En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Dove

Within his office, smiling.
Sat JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN,
But all the screws of Birmingham
Were working in his brain.

The heart within his bosom
Was as a millstone hard;
His eye was cold and cruel,
His face was frozen lard.

He had the map of Africa
Upon his table spread:
He took a brush, and with the same
He painted it blood-red.

He heard no moan of widows,
But only the hurrah
Of charging lines and squadrons
And 'Rule Britannia.'

A white dove to his window
With branch of olive sped -
He took a ruler in his hand,
And struck the white dove dead.

poem by Victor James Daley
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The Dove

Within his office, smiling.
Sat JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN,
But all the screws of Birmingham
Were working in his brain.

The heart within his bosom
Was as a millstone hard;
His eye was cold and cruel,
His face was frozen lard.

He had the map of Africa
Upon his table spread:
He took a brush, and with the same
He painted it blood-red.

He heard no moan of widows,
But only the hurrah
Of charging lines and squadrons
And 'Rule Britannia.'

A white dove to his window
With branch of olive sped -
He took a ruler in his hand,
And struck the white dove dead.

poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leading You

i am leading you to a place
where you can be yourself
where you can be free

you will see a black crow there
and it will stare at you
do not be frightened

it will soon leave if you look at it in return
with a calm, strong eye

then another shadow will come flying in
through the window of your house
the shadow of the monkey-eating eagle
too it will stare at you with an intimidating claw
but just be gentle
and soon just like the black crow it will leave

and then you must stand tall beside the same window
where the two birds hover temporarity
you shall see the white dove
getting in at the perfect hour
it will hand you a branch with three green leaves
in perfect timing for the sun that we have been waiting for

you wait some more and there may be rain
a little thunder and some lightning
but again do not be frigtened
keep looking with that strong, calm eye

and then the time now comes for the cocoon
to open and from the window where you must stand tall
from the branch that the dove handed you
you will see the birth of a red butterfly
soon it will fly and hover in one branch of your heart

your heart is the flower
and i am that red butterfly.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Whiteness Within Me.

The whiteness within…me

Yesterday I saw an albino raven
it had just killed a sparrow and
had drops of blood on its chest.

Having had the privilege to be
white you would think it would
desist from killing sparrows.

But I must be wrong perhaps it
was an angel dressed as cardinal
they wear red and eat meat.

Or was it was a dove of peace
wearing a ruby necklace, or had
it been hurt by an Israeli sniper?

Perhaps it was a white cloud
I saw drifting along on blue
being lit up by a red eyed sun.

A white feather, cowardice is
pale as cold snow, so why does
a peace dove has to be white?

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Stranded At The Moonbase

A long way up in light-years,
Just a pinpoint in space,
In a century of planetary storms,
Stranded at the moonbase,
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
Looking out at the roof-window,
I've seen many strange things,
From shooting stars to Stars 'n' Stripes
Thought I'd caught a glimpse of golden wings.
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.
Looking way down below me,
The worlds are all awhirl-whirly.
Won't you come along beside?
This place waits for company.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I leave my limbs behind me.
As I'm being lifted
Out into the, into the
Spiritual boom-boom abyss.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dove of Dacca

The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!

The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.

"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."

The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.

She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!

The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!

The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.

So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Black raven, White dove

When it's black,
Like the raven,
The well is full, but full of what?
My sun is shining in a half pale burst,
With toxic, red hot guilt

And as if in stark contrast,
The white dove just hits home-
And its what I've always wanted alive,
But then when I give some brainpower,
I decide that maybe it could be dead-
And it took the black to show it.

But then the black of the raven,
So beautifully stunning,
I look at her and all I see,
Is the storm in her eyes,
And the dove
Should be crying
For it doesn't know
That my white heart is dying
Replaced by the black of the right

"Home is where the heart is"
Then my home's firmly with the white,
It's where I've lived,
For six months past,
And I feel like I belong
I feel like I am home there
But then I see,
Cupid's stupid decree-
With one black wing and one white,
But which is wrong?
Which right?

But is the dove ever going to surrender?
Wave its' flag and give in to the raven?
Cause the raven's a-pecking,
And so far she's winning,
And with a fight,
And a laboratory,
The boy of white has slim chance of winning.

Cause now that it's out,
I'm secretly devout,
So secretly, darkly obsessed,
With the black of the girl,
And the light blue of the raven's eye,
But then its' always been white,
The dove the keeper of my heart,
Cause I found the dove lost,
With clips in his wings,
And I tried to set him free
I showed all that he belonged to me
And he's the one who set me free,
My first and ever pet,
The first one I've wanted to be with-
Forever.

And the dove's innocent eyes,
And repeated cries,
Made me overlook the fact he can't fly,
But I'm not going to feed him,
All of his food,
He needs to live on his own too so he won't die

But could the raven ever be-
Just with me?
Even if the raven is more beautiful,
How does she know,
And how do I?
That she won't kill me,
That we won't die.

So used to the dove,
The raven's so new,
And there's so much evidence of some grey hue-

An ever-waging war,
Of black and white,
An ever-waging war,
Of wrong and right,
The dove or the raven,
Only you can decide,
The dove or the raven,
The tone that is inside.

poem by Ally Gunther
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Dove! Dove! Enchanted Dove

Dove! Dove! Enchanted Dove
That sways around me,
Why are you afraid, white dove?
Hear my voice, dove, my sister.
From the resonant branches
Descend in my dance,
Descend upon my heart, dove of love!

And I dance and I sing and I dance once more,
I dance nude, dazzled and splendid,
Like a serpent in the high grass.
I dance and I rage in the air,
Like a flame from hell.

I dance bewinged, quivering and wild,
In the depth of the living whirlwind,
Whirling in the current that devours me,
The whirlwind in which I descend.
I dance until sated,
With soul drunked, staggering,
With the wine of dance,
And with the wine of my blood.

poem by Charles van Lerberghe
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The Tryst

I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.

She could not stay me, being dead;
Her body here was mine to hold.
What if her lips had lost their red?
To me they always tasted cold
With the cold words she said.

Did my breath run along her hair,
And free the pulse, and fire the brain,
My wild blood wake her wild blood there?
Here eyelids lifted wide again
In a blue, sudden stare.

Beneath my fierce, profane caress
The whole white length of body moved;
The drowsy bosom seemed to press
As if against a breast beloved,
Then fail for weariness.

No, not that anguish! Christ forbid
That I should raise such dead! I rose,
Stifled the mouth with lilies, hid
Those eyes, And drew the long hair close,
And shut the coffin lid.

My cold brow on the cold wood laid,
Quiet and close to-night we lie.
No cruel words her lips have said.
I shall not take nor she deny.
The dead is with the dead.

poem by Muriel Stuart
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First Death In Nova Scotia

In the cold, cold parlor
my mother laid out Arthur
beneath the chromographs:
Edward, Prince of Wales,
with Princess Alexandra,
and King George with Queen Mary.
Below them on the table
stood a stuffed loon
shot and stuffed by Uncle
Arthur, Arthur's father.

Since Uncle Arthur fired
a bullet into him,
he hadn't said a word.
He kept his own counsel
on his white, frozen lake,
the marble-topped table.
His breast was deep and white,
cold and caressable;
his eyes were red glass,
much to be desired.

"Come," said my mother,
"Come and say good-bye
to your little cousin Arthur."
I was lifted up and given
one lily of the valley
to put in Arthur's hand.
Arthur's coffin was
a little frosted cake,
and the red-eyed loon eyed it
from his white, frozen lake.

Arthur was very small.
He was all white, like a doll
that hadn't been painted yet.
Jack Frost had started to paint him
the way he always painted
the Maple Leaf (Forever).
He had just begun on his hair,
a few red strokes, and then
Jack Frost had dropped the brush
and left him white, forever.

The gracious royal couples
were warm in red and ermine;
their feet were well wrapped up
in the ladies' ermine trains.
They invited Arthur to be
the smallest page at court.
But how could Arthur go,
clutching his tiny lily,
with his eyes shut up so tight
and the roads deep in snow?

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Emancipation Song

Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
As Freedom's glorious day draws near,
While every gentle tongue rejoices,
And each bold heart is filled with cheer;
The slave has seen the Northern star,
He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!

Though many still are writhing under
The cruel whips of 'chevaliers,'
Who mothers from their children sunder,
And scourge them for their helpless tears-
Their safe deliverance is not far!
The day draws nigh!-hurrah, hurrah!

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
That on thy sight the rays may fall!
No doubt let now thy bosom mar;
Send up the shout-hurrah, hurrah!

Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?-
He every doubt and fear will quell;
By him the captive's chains are riven-
So let us loud the chorus swell!
Man shall be free from cruel law,-
Man shall be MAN!-hurrah, hurrah!

No more again shall it be granted
To southern overseers to rule-
No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted
With cringing low in slavery's school.
So clear the way for Freedom's car-
The free shall rule!-hurrah, hurrah!

Send up the shout Emancipation-
From heaven let the echoes bound-
Soon will it bless this franchised nation,
Come raise again the stirring sound!
Emancipation near and far-
Swell up the shout-hurrah! hurrah!

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The White Dove

A white dove came to me

The sun was high..

The dove sit upon my swing

The sun was high, ,

As his eyes burnt into my

Soul..

The sun was high..

As he carried me upon his

Wing..

The sun was high..

As we descended into the

Cloud’s..

I seen a shadow as we whisk

Within and above the sky..

The face that linger beyond

The sky..

Gently smile and to just fade

Into the simmering light..

The sun was high..

But, yet the dream felt real

As his eyes burnt within my

Soul..

As the bright light engulfed

me..
A white dove came to me

And the sun was high

poem by Carolyn Sears
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White Dove

Music :presser, adamis, rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
A place without a name
Under a burning sky
Theres no milk and honey here
In the land of god
Someone holds a sign
It says we are human, too
And while the sun goes down
The world goes by
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Waves, big like a house
Theyre stranded on a piece of wood
To leave it all behind
To start again
But instead of a new life
All they find is a door thats closed
And they keep looking for
A place called hope
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
Can anyone tell me why (can anyone tell me why)
The children of the world (the children of the world)
Have to pay the price (pay another price)
And now your telling me
Youve seen it all before
I know thats right but still
It breaks my heart
Well, the golden lamb we sent
Makes us feel better now
But you know its just a drop
In a sea of tears
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
...

song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the rain stopped

it was when the rain stopped
that you left me: i own the umbrella
that you do not need now. You return
it. It was when the rain stopped
that you forget my name. My name
is need. And what you need is love.
My name is necessity. But what
you need is the luxury of honesty.

it was when the rain stopped that
you were honest enough to say:
i do not need you. I do not love you.

and then it rains so hard again
and you come knocking on my
door. You are wet. You are cold.
You are shivering. You are
trembling.

I look at you inside my house
looking by the window. I hide
behind the blue curtain. And i
tell myself: I do not believe you
anymore. And i ask myself:

How can i believe you again?

And then the rain stops.
And then you are gone.

And then i open the window.
And then i see the white dove flying
and hovering near a tree beside my window.

And then i set my heart free.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Was I Dreaming?

Angels watched as I lay sleeping,
Giving me pictures, I started dreaming,
Then from high on heaven above,
I started dreaming of a dove,

This dove it was as white as snow,
Where it disappeared to I’ll never know,
Soon it came back with a twig in its beak,
I looked in the sky and let out a shriek,

A beautiful rainbow, colours bright,
Shining there with all it’s might,
Then I heard someone say,
‘I promise it won’t happen another day, ’

Was I dreaming?
I’ll never know,
I look out the window,
There’s the rainbow!

poem by Cathryn Martin
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Afternoon View When The Office Is About To Close

from my window
you must have probably heard me about saying the same thing all over again
but i will say it again

the sea is very calm like a sky blue silk spread on the floor
the horizon is pale white like the color of shyness

at a distance there is a boat
the man just spread the fish net

a tiny bird hops from one dry twig to another
another leaf on the other branch falls because it is bound to fall

yellow leaves, those dead ones
caught by the fingers of the grasses below

and then the sound of sirens comes
it is now time to go

now my heart sings with joy
for another night perhaps with the stars high on the roof of my house
in my solitude.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wind And The Sea

I STOOD by the shore at the death of day,
As the sun sank flaming red;
And the face of the waters that spread away
Was as gray as the face of the dead.
And I heard the cry of the wanton sea
And the moan of the wailing wind;
For love's sweet pain in his heart had he,
But the gray old sea had sinned.
The wind was young and the sea was old,
But their cries went up together;
The wind was warm and the sea was cold,
For age makes wintry weather.
So they cried aloud and they wept amain,
Till the sky grew dark to hear it;
And out of its folds crept the misty rain,
In its shroud, like a troubled spirit.
For the wind was wild with a hopeless love,
And the sea was sad at heart
At many a crime that he wot of,
Wherein he had played his part.
He thought of the gallant ships gone down
By the will of his wicked waves;
And he thought how the churchyard in the town
Held the sea-made widows' graves.
The wild wind thought of the love he had left
Afar in an Eastern land,
And he longed, as long the much bereft,
For the touch of her perfumed hand.
In his winding wail and his deep-heaved sigh
His aching grief found vent;
While the sea looked up at the bending sky
And murmured: 'I repent.'
But e'en as he spoke, a ship came by,
That bravely ploughed the main,
And a light came into the sea's green eye,
And his heart grew hard again.
Then he spoke to the wind: 'Friend, seest thou not
Yon vessel is eastward bound?
Pray speed with it to the happy spot
Where thy loved one may be found.'
And the wind rose up in a dear delight,
And after the good ship sped;
But the crafty sea by his wicked might
Kept the vessel ever ahead.
Till the wind grew fierce in his despair,
And white on the brow and lip.
He tore his garments and tore his hair,
And fell on the flying ship.
And the ship went down, for a rock was there,
And the sailless sea loomed black;
While burdened again with dole and care,
The wind came moaning back.
And still he moans from his bosom hot
Where his raging grief lies pent,
And ever when the ships come not,
The sea says: 'I repent,'

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Prelude

OUT of the west when the sun was dying
Clouds of white wings came flying, flying,
Wheeling and whirling they swept away
Into the heart of the eastern gray;
But one white dove came straight to my breast
Out of the west.

Into the west when the dawn was pearly
Clouds of white wings went, dewy-early,
Straight from the world of the waning stars;
O beating pinions! O prison bars!
My dove flies free no more with the rest
Into the west.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Concupiscence

And the angel of death walked like a mirror
She wasn't ready
She basked in her sin like a séance
Now time has a sickle
What will be your fate?

Shrouds of conscious imperfection
Hide like dark rats
No olive branch in the dove's beak
Your cinnamon tree shallow as graves
Grand pride motivates concupiscence

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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A Distant Kind Of Love

A dove calls her mate in the moon
But a sea wind calls, go not to soon...
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.

So' it is for you; the world was made
To lift your feathers above the wave!
So dip your wing tips in salt rock air
Brave a poles ivory stair; if you dare!

For it's here your true loves heart lies
Anchored beneath the lustrous skies
Wave over wave- wing on wing!
The dove white creature clung, curing...

Until the sun in past shadows flame
Up and blessed the birds dead name
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.

Wave over wave- wing on wing!
That dove white creature sort to cling...
Curing... deeper and deeper
Rolling... deeper and deeper

The little dove flew
To the heart of the moon,
To that part of the moon,
That could be you...

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Raven Dove

(Dolly Parton)
There will come a day when sorrow fades away,
And anguish and heartache shall ease,
No mothers cryin', no soldiers dyin',
And turmoil and misery shall cease.
The hungry shall be fed, the aimless shall be led
And sad eyes will no longer weep,
The last shall be first, through heaven he'll burst
With his heavenly host from the East
Weapons to plowshares, hate turns to love,
Descending from heaven he'll sweep down to us
In radiant splendor; oh, won't it be sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
(Raven dove)
Oh, there will come a day when I'll fly away
Forever to be in his keep
Eternal life in the sweet by and by
When raven dove, raven dove speaks
When lambs walk with lions, a child tames the beast
Nations shall gather and bow at his feet
And loved ones shall rise up from their earthly sleep
And he'll separate all the chaff from the wheat.
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, how sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
Raven dove, behold he cometh in the clouds
And every eye shall see him
Sweet bird, sweet bird of peace
Raven Dove

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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