En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Swans

Two swans sit alone on a lake
Looking so peaceful,
Poised on the tranquil waters.
The air around them is calm,
A gentle breeze wafting,
Gliding through their white feathers.
They are caressed by the pine scents
And the delicate balance
Of their surroundings.
The sky above is blue,
Almost cloudless and clear,
But a few pillows float overhead.
The trees stand tall beside the lake,
Watching the swans
Swim on the surface.
They swim majestically,
Beautifully,
In the recreational park.
Under their webbed feet,
Abandoned garbage sifts—
The collected lost trinkets of lazy people.
Twenty feet from the lake,
There is a parking lot
Filled with automobiles
With rust crusting on the hood
And near the synthetic rubber tires.
The people that own the cars
Are feeding the geese bleached white Wonder bread.
They leave their Coke bottles
And Doritos bags on the ground,
Ready to be carried away by the wind.
The swans watch the people.
Later, one of them
Will stick its neck
Into the plastic hole
Of a Coke bottle container
And choke
And choke
And choke
And choke.
It will die.
The other swan will watch,
Helpless and screaming,
Unable to do anything.
Some people will watch,
In awe,
Some excited.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Coke balls

Please, listen everybody
I want to tell you about a candy
That I bought today
And I call this “Coke Balls” and it will make you say
“Wow! This is the best candy that I’ve ever tasted
It taste so good when it’s in my mouth while I’m rolling it around and gets melted”
But be careful when you put it down your throat
Because you might get choke
When your about to eat this coke balls
Don’t swallow it all
You got to put in your mouth
And roll it around wait till it melts out
A little bit, and then you can put it down your throat
Now you won’t get choke, then you’re going to have fun eating my coke
My coke balls, oh my coke balls
You can swallow it all
When is melted a little bit so you won’t get choke
Go have my coke balls, my coke
My coke balls

This is my funny disgusting sexpoem. I'm sorry for the people who's not going to like this but i'm just joking about this. I'm sorry again

poem by Monino Martin
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Swans

Night is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.

We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are -- your gaze is on my face --
We watch the swans and never a word is said.

poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Black Swan

When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.

Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky

Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer

I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet

To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.

poem by Randall Jarrell
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Exit Music

Wake from your sleep
The drying of your tears, today we escape, we escape
Pack and get dressed, before your father hears us, before, all hell breaks loose
Breathe, keep breathing, don't lose your nerve, breathe, keep breathing
I can't do this alone
Sing us a song, a song to keep us warm, there's such a chill, such a chill
You can laugh a spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you now we are one in everlasting peace
We hope that you choke, that you choke
We hope that you choke, that you choke
We hope that you choke, that you choke

song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Walk In The Park

A walk in the park is a pleasure to do,
When a visit to one is long overdue,
To take the dogs too, is really great,
For the exercise is just first rate.

The peacefulness can be very strange,
For quietness is such a change
From all the traffic rushing by,
The decibels get really high.

We have to live with constant noise,
That often takes away the joys
And contentment, that a walk can give us.
We've got to count is as a real plus.

There's a lake where you can hire a boat,
And two or more can go afloat,
And meander, with the water calm,
With oars a dipping, what sheer balm.

At the end of the lake, the ducks you'll meet,
And geese and swans, with their webbed feet,
All gather hoping to be fed,
With slivers of cake and slices of bread.

There are tennis courts and a golf course too,
You can do most anything you want to do,
For children, roundabouts and swings,
Seesaws, slides, gosh, there's lots of things.

A small cafe where you can sit,
And enjoy a coffee and rest for a bit,
And watch the birds that gather round,
Robins and bluetits, ready to scrounge.

For any titbits that you might drop,
They're very brave, and will sit atop,
The railings right next to your chair,
As long as with them, your fare you share.

The flowers are a joy to view,
The colours bright with the morning dew,
Red, yellow, purple, pink and peach,
Lifting their heads the sun to reach.

A walk in the park takes away the strain,
Of working, which we have to go back to again,
But as long as we take just a little time out
To relax, that to me is what life's all about.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Two Swans

There's a big park just close to where we live —
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
The fair yachts sail
In loveliness that makes the water pale.
Last night I went to walk along the road
Beside the park
And feel the kisses of the wintry dark.
It's the best place to watch the evening come
For mists are there
And lights and shadows and the lake is fair
And last night looking up I saw two swans
Fly overhead
With long black necks and their white wings outspread.
Above the houses citywards they went,
An arrowy pair
In secret — white and black and dark and fair.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Swim Baby Swim

Swim baby swim through the waters blue
It’s the first thing a human can do
Swim honey swim the beauty surface strokes
Swim the deepest bottom glow
Swim the exists of the drop
Swim the serpent river curves
Swim the stillness of the lake
Swim the murmurs of the springs

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Exit Music (For A Film)

wake from your dreams
the drying of your tears
today we escape
we escape

pack and get dressed
before your father hears us
before all hell breaks loose

breathe keep breathing
dont loose your nerve
breathe keep breathing
i cant do this alone

sing us a song
a song to keep us warm
theres sucha chill sucha CHILL

you can laugh
a spineless laugh
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you

now we are one
in everlasting peace

we hope that you choke that you choke
we hope that you choke that you choke
we hope that you choke that you choke

song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A thought after Yeats

When youth was life and life was youth
and life was love and love was life,
I thought love came and went;
its coming, overwhelming; and its going,
death of spirit; then, as if
the wild white swans had flown away
and left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.

But now I know it’s not like that:
love that, guarded, never flies from here in heart
to where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;
ungiven every livelong day
it turns to rags and dry old bones,
confiscated in the heart.

Better now, be with those wild white swans
which on a dark cold icy winter’s day
gather at the water’s edge to stretch
for yesterday’s warm loaf still fresh;
then turn, swim, lift strong wings and fly
one knows not where, and may not ask;

watch them then, into the distance;
hear the flap of wings grow into silent air;
pause still a little while;
then turn, one’s living breath
white in that winter air;
then back to warmth of home and love and peat fire
glowing in the hearth of heart renewed.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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summer lake cruise
gliding through the noon heat too
two white swans

haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Care Free Guy

he stands against
an old wall
on folded arms
watching people
pass by

let time kills its hours
let it choke the minutes

faded denims
white shirt
he winks at the lady
who believes that
a man likes him
has a lot of time to
offer her

she is boredom
he is the perfect man for her

he kills time
he shall choke her hours
like the way her hands
press her breasts
squeezing
her private moments
to juices of
their complimentary
convenience

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Be And So On

To Be or…

The swan on the lake doesn’t know it is a swan,
they say. How do they know? A swan may look
at us and say to another swan “Darling humans
don’t who they are.” Quite right my lovely, they
are daft that way” (swans have lot in common
with actors, the lake is their stage and we are
their adoring audience) I know that because Tom,
the only actor I have met in the flesh, called me
darling, well, not only me but everyone he spoke
to. Tom died no one calls me darling anymore.
We only think we know ourselves, if we really did
it would be too scary to know that inside us lurks
a monster.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Choke

She likes big boats, big yachts, designer throws
She likes big blokes, body oils, sex that chokes
Her mother left her when she was fifteen
Out of the nest into the vacuum flow
She got a job working shifts at Sainsbury's
Packed her bags and left for Monaco
Choke
Choke
Choke
Choke
You're the only pill I take
Lift me up to where the clouds are snow
'Cause you're the only thrill I feed
Ease the pressure, let the whole thing flow
She likes Belgo, fashion heads, Saville Row
She likes the cheap sex, private jets, the Paris glow
Her mother left her when she was fifteen
Out of the nest into the vacuum flow
Choke
Choke
Choke
Choke
You're the only pill I take
Lift me up to where the clouds are snow
You're the only thrill I feed
Ease the pressure, let the whole thing flow
You're the only pill I take
Lift me up to where the clouds are snow
Snow
Snow
Snow
Choke
Choke
Choke
Choke
You're the only pill I take
Lift me up to where the clouds are snow
You're the only thrill I feed
Ease the pressure, let the whole thing...flow
You're the only pill I take
Lift me up to where the clouds are snow
You're the only thrill I feed
Ease the pressure, let the whole thing flow

song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetics 6....

in april
the firetrees are blooming
beside
a very calm lake
where some swans
make
a show

we take our
seat
on a bench
watch
the world glowing
with beauty

the two of us
isolated from the thought
of
the nuclear leak
in Fugushima

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lake Marie

Chorus:
We were standing
Standing by peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Many years ago along the illinois-wisconsin border
There was this indian tribe
They found two babies in the woods
White babies
One of them was named elizabeth
She was the fairer of the two
While the smaller and more fragile one was named marie
Having never seen white girls before
And living on the two lakes known as the twin lakes
They named the larger and more beautiful lake, lake elizabeth
And thus the smaller lake that was hidden from the highway
Became known forever as lake marie
Repeat chorus:
Many years later I found myself talking to this girl
Who was standing there with her back turned to lake marie
The wind was blowing especially through her hair
There was four italian sausages cooking on the outdoor grill
And man, they was ssssssssizzlin
Many years later we found ourselves in canada
Trying to save our marriage and perhaps catch a few fish
Whatever seemed easier
That night she fell asleep in my arms
Humming the tune to louie louie
Aah baby, we gotta go now.
Repeat chorus:
The dogs were barking as the cars were parking
The loan sharks were sharking the narcs were narcing
Practically everyone was there
In the parking lot by the forest preserve
The police had found two bodies
Nay, naked bodies
Their faces had been horribly disfigured by some sharp object
Saw it on the news on the tv news in a black and white video
You know what blood looks like in a black and white video?
Shadows, shadows thats exactly what it looks like
All the love we shared between her and me was slammed
Slammed up against the banks of old lake marie, marie
We were standing
Standing by peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Whoa wah oh wha oh
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Standing by peaceful waters
Peaceful waters
Aah baby, we gotta go now

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coke and Ana Cristina

Red and White
Red and Whire
Coca-Cola what a beautiful sight
White and red
White and red
With out my Coke i'd rather be dead
In a bottle or in a can
For a Coke i'd rather stand
Some say it kills the inside
others say the out
BUT I SAY in or out i'd rather die happy with out a doubt
Coke and Ana what a lovely pair
If you snag her Coke you had Better Beware
Ana and Coke what a lovely match
Ana's nice but Coke's the real catch
Ana with her Coke will not Pout
If you ask her why she will Shout
Cause I LOVE COCA_COLA TILL THE DAY I DIE
AND I LOVE IT MORE THAN SUN, EARTH, OR SKY!
the threat she left me with this summer was:
If they try to take my Coke away
I will snatch it back and say
I got reflexes like a cat
Ree-awr

poem by Katharine Angelina Matias
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A November Night

There! See the line of lights,
A chain of stars down either side the street --
Why can't you lift the chain and give it to me,
A necklace for my throat? I'd twist it round
And you could play with it. You smile at me
As though I were a little dreamy child
Behind whose eyes the fairies live. . . . And see,
The people on the street look up at us
All envious. We are a king and queen,
Our royal carriage is a motor bus,
We watch our subjects with a haughty joy. . . .
How still you are! Have you been hard at work
And are you tired to-night? It is so long
Since I have seen you -- four whole days, I think.
My heart is crowded full of foolish thoughts
Like early flowers in an April meadow,
And I must give them to you, all of them,
Before they fade. The people I have met,
The play I saw, the trivial, shifting things
That loom too big or shrink too little, shadows
That hurry, gesturing along a wall,
Haunting or gay -- and yet they all grow real
And take their proper size here in my heart
When you have seen them. . . . There's the Plaza now,
A lake of light! To-night it almost seems
That all the lights are gathered in your eyes,
Drawn somehow toward you. See the open park
Lying below us with a million lamps
Scattered in wise disorder like the stars.
We look down on them as God must look down
On constellations floating under Him
Tangled in clouds. . . . Come, then, and let us walk
Since we have reached the park. It is our garden,
All black and blossomless this winter night,
But we bring April with us, you and I;
We set the whole world on the trail of spring.
I think that every path we ever took
Has marked our footprints in mysterious fire,
Delicate gold that only fairies see.
When they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks
And come out on the drowsy park, they look
Along the empty paths and say, "Oh, here
They went, and here, and here, and here! Come, see,
Here is their bench, take hands and let us dance
About it in a windy ring and make
A circle round it only they can cross
When they come back again!" . . . Look at the lake --
Do you remember how we watched the swans
That night in late October while they slept?
Swans must have stately dreams, I think. But now
The lake bears only thin reflected lights
That shake a little. How I long to take
One from the cold black water -- new-made gold
To give you in your hand! And see, and see,
There is a star, deep in the lake, a star!
Oh, dimmer than a pearl -- if you stoop down
Your hand could almost reach it up to me. . . .

There was a new frail yellow moon to-night --
I wish you could have had it for a cup
With stars like dew to fill it to the brim. . . .

How cold it is! Even the lights are cold;
They have put shawls of fog around them, see!
What if the air should grow so dimly white
That we would lose our way along the paths
Made new by walls of moving mist receding
The more we follow. . . . What a silver night!
That was our bench the time you said to me
The long new poem -- but how different now,
How eerie with the curtain of the fog
Making it strange to all the friendly trees!
There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls
Carve themselves, ever changing, in the mist.
Walk on a little, let me stand here watching
To see you, too, grown strange to me and far. . . .
I used to wonder how the park would be
If one night we could have it all alone --
No lovers with close arm-encircled waists
To whisper and break in upon our dreams.
And now we have it! Every wish comes true!
We are alone now in a fleecy world;
Even the stars have gone. We two alone!

poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Hunchback in the Park

The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark

Eating bread from a newspaper
Drinking water from the chained cup
That the children filled with gravel
In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship
Slept at night in a dog kennel
But nobody chained him up.

Like the park birds he came early
Like the water he sat down
And Mister they called Hey mister
The truant boys from the town
Running when he had heard them clearly
On out of sound

Past lake and rockery
Laughing when he shook his paper
Hunchbacked in mockery
Through the loud zoo of the willow groves
Dodging the park keeper
With his stick that picked up leaves.

And the old dog sleeper
Alone between nurses and swans
While the boys among willows
Made the tigers jump out of their eyes
To roar on the rockery stones
And the groves were blue with sailors

Made all day until bell time
A woman figure without fault
Straight as a young elm
Straight and tall from his crooked bones
That she might stand in the night
After the locks and chains

All night in the unmade park
After the railings and shrubberies
The birds the grass the trees the lake
And the wild boys innocent as strawberries
Had followed the hunchback
To his kennel in the dark.

poem by Dylan Thomas
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The eyes of impressionism

Saints.
Like swans, gliding untroubled so it seems
to us, lazing on the river bank
of a Seurat summer Sunday afternoon,
gliding over the surface of the waters
as love perhaps, on that first day;
they as floating symbols
of the beauty beyond beauty;
their work, invisible to us who watch

Painters.
Like waterlilies, resting in perfection
on the surface of the waters
as love rests, sure of their own beauty;
painting just the sunlight
falling on things, moving on
more slowly than we see;
the depth of the waters
in the painter’s mind and heart;
his work invisible to us who watch
his dabbing at the canvas
as a dabchick bobs in the water, his mind
moving as time moves;
for him, sitting at the canvas,
always time present,
in the water-garden already on his palette

Cataracts.
How far a word from
the stillness around him as he sits,
his beard a little yellow from the nicotine,
seeing the waterlilies as if for the first time,
but each year the water seems to tell
more about time itself… like Proust;
where is time going in this painting?

Eyes.
Cataracts, yes; but perhaps over time
they too have sought to serve him,
become themselves, impressionists,
presenting him with images
prepared like canvasses are prepared;
gently watering inner gardens
between the eyes and mind

yes, that’s Monsieur Monet over there;
don’t disturb him; but if you stand
a little way behind him, you just may
enter the stillness around him,
enter the stillness of his mind,
see with his eyes, that work
invisible to those of us who watch
which swans and saints and artists know.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Taj Mahal of the still mind

How I suspect ‘busy’ people…

Who said that spirituality
has anything to do with busyness..?

They turn enthusiasm into 'duty';
turn duty into guilt...

How I love those people
who always have time for anyone..

they are like swans:
serenity above; activity below;

never busy; always active;
floating white, serene, unruffled,
like swans; like lotus flowers;
like love.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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