Campus Sonnets: May Morning
I lie stretched out upon the window-seat
And doze, and read a page or two, and doze,
And feel the air like water on me close,
Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat
With a small noise, monotonous and sweet,
Against the window - and the scent of cool,
Frail flowers by some brown and dew-drenched pool
Possesses me from drowsy head to feet.
This is the time of all-sufficing laughter
At idiotic things some one has done,
And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun
And drinks the light in like a liquid thing;
Filled with the divine languor of late spring.
poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
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Related quotes
May Morning
I lie stretched out upon the window-seat
And doze, and read a page or two, and doze,
And feel the air like water on me close,
Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat
With a small noise, monotonous and sweet,
Against the window -- and the scent of cool,
Frail flowers by some brown and dew-drenched pool
Possesses me from drowsy head to feet.
This is the time of all-sufficing laughter
At idiotic things some one has done,
And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun
And drinks the light in like a liquid thing;
Filled with the divine languor of late spring.
poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Window Dreamin
Lookin out by my window,
Thinking bout you all the time,
Wish you were here with me
Right here by my side,
cause Im window, window dreamin
cause Im window, window dreamin
Every time I find myself on the road
Miss you holdin me tight
Flop down in my easy chair,
Makes me feel alright
cause Im window, window dreamin
cause Im window, window dreamin
(bridge)
Gigs are fun, when theyre done,
Feel so down, act like a clown,
Companys great, but when its late,
Im lookin for the phone
I feel so alone--so alone
Knowin the way we both feel,
O know youre always gonna be my friend
Dig, your face, lord, its real
Someday Im never gonna go again,
cause Im window, window dreamin
cause Im window, window dreamin
(bridge)
Gigs are fun, when theyre done,
Feel so down, act like a clown,
Companys great, but when its late,
Im lookin for the phone
I feel so alone--
So all alone
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fait accompli
the plane took off
i realized i did not like the aisle seat
i transferred to the window seat
and the stewardess said
'excuse me, sir! ' trying to stop me
for doing so,
i pretended i heard no one
moved as fast a i can towards the window seat
fastened my seat belt
and put my head
well rested on the
beside the window
below the clouds flew
past me
on a deceiving speed
the mountains spread
benumbing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Encumbered
speak in a tin jar
make sounds dine
in plopping cool
water drops fine
and guitar's echo of the ear
roll into thirsty souls
the bronze that I hear
a sound like cool
little liquid bridges
in a pool
a pile
of priests
meet
in a world at war
calling strong rivers
from afar
four
strumming the strings
of the brown guitar
speaking a tin beat
and songs like cool
little bridges in a pool
ordain white and black
in the season of the street
they who play the guitars
splashing hope they who meet
encumbered feet
Memories of Eighty-Five
I. ‘A macramé plant hangs close to her bed
A macramé plant hangs close to her bed
on the eiderdown she lays stretched out,
at times as in deep thought or prayer
when the swimming pool draws you through the window
with dull blue water covering it,
inside lays burned brown a sun goddess
and her eyes swallow me alive
when she understands, knows me for whom I am,
loving me with passion from the start,
loving me through light and darkness.
II. The summer sun hangs white and hot over the sea
The summer sun hangs white and hot over the sea,
the sand is white and soft where the sea washes out
her smile and conversations carries me off
when I am caught in her beauty
and later the water is lovely cool
before a big wave knocks off her bikini top,
I have got to hurry to the beach
to get her a big towel,
later it’s a big joke for us both,
far too quickly summer sweeps past.
III. At sunrise we drive past Chapman’s peak
At sunrise we drive past Chapman’s peak,
along the sea on a twisting road
and she’s very much in love with me,
far away a ship is only a small dot
and her smile and her face sparkles
when we stop to look at nature,
with her light blue blouse clinging tight fitting on to her
and I kiss her above the emerald sea,
holding her for moments tightly against me,
and she enchants my heart, are doing things to me.
IV. At Hout Bay we sail out of the harbour
At Hout Bay we sail out of the harbour
and the wind is blowing her auburn hair around,
the sea lays stretched out from the boat,
on rocks an otter snorts like a dog,
others swarm wild around him,
when the boat rocks to and fro we get nauseas,
wish for the trip to be over,
see a big shark circling,
are happy when we are sailing away,
with the small boat dropping us at the shore.
V. In Kirstenbosh we were really lost
In Kirstenbosh we were really lost,
still I wonder about her gleaming lips,
her green-brown eyes descending into my heart,
feelings creeping deeper into me,
that is still living as a spectre,
as if forever she is part of me,
I am not really able to free me from her,
she still calls me unexpectedly,
I do not want it to end
and forever I am yearning for her.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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The Bench Of Boors
In bed I muse on Tenier's boors,
Embrowned and beery losels all;
A wakeful brain
Elaborates pain:
Within low doors the slugs of boors
Laze and yawn and doze again.
In dreams they doze, the drowsy boors,
Their hazy hovel warm and small:
Thought's ampler bound
But chill is found:
Within low doors the basking boors
Snugly hug the ember-mound.
Sleepless, I see the slumberous boors
Their blurred eyes blink, their eyelids fall:
Thought's eager sight
Aches--overbright!
Within low doors the boozy boors
Cat-naps take in pipe-bowl light.
poem by Herman Melville
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My Favorite blanket
When I was very little
I had a favorite blanket
I named her (For to me that
fluffy piece of fabric with
threads hanging off it,
was a girl) Yes I named her
Boobie
Now boobie was 'brown'
with small flecks of 'fawn'
she Hung by my side from dusk
until dawn.
One day as I sat in my 'beige' child's seat
with a 'chocolate' ice cream I was trying to eat
it melted and covered me from head to my feet
my boobie and I were stuck to the seat
Chocolate everywhere
Everything turned 'brown' including the 'beige'
little chair I now found.
Mummy would be so angry I knew
so I decided on what I must do
I gathered the mess
took it into the bath
filled up the tub
and then for a laugh
chucked in the chair with me and my clothes
funny thing happened the water just rose
over it flowed onto the floor
a sticky 'chocolate brown' water ran out the door
I remember Mummy did not think it fun
when she saw the mess and what I had done
She sent me to think about things in my room
with my soggy 'brown' blanket
to help ease my gloom
poem by Janice M Pickett
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While You Are With Me
When Adam and Eve lived in Eden
the sea of faith stretched out into the blue
meeting the sky’s canopy
and its waves pulsed anciently
gathering water from the stream of life
and love, grace even the power of man
seemed at that time as to be unlimited
as if life could stretch on into eternity
Tonight the wind is blowing through the window
moving the curtains in a tender breeze
and in the distance I can hear the ebb and flow
in which the waves continually go
and the moon is casting light
that stretches out over the endless ocean
Your breath touches my breast and face softly
and I read true happiness in the smallest things
see your breasts rising and subsiding
while the sea is continually flinging
grains of sand crushing on the distant beach
and though sometimes it feels as if out of reach
happy moments are lingering
while you are with me
[Reference: “Dover beach” by Matthew Arnold.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Uncle Salty
Uncle salty told me
Stories of the lonely
Baby, we can only come alive to me
Her man he was lusted
Daddy he was busted
They left her to be trusted
To the orphanage
But when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Uncle salty told me
When she was just a baby
That she could buy a mabye
Someday shed see
Soon she found that money
Is love for all the others
The pushers and the shovers
Was the life to me
But when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, oh yeah
Oh, oh yeah
Now shes doin many
For money and the penny
Sell her for a penny or two or three
Hers is the cunnin
For men that come a runnin
They all come for fun and it seems to me
That when she cried at night
No one cared
And when she cried at night
Went insane
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
Oh, its a sunny day outside my window
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Air
Like fresh blossoming flowers on a spring day.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the smell of rain right before it pours down.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the aroma of a hot apple pie cooling on the window seal.
Her scent is in air.
I try to cover my nose with my shirt
but her scent seeps right through it.
It is in the air.
I try fanning it away
but the more I fan the stronger her scent lofts in the air.
I decide not to fight it anymore and I inhale her scent.
It first suffocates me but then it sustains me.
To me her scent is love and it is
In the air.
The White Moth
IF a leaf rustled, she would start:
And yet she died, a year ago.
How had so frail a thing the heart
To journey where she trembled so?
And do they turn and turn in fright,
Those little feet, in so much night?
The light above the poet’s head
Streamed on the page and on the cloth,
And twice and thrice there buffeted
On the black pane a white-winged moth:
’T was Annie’s soul that beat outside
And “Open, open, open!” cried:
“I could not find the way to God;
There were too many flaming suns
For signposts, and the fearful road
Led over wastes where millions
Of tangled comets hissed and burned—
I was bewildered and I turned.
“O, it was easy then! I knew
Your window and no star beside.
Look up, and take me back to you!”
—He rose and thrust the window wide.
’T was but because his brain was hot
With rhyming; for he heard her not.
But poets polishing a phrase
Show anger over trivial things;
And as she blundered in the blaze
Towards him, on ecstatic wings,
He raised a hand and smote her dead;
Then wrote “That I had died instead!”
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Primrose Hill
A man opened his window and stared up primrose hill
Out there enjoying themselves Ive seen them from this sill
Green splashed with white and red going brown
Children baiting animals running up and down
I stare out of this window
See the world go past
Slipping from the newspapers stacked against the wall
Piles of colour supplements squeeze between his fall
For a fleeting second I was up that hill
Although Ive never been there I wish I was there still
I stare out of this window
See the world go past
Ive read and looked at everything
I know it off by heart
Deliveries every day newspapers and food
Never had to venture out the phone has been removed
Open up the window and stare up primrose hill
Sitting here its dark outside and everything is still
I stare out of this window
See the world go past
Ive read and looked at everything
I know it off by heart
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Lover
The flowers outside my window
whose perfume scents the air
with a sweet sensation
as I lay on my bed.
They waft through the window
by a cool summer breeze
as I lay is soft perfusion
while around my light
moths begin to play.
My eyes are heavy
as sweet dreams call,
swirling around my head
while with my dream lover
my heart begins to fall.
The stars embedded in the night sky
like thousands of jewels
resting gently on black velvet.
I begin the dance with my dream lover
while moonbeams play around at our feet
as slowly in the darkness
I am captured by sleep.
6 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Dreams of Great Things (2)
Jumping straight into summer going from three
jerseys to swimsuit and shorts, I bought fairy
flip flops with diaphanous roses and sequins
too beautiful to wear, the sweet scent of
jasmine filling the air
The crocodile within me lay in the sun yesterday
luxuriating in the cool wind stroking and teasing
my skin, the inviting pool too cool for swimming
yet I dipped my head in the icy water while
my ankles froze
A layer of misty cloud wisps obscuring the sun
today, almost too late to go outside again, the
crocodile restless, inspired by dreams of great
things while all that is expected is cleaning the
kitchen; I wonder
Did Edith Holden, Edwardian author of the Country
Diary, ever wash dishes, feel angry, dream of new
things; she simply describes the weather and
wildlife and nature trips, not a word about
any other feeling
Wonderment and joy expressed in quotes,
descriptions and enchanting drawings, I
wish I could be like this
Wearing sensible brown comfort sandals while
my flower flipflops are camouflaged among the
golden grass in a cut glass container, just now
Nici brought me a big plastic flask for purified
water from her room
I immediately saw the perfect fish tank imitation
to be used to create a fairy garden, cannot wait
to soak off the label and start playing, there must
be a way to fulfil a lifelong dream of making a
magical fairyland play-thing
I shall add miniature flowers, glitter, crinkle paper,
and butterflies to create the right ambiance for the
fairies living within
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Outside Your Window
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.
And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.
And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.
Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.
Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.
Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.
Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!
poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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Afraid Its Too Late
She sits at the window
All dressed in white
Been a long time since shes cried
Tears called ....tumbling down
She remembers her childhood brown
Shes afraid its too late
She steps out on the porch
Takes a minute from her day
Just like when she was a child
To listen what the wind would say
She was carefree like the children are today
Say, ? ? loves you, wont you come out and play
Shes afraid its too late
When she was a child
She had crowns hiding gold
With such awe, each flower she did hold
And she...the grass beneath her feet
How she hated things that were already late
They took away her laughter
They took away her crown
They said hey girl, you gotta keep your feet on the ground
She said oh, but they are
They say well laughter wont pay your bills
A flower fell from her hand, falling still
They taught her to be respectable
Responsible somehow
They taught her to be in every....
She forgot how it felt to have leaves of grass beneath her feet
Now every thought screams to return to her childhood royalty
Shes afraid its too late
She takes one last moment
Before going inside
She takes a coat
To dry her eye
She ... and it all becomes clear
Its probably laughter that gets you what you need
....more than here
Shes afraid its too late
La la la la
La la da da laaah
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.
They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow-moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another,
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.
Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
She cannot light the city:
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.
I stand in the window and watch the
moon.
She is thin and lustreless,
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Tree at my Window
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
poem by Robert Frost
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Baby Girls Window
I've got you rainbows seen your sunbeams
I know a place where heaven breathes
And it's through her window
Your baby girl's window
I know you're happy where you are
Singing to the moon talking to the stars
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
There's fingermarks around her soul
But your laughter fills the hole
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
Aaah I wish you would stay
Aaah to see what she made of herself
People say you were gone too soon
I see your face when flowers bloom
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
I'm looking for the words to say
Something to take her pain away
Through her window
Aaah I wish you would stay
Aaah to see what she made of herself
song performed by by Robbie Williams from Life Thru A Lens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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