En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Wind Is Song

Wind is song
Of whom and of what?
Of the sword's longing
To be the word.
People cherish the day of death
Like a favorite daisy.
Believe that the strings of the great
Are strummed by the East these days.
Perhaps we'll be given new pride
By the wizard of those shining mountains,
And I, of many souls captain,
Will wear a white snowcap of reason.

poem by Velimir Khlebnikov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Elf Singing

An Elf sat on a twig,
He was not very big,
He sang a little song,
He did not think it wrong;
But he was on a Wizard's ground,
Who hated all sweet sound.

Elf, Elf,
Take care of yourself.
He's coming behind you,
To seize you and bind you
And stifle you song.
The Wizard! The Wizard!
He changes his shape
In crawling along--
An ugly old ape,
A poisonous lizard,
A spotted spider,
A wormy glider
The Wizard! The Wizard!
He's up on the bough
He'll bite through your gizzard,
He's close to you now!

The Elf went on with his song,
It grew more clear and strong;
It lifted him into air,
He floated singing away,
With rainbows in his hair;

While the Wizard-Worm from his creep
Mad a sudden leap,
Fell down into a hole,
And, are his magic word he could say,
Was eaten up by a Mole.

poem by William Allingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death-Day Of Korner

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!

He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.

And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.

And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.

And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Days of Elijah - Paul Wilbur

These are the days of Elijah,
Declaring the word of the Lord,
And these are the days of Your servant, Moses,
Righteousness being restored.
And though these are days of great trial,
Of famine and darkness and sword.
Still we are the voice in the desert, crying,
'Prepare ye the Way of the Lord! '
(Chorus)
Behold He comes,
Riding on the clouds,
Shining like the sun,
At the trumpet call.
Lift your voice,
It's the year of Jubilee,
And out of Zion's hill,
Salvation comes.

And these are the days Ezekiel,
The dry bones becoming as flesh,
And these are the days of Your servant, David,
Rebuilding a temple of praise.
And these are the days of the harvest,
The fields are white in the world.
And we are Your laborers in Your vineyard,
Declaring the Word of the Lord!
(Chorus) x 3
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
Who was, and who is, and who is to come.
To come, to come, to come!
Who was, and who is, and who is to come!

poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Invisible Strings

(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind In The Wire

I've been riding fence all day,
Way up on the summer range.
Found a place to make my bed
As the evening shadows spread
Beyond the campfire light,
In the stillness of night,
Came the call of a coyote choir,
And the song
Of the wind in the wire.
As it strummed the rusted strings,
It sang of long-forgotten things.
Many moons and many suns
Of the real Americans.
When the arrow and the bow
Stalked the range
Of the buffalo,
And the call of the coyote choir
Knew no song
Of the wind in the wire.
As the ghostly balladeer
Hypnotized me, I could hear
Bugle calls, and battle cries.
Broken promises and lies.
The spirits of the plain
Still sing their sad refrain
In the call of the coyote choir
And the song
Of the wind in the wire.

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Are The Days

Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be

song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O'Bruaidar

I will sing no more songs: the pride of my country I sang
Through forty long years of good rhyme, without any avail;
And no one cared even as much as the half of a hang
For the song or the singer, so here is an end to the tale.

If a person should think I complain and have not got the cause,
Let him bring his eyes here and take a good look at my hand,
Let him say if a goose-quill has calloused this poor pair of paws
Or the spade that I grip on and dig with out there in the land?

When the great ones were safe and renowned and were rooted and tough,
Though my mind went to them and took joy in the fortune of those,
And pride in their pride and their fame, they gave little enough,
Not as much as two boots for my feet, or an old suit of clothes.

I ask a Craftsman that fashioned the fly and the bird,
Of the Champion whose passion will lift me from death in a time,
Of the Spirit that melts icy hearts with the wind of a word,
That my people be worthy, and get, better singing than mine.

I had hoped to live decent, when Ireland was quit of her care,
As a bailiff or steward perhaps in a house of degree,
But my end of the tale is, old brogues and old britches to wear,
So I'll sing no more songs for the men that care nothing for me.

poem by James Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Flowers

I made a little song about the rose
And sang it for the rose to hear,
Nor ever marked until the music's close
A lily that was listening near.

The red red rose flushed redder with delight,
And like a queen her head she raised.
The white white lily blanched a paler white,
For anger that she was not praised.

Turning I left the rose unto her pride,
The lily to her enviousness,
And soon upon the grassy ground espied
A daisy all companionless.

Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed;
And not so graciously it grew
As rose or lily: but methought it seemed
More thankful for the sun and dew.

Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among
The grass, from all the flowers apart,-
Forgive me that I gave the rose my song,
Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!

poem by William Watson
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It Doesn't Pay To Wear Red (A Kyrielle)

No Matter what the Captain might say
When he urges you to take part of that fray
You are better off to remain in Sick Bay
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'

The Captain will encourage you to be a brave young man
But neglects to tell you they'll use you as prey
And it is so easy to fall to his charismatic command
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'

You might want to reconsider stepping through that door
And by now I know this may sound a little cliche
Just ask any-red wearing Ensign that has gone before
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'

No matter what the Captain might say
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'

poem by Sheri Hockman
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Daisy.

Daisy.
So lazy.
In a field.
A sunlit shield
Of meadow green.
Bows
To fan your beauty.
Vows
It's never a duty.

So serene.
An open portrait
For the sky
To paint
With cumulus billowed white.
As skylarks duet
In choral flight.
With floral smile
Of sweet delight.

Daisy.
So crazy.
All now is revealed.
As Heaven peeled
The sun away
Your moondance lit,
In beam you sway.
White petals gleam
In every ray.
A tiny flower
That lives one hour
In hidden bouquet.

That sea of colour
Could lose a minnow
It's true.
Yet daisy I know
Again
I will find you
In midnight blue.

poem by Kevin East
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Favorite Girl

Funny how things don’t seem to ever change
Now that I see you I’m transformed I am not the same
I know all the parts of you cause you’re my favorite girl
Because of everything you do you’re my favorite girl

Good things come and good things go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

I've tried so hard to move forward
But I keep on moving back
I’m stuck in some odd time warp
On an elusive track

Your a sacred pearl cause your my favorite girl
There’ no sanctuary in this world but your my favorite girl

People come and people go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

Its the same old story But damn if it don’t make you cry
Boy meets girl than loses her for no reason why
In my heart, nothing should matter except you’re my favorite girl
The whole universe could shatter you’d still be my favorite girl

People come and people go
We only have to day
Baby baby you stole the show
Baby baby you stole the show
Tomorrow who knows

You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

poem by Harlan Lovestone
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Monotones

Because there is but one truth;
Because there is but one banner;
Because there is but one light;
Because we have with us our youth
Once, and one chance and one manner
Of service, and then the night;

Because we have found not yet
Any way for the world to follow
Save only that ancient way;
Whosoever forsake or forget,
Whose faith soever be hollow,
Whose hope soever grow grey;

Because of the watchwords of kings
That are many and strange and unwritten,
Diverse, and our watchword is one;
Therefore, though seven be the strings,
One string, if the harp be smitten,
Sole sounds, till the tune be done;

Sounds without cadence or change
In a weary monotonous burden,
Be the keynote of mourning or mirth;
Free, but free not to range;
Taking for crown and for guerdon
No man's praise upon earth;

Saying one sole word evermore,
In the ears of the charmed world saying,
Charmed by spells to its death;
One that chanted of yore
To a tune of the sword-sweep's playing
In the lips of the dead blew breath;

Therefore I set not mine hand
To the shifting of changed modulations,
To the smiting of manifold strings;
While the thrones of the throned men stand,
One song for the morning of nations,
One for the twilight of kings.

One chord, one word, and one way,
One hope as our law, one heaven,
Till slain be the great one wrong;
Till the people it could not slay,
Risen up, have for one star seven,
For a single, a sevenfold song.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Tall Man

The mouth of this man is a gaunt strong mouth.
The head of this man is a gaunt strong head.

The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians.
The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans,
Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown.
The neck of this man is pith of buffalo prairie, old longing and new beckoning of corn belt or cotton belt,
Either a proud Sequoia trunk of the wilderness
Or huddling lumber of a sawmill waiting to be a roof.

Brother mystery to man and mob mystery,
Brother cryptic to lifted cryptic hands,
He is night and abyss, he is white sky of sun, he is the head of the people.
The heart of him the red drops of the people,
The wish of him the steady gray-eagle crag-hunting flights of the people.

Humble dust of a wheel-worn road,
Slashed sod under the iron-shining plow,
These of service in him, these and many cities, many borders, many wrangles between Alaska and the Isthmus, between the Isthmus and the Horn, and east and west of Omaha, and east and west of Paris, Berlin, Petrograd.
The blood in his right wrist and the blood in his left wrist run with the right wrist wisdom of the many and the left wrist wisdom of the many.
It is the many he knows, the gaunt strong hunger of the many.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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When I go to the mountains (in answer to Bonaventure Hinwood)

When I go to the mountains,
witnessing Your wonderful creative power
in nature
it is clear that You keep Your hand
over all things

as if You are there more present
than at other places,
as if You cherish the whole wide world
like the Garden of Eden
caressing every little thing
against Your chest.

If I have got to believe Your word,
a time will come
when Christians like in times of old
have to flee from persecution
where the mountains will become
their sanctuary,
where a whole army
will not be able to get them out

and it lets me think about how the Waldenses
in days of old had to suffer
while they only wanted to read Your word
in Bibles in their own language
and was trapped in caves and burnt to ashes
by soldiers of an overwhelming religious force.

[Reference: Vlug na die berge (Flee to the mountains) by Bonaventure Hinwood.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Sorry

Just look at me know
Because Im tired of yelling
Look at me now
Its only me Im selling
Im not willing to trade
My life to make the sale
You turn me around
You put me down
Look at me now
Im hanging out my heart to dry
For the last time
Ill tell you the reason why
Its for the last time
Laid back uptown turnaround people - lie
Laid back uptown turnaround people - wear disguises
Sorry a word they only use too late
Sorry is a word that only ever means forgive my yesterdays
Laid back uptown turnaround people - lie
Laid back uptown turnaround people - wear disguises
And sorry thats a word they can only use too late
Sorry is a word that only ever means forgive my yesterdays
(sorry)
Here I am loving you
You lay you lay so quietly
I can feel your breath upon my skin
Afterglow came suddenly
With you it always did
Im hanging out my heart to dry
For the last time
Ill tell you the reason why
Its for the last time
Laid back uptown turnaround people - lie
Laid back uptown turnaround people - wear disguises
They say sorry thats a word
They only use too late
Sorry is a word that only ever means
Forgive my yesterdays
(uptown people lie)
Laid back uptown turnaround people - wear disguises
They say sorry
Thats a word they only use too late
Sorry is a word that only ever means forgive

song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Do Anything

I'll do anything 2 have U like me
I'll do double 2 have your love
I'll move mountains 2 make U happy
Mountains, oh yes, because
What good is a me if it ain't got a U?
What good is dream if it don't come true?
I'll do any, anything
Anything I'll do, ooh
I'll fall off the Eiffel Tower if only 4 applause
I'll wrestle with a tiger and suffer every claw
I'll paint a beard on the Mona Lisa even though its my favorite jaw
I'll do anything, anything because
What good is a captain if he ain't got a crew?
What good is a room if it ain't got a view?
I'll do any, anything
Anything I'll do
Wait a minute
Wait a minute..
There's a good reason why I'd do anything, baby
And that reason is U
Check this out..
What good is a car if it ain't got no gas?
What good is a future if it ain't got no past?
What good is a one if it ain't got another one 2 make it 2?
What good is a me, baby, if it ain't got a U?
What good is a dream if it don't come true
And what if I live 4 your love?
Be justa strollin' through
I'll do any, anything
Anything 4 U, it's true
I'll do anything, baby
Anything 4 U
I'll do any, anything
Anything I'll do, ooh ooh
I'll do any, anything
Anything I'll do, ooh ooh

song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music of the Stars

(to Johnny Alegre)

I heard you first as I walked by
Abelardo Hall
The faint strains of a lead guitar
I just could not ignore

Quietly I entered
the large dim-lit hall
Soon I sat there feeling
What I've never felt before

It was the sound of longing
through the strings of your guitar
A man surrendering his heart
A traveller soul-searching
reaching for the stars
A prayer from the heart

You didn't know me back then
But I can tell you now
The music that possessed you
Took me in its power

For on that day a wayward flame
Touched my very soul
And to this day it haunts me still
A song from long ago

It was the sound of longing
though the strings of your guitar
That echoed the longing in my heart
I know I won't forget
That mystical guitar
That song of timeless distant stars

poem by Sonya Florentino
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My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudel
Doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses and blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on your nose and eye lashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When Im feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I dont feel so bad

song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody's Talkin'

Everybody's talking at me
I don't hear a word they're saying
Only the echoes of my mind
People stopping staring
I can't see their faces
Only the shadows of their eyes
I'm going where the sun keeps shining
Thru' the pouring rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes
Backing off of the North East wind
Sailing on summer breeze
And skipping over the ocean like a stone

song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Is Mightier

there was fight between two heavy weights
i am pride of many warriors
i am sign of bravery
i am used to protect people
i am nightmare to my enemies
i am sword
there comes his counter part
so what you are pride of many kings
you are responsible for blood shed
you are responsible for violence
you kill innocent people
i can do what you cannot do
i can educate people
i am inspiration of many genius people
in this way pen defeated sword

poem by Rohan Bendre
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