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Gliding Over All

GLIDING o'er all, through all,
Through Nature, Time, and Space,
As a ship on the waters advancing,
The voyage of the soul--not life alone,
Death, many deaths I'll sing.

poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Morning In May

One morning, one morning, one morning in may
I spied a young couple, they were making their way
One was a maiden so bright and so fair
And the other was a soldier and a brave volunteer
Good morning, good morning, good morning said he
And where are you going my pretty lady
Im goig out a walkin on the banks of the sea
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Now they had not been standing but a minute or two
And out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
And the tune that he played made the valleys all ring
Oh hark cried the maiden hear the nightingale sing
Oh maiden fair maiden tis time to give oer
Oh no kind soldier please play one tune more
For Id rather hear your fiddle at the touch of one string
Than to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Oh soldier kind soldier will you marry me
Oh no pretty maiden that never shall be
Ive a wife in london and children twice three
Two wives and the armys too many for me
Well Ill go back to london and Ill stay there for a year
Its often that Ill think of you my little dear
And if ever I return it will be in the spring
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
To see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voyage to the Depth

Voyage to the Depth
By: Adam M. Snow

Woe unto us, one of many,
Yet was not the foe-of any-
Unto us the storm crashing tides,
But to sail on, voyage to the depth.
I envy Seas, whereon we rides-
By thee captain side, I stand tall.

Waves crashing upon the haul,
The creaks of soaked oaken rot.
A sound throughout the ship had caught.
Tossing and turning, the ship sailed not.
The thoughts of death upon us all,
Among this time, we all stand tall.

We await the time calming sea,
To sail this voyage once again.
We know not the curse may be,
But we know to sail on to the depth.
None-the-less to live on dreaming,
As we sail the moonlit tides gleaming.

A glistening light in the far distance,
Our only hope to our existence.
That might prove useful and yet never proves.
Closer we are, the further it moves.

Lest not give up hope,
For many should cope.
A journey seen fit till the end.
I should not dare to leave my friend,
But if we do not see the shore again,
I make mend of my very sin.

But the stormy seas rages still,
This voyage ceases to thrill.
Lightning clashes throughout the sky.
A time like this, all things must die.

Journey on to that dark horizon,
Until our bodies rot and wizen
All but I am sickened for home,
Out at sea, do we roam.

Many are ill since lost at sea,
All now knows what our curse may be.
Traveled the world, many times till now,
Onto the depth, our soul soon sail.
We leave behind our eternal vow,
Our promise to return to our love somehow.

We now sail down the river Styx,
Free from the havoc ocean tides.
Lost at sea, not a month but six,
As we leave behind our many brides.

Our vision's clearer than ever before,
Our voyage ends, not a glimpse of shore.
Our soul sails on, unto the abyss,
Our life's voyage went amiss.
We leave behind a story untold,
Many a child to whom never hold.

poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My other Talent –Poesy

God is to me very kind;
To His tenets, I always bind;
My Poetry is but His gift!
My soul from Him can’t shift

Yet, peace of mind gets disturbed oft,
In search of worldly pleasures loft;
In vain, I seek them, time is lost;
And soul remains sin-cast.

My foes and woes trouble me much;
Sometimes, I feel I am a wretch!
And when I search my mind again,
God helps me solace regain.

My Poesy has made me fit;
My body, mind, soul bit by bit;
I talk with God who guides me right;
He tells me what’s wrong, correct.

With time, my soul regains due course;
My Poetry, my sin absolves;
Immersed in it, I find great peace,
Of mind and I am at ease.

Thoughts divine in me prevail;
My ship of Poesy sets sail;
It is an unchartered voyage;
That’s safe with God’s message.

God is my beacon and compass!
Invisible Captain of my ship;
I am the driver, novice,
‘Tis my maiden voyage.

My heart is full of confidence;
Impermanent’s my residence;
The weather lovely, calm for now;
My ship is on the move somehow!

poem by John Celes
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Assurances

I need no assurances, I am a man who is preoccupied of his own soul;
I do not doubt that from under the feet and beside the hands and
face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant
of, calm and actual faces,
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in
any iota of the world,
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless,
in vain I try to think how limitless,
I do not doubt that the orbs and the systems of orbs play their
swift sports through the air on purpose, and that I shall one day
be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they,
I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on millions of years,
I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have
their exteriors, and that the eyesight has another eyesight, and
the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice,
I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are
provided for, and that the deaths of young women and the
deaths of little children are provided for,
(Did you think Life was so well provided for, and Death, the purport
of all Life, is not well provided for?)
I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of
them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has
gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points,
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen anywhere at any
time, is provided for in the inherences of things,
I do not think Life provides for all and for Time and Space, but I
believe Heavenly Death provides for all.

poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Just as I shall select my ship when I am about to go on a voyage, or my house when I propose to take a residence, so I shall choose my death when I am about to depart from life.

Seneca in Epistulae Morales
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gliding Bird

(Tom Slocum)
Gliding bird gliding through the sky
I'm wondering why I can't be why I can't be as free
Gliding bird gliding all day long
Sing your secret song away from all these faces that I see
Is where I want to be
My feet are so tired
They walked too many miles
If I run so wild like heaven's child
I'll learn to fly someday
Gliding bird riding in the sun
Rainbow colors run
I hear the wind
I hear its mournful call
Gliding bird high above the sea
Is it longing to be free
Your voice is silent
But your wings tell all

song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Death Blues

Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going

Father Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store

Old Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans

O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest

Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home

Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues

Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through

Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn

Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.

poem by Allen Ginsberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing Your Song

Around and around we go
singing our song sweet and low,
our song of love,
and our song of life.
You choose what
you want to hear
springs eternal life
deaths eternal damnation
loves summer song
or winters heartache pose.
This life is yours
sing what you may.
Come sun and sprinkling shower
you can give a tune to everything
no matter what the hour.
Sing your song
to your hearts content
of loves ballad or deaths lament.
Sing your song to be heard
from highest hill to evening flower,
sing it high, sing it low,
but sing it anyway,
for life is for singing
the praises of being here.

29 August 2009

poem by David Harris
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How Curious Is Nature

How curious the occasion
Of the funeral procession
Of a young and innocent being

The ceasing of song,
and the darkness of death, The sunlight
thought no more to be seen

How curious that Nature
All around this sad event allows the sun
to yet shine and the birds to still sing

Perhaps Nature knows more than
One would suppose, and that death is
No more than a soul taking wing

Aye, how curious
Tis death
And the nature of things

poem by David Whalen
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I Love Time Out With Nature

I love time out with Nature and I love peace and quiet
To walk along the gravel path in the evening sunlight
When the wild birds are singing and Spring is in her prime
And even memories of such inspire the soul to rhyme.

I love time out with Nature a brief release from care
For Nature she is generous her gifts with all she share
We drink of her clear spring waters and we breathe in her life sustaining air
And Nature's splendid beauty is around us everywhere.

I love time out with Nature the only God I know
Her stream from the high country down to the river flow
The skylark from the rank grass in the mood for song he fly
One of Nature's feathered minstrels he carols in the sky.

In time out with Mother Nature from life's cares I find ease
The sounds of the leaves rustling in the freshening evening breeze
And we much like the Seasons to life we come and go
But Nature lives forever the only God I know.

poem by Francis Duggan
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O death!

O death!
Thou great leveller
Of titles before a name,
Of degrees after a name
Of wealth and of poverty

O death!
No hearing or seeing
No tasting or smelling
No feeling or thinking
No suffering or celebrating

O death!
No body or soul
A spirit-filled life
A life of knowing in a different way
A life of relating in a different way

O death!
No life as we know it
No space as we know it
No time as we know it
But life experienced in all its fullness.

O death!
O death, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?
From being deciduous
We’ve become evergreen.

©2009
James Hart

poem by James Hart
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Primal Death

Space
Time
Space
Travel
Raining
Ai ming
Space
Time
Space
Expanding
Un iting
Increasing
Space
Time
Space
Sweeping
Restraining
Stretching
Space
Time
Space
Wrestling
Throwing
Throwi ng up
Space
Time
Space
Falling
Sinkin g
Overturning
Space
Time
Space
Whi rling
Space
Time
Space
Disturbing
Space
Time
Space
Whirring
Space
Ti me Space
Erring at
Nothing

poem by August Stramm
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Warble Of Lilac-Time

WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Nature's sake, and sweet life's
sake--and death's the same as life's,
Souvenirs of earliest summer--birds' eggs, and the first berries;
Gather the welcome signs, (as children, with pebbles, or stringing
shells;)
Put in April and May--the hylas croaking in the ponds--the elastic
air,
Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,
Blue-bird, and darting swallow--nor forget the high-hole flashing his
golden wings,
The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,
Spiritual, airy insects, humming on gossamer wings,
Shimmer of waters, with fish in them--the cerulean above; 10
All that is jocund and sparkling--the brooks running,
The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making;
The robin, where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,
With musical clear call at sunrise, and again at sunset,
Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest
of his mate;
The melted snow of March--the willow sending forth its yellow-green
sprouts;
--For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it
and from it?
Thou, Soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what;
Come! let us lag here no longer--let us be up and away!
O for another world! O if one could but fly like a bird! 20
O to escape--to sail forth, as in a ship!
To glide with thee, O Soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er the
waters!
--Gathering these hints, these preludes--the blue sky, the grass, the
morning drops of dew;
(With additional songs--every spring will I now strike up additional
songs,
Nor ever again forget, these tender days, the chants of Death as well
as Life;)
The lilac-scent, the bushes, and the dark green, heart-shaped leaves,
Wood violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,
Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,
To tally, drench'd with them, tested by them,
Cities and artificial life, and all their sights and scenes, 30
My mind henceforth, and all its meditations--my recitatives,
My land, my age, my race, for once to serve in songs,
(Sprouts, tokens ever of death indeed the same as life,)
To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of Lilac-time.

poem by Walt Whitman
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For You Two

There’s a plan for you two which includes so much more.
Happiness will flow your way as do waves to the shore.

You two will set sail, yet travel as one
In love’s ship of miracles toward the setting sun.
Your promise to each other is strength enough
To conquer any storm no matter how rough.

Each time you enter new waters and exciting ports
Your union will grow stronger and deal with any sorts.
Take heart as your ship of miracles readies to set sail,
Knowing that together unending love will prevail.

Your voyage toward the sunset was always meant to be;
As certain as the horizon marries the heavens to the sea.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Dance Macabre

Dance Macabre

Soon we all will all look
30 when we die,
which will please undertakers?
Death will be called a voyage,
on an everlasting cruise ship
and the purser will send
festive cards
from romantic ports.
No, grand dad is not dead he is resting
and he is wearing makeup because he is going on
a passenger ship to be dancing partner
for old ladies.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Ship of Death

I

Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.

The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.

And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.

II

Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.

The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.

And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.

III

And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?

With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?

Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?

IV

O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!

How can we this, our own quietus, make?

V

Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.

And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.

Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.

Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.

Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.

VI

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.

We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.

VII

We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.

A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.

Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.

There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!

VIII

And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone

It is the end, it is oblivion.

IX

And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.

Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion

Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.

Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.

A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.

X

The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.

Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.

Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The ship was masted according to the proportion of the navy; but on my application the masts were shortened, as I thought them too much for her, considering the nature of the voyage.

quote by William Bligh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Has Seen The Wind

Who has seen the wind scalloping the sea
Or gliding like a swallow over villages and trees?
I have, said the willow,
And I begged him please to stay, but he went away,
He went on his own one day. and I sing
One love have i, and he sings, now its goodbye,
And I sing part of me dies until I see you again.
Who has seen the sun through a parasol of leaves,
Through scattered ruby cloud fires, through the silver wings of bees?
I have, said the waters, and I held his face to mine,
But he left in time, he went in his own good time.
And I sing one love have i, and he sings,
Now its goodbye, and I sing
Part of me dies until I see you again.
Who has seen the stranger in a coat of simple brown,
With his face of many faces, with his eyes turned out of town?
I have and I kissed him and I begged him please to stay,
But he went away, with the sun and the wind away.
And I sing one love have i, and he sings,
Now its goodbye, and I sing
Part of me dies until I see you again

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A battle between soul and death

My body has become a battle field,
Battle, a fierce battle, I cried in pain,
As death comes and fights to pull the soul,
Nothing happens as death has no gain.

I have been a heart and gastric patient,
My body burns with a wound of heart,
And my heart burns with it's own light,
But soul and death wrestle part to part.

A great war took place in my body,
Death violently ordered to the soul to surrender,
But soul is not ready to surrender then war began,
Many souls and deaths saw the war and wonder.

What about my body? I shouted at them,
My body has been burning since long,
Listening this, death laughed and soul hit it,
Soul told me that “death is going to do you wrong”.

You go away otherwise the death harms you,
Soul strongly pushed to the death and saved me,
I forever pray to God to give strength to my soul,
I am very thankful to my soul to protect me like a bee.

poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Homeland Africa

Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Down the ocean a ship comes sailing through the waves
Filled with hundreds of men they take as slaves
Just long for their true homeland africa
And to be saved they want to be free
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...
They are tired of waiting for a brand new day
Some of them sing and chant some of them pray
And some men got a little tired too
No one knows if the journey pay
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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