En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Through Thin Windows

Through thin windows I see
young leaves rising to twilight storm,
blue mist shimmering
on quick-silver street,
as glowing grass drops
into blackening copse.

With Stygian hand
has night claimed
declining day.

poem by Steven Federle
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Background Of Softest Blue Sky (Rev.)

Rainfall in thin silver slivers
crystal drops cling to rails
sun a radiant shaft through clouds
gleaming strings stream down
thunder rolls in deep-throated delight
rumbling contentment, satisfied

Rain plays percussion on roof iron, grass
glows in phosphorescent green
sunrays form dragonfly wings in my eyes
as I gaze into a rich, baritone thunder
a symphony in silver

A mint imperial sun winking
playing crystal drops twinkling
on blades of grass, raindrops in chords
on roof counterpoint to thunder’s
comforting booms, sunbeams glistening in
silver clouds, background of softest blue

poem by Margaret Alice
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Chiaroscuro

Bright leaves, tongues of flame
holding slender twigs; those thin pillars
resisting seductive breath of breeze,
binding the tender leaves to more substantial limbs
within the deep core of the whispering tree.

Even the setting sun
cannot penetrate so deeply as this,
where darker leaves
stand in rapt attention
as the night-clad trunk,
solid and unmoving,
dumbly regards neither
retiring sun nor rising silver moon,
but worships only
the empty
blue ether.

poem by Steven Federle
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After Rain

The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.

poem by Edward Thomas
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Sketches For A Fine Day

actually i like the sound of
brooms sweeping the street today

a young girl
short for her age
and brown and
bow legged

does her assigned task in the street
gathering dead leaves

as i watch
it is a bright day

the street light is turned off

a young boy's hand is held by her mother
crossing the street
waiting for the school bus

a white dog pisses
on the side of the trunk of the
mahogany tree

a black car from the right side of the village
wheels its way towards the boulevard

a young woman with short blue jeans
jogs along the green valley

the sea is sky
blue and the sun slowly rises from the horizon

like a man's face peeping upon a table's edge
the long line of trees along the faded street

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Street Only Knew Your Name

Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Skies Are Strown With Stars

The skies are strown with stars,
The streets are fresh with dew
A thin moon drifts to westward,
The night is hushed and cheerful.
My thought is quick with you.

Near windows gleam and laugh,
And far away a train
Clanks glowing through the stillness:
A great content's in all things,
And life is not in vain.

poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Few Drops Of Dew

Bound by earth and sky
The particles of darkness
Of my existence
Got crystallized into
Fertile dew-drops.

The thin clouds
Of scattered dew-drops
In the womb of an
Unfathomable vacuum
Assembled in ones and twos
Over my semi-bald head,
Promising a heavy downpour
On the pale leaves of grass at my feet,
During an autumnal twilight.

I was really amused to perceive
How those mere dew-drops
Could regenerate
So much greenery
Here, there, everywhere
And even on my bald- head.

At a distant horizon
On the dark boughs
Of a parched gulmohar tree
Red petals appeared
And singing birds perched
And surprisingly I could hold
The fragrance of thin hairs
Grown around her nape
With a solid passion,
Singing nursery-rhymes
To utmost perfection.

In the empty corridors of my ribs
Broken desires and disabled opportunities
Raised their wrinkled scalps
For a few drops of dew.

I really marvelled
At the sight of those dew-drops
Of such multiple colours
Creating a cascading effect
In their beauty and significance
Which I adored
And many a time imbibed.

But, alas! I didn’t know
Such ethereal dew-drops
Could feel so insecure
Merely at the sight
Of a pregnant eastern sky.

poem by Arkay Drk
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Summer Song

THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways' shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it's oh! for once to play thro' the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!

There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,
Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps are glow-worms light,
Between the silver aspens and the west's last gold.
And it's oh! to drink delight in the lovely lonely night,
To be young before the heart grows old!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The mist

Here in Springs the mist hangs in the mornings
almost like the Cape’s winter rain
that draws a grey cloak over almost every thing.

At sunrise the street lamps glow amber
and here and there a light is on in a house
and I hear a car, hooting goodbye.

When I walk on the grass
the water rises through my shoes
and leaves tracks along the driveway.

Flowers in colours of ruby red,
shades of pink to purple
and pure white are stringed in between the leaves

and as if every thing is fresh and new
water runs like drops of dew
down from the leaves.

The mist closes every thing off,
surrounds things, into an own world
where visibility is at times
just meters far.

Still the missing
that I have of you
is something with a greater intensity,

no sun early in the morning
burns away,
the being away that divides us.

There’s nothing clearing up this missing
but to talk with you,
better still to have you here.

poem by Gert Strydom
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After Hours

Walking down the hallway, its too dark
Too dark too see anything
Why are the lights off
How did they forget I was studying?
I have been at school for 10 hours

I had to go home but I don't know my way
I cant see the hallway its too dark
where am I going?
where do I go?
Stretching my hand out infront
reaching my way home
No windows in the school, but why?

My hand reaches up
A breath crawls over my hand
glowing blue eyes shone
Leading me, not home, but to death

Come on now
the dark voice moans
Do you want to be late home
Then a white storm surrounds me
What is going on?

That night I never came home
But I became a part of something
the memories in the dead pupils

poem by Holly Chanel
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Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

poem by Pablo Neruda
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Hope at Sunset

Across the fading valley
The silver bay shines,
effulgent edge
under twilight hills.

Confined
flat waters
cut a thin line
beneath dark heights rising.

Saw-toothed ridges
rip thin clouds
to ragged strips
the plunging sun ignites

into resplendent light
of love
for this sad, winter world.

poem by Steven Federle
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What looks in (windows and rain)

Rain upon windows…
Dark bedroom walls

Shimmering pastel mists
down shadowed halls

Windows of ebon black…
and cold Crystal light

Transparently solid through
Both dark and night

Seemingly liquid… in rivulets
Of slithers of rains

Silver sheet of mercury
Over fevered panes

Half seen reflections
enshroud the palpable dark

And imagined…(or real) things
Seem to quiver, dance and spark

Leaves strike... then flee
Tossed by cold fingers of wind

Tree branches rap upon the glass
as if wanting to come in

Pull covers o’er your head
Scrinch closed your eyes e’er so tight

Tis only windows they are…
So no real reason for fright

But… for what looks back in…
Through your windows tonight

poem by David Whalen
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Love Song To The Coming Morning

I'm like night in the sunset
Feeling red clouds in the sky
Wind in the trees full of breeze
Swirling up leaves so they fly

Meadows and hills shades in blue
Flowers in silver and gold
Darkness comes so untrue
Fairies in the moonlight hard to hold

Magical moments in twilight
Breaking off silences with a song
Leaving the day coming to night
Shadows are still though young

I'm like night in the sunset
Touching the moments that go
Into umbrage of absurdities
That lived in the day a while ago

Lilies and fields are in darkness
Moon is behind a blue cloud
Day shall wake up in dawn fresh
When dusky shadows are disallowed

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Rainfall

From out the west, where darkling storm-clouds float,
The 'waking wind pipes soft its rising note.

From out the west, o'erhung with fringes grey,
The wind preludes with sighs its roundelay,

Then blowing, singing, piping, laughing loud,
It scurries on before the grey storm-cloud;

Across the hollow and along the hill
It whips and whirls among the maples, till

With boughs upbent, and green of leaves blown wide,
The silver shines upon their underside.

A gusty freshening of humid air,
With showers laden, and with fragrance rare;

And now a little sprinkle, with a dash
Of great cool drops that fall with sudden splash;

Then over field and hollow, grass and grain,
The loud, crisp whiteness of the nearing rain.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Criminal Lights

The street lights open, you’re among the first to enlighten the night,
Ready for the beliefs of glowing nature at the office, a night of soundness;
I press the video button in vain, carrying messages with me now somewhere else,
Dressing for the never-ever land this summer, finding the birthday a chore.
From a bread loaf I munch on leaves that matter, the dough is rising
From the bakery of polite tasks, both our mouths are salivating.
A street of glass-makers wash the streets, like lights of beauty
And criminal delights.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Drinking In Sunshine

The day is glowing,
the leaves in the trees
glow with an inner light,
the grass bright, the sky
an intense blue canopy
framing the scene

I partake of the glorious day
slumbering in the sun, glowing
in its might, dreaming a little bit
while my legs are growing red
and the shade keeps running
away, I keep moving my chair

Drinking in sunshine and life

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Floras Secret

Lovers in the long grass
Look above them
Only they can see
Where the clouds are going
Only to discover
Dust and sunlight
Ever make the sky so blue
Afternoon is hazy
River flowing
All around the sounds
Moving closer to them
Telling them the story
Told by flora
Dreams they never knew
Silver willows
Tears from persia
Those who come
From a far-off island
Winter chanterelle lies
Under cover
Glory-of-the-sun in blue
Some they know as passion
Some as freedom
Some they know as love
And the way it leaves them
Summer snowflake
For a season
When the sky above is blue
When the sky above is blue
Lying in the long grass
Close beside her
Giving her the name
Of the one the moon loves
This will be the day she
Will remember
When she knew his heart
Was
Loving in the long grass
Close beside her
Whispering of love
And the way it leaves them
Lying in the long grass
In the sunlight
They believe its true love
And from all around them
Floras secret
Telling them of love
And the way it breathes
And
Looking up from eyes of
Amaranthine
They can see the sky
Is blue
Knowing that their love
Is true
Dreams they never knew
And the sky above is blue

song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Lillian Way

night
cold gray against greenish black
street lamp globes against
rectangle buildings
sitting in a parked car
along the deserted alleyways
off santa monica boulevard
car windows fogged
the cold green street lights
filtered through the prism
of a broken windshield
delicate spiderwebs of
white light diffusion

only in L.A.
a prostitute stands
against the bare wall
under a street light
with traffic going by

on the sidewalk
across the street
cocaine sellers asking
“what do you want? ”
“what do you need? ”

beside the building
a bottle and can collector
inspects a long low
excuse for a trash barrel

the prostitute
draws a lot of attention
cars pull to the curb
windows unwind

in the car adjacent
derelicts are fixing dope
shooting up in the
luminous twilight

now the whore has a trick
a car door slams
and tires spin away

much like a river
the wind has stirred up the palm leaves
and palmetto shadows
extra currents for a
3 a.m. late night traffic flow

much like my soft core
more than usually hard core
translucent shadows

on the concave street
vertical street signs
body schisms

poem by Theresa Haffner
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Flora's Secret

Lovers in the long grass
look above them
only they can see
where the clouds are going
only to discover
dust and sunlight
ever make the sky so blue
Afternoon is hazy
river flowing
all around the sounds
moving closer to them
telling them the story
told by flora
dreams they never knew

Silver willows
tears from Persia
those who come
from a far-off island
winter Chanterelle lies
under cover
Glory-of-the-sun in blue

Some they know as passion
some as freedom
some they know as love
and the way it leaves them
summer snowflake
for a season
when the sky above is blue
when the sky above is blue
Lying in the long grass
close beside her
giving her the name
of the one the moon loves
this will be the day she
will remember
when she knew his heart
was
loving in the long grass
close beside her
whispering of love
and the way it leaves them
lying in the long grass
in the sunlight
they believe it's true love
and from all around them
flora's secret
telling them of love
and the way it breathes
and
looking up from eyes of
amaranthine
they can see the sky
is blue
knowing that their love
is true
dreams they never knew
and the sky above is blue

song performed by by Enya from A Day Without Rain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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