En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Child Of Ice

Remember the child of the ice
listening intently as if awaiting what
from among those heights; of wind blown crags?
Straining to catch each word, dripping
dripping slowly, from melt thawing ice.
Like a grain of wheat waiting
for the sun the warmth the water.
Hopelessly longing for season of growth
to burst forth heralded by breath of spring.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ice Bound Time Sentenced

hopelessly longing for warmth
season of growth to burst forth
heralded by ardent breath spring

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Catch Each Word

strain catch each word
dripping dripping
slowly from thawing ice

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dream Space Of The Mind

I do not have a dream space
as do other people I know.

My dream space
is not a room,
nor could it ever be
despite the richness,

or tastefulness,
or simplicity;
or style,
or colour scheme,

or tidiness,
or untidiness;
or love attention
that had been lavished

upon this artificially
constructed space.

Where I would rest
relax rejuvenate myself
upon the close of day.

To me home is where
I hang my head
any clean restful dwelling
can serve this purpose.

Perhaps this
is a side effect
or residue
by product,

of travelling across
the world and back
several times, when

young to a certain degree.

But mainly
this is a love
of natural
unspoilt wilderness,

an appreciation
of great spirit
that invests
such places,

where my spirit
runs free
flies upon
an untamed wind.

This does not mean
that I do not
appreciate a well
furnished home.

In fact I do
have put down roots
several times,

furnished
these dwellings
in an elegant

though simple
Mediterranean style
upon the last
two occasions.

So where then
is my own refuge
my well beloved
dream space?

Not surprisingly
it encompasses
essential magic

of nature
that flows
within me.

But my dream space
does not exist
and has not been

constructed
on the imperfections
of the physical plane.

I walk between worlds,
see infinitely
past the surface,

refuse to submit
to the dictates
of a materialistic world

that grieves
the essence
of a spiritual reality

I value,
cling to

with an honour code
born in past ages.

To me truth
the written word
are sacred.

These are Buddhist
teachings
which I am aware of,

yet I approach
such sentiments
from the perspective
of the artist,

which predominately
lies dormant
within me.

This is part
of my true nature,
my essential being

that I cannot
compromise,
that which I know

and need not explain
to those who follow
a path I rarely walk

in this life
in this material age.

My dream space
is in my heart,
in my soul,

in the creative landscape
of my mind,
in the knowledge

revealed to me
within supposedly
random laws of chance,

given to those
that seek and knock
down the doors

of wisdom painfully given.

My dream space
is multi textural
contains limitless horizons

I oft may walk
with all the smell,
taste, sight, sound,
touch, noise, vibrations

which may merge
the rhythm
of my soul; with

the music of the spheres,
or the harmony of the universe.

This is a magic
place revealed to me
through the heritage

of ancestors
who embraced
such realms

sought the truth
power beyond
that which more

vision-less minds,
would define
as religion follow

with rote ignorance.

I have called it
a magic place,
but in fact

it is the one true reality

hidden behind the curtain

of this life we live
upon this earth.

It is reality more in tune
to how God created it,
such knowledge is never

given complete,
to any who walk
the mortal sphere.

An occasional
glimpse
into the future

into that which is invisible

to most,
is merely
my birthright,

I remember the future dreamed
when it eventuates.

I can create
my own worlds within
my imagination.

I can create it
so that it is seen,
felt, touched, smelt by me.

This I do often
with my most perfect
thought which this world

with present materialistic
values is not perceptive of.

I rarely write
share these things
at present for truth

beauty which bent
materialistically
lost seldom see,

still should not be mocked,
for these qualities spring
from a eureka sacred,
perhaps God given source.

Shared is that which
I do translate,
often masked,

or in the form of poetry,
or short stories

long since given back
to the flame.

I sometimes write
that which can be seen
visualized by a friend

who I may decide
to share a poem
or poems with.

This can be in any shape,
size, situation, colour,
place or form I deem fit;

or the piece
being formed dictates.

It can contain
drama, excitement, peace,
tension, morals, codes,
wisdom, simplicity, frustration,

complications, prophesy,
horror, which I wish
to visit upon it in
any particular genre.

I may meditate
upon it,
explore simile metaphor,
play with words;

or become
a dissatisfied bore
destroy a piece I adhore.

Choice is mine,
for I have
no one to please,
decision totally
belongs to me,

my aim is not
presently to create
to publish, or

even to preserve;
but merely to survive
in a world in which

I walk ever out of time;
to the beat of an unheard
distant drum the mainstream

does not perceive follow
in my lifetime
perhaps never shall.

I could give you
a glimpse into
such a world from

a single diverse poem

like ‘A Season Of Growth’
which is
five hundred and ten
lines long

written as the first
key poem in a trilogy
transmuting time and space.

The poem begins
as follows;
I could give a basic

explanation
that would run
into three pages at least.

Better I give only
the beginning;
then close off this world

as suddenly as it appeared
within the normality of your life...

“Remember chill child channelling infamous ice
listening intently as if awaiting what
among helm heights of wind blown crags?
Straining to catch each Woden word, dripping
slowly from thrive thawing ice.
Grim grain weathered wheat waiting
for sun warmth water.
Hopelessly longing for season of growth
to burst forth heralded by....

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in July 1998.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dripping Water

Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,

Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,

Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!

Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,

Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.

poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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A Season Of Growth: The Swan Road

Jarl (Old English eorl Earl) ‘a man of noble birth’; hence used as the title of hereditary Norse and Danish chieftains; later, of the royal liege-man next in rank to the king whom they followed. An old Norse and Danish chieftain or under-king.

Remember chill child channelling infamous ice,
listening intently as if awaiting what;
among helm heights of wind blown crags?
Straining to catch each Wodan word, dripping;
dripping slowly, from thrive thawing ice.
Grim grain weathered wheat waiting;
for birth bright born sun warmth water.
Hopelessly longing for season of growth
to burst forth heralded by ye breath of spring.

Jarl lifts face before wenian leave taking wind
to hail heavens these heraldic words Jarl cries.
“Mine ancestors have fought bleed died;
under eal earth’s parched foreign skies. eal A.S. all
Froth looting alien plain; raid memory;
was locked in all descendant brains.
Awaiting chill coming ravenous rains;
for raid warriors who draft row survived,
with potent power staining scarlet bled skies.
For mine blood is bile blood; warming warriors;
bile blood river tide flows in mine veins; unlike
mildew blood; sheaf shed in Anglo-Saxon heirs.
Odour oozing mortality hangs in mist breath air;
from sterile peace to fertile revenge plough strife.
Only death; grants release from slave; thrall life.
Chieftain boiling blood burning; warrior skald king; skald Old Norse poet
left furrows littered within earth locked Danegeld.
Guarded within sacred sealed longship barrows.
By ye will of Nordic Gods we build we fight
by norther stars Dragon longships sail err night.”

Then Jarl turned in one swift movement; back
to ye ships which rode stone anchors lightly, waiting;
to fly with wind while riding roaring oceanic waves.
Back to ye gathering place where assembled each crew.
Jarl’s eyes were as eager as any raw blood lust youth;
yet as fierce as cornered wolf held at pierce point bay.
Like ye beautiful eyes of ye battle trained wolfhound;
which stood ever ready upon shield blade guard side.
Locks which fell, to muscled shoulders, were still golden;
as was wolf-beard, yet mesmeric face, was weathered stern.
When he laughed, it was like ye soaring, ghoul haunting;
cry of gulls on bewitched wing, guarding territory seashore.
Each wrist was rank, covered guarded, by a golden bracelet;
a handwidth wide, at his throat bindan, a band of wrought gold.
On scourge sword arm, Jarl wore famed bracelet, ye great red
dragon; which gleamed transient light, cast in feeble sunlight;
upon ye metallic mating, marking tribute, copper married gold.
Crafted by Norse master craftsman, an artisan, without equal.
Chain-mail dragon scaled body, life merge weaven, cunningly coiled;
about ye iron muscle of Jarl’s, blade thrust bite, death blood arm.

Jarl now stood before raid gathered crews to speak.
His hands raw boned strong; like ye fist of iron; he ruled with.
Beneath ye woolen tunic; ye chain linked shirt; ye scars fell.
Always about same places; where enemy blade; opening lay.
As viking strode furiously; to be first; within hunted battle foe.
For warriors who go to battle; many raid seasons; following.
Summer succeeding summer; bore ye bite; of enemy blade.
Eagle eyes with wisdom; cold indifference; to pain or spirits;
scanned ye viking; with glacial weighing; ice crevice measure;
of all weakness encountered; which set teeth; of teething on edge.
Suffering within himself; ritual warrior berserks; left him unmoved.

“In ye beauty of bare swan road fiords; ye Gods;
have left us ravenous; we hunger; month winter.
In ye fat; warm lamb lands; of Christ On Ye Cross;
is much meat; slaughter sport; had with sword game.
Always ye unknown is before us! It will ever be so!
Waits to swallow sheep; not equal to be blood wader;
men. Who could not face; what men; have ever sought.
Now is ye time; for dragon ships; to sail swan road seas.
Like ye wolf winter’s teeth; has been hard; on barren bones.
Like ye wolf winter’s bite; has left us savage; starve lean.
Like ye wolf we hunt; alone in dragon; row wolf pack;
we ravish; rich green river feed; plunder pastures.
For us it is everything; or nothing; ever must it be so!
For are we not hungry; hungry; like ye winter wolves?
Else to summer; on homebound, farm crop labour shores;
we grow weak next winter; when food, be season short.
Lacking rich lands; fertile loam soils; for crops or beast;
we must raid fight; for number to increase; to survive.
Not even before ye eye; of ye fierce rage; north sea storm;
or ye ocean’s; own deep hunger; can our own be calm.”

total 80 lines to be continued...

this Viking Epic poem, had the 1st to 5th stanzas posted by 7.10.2010.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Grain Of Wheat

watch a grain of wheat
planted unseen waiting waiting
for sun warmth water

poem by Terence George Craddock
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On Purpose

I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line

I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty

I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor

I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth

I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain

Because I cut myself
On purpose

poem by Kylee Bartz
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We Walk Naked In The Rain

we walk in the rain, we walk naked in the rain
we like the shower in nude, we like the droppings of rain in our nudity

dripping in our curving naked bodies, in eroticism
to all the waters slowly crawling around us to all the dainty showers from above us

the droplets the heavy rain, the coldness dripping in our chins, our lips, pelvis, legs and
toes
and the warmth now enclosed between us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Long Grown Cold

thunderstorm, and ashes...
wild horses running free.
wolves panting in the darkness,
owls shudder in the night.
bats hang upside down, and then die,
like falling stars disappear.
i lick the walls of your soul,
until my tongue bleeds.
water dripping from a rusted spicket,
the old tree split by lightning.
i kiss your eyes, and death stammers,
even word hesitates.
longing tastes like sap and old books,
sadness precious hangs and falls.
you dig your nails into my heart,
the waterfall frozen in time.
stone throbs, pines pray needle prayers.
there's no direction in the darkness,
only pulse, and animal souls.
then i awaken with a start,
gasping for breath in an empty room.
wind blown branches scratch the window,
embers whisper long grown cold!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Jumping Puddles

On a cool spring evening
saw cocooned young girl
skipping skipping skipping

while her mother’s blood
was dripping dripping dripping.

Not mashed
musky stench
stencil-plating

failure foetus
plastering out psyche
aberrant aborted spleen.

But razored edge
editing adult life.

Themes Of Domestic Violence!
See also ‘Spare The Rod’, ‘After Burn’ and ‘Male Myth Busters’.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Song Of Spring

The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.

The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Waiting On The Wheat Harvest

as you sow brothers sisters so you wheat harvest reap
as a grain of wheat dies germinates bears fruit to heap
Jesus will completely clean up threshing floor gather his wheat
chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire hell suffering heat
an enemy came in over sowed weeds in among seed wheat
reapers harvest collect weeds burn them saving only wheat
Satan demands sifts men as wheat to blow away in sifting wind
Son of man will send angels to gather chosen ones from ill wind
a grain of wheat falls into the ground dies then bears fruit new life
so hate soul temptation in this world safeguard soul for eternal life

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Do I Do

When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When youre standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
When I hear you on the phone
Your sweet, sexy voice turns my ear all the way on
Just the mention of your name
Seems to drive my head insane
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...baby
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, love, love
From the time that I awake
Im imagining the good love that well make
If to me your vibe can do all this
Just imagine how its going to feel when we hug and kiss
Sugar, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...all right
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your love
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have the pleasure to present on my album
Mr. dizzy gillespie...blow!
Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow!
Do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your lo-o-ove
Oh, I dont care how long it might take
cause I know the woman for me, you Ill make
And I will not deny myself the chance
Of being part of what feels like the right romance
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you, oh yeah
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Girl, Ive got some chocolate kisses for your lovin; baby, oh yea
Do you want some candy?
Do you want some honey suckle?
Do you want some chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you?
Girl, if you felt everything you heard me say
Turn your feelings in your heart back to me right away
And Ill get it
Do I do (do I do)
What you do (what you do)
When I do my love to you
Do I do (do I do)
What you do (what you do)
When I do my love to you
Do I do (do I do)
What you do (what you do)
When I do my love to you
Do I do (do I do)
What you do (what you do)
When I do my love...nate!
I know the record is about to end
But were just going to play and play until it goes away
So if you dont like the groove you can turn the record off
It wont cost you nothin but a penny and youll have a cough
I know I cannot ryhme cause I aint like a friend of mine
But I hai ha ha ha....
(jive rap)
Now everybodys talking about the jive is in...
Well I know Ive got something for your body...
Earl...earl
Earl playing by himself, man...
Earl playing by himself, man...
Earl playing by himself, man...
Dennis playing by himself, man...
Five, four, three, two, one.

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As slow as you are loving me

Slowly I know
Slowly slowly
I know what
Slow is, how
Is it to be slow
To be very
Slow like
A snail, like
A turtle like
A feather
Falling in air,
Like an ice cube
Melting and
Water dripping
Like you, slowly
Touching me,
Slow as how
Slow as you can
Be slowly loving
Me, slowly killing
Me in this kind
Of love so slow in
Suspended animation

Squeeze me, fleece me, and eke me out,
Crumple me, disarrange me, scatter me
Crease me, fold me, scrunch, crinkle,
Corrugate me, crimp me, and furrow me, ripple & ruffle me;
Jumble me, mess me, I am in love with you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Better Kept Wrapped

Yes.
I am an Aquarian.
And not into heat that's humidified.
I am a 'let-the-snow-fall'...
Up Uranus, Winter loving air sign.

All that heat and people on the streets,
Clinging onto dripping sweat?
Naw...
That part of Summer,
I'd like to forget.

Melting snow reminds me of seeing...
Meat thawing
And some meat I've seen thawing in Summer...
Would be better kept wrapped.
And thrown back into the freezer.

Doing everyone a favor,
If not seen.
Unless it's at one of those midnight cookouts.
Under the Moonlight.
It seems only 'then' that the trimming of fat,
Is not so obviously needed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Could Have Easily Used A Simple Wrench

What do I think about the increase,
Of today's rising social ills?

I remember once having a leaking faucet.
I ignored the dripping of it for weeks.
One day it got on my nerves so bad,
I broke the handle off the faucet.
And tried to stop the gushing of water.
And ended up,
Having to have my entire bathroom remodeled.

And then decided to take out a loan,
To redo my entire home.
Only to discover,
The value of my home depreciated...
When the homes around me were being foreclosed.

And now I am stuck with a bill,
My grandchildren's children...
Will never be able to repay.

And everyday I say to myself...
I could have easily used a simple wrench,
To tighten a loosened nut!
And that would have stopped the dripping.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Death-Parting

LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Earth A Cheerless Look Still Wears

The earth a cheerless look still wears,
But spring's breath is already swaying
The dead stalks in the field and playing
With boughs as yet of leafage bare.
Though nature sleeps, through its dull slumber,
Through dreams that slowly fade away,
It hears spring's airy step and gay,
And, happy, smiles at the newcomer...

O soul, my soul, you slumbered too...
What is it that, your sleep disturbing,
Fills you with warmth and tender yearning
And gilds your tarnished dreams anew?

The thawing snows lie sparkling under
The sparkling sky: no clouds above.
My hot blood plays... Is it the languor
Of springtime or - a woman's love?..

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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Springtime And You

I look but cannot see you.
You're much too far from here.
Amidst the winter's snowy form
I await the spring with fear.

The spring will burst forth with color
and warmth will fill the scene.
Will it wipe away the sadness?
Will it make my life serene?

All the flowers that come alive
will be a welcome sight.
And all the hours of waiting
on night after endless night

will bring me one step closer
to seeing you once more.
This thought alone will comfort me
as I remember what was before.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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