Reclusive Heart
Sometimes my reclusive heart
Seeks to disappear down unknown streets
Of a despised city or to be swallowed
By rain clouds of the weeping life
But other times, I desire to refresh myself again
In the cultured cluster of long departed friends
Who read Samuel Coleridge and John Keats
In tranquil sunlit rooms
Of incense and chardonnay.
I continue to worship to this day
Gentle souls of music and art
Who want to leave this place
More beautiful than they found it.
I must return along an ancient path
And revisit with longing
A ghost lover who informed
The philosophy of my essence.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Related quotes
My Home Remains Sky
I will not return to earth
Once on the earth and the earth turned me down, only briefly with
I went back to the sky, I'm in heaven where my original
In the sky more beautiful in the sky over calm
Actually I had stayed at home on earth
Even now I miss her
But on earth I could scarcely recognize the permanence
So I'm just one or two times to the earth
I am the son of heaven who loves the sky
High and difficult to reach, or do not think anyone
After the sky I'm difficult and not easy to come back to earth
Only the rain was the tears that tell of the earth
Echoed devastated what is on earth
And I will continue in the sky
Before there was earth is really for me
Earth friendly and beautiful for me
So that's what eternity will tell their own
And we both lost in eternity swallow
Silence swallowed, swallowed by the beauty
Swallowed by time, into the night and day
Swallowed by love and affection both of us forever
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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The Essence Is You
Lover of life, every man dreamt of you being his wife,
Long blond hair shimmering in the sunlight,
A golden face, forever smiling,
You held the reins of your destiny,
Your choice was love, as your soul ran free,
Cherishing the roots that made you,
When you disappeared the sun was blotted out,
Dark clouds brooding over the town,
Suspicions, hearsay and rumours abound,
Forces unknown had swallowed you up,
No trace remains of the flower that was you,
Only sadness and death is left on the doorstep,
The essence lingers long over a midland throng,
The essence is you watching from heavens view.
poem by Hazel Durham
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Lovely and Euphoric
There is no brochure-vacation paradise
More perfect than this silent place
When I meditate in the afternoon
Gazing out windows onto the sunlit avenue.
Why do I complain like a disappointed child
With a broken Christmas gift?
My heart knows happy songs
Even during long stretches of being alone.
I belong in heaven’s fields
Praying for the people I adore
And cherishing every smiling face I see.
I’m lovely and euphoric with mad desire to celebrate
Every gorgeous hour of my breath
Allowing me to partake in the enchanted joy
Of beautiful humanity.
I’ve been sad before
And wept in lonely rooms,
But I’ll be remembered in café conversations
And in the wineglass laughter
Where music was playing
And sweet friends were dancing.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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My Hero
My hero ...
On baker street
The limousine stood blacker than the darkest thing
In the rain
Deep in the back
His life was ending
Still they would not let him be
Where is he?
His music ran through the streets of the city
Straight to the heart with each song
The path he chose was a road to freedom
And I kept following on
My hero ...
I heard the news
All my emotions shattered into empty blue
Where are you
The radio like distant thunder raging black rock symphonies
Storm heart tears
His music runs through the heart of the city
His sound is heard in each song
You never found where his road was leading
The hope you gave lingers on
My hero ...
The brightest stars explode into a thousand moons
(solo)
His music runs through the heart of the city
The sound he made is too strong
His name remains part of my emotions
The memories linger on
My hero ...
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To John Keats, Poet, At Spring Time
I cannot hold my peace, John Keats;
There never was a spring like this;
It is an echo, that repeats
My last year's song and next year's bliss.
I know, in spite of all men say
Of Beauty, you have felt her most.
Yea, even in your grave her way
Is laid. Poor, troubled, lyric ghost,
Spring never was so fair and dear
As Beauty makes her seem this year.
I cannot hold my peace, John Keats,
I am as helpless in the toil
Of Spring as any lamb that bleats
To feel the solid earth recoil
Beneath his puny legs. Spring beats
her tocsin call to those who love her,
And lo! the dogwood petals cover
Her breast with drifts of snow, and sleek
White gulls fly screaming to her, and hover
About her shoulders, and kiss her cheek,
While white and purple lilacs muster
A strength that bears them to a cluster
Of color and odor; for her sake
All things that slept are now awake.
And you and I, shall we lie still,
John Keats, while Beauty summons us?
Somehow I feel your sensitive will
Is pulsing up some tremulous
Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves
Grow music as they grow, since your
Wild voice is in them, a harp that grieves
For life that opens death's dark door.
Though dust, your fingers still can push
The Vision Splendid to a birth,
Though now they work as grass in the hush
Of the night on the broad sweet page of the earth.
'John Keats is dead,' they say, but I
Who hear your full insistent cry
In bud and blossom, leaf and tree,
Know John Keats still writes poetry.
And while my head is earthward bowed
To read new life sprung from your shroud,
Folks seeing me must think it strange
That merely spring should so derange
My mind. They do not know that you,
John Keats, keep revel with me, too.
poem by Countee Cullen
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My Hometown
Jersey City is where I was born
I woke up to see many a dawns
It's not a bad city, it was a place to live
But there were many times it didn't forgive
The streets were tough, the winter's cold
It s city you can embrace, but one you can never hold
The streets will own you and rule you
There's not too much one can do
After some years you'll be ready to leave
It will no longer have the things you need
That's when you know it's time to leave
Because in the city you can longer believe
Now people grow up there and decide to stay
But so many many more just go a different way
6-18-10/RJH
poem by Ray Hansell
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Ghost Town
Well the streets are all crowded
Lots of people around
And theres music playing
But I cant hear a sound
Just the sound of the rain
Falling silently down
Livin aint been livin
Since you put down
Yeah, life goes on around me every day
But it might as well be half a million miles away
Its like a ghost town without your love
Like a ghost town without your love
Like a ghost town, baby, cant you see?
Its a ghost town until you come back to me
Oo, oo, till you come back to me
Well I wish I still had you
Had you here next to me
Baby, where did you go?
Baby, why did you leave?
Though the world, it keeps turnin
But it dont turn for me
Without you in my life
My life aint no place to be
Theres only lonely days and empty nights
Aint the same without you, baby, nothin feelin right
Darlin, I wanna leave this town
Dont wanna be around
Im gonna leave this town
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gentle Rain of Dundee
The rainbow
And a timeless game
And the echo of
An ancient name
Merge with the sound
Of an engine
Of a far away train
Dissolving
Slowly
With a song
Of sparkling
Love
Sourced from within
Unknown life
Unknown soul
Of unknown name
The gentle rain
Again and again
On Dundee’s land
On Dundee’s hills
Time and time
Bring the story
Of a child life
Of a child name
With the sound of
The falling rain
Revealing
All the secrets
Of the ultimate
Master game
The rainbow
And the timeless name
Eternal in essence
But
Among the crowed is
Nothing but
A fameless
A shadow
Of a mythical
Life
Once lived
In a faraway
Cold Terrain
And bathed daily
In Dundee’s rain
poem by Najib Altawell
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Rain Oh Rain
As I walk in this rain
I start pondering
Oh how I wish life was easy
Oh how I wish there was no complications in life
If only I could walk in this rain everyday
Rain oh rain
Oh how you calm my troubled mind
You fill me with a sense of belonging
As if I was meant to be in the rain
Meant to love and become friends with it
As if I wasn't meant to fear it
Wasn't meant to look down upon it
As I continue wandering in this rain
I continue to enjoy the raindrops falling upon me
Soaking me from head to toe
I continue on marching thru the rain
With my hair sticking to the back of my neck from all the rain
And my light blue skinny jeans now dark blue from all this beautiful rain
While my big comfy t-shirt has those graceful raindrops dripping off of it
Though I'm not complaining
Never would I complain about this
For I don't care if I'm wet
Nope not at all
Doesn't matter if I'm just a little bit
Or if I'm soaking wet
I'm walking thru this rain
Not knowing where I'm going
Or when this rain will stop
Hopefully it's not any time soon
Oh rain
Rain oh rain
Please don't stop
Don't slow down
Don't become anything that's close to a drizzle
Just continue on pouring down
That rain of yours
Rain, rain, rain
I love these rain showers
To go walking in one
Is to set your mind free
To let go of your worries
And to let go of your complications in life
Rain oh rain
You alone
Give me the wings to fly
To fly
To explore unknown regions
Rain
Your the one and only
Who has set my mind free
poem by Storm Pedersen
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Music Is Philosophy
MUSIC IS PHILOSOPHY
Music is philosophy that's understood
without a need to read the book.
While Judaism is the Jews' religion, statehood
won't fully let them off the hook.
John Maseng in the Los Angeles Jewish Journal,5/25-31, writes about a production of Osvaldo Golijov's "Ainadamar, " an opera that tells the story of Garcia Lorca's life, and his death at the hand of the Falangists, through the eyes of his mistress, the actress Margarita Xirgu. The opera is being produced by the Long Beach Opera Company. Golijov told Maseng:
Jewish music is a point of view, it's a way of experiencing the world that at is translated into the music…There is something about music that transcends any need for explanation. I always feel that music is a sort of philosophy that's understood without a need to read the book. Not all music is universal, but all good music is universal."
5/28/12 #10336
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Ode to Drowning
is it or is it not
the cold monsoon
bearing the shape
of my dark lord,
speaking of his cruelty
his going away?
— Nammalvar
i.
This is an ode
to be sung
in the latest hour of night
when the rain clouds
have gathered
over shingled roofs
and blue-skinned gods
with magical flutes
seduce the virgins to dance
For there is no love
without music
No rain
without peacocks
perched
in branches
of sandalwood trees
with plumes
of angels
and voices of thieves
pleading for their loves
to return
ii.
If rain signals
the lover's return
then I am lost
in the desert
burning
like the brain fever bird
looking for images of you
through mesquite
and teak
Because there's no sign
of you
or what I know
to be as you
only clouds adrift
in a vanquished sky
like vines
of throbbing arms
and mouths
drinking at the shore
intoxicated
with the night
iii.
There are as many ways
of yearning
as there are ways for rain
to fall
slow
incessant
gentle
squalling
melancholy
warm
It's that old idea
of drowning
in another to find the self
the compliance
that water gives in form
and depth
to something else
But what if the humming bees
are quiet
and the garlands of jasmine
have been laid out
to dry
How long to wait
for everything to turn
heavy with flower
immodestly green
washed of dirt
iv.
It's desire after all
that spins us
Demands to be praised
as though it were new
like the stillness
before the first monsoon
when the hymen
of the earth
is torn into
and the brazen smell
of damp
fills the air
Must there be surprise
after we've thundered
and rolled
and appeased our thirst
when the silence returns
again
In truth
isn't it a waiting
that never ends
like the chasm between
the cycles of the world
Between separation
and union
longing and abandonment
And somewhere
between the waning
isn't this what
we're left with
the music
of uncertainty
the aftertaste of rain
poem by Tishani Doshi
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Music Fills Our Souls
Music fills our souls,
so we can keep dancing,
out win the devils steps,
out dance him once and for all,
Music fills our souls,
the notes that are applied,
the sounds they project,
refill our hope, strength and desire,
so we may dance on,
this crazy marathon,
Music fills our souls,
it give us cause to rejoice,
a reason to keep the steps in stride,
a feeling of serenity,
a vital component to survive,
Music fills our souls,
we know we could not do this alone,
so we asked our gifted friends,
to help us in our quest,
Music fills our souls,
our friends came along,
put the melody in the air,
the passion in our souls,
Music fills our souls,
by the love and grace,
our friends have shown,
Music fills our souls,
Debbie Nicholson copyright@2009
poem by Debbie Nicholson
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To Sing Your Heart
I would like to sing your heart
I would like to see you beautiful
You could watch me fly away
Into the rain which washes down
Cleanse the air we breathe
Feed the ground on which we walk
I would like to sing your heart
I would like to see you beautiful
Tell me if there’s anything I need
Guide me to the words I need to speak
The world is a frightening place
Together we need not be afraid
The is no need to label what we are
Or what we may someday be
I would like to sing your heart
I would like to see you beautiful
And come what tomorrow may bring
In the first rays of a new sun
I shall fly away from you
Into the day and the unknown
I shall return to you
To sing you heart so beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Epitaph
Stop, Christian passer-by : Stop, child of God,
And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he--
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.--
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death :
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame--
He ask'd, and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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New York City Rhythm
Words by Marty Panzer
Music by Barry Manilow
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When my heart is torn apart
by love I wish I had,
Well, I spend my nights in the city's lights
and things don't seem so bad.
Ya know the movement seems to soothe me,
and the temp takes control,
and I lose my blues
when the Ne w York City rhythm fill my soul;
it's the New York City rhythm runnin' thru' my life,
the pounding beat of the city streets
that keeps mydreams alive.
I'm lost, I'm found, I'm up, I'm down,
but somehow I survive.
It's got to be the New Y ork City rhythm in my life,
It's got to be the New York City rhythm in my life,
in my life.
When I'm out for love or sin,
Oh, it's good to be in town,
In the funky dives on the old west sid
there's always somethin' goin' down.
Oh yes , I live my life with strangers,
and the danger's always there,
but when I hit Broadway and it's time to play,
ya know that I don't care;
It's the New York City rhythm runnin' thru my life,
the poundin' beat of the city streets
that kee ps my dreams alive.
I'm lost, I'm found, I'm up, I'm down, ,
but somehow I survive.
It's got to be the New York City rhythm in my life,
in my life.
City rhythm, oo city rhythm.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mind The Roses
It's not like me to feel like this
Those empty arms and now the lover's kiss
And every day seems worthwhile.
It's not like life to dress so fair
As sunlight shatters on golden hair.
Diamond beauty lying everywhere
Mind the roses everyone.
Everything beautiful is fleeting
Temptress candle burns away the night
While rain on rooftop, beating, inspires
As drunken poets write.
So mind the roses everyone
And leave the spider and the fly
They have their purpose and the sun
And very little to get by.
And as we claw at the night air
Just stray cats that have no care
The flower of love blooms unseen
In a place our souls have never been
Now i just see faces on busy streets
But i see you in the moon
Understanding Shelley and Keats
And whistling love's tune.
So mind the roses everyone
And paint the lights upon the lake
Now this awareness has begun
Her love for you will now awake.
God bless the man and woman who never
Meet to love.
poem by Kevin East
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Norwood
Lovely friend,
What can I say to you now
That wasn’t said
When we sat together
On the sunlit shore of friendship?
What tenderness of affection
Can I offer you?
What words of understanding
Written in the poetry of my heart
Can I convey to you?
Does God give your eyes in heaven
Earthly vision to see my tears?
Does God reassure you
There is nothing between us but love,
There is no judgment,
Only love, only understanding,
Only longing to hear your voice
In pleasant conversation.
Car rides to concert venues,
Sacred time at the zoo
Talking soul language of hope,
Summer sunlight listening to music
And walking avenues of midnight college streets
Of laughter and dreams,
I’ll never forget your smile
Or as Dylan says, “Your gentleness now,
Which you just can't help but show.”
What has time taken from us
Except the ability to express how we feel
In that repetition that is truth and friendship
And undeniable love,
But there was nothing about your existence
And beautiful humanity
That I ever experienced
As anything less than genuine
And from the heart.
We often talked of spirituality
And the returning of souls,
And I know, we’ll meet again
In a different place
And in a different incarnation,
Nothing will be forgotten
Nor erased
Until we continue
Our prayer-like conversation,
But tonight, lovely friend,
I’m reading the Bible,
Reading my poet hero King David,
He was hunted like an animal
By King Saul,
He thought surely Saul
Would kill him,
But David wept
When King Saul
And his son Jonathan
Perished together in battle,
And King David sang
Of his friend Jonathan,
“Thy love to me was wonderful,
Passing the love of women.”
2 Samuel 1: 17—27.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Keep Me Informed
Keep me informed,
When you think you see dawn.
And you are through with darkness
That supplied subdued restlessness.
And you wish to move on!
Yes...
Keep me informed.
Keep me informed,
When you're hopelessness has gone.
I will be there,
To chip aware what is left of your despair.
And you are prepared to sing songs!
Yes...
Please keep me informed.
Keep me informed,
If you feel you've been wronged.
With me I will help you undo...
Bitterness I have felt too!
And we will build a love...
Recognized and true.
Yes...
That is what we will do.
If you keep me informed.
Just keep me informed,
Take your time...
But don't take that time too long!
I've been searching for you.
You are someone who sees through...
Clouds you wish to lift!
And I am here,
To assist with the lifting of it!
Yes...
Keep me informed.
I know together we belong!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Upon The Sun's Reflection Upon The Clouds In A Fair Morning
Look yonder, ah! methinks mine eyes do see
Clouds edged with silver, as fine garments be;
They look as if they saw that golden face
That makes black clouds most beautiful with grace.
Unto the saints' sweet incense, or their prayer,
These smoky curdled clouds I do compare.
For as these clouds seem edged, or laced with gold,
Their prayers return with blessings manifold.
poem by John Bunyan
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When I Lost Myself
There are those who are forever searching and
After many decades have passed lose themselves to another world-
Although with much certainty and disillusionment
I can hardly remember living much of a life in
This world where people walk with confidence and self-assurance everyday-
Memories of nights as a child so young
Hearing voices others did not hear and
Seeing frightening sights others did not see-
Feeling alone although in the midst of myriads of others, afraid to speak,
Fearful to walk the streets others took for granted-
I was only six years old when voices threatened to kill
Would invade my already troubled mind and
I found myself an outcast for reasons I hardly understood-
The purple tree with golden flowers that grew inside of my bedroom-
As strikingly stunning as it was,
I fell to the floor when I tried to climb,
Because it only existed in the fortress of my mind-
My journey to find myself began when I learned to walk-
I learned to scream before I learned to speak-
Decades have passed and memories are evading me-
Walking the same path day by day-
While others are looking for a place in a world I feel I am not a part of,
My journey to find myself continues-
I walk upon a different path and have climbed many mountains
Seeking purple trees and my own garden of Eden-
Or merely for others that would accept and just remotely understand
The person I am and the world I have lost myself to-
Although my spirit at times evades me,
In the back of my mind I know in reality there must be a place for me and
Although at times my only wish is to climb that phantasmal purple tree
Until I reach the sky and disappear within only a moment’s notice
I will not give up the fight- I was born into this world so there must be a place for me-
Many decades have passed and today I see the sunlight peering through the clouds,
Though an outcast, I have a heart, a mind and feelings as does everybody else-
I continue to walk the streets everyday and my visions of purple trees, and
My dogged determination are what makes me unique- and someday people shall
Respect the person that I am and understand that flowers grow on every tree and
Every flower is unique, has its own special scent and every flower is
In its own way- magnificent and beautiful…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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