiny finned, start to crawl -
the Sun burns East to West.
And they slowly stretch erect and tall.

Eons past where the cunning reign, a savage place,
with small sized brains -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the dead surrender their twisted remains.

An asteroid streaks from the sky, blocks out the Sun,
cause most to die -
the Sun burns East to West.
And all in a blink of Time’s eye.

Footprints in stone, some on mountainsides,
make it clear that rocks don’t lie -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the Fossils always tell the Time.

Eons past and Eons more, the fittest evolves,
and Man is born -
the Sun burns East to West.
And the early brain, once fast asleep,
begins to dream and mourn.

The first million years, Man lives in fear, learns to hunt,
invents the spear -
the Sun burns East to West.
And migrates to claim the vast frontiers.

Tools from stone and controlled fire, creates language,
that shake Man’s empire -
the Sun burns East to West.
And splash Cave paintings with Human inspire.

Life-times of hunter-gathering,
and story-telling in the dark -
the Sun burns East to West.
And a World spins with a Million hearts.

The Earth starts to warm, the oceans rise,
and the waters shape the lands -
the Sun burns East to West.
And when an Ice Age ends, then comes, the Age of Man.

poem by Jim Sularz
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Knowledge

THEY were islanders, our fathers were,
And they watched the encircling seas,
And their hearts drank in the ceaseless stir,
And the freedom of the breeze;
Till they chafed at their narrow bounds
5
And longed for the sweep of the main,
And they fretted and fumed like hounds
Held in within sight of the plain,
And the play
And the prey.
10

So they built them ships of wood, and sailed
To many an unknown coast;
They braved the storm and battles hailed,
And danger they loved most;
Till the tiny ships of wood
15
Grew powerful on the globe
And the new-found lands for good
They wrapped in a wondrous robe
Of bold design,
Our brave ensign.
20

And islanders yet in a way are we,
Our knowledge is still confined,
And we hear the roar of encircling sea,
To be crossed in the ship of the mind;
And we dream of lands afar,
25
Unknown, unconquered yet,
And we chafe at the bounds there are,
And our spirits fume and fret
For the prize
Of the wise.
30

But we'll never do aught, I know, unless
We are brave as our sires of old,
And face like them the bitterness
Of the battle and storm and cold;
Unless we boldly stand,
35
When men would hold us back,
With the helm-board in our hand,
And our eyes to the shining track
Of what may be
Beyond the sea.
40

There are rocks out there in that wide, wide sea,
'Neath many a darkling stream,
And souls that once sailed out bold and free
Have been carried away in a dream;
For they never came back again—
45
On the deep the ships were lost;
But in spite of the danger and pain,
The ocean has still to be crossed,
And only they do
Who are brave and true.

poem by Frederick George Scott
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What is Hope?

Never was a larger word
than Hope;
all dreams reside there;

In the Future,
resides our desires laid bare;
our Now wants to go there
our Past wants to be washed away
or celebrate there-
inside Hope's Cathedral.

Hope is the Promised Land.
both Means
and Destination.

But, what good does Hope do
if it goes away
after
what we hope for comes true?

Is there not another dream then
that Hope must then fulfill?

But, here we ask
what then is Hope itself?

Is it my Expectation Confident
that what I want
will come true?

Is it merely that Leap of Faith
that all that currently ails
will dissipate
in my hoped-for future state?

If all is risked on this single word
then we must know exactly
what it is;
for me
what is Hope's meaning for me?

Well the Expectation idea
that Hope is the confidence that
want I want will come true
is too much for me.
I don't have that kind of confidence
do you?

Nothing for me is ever for sure
not even Hope
itself
because, as we all know, Hope can
give way to Black Despair where
by definition Hope has gone
and fled.

Since no one can read our future states
we bob and weave between
hoping for hope
but fearing despair.

I rather like the Leap of Faith Idea
where we all make
the assumption that actions now,
will in future state,
pay off
and Hope will fulfill the expectations
we have placed there.

But note,
it is all too true that Hope
then is fully based
on Leaps of Faith
and then we ask
faith in what?

If all of Human-Kinds Hopes
distill from Human-Kinds Dreams
then upon what faith did cavemen
dream of a better world?

Upon a pagan God,
restless shadows on the cave wall,
incantations said and made?

But the pointed point here is
that our ancestors did have
blind faith in something which
caused them to feel that dreams
they dreamed
had some Hope of becoming Real
and that Hope
had to involve for them an enormous leap
beyond what they could see
in their lives then.

So Leaping then is what we do
even where there is no evidence
in reality that our dreams
however fervently held
will ever actually come true.

So Hope we see
is bound up with
Mystery
and Leapings
into Voids
with nothing more
than the belief
that in dreaming
it
we can make it come true-
be brought into reality.

Rather like writing a poem.

Humm, the moral here:
Nothing can be done
unless one
has the dream
and Hope
to make it so
and by hoping bring it
into reality.

This seems to be
the true History
of Human-Kind
at its best
and
at its
worse.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Go West

The sun dances on the horizon
With the morning wind,
Up, to rise alive
And go west, once again.

Why each day
Does the sun go west?
Perhaps with age
It has found which way is best.

Or, then again
Maybe it's just luck to go that way,
Over and over
Day upon day.

No matter the reason
I must confess,
Of the way in which it goes
I am most sincerely jealous.

For I take to heart
And put to the test,
Those wise words of Horace Greeley:
' Go West young man, go West! '

West. Where the souls of mountain-men are born
And the beauty of nature yet thrives;
Where liberty, freedom, and eagles, soar
And the spirit of the wild still speaks to human lives.

Every time able am I
It is precisely where I desire to go,
For westward is the way
My own free-spirit beckoned does flow.

I come alive out there
And always shall,
Engulfed in the blazing west
Where of it all, I never get my fill.

So burn on westward sun
Burn on I loudly say!
Burn ever jubilant onward
Along your own wonder-filled western way.

In spirit undying
I am with you...
Toward that fine day when
Westward, there I go too.

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Applegarth

There is a garden where the sun
reflects from rough cast whitewashed walls.
Close by the quiet river runs
here you can hear the soft bird calls.

The scents of lavender and sage,
which grow near to the lilac trees.
Compete with fields of blue borage
ich draw to them the questing bees.

The lawn of moorland turf is neat
and everywhere the flowers bloom.
The honey smell of meadowsweet
is mingling with the perfumed broom.

This garden is a sheltered spot.
Where old and tired from the fray
I sit and doze when it is hot
and ponder in my quiet way.

I think about the things I’ve seen
and well loved people I have known
The many places I have been
in travels ‘fore I was full grown.

My wandering feet have carried me
to distant lands of snow and ice.
Some lands without a single tree
and tropic isles like paradise.

I always yearned to go back home
but there was always more to see
When I was young I had to roam
across the world by land and sea.

My questing mind gave me no peace
hard lessons I was forced to learn.
Wisdom granted me release
a truth I found I had to earn.

The fire of youth burns low with age.
springy step turns to measured tread
I learnt my quest was a mirage
and came back to where I was bred

Although it’s changed it’s still the same.
I see it now through different eyes
and seek no more for fortunes fame.
I realise to my surprise

I need not have travelled at all.
As all the knowledge I’ve obtained
I could have gained within ths walls
of this small garden.Now maintained

by younger men in their full strength.
Who serve me with touching awe
As one who’s seen the breadth and length
Of the whole world.As he sought for

the secrets other lands could show.
Whose been to Canada and Rome.
Seen desert lands and fields of snow
But has returned at last to home.

A field stone house with roof of thatch,
a garden sheltered from the wind.
There was nowhere else could match
the dream he carried in his mind.

Of Applegarth, old Applegarth
a house that’s filled with memories
It’s been his family’s home and hearth
for nigh on seven hundred years.

There’s little left of the wide lands
This proud family used to own
but what there is Is my homeland.
belongs to me and me alone.

This quiet garden in the sun
the Rowan tree that provides shade.
I know my race is nearly run
and wonder if I made the grade.

Each morn I wake and greet the day.
Determined that I will enjoy
Whatever treats may come my way
As carefree as a little boy

The little boy I used to be
Before my wanderlust took hold
and drove me overland and sea.
I only learned as I grew old

That I could live contentedly
at Applegarth and only here.
Where I was always meant to be
a message I was slow to hear.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Die With Your Boots On

(toby keith/jim femino)
Daddy was a gambler
Back in seventy-two
He had a taste for the nightlife and he
Loved his booze
He had a woman on one arm
And a tattoo on the other
It was hard to read I dont know what it said
Somethin about my mother
I stood over his shoulder back in bakersfield
He had some rhinestone boots with those high ridin heels
He bet a ton of money
On a hand I thought was dead
When those sevens cleaned the table up
He just looked around and said
Sometimes you win
Sometimes you wont
Sometimes you beat that devil
Sometimes you dont
Were all just killin time
Til the good lord calls us home
And the best that you can hope for is to die
With your boots on
I drive a big rig from shore to shore
Ive got a woman beside me
And my name out on the door
Cant make no money
If I dont outrun the man
Thats why you find me streakin through the night
Catch me if you can
Sometimes you win
Sometimes you wont
Sometimes you beat that devil
Sometimes you dont
Were all just killin time
Til the good lord calls us home
And the best that you can hope for is to die
Sometimes you win
Sometimes you wont
Sometimes you outrun that devil
Sometimes you dont
Were all just killin time
Til the good lord calls us home
And the best that you can hope for is to die
With your boots on
With your boots on

song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foreign Lands

You may roam the wide seas over, follow, meet, and cross the sun,
Sail as far as ships can sail, and travel far as trains can run;
You may ride and tramp wherever range or plain or sea expands,
But the crowd has been before you, and you’ll not find ‘Foreign Lands;’
For the Early Days are over,
And no more the white-winged rover
Sinks the gale-worn coast of England bound for bays in Foreign Lands.
Foreign Lands are in the distance dim and dreamlike, faint and far,
Long ago, and over yonder, where our boyhood fancies are,
For the land is by the railway cramped as though with iron bands,
And the steamship and the cable did away with Foreign Lands.
Ah! the days of blue and gold!
When the news was six months old—
But the news was worth the telling in the days of Foreign Lands.

Here we slave the dull years hopeless for the sake of Wool and Wheat
Here the homes of ugly Commerce—niggard farm and haggard street;
Yet our mothers and our fathers won the life the heart demands—
Less than fifty years gone over, we were born in Foreign Lands.

When the gipsies stole the children still, in village tale and song,
And the world was wide to travel, and the roving spirit strong;
When they dreamed of South Sea Islands, summer seas and coral strands—
Then the bravest hearts of England sailed away to Foreign Lands,
‘Fitting foreign’—flood and field—
Half the world and orders sealed—
And the first and best of Europe went to fight in Foreign Lands.

Canvas towers on the ocean—homeward bound and outward bound—
Glint of topsails over islands—splash of anchors in the sound;
Then they landed in the forests, took their strong lives in their hands,
And they fought and toiled and conquered—making homes in Foreign Lands,
Through the cold and through the drought—
Further on and further out—
Winning half the world for England in the wilds of Foreign Lands.

Love and pride of life inspired them when the simple village hearts
Followed Master Will and Harry—gone abroad to ‘furrin parts’
By our townships and our cities, and across the desert sands
Are the graves of those who fought and died for us in Foreign Lands—
Gave their young lives for our sake
(Was it all a grand mistake?)
Sons of Master Will and Harry born abroad in Foreign Lands!

Ah, my girl, our lives are narrow, and in sordid days like these,
I can hate the things that banished ‘Foreign Lands across the seas,’
But with all the world before us, God above us—hearts and hands,
I can sail the seas in fancy far away to Foreign Lands.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Sing Our Love In Life Worships

'hope always to write more
not to be a good poet'

the words of my friend
Hosny Soliman defined
my thoughts perfectly

to write just a little more
to gift just a little more
to give just a little more

with no thought wasted
upon desire to write
a good poem a great poem

poetic thoughts passed
through me part of mind
song whale song sung

through huge oceans
throughout this world
through water world

oceans are like God’s tears
cried through love of us
love creations slaughtered

as you hunt us down kill us
delight in seas red harvest blood
feast upon our sacrifice flesh

until then we sing mind songs
in love life swimming oceans
in light near surface or darkness

found in pressure ocean depths
all is same one in love life waters
we sing our love in life worships

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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