I Came Home At Last
'It's me it's Terry I came home at last'
is a Wuthering Heights reference
declaration I am off roaming wild moors
to landscape tempest fight
as much as a spectre apparition can
in a storm of decades thoughts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Wuthering Heights
Out on the wiley, windy moors
Wed roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering heights.
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh, it gets dark! it gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
Im coming back, love.
Cruel heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.
Too long I roam in the night.
Im coming back to his side, to put it right.
Im coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering heights,
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh! let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know its me--cathy!
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, its me--cathy.
Come home. Im so cold!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.
Emily Brontë in Wuthering Heights
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I've tended to do is to use my own experiences to get into someone else's mind, like in Wuthering Heights.
Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.
Emily Brontë in Wuthering Heights
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take and be prepared for my friend C.P
The desert plains of ice and snow are not a place I’d choose to go.
Nor sandy wastes under the sun dry deserts don’t suit everyone.
The high plateaus of the Andes; I can assure you will not please.
Perhaps I’m choosy but I find such desert places most unkind.
I much prefer the moors I roam which welcome me. I feel at home.
Although they’re barren, wild and bleak I find the solitude I seek.
Each to his own I must suppose. My own high moors are what I chose.
I listen when they speak to me, I understand them easily.
They can be dangerous it’s true. You can take risks if you choose to.
I don’t take risks I know the rules. The high moors have no time for fools.
I have been sometimes weather bound by sudden mists which cloak the ground.
I have sufficient sense to see my moors are merely testing me.
Mistakes the moors will not forgive, I am prepared so I survive.
A wise man gives the moors respect but fools don not but they expect.
Tolerance for their carelessness their stupid unpreparedness.
The moors are not the enemy they judge all men impartially.
Some learn by hard experience there’s limits to their tolerance.
But others pay the penalty. Killed by their own stupidity.
06/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I absolutely adored Wuthering Heights and fell in love with Heathcliff as most girls do.
quote by Margaret Forster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emotional Upheaval
Only Terry Pratchett can be forgiven for irreverently sending
an unrefined Sam Vines into the pristine company of Pride
and Prejuduce - calling this classic a silly romance
Vimes launches into a diatribe against the stifling gentility that
held rich people enthralled within a useless existence, tells
author Jane Austen to write about
Corpses, murder and war – a cross between Mickey Spillane
and Margaret Mitchell; I love his advice about earning one’s
own keep leading to self-esteem
Enjoy the psychological tension Austen described –without
much action she creates more excitement and emotional
upheaval than Mike Hammer and
Scarlett O’Hara combined – only Wuthering Heights and
Jane Eyre can rival Jane Austen in making me
experience hallucinations!
Snuff – Terry Pratchett; Doubleday 2011
pp 69-72
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Superior Force for M 'lady Tara
Across the windswept moors it came.
A cloudburst worthy of the name
A million, million spears of rain
which pierced the earth again again.
The suddenly the storm has passed.
The sky no longer overcast.
A vast expanse of palest blue
with sunlight shining down anew.
The raging wind has ceased to scream
as if the storm had been a dream.
The thirsty earth has drunk her fill
replenished every flowing rill.
I venture forth resume my stroll.
But in the distance hear the roll
of thunders war drums ceaselessly
Beat out a rhythm threateningly.
Far, far away towards the coast
the storm clouds gather in a host
Preparing for a fresh assault.
The rain will fall without a halt.
The sea absorbs it easily
until the storm clouds wearily.
Give up their fight against the sea,
They cannot win its plain to see
The storm moves on but leaves behind,
a vivid picture in my mind.
A sight I never thought to see.
Rain pouring down torrentially.
So that the raindrops hid from view
The moorlands that I loved and knew.
A sight I may not see again
my moors submitting to the rain.
5-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Crystal (Part II of A True Experience)
the multi-storey perhaps three storey
grim and desolate building
-so dark and devoid of love-
struck me like the one i saw recently
in Wuthering Heights, the 1930s
black and white British film
as the dream came on,
something inside told me,
it was a building where such
a chilling tragedy did strike
shadows, echoes and a
menacing atmosphere overran
the rundown building
there was no door except
an opening to a dark interior
cold as caves
Wuthering Heights where memories
only cut through the heart and wounds
to set them bleeding once more
the beau and belle so
completely overwhelmed by love
their despair still eats up
every moment here
my family quite strangely
i thought were all up there
looking at the furniture,
decor, relics perhaps
i felt the rush to join them
but was held back by the
intimidating atmosphere
that resulted in a drenched feeling
flitting bats threw their shadows
as they looked relentlessly for a corner
to hook on as home
a big black dog barked
from the dark hall, another one ran
onto the scene but miserably failed
to warm the place up
a middle aged depressive
looking caucasian male
walked from one side of the buidling
stared at me, before i was summoned
back to the darkness of my room
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Out Of The Depths
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry went up from a sea --
The waves were wild with an awful wrath,
Not a light shone down on the lone ship's path;
The clouds hung low:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Rose wild from the hearts of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
The cry floated over the waves --
Far over the pitiless waves;
It smote on the dark and it rended the clouds;
The billows below them were weaving white shrouds
Out of the foam of the surge,
And the wind-voices chanted a dirge:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Wailed wilder the lips of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Not the sign of a hope was nigh,
In the sea, in the air, or the sky;
And the lifted faces were wan and white,
There was nothing without them but storm and night
And nothing within but fear.
But far to a Father's ear:
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Floated the wail of the tempest-tossed.
Lost! Lost! Lost!
Out of the depths of the sea --
Out of the night and the sea;
And the waves and the winds of the storm were hushed,
And the sky with the gleams of the stars was flushed.
Saved! Saved! Saved!
And a calm and a joyous cry
Floated up through the starry sky,
In the dark -- in the storm -- 'Our Father' is nigh.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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Am I a romantic? I've seen 'Wuthering Heights' ten times. I'm a romantic.
quote by Johnny Depp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Declaration Of Life
Declaration of life
Is a written paper
That I keep in the drawers of my desk
It is a declaration of life that is truly an amazing gift
Sign, sealed, and delivered by God
At the time I was born
And at the time I had entered his world
I had grown and seen all his world
Today I am a believer
I am the one who is falling into God's footsteps
And God is life
This day was made for me
Bring it on I will
I will look on your side of the world
Because there are places
Which are brighter
Filled with thy love and peace
God tells me I will take care of you
Many years to come
Declaration of life
Live my child
Live well my child
Enjoy it my child
Drink my child
Eat my child
Sleep well at night my child
And don't forget about me my child
Child I am the one who signed the declaration of life
In your heart, mind, and soul I live
Child take time to consider grace
God the landscape grows green with your love
Eternity isn't something we wait for-it's what we breathe
God
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The High Moors free verse
The high moors lie beneath a changing Sky
As seasons in their turn assume the throne
The landscape changes yet remains the same.
Cosmetic changes superficially
appear to alter what is permanent.
Changing perceptions of what we can see
by adding or subtracting colouring
The pleasant shades of green wrought by the spring
The hues of summer heather dominates
and autumn paints the moors in shades of gold.
Then winter shows monochrome artistry.
Uninhabited. uninhibited
The high moors appear to be desolate
and yet sustain more life than meets the eye.
The circling hawks on high can see their prey
and stooping, swiftly expertly they dine.
They take some small life to sustain their own.
Obeying Natures rule kill or be killed.
The high moors can be very dangerous
especially to the uninitiated.
Their beauty attracts both wise men and fools.
And yet there is no place I’d rather be
Alone, or with congenial company.
13-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Inevitable Defeat for Friend Leslie
The tempest rages spitefully
as it has done all through the night.
Determined to defeat the sea
it gives no quarter or respite.
The rolling thunder loudly roars
across the heavens ceaselessly
Forked lightning flickers like a sword.
A weapon wielded expertly
Which strikes the surface of the sea
to small effect. The sea ignores
this useless waste of energy.
The raging storm cannot enforce
it’s will. The mighty sea denies
the storm the smallest victory.
No matter how the tempest tries
The storm will cease eventually.
The storm clouds slowly dissipate
As silence stills the thunders roar.
The sea resumes its peaceful state
and all is as it was before.
The tempest tried to no avail
to overcome its enemy.
Its puny efforts doomed to fail
against the everlasting sea.
29-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Zero And Blind Terry
The skulls met the pythons
Down at the first street station
Alliance has been made in alleyways
All across the nation
These boys live off the milk of a silver jet
And the love of sweet young women
The pythons are down from old englishtown
And they 're looking to do some living
Well the leader of the pythons
Is a kid they just call zero
Now terry's pop says these kids
Are some kind of monsters
But terry says "no, pop
They're just plain heroes"
Zero and terry had found a love
That burned like wild fire
Now terry's dad understood
That this zero was no good
A tramp, a thief and a liar
Well from out of the darkness
That breaks the dawn
Zero rode like twilight
He said "tonight's the night
Blind terry come on
Terry come on
Tonight is the night
Pack your bags baby"
And together they ran like reindeers
Through the streets
Well like tomorrow the earth
Is gonna catch on fire
Now terry's dad hired some troopers
To kill zero and bring terry back home
They caught up in the night, like firelightthem starlight troopers....
Zero marches through terry's field
They met the pythons down on route nine
But they refused to yield
Now the pythons fought with blazed guns
And the troopers with swords of light
And zero and terry they ran away
And the gang fought all through the night
Now some folks say
Zero and terry got away
Other said they were caught and brought back
Ah, still young pilgrims to this day
Go to that spot way down by the railroad tracks
Where the troopers met the pythons
Old timers cry on a hot august night
If you look hard enough, if you try
You'll see zero and terry and all the pythons
Just hiking them streets up in the sky.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Terry Atkins
Terry atkins is a homosexual
he likes to make people to scream on the grass
this a a rappest
terry atkins
terry was a holt reader lover
he always said HOLT READERS everybody
everybody was scared of him that he might rape them
terry atkin
to all you terry atkin poeple is he a rapiest
after school he goes home a shows his **** to the children he is about to rape
after she is done he throws them back in
poem by Richard Hayes
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Why
Why poets are shy.
Shylock what's in a name.
Why do they then cry
from Yawning Depths
to Wuthering Heights.
Why do they pointy-late
in consonants and footnotes
and sketch an unsaid Why.
Rilke steered my mares,
Vroman turned me in his cell
and Komrij protected my shell.
But What I needed
Was carefully heeded
in urges to mystify.
poem by Madrason writer
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Declaration Day
A desperate situation
Forced to retaliation
The task ahead, a burden
Men will suffer, that's for certain
We'll charge into the fire
The cause, we must inspire
We raise our fist to tyranny
A high price, Freedom is not free
The odds are stacked against us
But with our resolve relentless
And arrogance their Weakness
Our cause is just, we won't be beaten
Upon this declaration
Will come a brand new nation
Where men are seen as equal
Governed by and for the people
Chorus
So we make our stand and pray
On this declaration day
For independence I will fight
With liberty I will defy
So we make our stand and pray
On this declaration day
Give me liberty or give me death
I'll fight 'till my last breath
With virtue as our beacon
Our cause is charged as treason
Battle worn and starving
Through the hell of war we'll keep marching
The birth of our new nation
An act of desperation
We'll force king George down o his knees
Capitulation
Repeat Chorus
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pensive And Faltering
PENSIVE and faltering,
The words, the dead, I write;
For living are the Dead;
(Haply the only living, only real,
And I the apparition--I the spectre.)
poem by Walt Whitman
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The Statue Over The Cathedral Door. (From The German Of Julius Mosen)
Forms of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above;
Yet I saw but one among them
Who hath soothed my soul with love.
In his mantle,--wound about him,
As their robes the sowers wind,--
Bore he swallows and their fledglings,
Flowers and weeds of every kind.
And so stands he calm and childlike,
High in wind and tempest wild;
O, were I like him exalted,
I would be like him, a child!
And my songs,--green leaves and blossoms,--
To the doors of heaven would hear,
Calling even in storm and tempest,
Round me still these birds of air.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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