December Fog
Winding over fast roads
through shrouded hills,
we see the familiar valley
disappear
under a white sea,
human confusion
dissolving
into pure cloud.
over frozen white roofs
beyond the veiled ridge
the dark disc rises.
Black dawn
breaks the long night
and spills dirty light
over the waking city.
In the twilight sky
shadow shapes
fly in V
over still trees,
looking for rest,
any place to touch
soft, giving ground
and call it
a nest.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
Dirty White Boy
Hey, baby, if youre feelin down
I know whats good for you all day
Are you worried what your friends see
Will it ruin your reputation lovin me
cause Im a dirty white boy
Yeah a dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Dont drive no big black car
Dont like no hollywood movie star
You want me to be true to you
You dont give a damn what I do to you
Im just a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Well, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Ive been in trouble since I dont know when
Im in trouble now and I now somehow Ill find trouble again
Im a loner, but Im never alone
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone
cause Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Cmon, cmon boy
Dirty white boy, white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Hey, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy, yeah
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red House
On the wide fields the water gleams like snow,
And snow like water pale beneath pale sky,
When old and burdened the white clouds are stooped low.
Sudden as thought, or startled near bird's cry,
The whiteness of first light on hills of snow
New dropped from skiey hills of tumbling white
Streams from the ridge to where the long woods lie;
And tall ridge-trees lift their soft crowns of white
Above slim bodies all black or flecked with snow.
By the tossed foam of the not yet frozen brook
Black pigs go straggling over fields of snow;
The air is full of snow, and starling and rook
Are blacker amid the myriad streams of light.
Warm as old fire the Red House burns yet bright
Beneath the unmelting snows of pine and larch,
While February moves as slow, as slow
As Spring might never come, never come March.
Amid such snows, by generations haunted,
By echoes, memories and dreams enchanted,
Firm when dark winds through the night stamp and shout,
Brightest when time silvers the world all about,
That old house called _The Heart_ burns, burns, and still
Outbraves the mortal threat of the hanging hill.
poem by John Freeman
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Red
There are three colores,
Each a meaning,
in its own,
a little more important,
Than the rest.
White is calm, white is blank,
white is pure and white is clean,
white is the color of doves,
white is the color of here and there,
white is pure.
Black is dark, black is full,
Black is absent and black is stained,
Black is the color of night,
Black is the color of life and death,
Black is dark.
There is one other to say,
The one that flows within,
This color is not white,
but it is pure,
this color is not black,
But it is dark,
This color is all,
It is calm, it is blank,
It is dark, it is full,
both pure and stained,
clean and absent,
it is life it is death,
it is here and it is there,
this is the color,
of everything,
It is red.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Black and White (Stream XV)
I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?
For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The City
Mornings when I wake too early
Theres a dead light in the room
Rain is falling through
The dark and the moon
The waking hour appears pretty soon
Everyone is sleeping though
I lie in a curtained room
Somewhere in a city
Holding so many names
Somehow in the distance
Ive gone to ground
Somewhere in a city
Somewhere between the crowd
Somehow in the distance
Ive gone to ground
Only the shadow remains
Only the shadow of doubt
Three years of memories
Memories without a sight
The end of another year
How will I survive ?
How suddenly fear begins
In a bedroom on the floor
Somewhere in a city
Holding so many names
Somewhere in the crowd
Somewhere in the distance
Somewhere in a city
Holding so many names
Somehow in a city
Ive gone to ground
The light breaks slowly forward
Across my bedroom wall
Until it defines me somehow
In shadow of doubt
It finds my fugitive life
Its blurred, blurred with dust
Only heaven collides
When I look above
Somewhere in a city
Holding so many names
Somehow in the distance
Ive gone to ground
Somewhere in a city
Somewhere between the crowd
Somehow in the distance
Ive gone to ground
Somewhere in a city
Somewhere between the crowd
Somehow in the distance
Ive gone to ground
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stars
How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!--
As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,--
And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.
poem by Robert Frost
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This Rising
I wanted to be the thundercloud
pounding fury in electric flashes,
but impatiently the earth pulled me down,
and trapped me, like silent, winter tule fog,
pausing over dark, delta waters
until I rose over the darkening valley
and observed the crescent moon
ascending over seaward hills,
effervescent disc
dissolving into death,
while radiant, scimitar edge,
rent the black night.
In the pure air at last,
just beneath the black vacuum of my limit,
I discern the elevated host,
this consecrated, bloody body,
in the agony of redemption,
in the glory of this perfect moment,
this nexus of heaven and earth,
this rising.
poem by Steven Federle
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Souls Sharing Mystery Nighttime Symphony
it was awake dark late the other night
moon was but a fingernail ribbon of light
all was silent quiet upon the sleeping hills
slight breeze in trees stirs nighttime thrills
from out of our bedroom we did silent creep
at still 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. it's time to shadow peep
I whistle twice thrice into friend dark shadow trees
soon a few familiar shapes flutter about night breeze
my daughters Rachael Kayla silent watch with me
my friends I smile call to introduce daughters to see
these are my season friends at this season call
fruit bats feast this season these trees their mall
in solo stillness of dark or star moon lit night
I whistle call then rapture watch their flutter flight
now as still as still as a shadow can be
my daughters by my side may watch with me
Rachael four cannot silent still wait or watch
words she spills her arm motions darkness cuts a swatch
yet faithful old season friend bat still flies to me greet
in darkness two span distance from my face we meet
nature's wild creatures my heart stirs in innocent delight
even fruit eating binturong greeted my face once in ink night
crossing telephone power cable from bat fruit trees
in cloak ink darkness adult male pause curiosity sees
this nightly poet shaman stand on this balcony ledge
to wondrous creation we share soul mystic pledge
in dead of night binturong two span face distance I meet
our senses one moment we part upon paths spiritual greet
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Rise From The Ashes
Sent to the earth In the open light
White soul delivered out from the dark
Guardian of a pure heart, run in innocent blood
Owned the spirit like a young phoenix learn to fly
Underneath the skin it binds, fears existence denied
But when the sun loose it's crown at the dark night
Mist of fear shadowing all visible roads
Suffering without heat to breathe cold
Consuming air from this atmosphere
Holding soul in frozen blood, away from frozen heart
Taking over sanity to absorb all energy of living
Numb all the strength till wings lost the last flames
The glory now fade away soon to disappear
All broken, burned by this cold fear just in one night
And released spirit moved out as despaired soot
Force the soul to vapor above the ashes crude
Left the rest wait to collapse on the ground
Hopes estranged, decayed in the ashes
Purified soul levitates between the earth and the sky
Like a mass of white cotton, now it keeps growing
Filtering air to embrace all scattering black dust
The spirit particles, to not gone in black space
Emerge In anew constitution, an invisible union,
Unison for two, back as a whole one again
Sown by lightning, ties them together
In a mega black cloud above the ashes
A restoration of fearless,
Mission to save the life grace
A shiny drop, hit the ground
The purest ardor in the gem of soul
Return to the ashes as a brave dew
A spark was created, life ignited
Drizzle bring more, in every drip drop
Bring the heats, poured as the rain fall
Towering fires, Igniting sensation
Celebrating of new rising life
The return of the soul and spirit
For the heart lend the pulses again
Breathing confident
To raise the flamed wings again
Behind the limb
Like burning fires
Like a phoenix reclaim dreams
From lost life in earth and return again
After one more time delivered from dark
To seek the open light brighter than the sun rise
Cause after all what we found a lesson to be wise
..............................
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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A White Architect Of Light
8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone
Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections
Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Sleep
Not your dark poisons again,
White sleep!
This fantastically strange garden
Of trees in deepening twilight
Fills up with serpents, nightmoths,
Spiders, bats.
Approaching stranger!
Yo u r a b a n d o n e d s h a d o w
In the red of evening
Is a dark pirate ship
Of the salty oceans of confusion.
White birds from the outskirts of the night
Flutter out over the shuddering cities
Of stee
poem by Georg Trakl
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Twilight In The North
O THE long northern twilight between the day and the night,
When the heat and the weariness of the world are ended quite:
When the hills grow dim as dreams, and the crystal river seems
Like that River of Life from out the Throne where the blessèd walk in white.
O the weird northern twilight, which is neither night nor day,
When the amber wake of the long-set sun still marks his western way:
And but one great golden star in the deep blue east afar
Warns of sleep, and dark, and midnight--of oblivion and decay.
O the calm northern twilight, when labor is all done,
And the birds in drowsy twitter have dropped silent one by one:
And nothing stirs or sighs in mountains, waters, skies,--
Earth sleeps--but her heart waketh, till the rising of the sun.
O the sweet, sweet twilight, just before the time of rest,
When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed:
And the dead day smiles so bright, filling earth and heaven with light,--
You would think 't was dawn come back again--but the light is in the west.
O the grand solemn twilight, spreading peace from pole to pole!--
Ere the rains sweep o'er the hillsides, and the waters rise and roll,
In the lull and the calm, come, O angel with the palm--
In the still norther twilight, Azrael, take my soul.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Ultima Thule: The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tide Rises, the Tide Falls, The
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXVII
She wakes, she breathes, she rises from her bed,
That bed of death where she has lain so long;
The flowers they set there fall from her fair head
Withered, while she, sweet soul, has known no wrong.
Forth from her grave miraculously white,
And all unstained by the dull earth's decay,
Natalia rises, a last star of night,
Just as the dawn is breaking into day.
Upon the stones they kneeled them down and prayed,
For hearts grow soft with a long danger past,
And both were young and for a while dismayed
At their great joy nor deemed they held it fast;
Then, having kissed and wept, they turned to go
Through the dark church with faltering steps and slow.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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My Quest My Life
Long night... long...
I ride on dark
To find
From where to where
Life flows
Blooming bleeding banishing
Breathing to meet its oath
All I keep behind
Peaks Oceans deserts
Thousand of thousands stars
Galaxies androids planets
Blue black green
Keep colors behind
Fly I smooth
In quest
In Quest
Found no end
No origin
From back to front
Everywhere exists
Silence
No chaos
No race
In solitude a wave
White
White
White
All shapes are bubbles
Floating flipping flickering
As white touches the frame
Bubbles are gone
Become the part
Only of white wave
Yet me not gone
And life alone
Move fast and fast
Waving back to front
View
Viewer
Viewing
Nowhere the finishing flag
Beginning everywhere
Every point as far
Conscious screening
White
White
White
Waving its cool and caring lap...
Pranab k c
18/06/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Taking Time
i tried to ask myself what are days for
they always equate it with walking and the nights
always with sleep. Some have taken the courage
to redefine the colors.
black need not be dark, and white need
not be waking,
sleep would be pink at times
and twilight blue.
i do most of the thinking at night
when everyone hides in the darkness of their sleep.
there are colors and sounds and scents.
and i begin to love the variations,
the aberrations have become adventures
and no one in the house knows
no one understands what is happening to my
eyelids, my mouth does not speak
and my eyes,
having seen much, have desired days
to be the place for the dead,
the white mausoleums, the scents of the flowers
for the weary.
i sleep and dream at noontime and
nobody is there anymore to
mind. I am alone and i have began to love
this moment.
my day is dark. my night is light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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