November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Before the Mirror
I.
WHITE ROSE in red rose-garden
Is not so white;
Snowdrops that plead for pardon
And pine for fright
Because the hard East blows
Over their maiden rows
Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.
Behind the veil, forbidden,
Shut up from sight,
Love, is there sorrow hidden,
Is there delight?
Is joy thy dower or grief,
White rose of weary leaf,
Late rose whose life is brief, whose loves are light?
Soft snows that hard winds harden
Till each flake bite
Fill all the flowerless garden
Whose flowers took flight
Long since when summer ceased,
And men rose up from feast,
And warm west wind grew east, and warm day night.
II.
“Come snow, come wind or thunder
High up in air,
I watch my face, and wonder
At my bright hair;
Nought else exalts or grieves
The rose at heart, that heaves
With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.
“She knows not loves that kissed her
She knows not where.
Art thou the ghost, my sister,
White sister there,
Am I the ghost, who knows?
My hand, a fallen rose,
Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.
“I cannot see what pleasures
Or what pains were;
What pale new loves and treasures
New years will bear;
What beam will fall, what shower,
What grief or joy for dower;
But one thing knows the flower; the flower is fair.”
III.
Glad, but not flushed with gladness,
Since joys go by;
Sad, but not bent with sadness,
Since sorrows die;
Deep in the gleaming glass
She sees all past things pass,
And all sweet life that was lie down and lie.
There glowing ghosts of flowers
Draw down, draw nigh;
And wings of swift spent hours
Take flight and fly;
She sees by formless gleams,
She hears across cold streams,
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh.
Face fallen and white throat lifted,
With sleepless eye
She sees old loves that drifted,
She knew not why,
Old loves and faded fears
Float down a stream that hears
The flowing of all men’s tears beneath the sky.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Winter (studio Out-take)
The soul lives forever
Always ends sometime
Now I'm alone, alone and cold
Under painted skies
Remembering the love that we came alive
And I can only scream
As a lonely cry
Forever
The summer goes by upon the wind
Goes by as though it has never been
I lift my hand to wipe the tears
The tears
I just can't go on
Now my love has gone away
Now my imaginary world is fading fast
Dreams I dreamed could never last
I lived my innocence in the past
And my broken heart
The summer goes by upon the wind
Goes by as though it has never been
I lift my hand to wipe the tears
The tears
I just can't go on
Now my love has gone away
The summer goes by upon the wind
Goes by as though it had never been
I lift my hand to wipe the tears
The tears
I just can't go on
Now my love has gone
I just can't go on
Now my love has gone away
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still Im Sad
Version 1 (from stranger in us all)
See the stars come fallin down the sky
Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry
See the wind come, softly blow
Your hair from your face
And the rain comes falling down
In its crazy way
Still Im sad
For myself my tears just fall in the dust
As I search in the night and find theyre lost
See the wind come gently blow
Time into my heart
And the rain comes falling down
While were apart
Still Im sad
Version 2 (yardbirds version? )
See the stars come joining down from the skies
Gently passing they kiss your tears when you cry
See the wind of summer blow your hair upon your head
See the rain, the falling rain, its rain
Still Im sad
Oh my flowers, my tears are falling two days
They are driving the night profound, they are lost
Flower, flower the wind is blowing
Time into my heart
When the wind blows hard, we are apart
Still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, still Im sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, how Im sad
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thunder In The Garden
When the boughs of the garden hang heavy with rain
And the blackbird reneweth his song,
And the thunder departing yet rolleth again,
I remember the ending of wrong.
When the day that was dusk while his death was aloof
Is ending wide-gleaming and strange
For the clearness of all things beneath the world’s roof,
I call back the wild chance and the change.
For once we twain sat through the hot afternoon
While the rain held aloof for a while,
Till she, the soft-clad, for the glory of June
Changed all with the change of her smile.
For her smile was of longing, no longer of glee,
And her fingers, entwined with mine own,
With caresses unquiet sought kindness of me
For the gift that I never had known.
Then down rushed the rain, and the voice of the thunder
Smote dumb all the sound of the street,
And I to myself was grown nought but a wonder,
As she leaned down my kisses to meet.
That she craved for my lips that had craved her so often,
And the hand that had trembled to touch,
That the tears filled her eyes I had hoped not to soften
In this world was a marvel too much.
It was dusk ’mid the thunder, dusk e’en as the night,
When first brake out our love like the storm,
But no night-hour was it, and back came the light
While our hands with each other were warm.
And her smile killed with kisses, came back as at first
As she rose up and led me along,
And out to the garden, where nought was athirst,
And the blackbird renewing his song.
Earth’s fragrance went with her, as in the wet grass,
Her feet little hidden were set;
She bent down her head, ’neath the roses to pass,
And her arm with the lily was wet.
In the garden we wandered while day waned apace
And the thunder was dying aloof;
Till the moon o’er the minster-wall lifted his face,
And grey gleamed out the lead of the roof.
Then we turned from the blossoms, and cold were they grown:
In the trees the wind westering moved;
Till over the threshold back fluttered her gown,
And in the dark house was I loved.
poem by William Morris
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Cold Wind Waits
though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.
though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.
(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)
poem by Mark Money
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As the cold wind blows
As the cold wind blows
I smile and laugh
As the cold wind blows
Im warm and safe
As the cold wind blows
The fire inside is hot
As the cold wind blows
My love is not for naught
As the cold wind blows
My love keeps me warm
As the cold wind blows
I feel only this love
Warming me making me
The man I am today
As the cold wind blows
I know soon this cold wind will blow away.
poem by Troy Nichols
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Ghost
'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful
Beyond all dreams to restore,
I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither,
And knock on the door.'
'Who speaks? ' 'I -- once was my speech
Sweet as the bird's on the air,
When echo lurks by the waters to heed;
'Tis I speak thee fair.'
'Dark is the hour!' 'Aye, and cold.'
'Lone is my house.' 'Ah, but mine? '
'Sight, touch, lips, eyes gleamed in vain.'
'Long dead these to thine.'
Silence. Still faint on the porch
Brake the flames of the stars.
In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand
Over keys, bolts, and bars.
A face peered. All the grey night
In chaos of vacancy shone;
Nought but vast sorrow was there --
The sweet cheat gone.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Wind Child
The Wind has a voice,
A sad, sweet voice
I've heard it sing
Long and beautiful
Like Wind should be,
Carrying forever
The singing Wind is rarely heard
It's quiet and soft and
Unnoticeable
I am a Wind Child
I hear the Wind as
She sings her sad, sweet song
I am a Wind Child
And I sing with the Wind
Wind Children are rare as
True Hope
Special as Love
Wind Child
Is me
poem by Sahar Alive
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October Rain
I remember the tears
with yesterdays pain
that dreadful year
of October rain.
Darkened skies
with clouds of gray
gloom which followed
everyday.
Hidden in shadows
fate lurked at me
a game of life
which took three.
With each breeze
of passing wind
fate just laughed
at me again.
Cold wet rain
stained my face
salty tears
I could taste.
As I looked
up to the sky
I could not help
but wonder why.
My soul screamed
with terror and pain
that dreadful year
of October rain.
poem by Rene' Bennett
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain Tears
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Melding in torrential fears:
Chill of cloud; saddened eye-
In either way, a latent cry.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Married under sceptic jeers:
‘They'll never last.' Methinks not true, for
Either way, forever blue.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Simple love with lacy cares,
Their intercourse will ne'er refrain
From rain and tears and tears and rain.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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n: : tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Wind so Cold
Wind so cold
like a heartless person
love is like a ghost
always going with the wind
never to stay in one place for long
Wind so cold
waiting for the warm
summer breeze to come
but knowing it wont
last for so long
Wind so cold
knowing it'll last forever
never knowing when
it'll end
poem by Bellaina Bella Hernandez
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Weather love
The wind, the rain, the sunset
all in one place,
is it possible for such thing to be seen all at once?
seems to me like it is every time we have those occasional small talks
when the wind comes through
it probably means your words will be cold even if its June
but they glide by my side because
i know those harsh words don't come from your sweet heart
it cant be possible for you to be kind when you're feeling cold inside
let me warm you up
you shove me aside and say no
that's when it starts to pour
the rain falling down my face
because god knows how much it hurts
to be neglected and rejected
by the person who you'll give your life away
and when it rains it thunders
and life keeps getting colder
the wind and the rain threw me over
but next day it was over
the sunset took over
this must means you're okay
no more sadness or confused face
and you take me with you once again
and we are happier than yesterday
but who said its staying this way
the weather always changes
its an unpredictable world that i face everyday
but you're worth it
you're worth the chills, the pain, the pouring rain
and you're worth everything
when the sunset is visible again.
poem by Melissa Lora
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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THE AUTUMN MELODY ~ (Semodgomis melodia)
THE AUTUMN MELODY (Semodgomis melodia)
The cold autumn rain
Is drizzling
That sad melody
Down from the skies…
The wind steals
The dreamy flock
Of the clouds,
Carries away… and flies.
No smile at all,
No rebuking…
Just silence –
Acid and biting…
The moon rings
From the dome of the skies,
And throws the sparks
Into my eyes…
The cold autumn rain
I drizzling
That sad melody
Down from the skies…
poem by Tsira Gogeshvili
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Blowing Hot and Cold
You blow like a hot wind through my heart,
Raising me up to feel full of life,
A wind that takes away my pain,
Leaves me feeling like a man,
Tomorrow you blow like a cold wind through my heart,
Doubt tears me apart,
A wind that leaves me in pain,
Wishing me down the drain,
Blowing hot and cold,
You can be too bold,
Slow down baby,
We can work it out, maybe,
So what is it you want from me?
Do you really just want to be free?
Maybe you just don't know how to grow,
Sometimes it's better to go with the flow!
While I wait for your wind to slow and warm,
All I want is for you to be safe from harm,
Sometimes I make you mad,
I don't want to see you so sad,
Blowing hot and cold,
You can be too bold,
Slow down baby,
We can work it out, maybe,
Live life to the full, good and grand,
When things are tough I will give you a hand,
Together we can go higher,
Love is our only desire!
23 May 2012
NYC
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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Love Is A Cold Wind
Black/bourke
Love is a cold wind
When it blows away from you
As you watch it go, it hurts to know
Theres nothing you can do
Youre all alone again
And love is a cold wind
Love is a rain storm
But it only rains on you
And theres no one there who seems to care
No one to pull you through
And inside youre never warm
cause love is a rain storm
But when she was here
Love was a breezy morning
Filled with the sun
Warm as her smile
But now its done
Love is a cold wind as it blows away from
So you find your way, to yesterday
What else is there to do
Youre all alone again and love is a cold wind
But when she was here
Love was abreezy morning
Filled with the sun
Warm as her smile
But now its done
Love is a cold wind
As it blows away from you
As you watch it go
It hurts to know
Theres nothing you can do
And youre all alone again and love is a cold wind
Youre all alone again and love is a cold wind.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night and Morning
Was it a lie that they told me,
Was it a pitiless hoax?
A sop for my soul and its longing
Only to cozen and coax?
And a voice came down through the night and rain:
'They lied; thou has trusted in vain.'
Must I vanish off-hand into darkness,
Blown out with a breath like a lamp?
Have I nought in the future to look to
Save rotting in darkness and damp?
And the answer came with a mocking hiss:
'Thou hast nothing to look to save this.'
What of the grave and its conquest,
Of death and the loss of its sting?
Was it only the brag of a madman
Who believed an impossible thing?
And the voice returned, as the voice of a ghost:
'It was but a madman's boast.'
Am I the serf of my senses?
Is my soul a slave without rights?
Are feeding and breeding and sleeping
My first and truest delights?
And the cruel answer cut me afresh:
'Thou art but the serf of thy flesh.'
Is it all for nought that I travail,
That I long for leisure from sin,
That I thirst for the pure and the perfect,
And feel like a god within?
The voice replied to my passionate thought:
'Thy longing and travail is nought.'
Then I bowed my head in anguish,
Folding my face in my hands,
And I shuddered as one that sinketh
In the clutch of quaking sands.
And I stared, as I clinched my fingers tight,
Out through the black, black night.
For life was shorn of its meaning,
And I cried: 'O God, is it so?
Utter the truth though it slay me,
Utter it, yes or no!'
But I heard no answer to heal my pain,
Save the bluster of wind and rain.
And behold, as I sat in my sorrow,
A quick ray shot from the east,
Another and then another,
And I knew that the night had ceased.
And the dark clouds rolled away to the west
As the great sun rose from his rest.
And now, as the fair dawn broadened,
Strong and joyous and bright,
My whole soul swept to meet it,
Rapt with a deep delight:
And a new voice rang from the radiant skies:
'Rejoice; I have heard thee. Arise.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Wraith
Ah me, it is cold and chill
And the fire sobs low in the grate,
While the wind rides by on the hill,
And the logs crack sharp with hate.
And she, she is cold and sad
As ever the sinful are,
But deep in my heart I am glad
For my wound and the coming scar.
Oh, ever the wind rides by
And ever the raindrops grieve;
But a voice like a woman's sigh
Says, 'Do you believe, believe?'
Ah, you were warm and sweet,
Sweet as the May days be;
Down did I fall at your feet,
Why did you hearken to me?
Oh, the logs they crack and whine,
And the water drops from the eaves;
But it is not rain but brine
Where my dead darling grieves.
And a wraith sits by my side,
A spectre grim and dark;
Are you gazing here open-eyed
Out to the lifeless dark?
But ever the wind rides on,
And we sit close within;
Out of the face of the dawn,
I and my darling,--sin.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Deep in a Yew-Sequestered Grove
Deep in a yew-sequestered grove
I sat and wept my heart away;
A child came by at close of day
With eyes as sweet as new-born love.
He came from sun-bleached meadows where
High on the hedge the topmost rose
Curtsies to every wind that blows.
A wanton of the summer air.
The sunset aureoled his brow,
Kindling the roses in his hand,
And by my side I saw him stand
To offer me his rose-red bough:
Take back thy gift--I sighed forlorn,
And showed where like the yew's red seed,
My blood had trickled, bead on bead,
From wounds made by his cruel thorn.
He smiled and said:--Nay, take my Rose;
You know, when all is said and done,
There's not a joy beneath the sun
Worth lovers' joys but lovers' woes.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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