Above Berkeley (For Connie)
Past stone houses
Along the dangerous road
We raced, top down
Past the homes of the rich
Laughing
We flew into the night
To the top
And when we stopped
The marchwind still filled my hair
And lifted my breath
High above the bright city
(its streets were constellations Carelessly glittering
Diamonds
Cast into black waters)
But walking past dark bulldozers
Beyond the battered, red, warning sign
Our laughter suddenly fell
Startled by the silver presence
Above the trees.
We climbed to the peak
As a halo encircled the full moon.
Silenced at last
We heard an almost-human cry.
Nearly invisible, we saw them,
The plaintive, grazing deer.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
Breath by Breath
Our moments are precious and
Our time is now.
Use it wisely and use it well!
There is no connecting the past
And future. The presence is the
in-between and only lasts but
Less than a breath.
The presence is so fast,
a blink of an eye and it is the past!
Then are we really living our future with
each inhale and our past goes out
with each exhale?
Are is it really just a pretence of presence?
Future - Past,
Future - Past,
Future - Past!
poem by JDarrell Kirkley
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A Dark Past
My past is dark
It's full of pain and tears
My past is my story
My past made me stronger
People still don't know why my past is dark
But I will tell you
No more hiding for me
My past is red stained razors
I admit I did cut
But, I will no more
My closest friend was the only one that knew
Me and her alike in so many ways
We helped each other through thick and thin
My future is bright and happy
I am loved and always will be loved
In my future I will not shed a tear
For I will be surrounded by loved ones
My past is erased I have no regrets
My life is better oh..so much better
poem by Jasmine Kayleen
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Daydream
Shining in the silver moon,
Crystal ships are sailing to the sea.
Dreams the joys of pearls and gold,
And our angels wings in flight unfold.
Fly, fly by my window,
Flyin so free, yeah.
Yes, they fly, fly by my window.
Yes, those bright diamonds a-once were stone,
Rollin down a silver stream.
Yes, those bright diamonds a-once were stone.
Sail on a silver wings of fire,
Sailing dreams beyond the silver moon.
In silver clouds that fly so high,
Live the dreams you search,
But cant find.
(chorus)
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America Revisited
put down your crack bowls
and your republican flags...
and let's go walking thru
the streets and alleys of America....
let's walk past the empty houses
with foreclosure signs in the yard...
past the vacant factory buildings
where the homeless break in
at night and sleep...
past the lily white churches
and the dead zone schools...
past the county jails and the courthouses
and the rooms where lawyers
buy and sell justice...
past the housing projects
where babies buy groceries...
down to the tent cities where
dreams hang in the air like opium.
down the dark streets where young
girls and boys sell their bodies
for their vampire pimps...
and everyday citizens buy them!
down to the unemployment offices
where angry people stand in
numbered lines...
past renegade gas pumps
guarded by dollar store slaves...
past the words of Jefferson, Franklin,
and Thomas Paine....
to the hypnotic ads of puffy-faced
liars with titles and plans...
down to the cemetary where
the last shreds of freedom
lie in unmarked graves....
and we call this....
America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Two Shadows
Moral codes under black lace
Permeate the sensuous epidermis
We touch in sanctuary
We meet inside the dim lit cathedral
Past the sinew
Past the circus
There are symbols on your walls
Conversion is not dogmatic
Love walks these stone alleys
Narrow streets where artists paint
Romance is a blue sea within
Romance is dangerous like a city
You see my dark corridors
You see my sharp edges
I am the defiled, the hopeful
Please see my warm fire
Your eyes are my candles
Self-portraits are incognito
We reveal one another
The moon shines through stained glass
Darkness is a weak excuse
Your smile is from Eden
Your black cloak just a disguise
Tenderness hidden deep inside
I am the man who needs you
We are the port coming in view
We are the stars shining in the night
The lions are still-hunting
The world is at war
Time is doomed to entropy
Love seems to be inexplicable
Maybe we can hear one another
We leave the cathedral like two shadows
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Sunrise On The Road
1) sunrise on the road Im feeling high today
Will you ride with me into the night
If I didnt know where I was going to
Would you say that it could be alright
2) we broke down and ended up in new orleans
Saved our souls with an evil groove
Marie laveau was gazing in her crystal ball
Saw my eyes were hazy from the road
3) I walked through the city with my empty glass
Filled it with the mystery of the past
A thousand people danced into the morning sun
This forever feels like it could last
4) walking through the streets down in the marony
Swirling dancers in the second line
Swept me to a place Ive seen in fantasys
Somehow I think I lost track of the time
5) & so I left new orleans with a photograph
Of a thousand miles we left behind
& I saw the city fading in my rear view mirror
Hazy as the road began to wind
6) sunrise on the road Im feeling high today
Will you ride with me into the night
7) we broke down and ended up in new orleans
She took our souls just looking in her eyes
The moon was falling down into the eastern sky
Dreaming as the sun began to rise... (3x)
song performed by by Zuba
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I dreamt that I woke up in France today
I dreamt that I woke up
in France today
and that every word
that I spoke in Afrikaans, English,
Dutch or the little German
that I knew
fell incomprehensible on unenquiring ears
just as if I wasn’t there at all
and the people were living
as if only the French
were welcome in France
I walked through the streets
at the Latin Quarter
and It was the country of liberty
and in the street foreign kids
erected barriers
and were burning cars
and wrecking shops
and attacked the passers by
and there were police everywhere.
The city of Paris was beautiful
and people where smiling
and it was very romantic,
but I wasn’t a part
of the city and the world
around me
and drifted in and out of it
as dreams go.
I said a prayer
at the Notre Dame cathedral
and looked in awe at the flying buttresses
and rose windows
and heard the Seine flow past.
I walked along the pont des artes
across the river Seine
and in the background
the lights on the Ilse de la citè
burnt bright and reflected
on the dark waters of the Seine.
Bright lights flared
from the Arc de Triomphe
and the Eiffel tower was all lit up
where it was like
A upside down
V-sign against the sky
and suddenly I felt free
from all the things
that bounded me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Vassal's Lament For The Fallen Tree
Yes! I have seen the ancient oak
On the dark deep water cast,
And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;
For the axe might never touch that tree,
And the air was still as a summer-sea.
I saw it fall, as falls a chief
By an arrow in the fight,
And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf,
At the crashing of its might!
And the startled deer to their coverts flew,
And the spray of the lake as a fountain's flew!
'Tis fall'n! but think thou not I weep
For the forest's pride o'erthrown;
An old man's tears lie far too deep,
To be pour'd for this alone!
But by that sign too well I know,
That a youthful head must soon be low!
A youthful head, with its shining hair,
And its bright quick-flashing eye-
-Well may I weep! for the boy is fair,
Too fair a thing to die!
But on his brow the mark is set-
Oh! could my life redeem him yet!
He bounded by me as I gazed
Alone on the fatal sign,
And it seem'd like sunshine when he rais'd
His joyous glance to mine!
With a stag's fleet step he bounded by,
So full of life-but he must die!
He must, he must! in that deep dell,
By that dark water's side,
'Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell,
But an heir of his fathers died.
And he-there's laughter in his eye,
Joy in his voice-yet he must die!
I 've borne him in these arms, that now
Are nerveless and unstrung;
And must I see, on that fair brow,
The dust untimely flung?
I must!-yon green oak, branch and crest,
Lies floating on the dark lake's breast!
The noble boy!-how proudly sprung
The falcon from his hand!
It seem'd like youth to see him young.
A flower in his father's land!
But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh,
For the tree hath fall'n, and the flower must die.
Say not 'tis vain!-I tell thee, some
Are warn'd by a meteor's light,
Or a pale bird flitting calls them home,
Or a voice on the winds by night;
And they must go!-and he too, he-
-Woe for the fall of the glorious Tree!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The new Pretoria
Why does this city with its Jacaranda trees
seem so much like the one
surrounded by mine dumps?
Its lines usually square lie broken
filled with tall towers gleaming
in the early morning summer sun.
Sunnyside once peaceful
resembles Hillbrow, with poor homeless people
and Nigerian criminals walking the streets
and at a park I pause
to sit on a bench under the shade of a tree
and minibus taxis drive past hooting
the sidewalk is full of people
talking at the top of their voices
and unstoppable the crumbling, deterioration
the fading into third world surrounds me
and at a tree not ten metres away
a black man pulls his pants down
to relieve himself and whistles during the act
and the sweet scent of the flowering Jacarandas,
is suddenly gone
and the air is filled with the stench of urine
and excrement and zipping his pants
the man asks me for a cigarette.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Faux City
on the road, someone told me about a faux city dome
where they won't need no full moon
thev'e got light of their own
as i further on i happened upon
a woman standing there
she gave oats for my pony and, i paid her my fare
i rode miles on that pony
it felt like i was there
further on at saint peters, i saw a fountain of light
i gave breath and took water
and had to stop for the night
for i did touch no other
for i did hold no fight
as i sat beneath the planets
i did bathe, saved in light
oh, i sang for my brother
and it sounded all night
on the road, came a sign post it read faux city dome
and i saw the moon laughing
as i rode on, alone,
and i knew they were watching
from their faux city homes
further on came a stranger a green man, had no shoes, as we danced in the moonlight
we sang fake city blues
for i did touch no other
for i did hold no fight
though i did hold my brother
as we danced that faux city right
poem by Steve Watts
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Roofs
(For Amelia Josephine Burr)
The road is wide and the stars are out
and the breath of the night is sweet,
And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.
But I'm glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my face,
And to leave the splendour of out-of-doors for a human dwelling place.
I never have seen a vagabond who really liked to roam
All up and down the streets of the world and not to have a home:
The tramp who slept in your barn last night and left at break of day
Will wander only until he finds another place to stay.
A gypsy-man will sleep in his cart with canvas overhead;
Or else he'll go into his tent when it is time for bed.
He'll sit on the grass and take his ease so long as the sun is high,
But when it is dark he wants a roof to keep away the sky.
If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him wrong,
For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his home along.
And the only reason a road is good, as every wanderer knows,
Is just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which it goes.
They say that life is a highway and its milestones are the years,
And now and then there's a toll-gate where you buy your way with tears.
It's a rough road and a steep road and it stretches broad and far,
But at last it leads to a golden Town where golden Houses are.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Seventh Heaven (triolets)
The moon hangs almost solitary
shining like a searchlight
while it reflects on the sea
The moon hangs almost solitary
triggers a memory
before the blackness of the fall of night,
the moon hangs almost solitary
shining like a searchlight
reminding me of the way
which things between us once used to be,
before you went away,
reminding me of the way
we used to kiss and play,
emotions come quite suddenly,
reminding me of the way
which things between us once used to be.
One we were in spirit and body.
Two persons falling for one another,
and immediately we were very happy and giddy.
One we were in spirit and body,
much happier than everybody,
going everywhere together,
one we were in spirit and body.
two persons falling for one another.
Three in a relationship to you,
to you seemed much better
but at the end it caused us to be through.
Three in a relationship to you
unfastened our glue,
and suddenly I get your letter,
three in a relationship to you,
to you seemed much better.
Four gulls fly past screeching,
but there’s something familiar in your smile,
your eyes are bright and touching.
Four gulls fly past screeching,
and this can be far-reaching
as it’s obvious that you want to reconcile,
four gulls fly past screeching,
but there’s something familiar in your smile.
Five years ago when we unexpectedly met again
I saw your face light up like the sun
on a winter day full of sieving rain.
Five years ago when we unexpectedly met again
I was still full of pain
and here you are just after the new day have begun,
five years ago when we unexpectedly met again
I saw your face light up like the sun.
Six times we have been in touch
over the last twenty years
but then you did not care much.
Six times we have been in touch
and our feelings are now such
that you drive away my fears,
six times we have been in touch
over the last twenty years.
Seven diamonds were in your ring
and I still owe you a honeymoon
which we did not have with our wedding.
Seven diamonds were in your ring,
we feel as if our love is blossoming
and this time I will not let you leave soon,
seven diamonds were in your ring
and I still owe you a honeymoon.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Road
I made the rising moon go back
behind the shouldering hill,
I raced along the eastern track
till time itself stood still.
The stars swarmed on behind the trees,
but I sped fast at they,
I could have made the sun arise,
and night turn back to day.
And like a long black carpet
behind the wheels, the night
unrolled across the countryside,
but all ahead was bright.
The fence-posts whizzed along wires
like days that fly too fast,
and telephone poles loomed up like years
and slipped into the past.
And light and movement, sky and road
and life and time were one,
while through the night I rushed and sped,
I drove towards the sun.
poem by Nancy Fotheringham Cato
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Melancholy Song
A melancholy song plays
reversing the future to the past
along a wasteland
of invisible dotted lines
filled with haunted pits
where no one should ever enter.
From a future full of promise
to a past full of uncertainty
where the weeping willow sways
under a mournful wind
as the melancholy song
drags the past to the future
so misery can rein again.
11 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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Streets Of Little Italy
(robbie seidman)
Producer for bonnie: desmond child
The narrow and the winding ways
The streets of old new york
The families, the street life, the spark
The rooftop where we watched
San gennaros festival
Masquerades in the dark...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
On the streets down in little italy
The oceans and the years
That separate our lives
From these streets we once called our home
Those distances of space and time
How strong they are
And how weak they are...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
On the streets down in little italy
Does the morning sunlight
Still hit the bed where we used to lie
Do the sidewalk stands and markets still overflow
Where I lingered till I was empty
Where I stayed till I had to go
Though in the night
Sometimes I see you disappear
Down cobblestones...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
Like your presence in my bones
On the streets down in little italy
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanting to know if I am all right?
I dream about a helicopter
that is whining chattering
while I am shooting clattering
with the machinegun in the door
and in the dark night
I see tracers drawing lines
to down below
and see the enemy run
in the silver light
cast by the moon
and in the distance
a bolt of lightning falls
just past a place
were a torch hangs in the air
like a small sun
and it’s as if a rocket propelled grenade
zooms in from below,
brushes past
exploding behind us somewhere
and when I awake
I am still twitching next to you
and you touch me comforting
and want to know if I am all right?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Tut-Ench-Amon (Tutankhamen)
Been and seen down flight from chicago
All aboard the African Queen
I am on a night boat down to cairo
Feeling like a tourist with a foreign man abroad
Tells it like he thinks it is, but I know he is fraud
There is a map tucked under his shoulder
and a cap perched on his head
If he looked any older, he might as well be dead
Dressed in army surplus the files around me swarm
On a mission without a purpose, I wish I'd never been born
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
Put you in the picture - 1884
I'm up to date on the literature
but I have never been here before
There is a black boy on the corner trailing me behind
Stalking like a vulture money on his mind
In the shadow of the giant sphinx the archeological tale
Before the eastern sun sinks I'll be learning braille
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
They are playing our tune - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a, light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer's Child
Looking outside on a hot summer's day
Children run to each others homes to play
The air is filled with screams and laughter
In their adult years, they'll remember it forever after
Sweaty and out of breath, they run to me
Asking for some water or iced tea
Happy to sit and tell me of their day
Even though now, my hair is all grey
Wondrous events and all the new toys
Laughter coming from girls and boys
How innocent their existence is today
When they have nothing to do but play
How we long for such simpler times
To forget them, would be a crime
Yearning for the past and the memory
Of how easy our lives, used to be
poem by Jr James D Nall
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You Choose
The attic in my brain, is filled with a web - Spun by the spider of she past, i have been bitten more than once - The venom, the brutal anger, forever is the name, engraved, cast by stone in the endless time to last - Can you forget, to be forgiven - Can you change the way, the bitter to the progress in believing - Why can i not pass the past, without the remorse, without a light as the source - I sense the slivers that colors silver, the vision of a moon - Silence to the whispers, the noises, spoken by which is dead - I listen to the cries in sky, can you ever ready yourself to die, in peace - Will you be accepted by which lies beyond, the dark is only mist to a front - The hole to the tunnel, the spiral staircase of love and hate - You have a choice, will you burn or rejoice - Simple has never been harder, uncertainty to be painted, let the landscape be louder
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Time Long Past
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past.
A tone which is now forever fled,
A hope which is now forever past,
A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past.
There were sweet dreams in the night
Of Time long past:
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last--
That Time long past.
There is regret, almost remorse,
For Time long past.
'Tis like a child's belovèd corse
A father watches, till at last
Beauty is like remembrance, cast
From Time long past.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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