False Prophet?
You have humbled me-
Groveling for any stone
To throw;
Pebbles of yesteredays-
Paleolithic Era-
Sit silent-
In a copious-
Summer sun;
And you-
Drowning in such-
Circumstance...
The waters using you up-
Your energy dissolved-
In a mere flash-
One rip tide;
Gone in the glory-
And the deeps-
Unfathomnable-
Becomes the reality-
Of the still blue lagoon;
What a slap in the face-
From the tide...
It stung upon your-
Vanquished skin-
Shriveling from the water-
Logged tissue of your derma;
Down on your knees now-
In the glass house that-
You designed and built;
Flashes of a fresh view-
Of the sea and shore-
A Malibu moment resurrected;
Once accepted by you-
But unsatisfied- wanting more;
Away from the crags and rocky cliffs-
The pebbles-and the stones aside-
And onto the alibaster sands-
Where the heat comes rising from-
Your footprints-reminding even me-
That you were never immortal at all...
And Idoltry is not just a major sin but-
A delusion of the minds of those-
Who once believed in the magic of you.
Dedicated To: Sheltered aka: ...
poem by Theodora Onken
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Related quotes
A View
driftwood
with seven twigs
on the shore
as clear as glass
is the water
and all stones and pebbles
are visible
above
blue skies
so blue that the white cotton clouds
appear like sperm cells moving
impregnating
an earth-sky womb
and then
it rains
the water rises
the drift wood again taken
floating
gently to another shore
another island
of white sands
a coconut tree towers
to reach a waft of cloud
winds as cool as ice
sands slipping on the fingers
a leaf from a guyabano tree falls
on the mouth
of a sleeping woman
beside her
the man whose arms are enclosing
her throughout
the rainy night
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Who Are We Anyway?
on a dry season like this
arid as cracking lips
we wish upon a dream of a rainy night
we can be playful again like children
watering plants for mama
she died ten years ago
without tasting a rain dropping from father's
skies
we were groomed for the gravel
our world is a stone
till now, we wish there were more of us
despite the pain
and the horror of falling rocks from cliffs
the sounds of pebbles grating
against the sands of the
shore
it has a very indifferent face
the one that does not care
the one that swears we were never humans
but stones and
carts and rusty wheels squeaking upon
those drifting clouds
those that move to no direction at all
we sometimes think we are the wind
we are those that howl
like foxes in those crowded mountains
we are the friends of worms
still wandering in the hollows of our
silent worlds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pre-Existence
I laid me down upon the shore
And dreamed a little space;
I heard the great waves break and roar;
The sun was on my face.
My idle hands and fingers brown
Played with the pebbles grey;
The waves came up, the waves went down,
Most thundering and gay.
The pebbles, they were smooth and round
And warm upon my hands,
Like little people I had found
Sitting among the sands.
The grains of sands so shining-small
Soft through my fingers ran;
The sun shone down upon it all,
And so my dream began:
How all of this had been before;
How ages far away
I lay on some forgotten shore
As here I lie to-day.
The waves came shining up the sands,
As here to-day they shine;
And in my pre-pelasgian hands
The sand was warm and fine.
I have forgotten whence I came,
Or what my home might be,
Or by what strange and savage name
I called that thundering sea.
I only know the sun shone down
As still it shines to-day,
And in my fingers long and brown
The little pebbles lay.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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Waiting for You Everyday
Waiting for you
Tapped on the beach where the wave swept the footprints
The seashells rack their brains
How to attach to the ears to respond the tide?
Waiting for you everyday
At the moment that clearly divided the water and sky
The waters deeply separated
How to tide your figure over the sea
The sky is high above
How to flow your cloudy featuring
Does the water only alter its waves?
Does the sky really have no memories?
Whether it’s true or illusive, still
Waiting for you everyday
The moment in oneness of water and sky
poem by DePen Chang
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Pebbles & Stones
Pebbles and stones,
Of different tones.
Oval or Round.
Black or Brown.
Smooth or rough
Oddly enough,
People collect
pebbles and stones.
They like to select
the smooth and round.
They like to select,
if it's shiny and brown.
Do you like pebbles too?
Or stones in black and blue?
Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curling Waters
The tide rolls in on curling waters,
then stretches its fingers to touch the shore.
It hisses as each wave breaks
and its white waters pound against
the sands and rolling stones.
We can sit for hours watching
its endless race
to see which finger
can go farthest up the shore.
Its waters then retreat
as a new wave takes its place.
25 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Passive Resistance.
Beneath the sky, the restless sea
Was lapping at the shingle shore.
As it had often done before.
The shingle resists stubbornly.
It won't surrender easily.
And when tide ebbs will restore
The pebbles from its endless store.
Kept in reserve permanently.
The shingle beach lies passively
The sea is forced to come and go.
Although it act aggressively
When the tide is in full flow.
It will retreat reluctantly
When tidal energy runs low.
Wednesday,29 February 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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From The Biography Of An Unknown Woman: Xxxi
i spotted her pondering by the shore
challenging the afternoon tropical sun
as if on an impulse
she walked in giant strides
with a sudden bout of energy
in spite of the humid heat
from a distance i could see
that she's fighting against
the tide of her thoughts
trying to pull her into the sea
she clutched at the sands
with her toes to no avail
the currents simply pulled
the sands from under her fragile feet
'i may not be a victor
but i won't give up either...'
spoke her face
as i saw her walking
back to the shore
from where her son was seen
waving to her...
08jun2010
04.00hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Keep Your Lure In The Water
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
The lord said, "Simon, haul your nets in
From now on you're a fisher of men"
Well, I like fishin',
That's why it caught my ear
The Lord knew how to get to me
And what I'd need to hear
Chous:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
--- Instrumental ---
Well the sea is troubled
And it's hard to stay afloat
And you feel like Jesus
Is sleeping in the boat
Don't you dare give up
On the Prince of Peace
And in the middle of the storm
You will find a sweet release
Chorus:
Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Chorus:
Yeah, Keep your lure in the water,
Don't just sit by the shore
There are souls to be caught
Everywhere in this old world
Go where hearts are plenty,
Don't just drift with the tide
Keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life
Yeah, keep your lure in the water,
In the waters of life...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue On Blue Moments
...My thoughts are: ' Blue On Blue'
They gravitate in my minds eye this day-
...With remembrances of all the heartache...
And the day, we went our seperate ways!
'Tis a Bobby Vinton moment...
...Chiseled out of, the stones of time...
Seen in, the Sands of the Hour Glass-
...Written about, in poetic rhyme...
I never got over loosing you...
...I never accepted, your good-bye...
For me, it has been: 'Blue On Blue'
...As the thought of you, still makes me cry...
'Tis almost, as if it was yesterday...
...When we were so very much in love...
When the entire world that we made love in-
...Seemed more like, Heaven up above...
...We said and did all of the right things...
You often completed what i said-
...Mirror reflections of one another, we were...
Truth is, i never got you out of my head!
...And so, i am having a: 'Blue On Blue' moment...
It happens nearly every day, my dear-
...Isn't it absolutely, astonishingly, amazing...
How i still feel, after all of these years?
poem by Theodora Onken
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Collecting Pebbles
It was from the sands of a windswept beach
I picked up pebbles that were easy to reach.
They had attracted my attention while walking by
their coloured well formed shape caught the eye.
There were so many to choose from I had to decide
in selecting those which my fancy would coincide.
It’s truly amazing what some people see in stone
a subject in which a lot of our imagination is prone.
It was almost as if I’d found treasure on the seashore
and couldn’t help myself as I looked around for more.
The simple joy of collecting something that attracts the mind
is an age old activity which all people do have of some kind.
There were the questions of how many would I take
and what, if anything with them, one could make?
They were so abundant and all varied mostly in size
that it wasn’t hard to imagine an object or visualize.
It was also only the first location at which I found
that I thought surely there must be others around.
So with a sense of adventure I looked forward to explore
another beach while making my way home along the shore.
There were several other stops made further on the way
collecting various coloured pebbles amidst the sea spray.
Many times would I get my sandals wet along that coast
going amongst rocks and sand to the waters edge at most.
It was with a sense of gain and loss then after I’d taken enough
deciding right there and then to stop collecting which was tough.
The next step would be to think about and see what I would do
with all those beautiful pebbles gathered while passing through.
Maybe I could approach someone with the right flair and skill
who could make something with them and imagination fulfill.
That natural forming eroding action of water, ice, wind and sand
rarely requires the finishing touches of some other skillful hand.
Perhaps in fashioning some jewellery using metal to bind
a few pebbles together that are different or a similar kind.
Or maybe I could just keep some myself and give the rest away
a gesture of friendship toward which our memories would play.
Yes it was from the sands of many a windswept lonely beach
I came accross and collected pebbles that were within reach.
Isn’t it truly amazing what some people see in stone?
a subject in which much of our imagination is prone.
poem by George Krokos
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Drowning In You (demo)
Lead me to the river of love
Pour a little water and wash my pain away
Leave me in the ocean of joy
Water from below I can feel your glow running through
You know that I do I'm drowning in you
Take me to the tide of your heart
Take me to the shore, babe And hold me close to you
Leave me when the sky's getting dark
Water from behind I can feel a fine line from you
You know that I do I'm drowning in you
Say hello, there's no goodbye
If you can't read between the lines
Found a love that I can't hide Oh I've been drowning in your eyes
Honey, honey, honey yea!
Lead me to the gate of your dreams
Put me on a ship that will sail the Lovers' Seas
Water from the brooks and the streams
Water in my face I can taste the ocean of you
You know that I do I'm drowning in you
Say hello...
It's the ocean of you
You know that's it's true I'm drowning in you
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drowning In You
Lead me to the river of love
Pour a little water and wash my pain away
Leave me in the ocean of joy
Water from below I can feel your glow running through
You know that I do Im drowning in you
Take me to the tide of your heart
Take me to the shore, babe and hold me close to you
Leave me when the skys getting dark
Water from behind I can feel a fine line from you
You know that I do Im drowning in you
Say hello, theres no goodbye
If you cant read between the lines
Found a love that I cant hide oh Ive been drowning in your eyes
Honey, honey, honey yea!
Lead me to the gate of your dreams
Put me on a ship that will sail the lovers seas
Water from the brooks and the streams
Water in my face I can taste the ocean of you
You know that I do Im drowning in you
Say hello...
Its the ocean of you
You know thats its true Im drowning in you
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories in Water
Water ripples across a clear fountain blue,
Pennies the wishes of a new yesteryear,
The waves of the ocean washes its tide,
Taking with it the sands of oysters still,
The ocean deep, the blue as dark yet,
Getting darker, the ships of yesteryear living with regret,
The water only remembering the cutting of the ships,
As they cast over their nets.
Water falls from a sodden sky,
The shape of the tears to gather with the tide,
The deep of the water: silk to the skin,
Shall bury itself deep into the sands of time.
The tides of the ocean with its bare seas cries,
The forgotten memories of another time,
Telling its tale of each fisherman it brought with its tide.
Each teardropp of rain the clouds bring with grey skies,
Shall dampen each sunshine ray,
And with joy bring a rainbow to shine,
The rainbow in joyous colour opening up the sky,
The clouds forgetting each tear it had fallen from the sky,
Opens up its gaps, the sun's rays spreading wide,
The stillness of the water once again reflecting the light.
poem by Paula Glynn
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Observations Of The Man With A Broken Heart Spending Summer In A Getaway Beach
mother finally decided
to transfer his son to another
school in the busy city
there was something that she saw
and she did not like it
the son knows it
but like her says nothing about it
all the people saw it
but no one dares to mention it
taboos are silent pebbles
gritting to the coldness of the waves
not hurting to the eyes
but the ears are intolerant
it is during summer
that the pebbles begin to wear their angry eyes
the sands borrow the glitter of diamonds
the air is humid like a frigid woman
the trees shed off leaves
and grasses begin to wilt
the sea in its silence
has told more stories than the babbling kid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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