En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Sunken Garden

Speak not — whisper not;
Here bloweth thyme and bergamot;
Softly on the evening hour,
Secret herbs their spices shower,
Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Lean-stalked, purple lavender;
Hides within her bosom, too,
All her sorrows, bitter rue.

Breathe not — trespass not;
Of this green and darkling spot,
Latticed from the moon's beams,
Perchance a distant dreamer dreams;
Perchance upon its darkening air,
The unseen ghosts of children fare,
Faintly swinging, sway and sweep,
Like lovely sea-flowers in its deep;
While, unmoved, to watch and ward,
'Mid its gloomed and daisied sward,
Stands with bowed and dewy head
That one little leaden Lad.

poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Lavender And Green

Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With bells about your feet,
And music in your step,
When you come to me in lavender and green.

Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With sunshine in your eyes,
And springtime in your hair,
When you come to me in lavender and green.

Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With softness in your words,
And healing in your touch,
When you come to me in lavender and green.

Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With your name upon my lips,
And delight within your kiss,
When you come to me in lavender and green.

Will you come to me in lavender and green,
In dreams at midnight’s rest,
Or afternoon’s recline?
Come then to me in lavender and green.

Will you come to me in lavender and green,
At the setting of the sun,
When my days are nearly run?
Still come to me in lavender and green?

Will you come to me in lavender and green,
If I wait at heaven’s door,
As I waited once before,
While you walked to organ’s tune,
On a summer’s afternoon.
Now dressed in springtime hues?
My love, companion, muse,
A vision still I see,
Dressed in lavender and green.

poem by Greg Davidson
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Dreamer In My Dreams

Well there's a dreamer in my dreams,
Swing from the beams,
(With a) light shining off the snow.
Well there's a singer in my heart,
Burning up the charts,
With songs about things we all know.
Well there's a blister on his brain,
That's driving him insane,
Cause all good things they gotta go.
Well there's a child on the way,
It could be any day,
But how this life will change him, that we don't know.
Well there's a child on the way,
One day, he's gonna say, "Ain't you my dad?"
Then he's gonna look down and smile,
and after awhile,
He'll say, "That's for sure son, cause you got my eyes."
Well there's a dreamer in my dreams,
He's hanging from the beams,
With light shining off the snow.
Well there's a blister on his brain,
It's driving him insane,
And all good things have to go, all right.
There's a dreamer in my dreams,
Swinging from the beams,
With a light shining off the lake.
Well, I know I made mistakes,
I'm passing then all on.
But I hope he gets some before there gone, all right.
Yeah, that's it.
Well there's a dreamer in my dreams,
Climbing up the back,
Of a car they used to call a Cadillac.
It's got a brand new set of keys,
It's got a new look, it's got a new look,
And his young one is gonna take it all away.
I believe it...
Well there's a dreamer in my dreams,
Swinging from the beams,
All wrapped up in my garage.
He's hanging from a bell,
He don't know what he's done,
Just don't forget to day goodbye when he's gone.
That's it

song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lovely Lavender Day

Purple, everything purple, purple
the colour I love, everything packaged
in purple – tile cleaner in a purple
container for lavender sweetness

Also power-cleaning cream for lavender-
fresh effects, the bottle appealing in a
soft purple hue, fabric conditioner in purple
too, accompanied by lavender promises

And my purple hot water bottle – I bought
Nici a purple fleece; a purple coverlet
on my bed, my favourite chocolate in a
purple wrapper

Purple is spiritual in the division of
seven chakra colours – red is earthed in
primitive desire, followed by orange, yellow,
green – the colour of love – and

Blue – the colour of communication, then
purple for third-eye enlightenment - purple
adds lustre and the sweetness of vague
mistiness to everything on which it appears;

Wishing you a lovely lavender day
in all hues of purple and blue!

poem by Margaret Alice
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Scarborough Fair / Canticle

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsely, sage, rosemary & thyme
(Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework
(Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)
Tell her to find me an acre of land
(On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsely, sage, rosemary, & thyme
(Washed is the ground with so many tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strand
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsely, sage, rosemary & thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Of Shadows

"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician,
With thy long lean hand;
Downward the starry tapers burn,
Sinks soft the waning sand;
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep,
The embers smoulder low;
Across the walls the shadows
Come, and go.

Sweep softly thy strings, Musician,
The minutes mount to hours;
Frost on the windless casement weaves
A labyrinth of flowers;
Ghosts linger in the darkening air,
Hearken at the open door;
Music hath called them, dreaming,
Home once more."

poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lavender Hill

I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Secret Garden (Fantasy)

Hydranga entertains a lady bug-
Her guest for a summer afternoon-
Butterflies float in purple passion-
And the road to: 'Awe' 'tis arriving soon;

Dragonflies are for the night light...
And violet fairy wings are close but yet far away-
Under and umbrella of magic Lilac tree limbs-
Morning flight 'tis calling- this day;

There is immersion in silver tipped pearl-escent water-
In between your world and mine...
What dreams may arive in our inner visions-
The Mighty Magical morning- will find;

Perhaps a water colour of Autumn-Gold Mums for the asking?
Given bright eyes with saged wisdom- to really see...
In the shadow of the half broken moon- now wandering...
With infinity-i wrestle with the thoughts- inside of me;

Down the Enchanted Wooded Garden- i travel...
Looking for the light at the end of this gardened earth-
In the stark white valley of a single purple rose, i breathe-
Purple rain arrives at: The Secret Gardens official birth;

Purple tinted flowers are simply everywhere...
Lilac, Lavender, Violet and more-
Baby's Breath blankets them- in sweet shelter-
From the crystal dew-
Just outside the Gardens gated door;

A purple Dahlia comes calling-
In a Violet and deep Lavender haze...
Ah, but tomorrow 'tis yet another day-
And the Garden shall be under the influence of another moon phase;

The Paisley tree may then decide to bloom-
Or the Iris may catch your bright eye...
Whatever attracts your attention in this Sanctuary...
Has reached out to you- with her Intentioned Lavender Sigh;

***************************************** ***********************************
October,20 09

poem by Theodora Onken
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Scarborough Fair

===================================
Simon & Garfunkel - Scarborough Fair
===================================
(3:52) Read the song on which this is based!
P. Simon/A. Garfunkel, 1966
Released on Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Without no seam nor needlework
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Between the salt water and the sea strand
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Year....

on the first day of this new year
as the firecrackers mark the end
there will be goodbyes
but there will be more hellos still to come

some chains will be missing
i will be breaking some links
and reconnect with the untried ones
as i dropp some hot potatoes
i shall also select new herbs and spices
flavors of my year
rosemary, not thyme
new colors to love
brighter oranges, scarlet wines
new hair to sport
another softer brushes for my teeth
dimmer lights perhaps
and perfumed pillows
more love and less
talk.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Deep

You're more lovely than all the shades
of greens and purples of any precious garden.

You're my most dreamless sleep,
my green, my cool and dark and deep.

Your smile's worth more than all the jewels
within the earth, begging at your feet.

Hot and humid, overtired. I beg for sleep!
My fresh, my green, my dark and deep.

My purple! Oh, for a dreamless sleep!
My green, my cool, my dark and deep.

You are sweeter than summer night's jasmine
and brighter than the sun's morning laughter.

My Prince, my man, my green lovely, my sleep!
my best, my fresh, my cool, my dark and deep.

poem by Guy Peppin
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Bright and Beautiful Sea

Bright and beautiful sea! I love thee well—
In sunshine, oh bear me away;
On thy bosom I'll ride, when the salt waves swell
'Neath the light of the moon's pale ray.
Still softly, oh! softly cradle my head,
And my sleep shall be sweet with thee,
For the planets keep watch o'er the dreamer's bed
On the bright and beautiful sea.
Earth is not thine, with her selfish decrees,
With her toils and her fading flow'rs;—
But the blue sky above—the sun—and the breeze,
And the bright and the laughing hours.
Bright and beautiful sea! Oh! let me glide,
Forgetting the sorrows of earth—
For glad is the music of thy sparkling tide,
Thou sea, in thy billowy mirth!
Bright and beautiful sea! I love thee well—
In sunshine, oh bear me away;
On thy bosom I'll ride, when the salt waves swell
'Neath the light of the moon's pale ray.

poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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Moon-Light

COME, gentle muse! now all is calm,
The dew descends, the air is balm;
Unruffled is the glassy deep,
While moon-beams o'er its bosom sleep;
The gale of summer mildly blows,
The wave in soothing murmur flows;
Unclouded Vesper shines on high,
And ev'ry flow'r has clos'd its tearful eye.

Oh! at this hour, this placid hour,
Soft music, wake thy magic pow'r!
Be mine to hear thy dulcet measure,
Thy warbling strains, that whisper, pleasure;
Thy heavenly airs, of cadence dying,
And harp to every zephyr sighing;
When roving by the shadowy beam,
That gilds the fairy-bow'r and woodland-stream!

But all is still! no mellow sound
Floats on the breeze of night around ;
Yet fancy, with some airy spell,
Can wake 'sweet Echo' from her cell;
Can charm her pensive votary's ear,
With plaintive numbers melting near;
And bid celestial spirits rise,
To pour their wild, enchanted melodies.

I love the rosy dawn of day,
When Zephyr wakes the laughing May;
I love the summer-evening's close,
That lulls the mind in calm repose;
But sweeter far the hour serene,
When softer colours paint the scene;
When Vesper sheds a dewy ray,
And o'er the sleeping wave the moon-beams play.

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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All Alone In The Dark

I can see you when the moon is shining bright
I can feel you when the moon is out of sight
Whisper softly, well it sounds so nice
All alone in the dark, all alone in the dark
I can hear the words you whisper when youre near
I can feel them tickle softly in my ear
Kiss me softly while theres no one here
All alone in the dark, all alone in the dark
You know this darkness makes me see
That youre the only one for me
You know this darkness makes me see
And this times the only time
We can make our feelings ryhme
With all the things we could not say
I can see you when the moon is shining bright
I can feel you when the moon is out of sight
Whisper softly, well it sounds so nice
All alone in the dark, all alone in the dark
All alone in the dark

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple Rain and Purple Lavender II

Purple rain and purple lavender,
Find me a place and let me fix my love;
For somebody got to pay for my works! !
And like Shadrachm, Meshach and Abednego.

Life is like the wings of love,
Life is like a strom at sea,
Life is like the works of love,
Life is all about us in this world! !
And at times, it is full of hate;
But, this purple rain and this purple lavender will be well noted by us all.

Purple rain and purple lavender,
With the sweet smell of love to satisfy my muse!
But the rainbow colours are the colours of love,
And like your love in the land of beautiful flowers.

People and the ways of life,
But the wars have destroyed many things around us! !
However, i will still love you for what you are;
And like the muse of love in the land of many widows!
For, this purple rain and this purple lavender are well noted by us all.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Veggie Poetry

steamed okra
round, red, shiny tomatoes
violet onion, some white spring ones
and hot chili
with black pepper
some olive oil
and rosemary herbs for flavoring
a little salt
a little sugar
suit to your exquisite, exotic asian taste
add some more other
herbs and hot spices

mix them in a bowl
shed some tears
for summer salt
add some green lettuce
and black olives
and pickles to taste

pick some
then chew

do not swallow yet
take your time

enjoy your veggie poetry
do not take any meat
or poultry

now take your time alone
eat

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shroud Of Midnight

As the shroud of midnight falls
over sleeping garden walls
and the moon hides behind a cloud
the ghosts of lovers past lay bare
the tracks they used to follow.
Down leafy lanes and against trees
where they used to lean,
the summer evening vents scents
that fill the air with mystic perfume
to enthral the senses of anyone
who may pass there.
A cooling breeze follows
the shroud of midnight
as it gently touches everything
and the lives of present lovers
lay hidden and unseen
until the moon peeks
from behind the cloud
and brightens things a little
around the midnight shroud.

16 February 2009

poem by David Harris
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The Clouds That Promise A Glorious Morrow

The clouds that promise a glorious morrow
Are fading slowly, one by one;
The earth no more bright rays may borrow
From her loved Lord, the golden sun;
Gray evening shadows are softly creeping,
With noiseless steps, o’er vale and hill;
The birds and flowers are calmly sleeping;
And all around is fair and still.

Once loved I dearly, at this sweet hour,
With loitering steps to careless stray,
To idly gather an opening flower,
And often pause upon my way,—
Gazing around me with joyous feeling,
From sunny earth to azure sky,
Or bending over the streamlet, stealing
’Mid banks of flowers and verdure by.

You wond’ring ask me why sit I lonely
Within my quiet, curtain’d room,
So idly seeking and clinging only
Unto its chastened, thoughtful gloom.
You tell me that never fragrance rarer
Did breathe from clustering leaf and bough;
That never the bright spring was fairer
Or more enchanting than she is now.

Ah, useless chiding! The loved ones tender,
Who shared my rambles long ago,
Whose cherished accents could only render
Words of affection soft and low,
Are parted from me, perchance for ever,
By miles of distance, of land or main,—
Death some has taken, and them, oh never
Upon this earth shall I meet again.

’Tis thus this hour of gentle even
Brings back in thought the friends long gone,—
Loved ones with whom this earth was Heaven
But who have vanished, one by one.—
’Tis thus I cherish with wilful sadness
The quiet of my lonely room,—
Careless, unmindful of all earth’s gladness,
Or of her lovely evening bloom.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burial Of A Fairy Queen

On a verdant summer islet
I beheld a wondrous scene,
In a trance of dreamy waking-
Burial of a Fairy Queen!
First I heard some small pipes playing,
Like faint night-winds on the breeze,
Or the sound of distant rain-drops,
As they fall among the trees.
Floating softly o'er the waters,
And from every bell of foam,
The fairy anthem echoed sweetly,
Sad as thoughts of distant home.
Next the sound, as if of footsteps,
O'er the grass plot mov'd along;
And distinctly came the accents
Of the solemn funeral song.
Like the melting of the dew-drops,
Without words of grief or death,
Was the soul-enthralling music,
Scarcely louder than a breath.
Then my dreaming eyes were opened,
And in wonder I espied
Thousands of the fairy creatures
In a circle, side by side.
Scarcely taller than the leaflets
Of the herbage on the plain,
While their heads were bowed with anguish,
And their tear-drops fell like rain.
In the middle of the circle,
On a plat of grass most green,
Stood a bier of unknown flowers,
Whereon lay the Fairy Queen.
Ah, she was pale as any lily,
Cold and motionless as snow!
Fainter grew their solemn dirges,
And still deeper grew their wo!
Two sisters of the queenly fairy,
Stood at her feet and head,
And sang heart-broken measures,
Their requiems o'er the dead.
Scarcely louder than the twittering
Of the wood-lark's dewy breath-
But too full of desolation,
And the dark despair of death!
Then the flower-bier sank gently,
At the spot whereon it lay;
And the magic turf clos'd o'er it-
Thus the dead queen pass'd away!
Bright dew-drops glittered on the sward-
One fleet moment more, and then
The mystic troop sailed duskily,
And far from mortal ken.
The silence of the still midnight
The murmuring waters broke;
The moon, emerging from a cloud,
Shone on me, and I woke.

poem by Mary Eliza Perine Tucker Lambert
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Darknlovely

There is a place
On hearts motherland
Where a people
Die in bantu stands
Manchild at eight
Will face guns of hate
Womanchilds fate
Is life second rate
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
They do a dance
Called mbaqana jive
Rainbow people
Dancin to stay alive
After hours
Party hand in hand
After shebeen
Terror strikes again
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely
The whole planets watchin
And the sun God is watchin, too
Hey there botha
Yes, we are watcin you
Spirits can do
Jah will stop this reign
Watch our world turn
To help those in pain
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely dark n lovely

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In London

When I look out on London's teeming streets,
On grim grey houses, and on leaden skies,
My courage fails me, and my heart grows sick,
And I remember that fair heritage
Barter'd by me for what your London gives.
This is not Nature's city: I am kin
To whatsoever is of free and wild,
And here I pine between these narrow walls,
And London's smoke hides all the stars from me,
Light from mine eyes, and Heaven from my heart.

For in an island of those Southern seas
That lie behind me, guarded by the Cross
That looks all night from out our splendid skies,
I know a valley opening to the East.
There, hour by hour, the lazy tide creeps in
Upon the sands I shall not pace again --
Save in a dream, -- and, hour by hour, the tide
Creeps lazily out, and I behold it not,
Nor the young moon slow sinking to her rest
Behind the hills; nor yet the dead white trees
Glimmering in the starlight: they are ghosts
Of what has been, and shall be never more.
No, never more!

   Nor shall I hear again
The wind that rises at the dead of night
Suddenly, and sweeps inward from the sea,
Rustling the tussock, nor the wekas' wail
Echoing at evening from the tawny hills.
In that deserted garden that I lov'd
Day after day, my flowers drop unseen;
And as your Summer slips away in tears,
Spring wakes our lovely Lady of the Bush,
The Kowhai, and she hastes to wrap herself
All in a mantle wrought of living gold;
Then come the birds, who are her worshippers,
To hover round her; tuis swift of wing,
And bell-birds flashing sudden in the sun,
Carolling: Ah! what English nightingale,
Heard in the stillness of a summer eve,
From out the shadow of historic elms,
Sings sweeter than our Bell-bird of the Bush?
And Spring is here: now the Veronica,
Our Koromiko, whitens on the cliff,
The honey-sweet Manuka buds, and bursts
In bloom, and the divine Convolvulus,
Most fair and frail of all our forest flowers,
Stars every covert, running riotous.
O quiet valley, opening to the East,
How far from this thy peacefulness am I!
Ah me, how far! and far this stream of Life
From thy clear creek fast falling to the sea!

Yet let me not lament that these things are
In that lov'd country I shall see no more;
All that has been is mine inviolate,
Lock'd in the secret book of memory.
And though I change, my valley knows no change.
And when I look on London's teeming streets,
On grim grey houses, and on leaden skies,
When speech seems but the babble of a crowd,
And music fails me, and my lamp of life
Burns low, and Art, my mistress, turns from me, --
Then do I pass beyond the Gate of Dreams
Into my kingdom, walking unconstrained
By ways familiar under Southern skies;
Nor unaccompanied; the dear dumb things
I lov'd once, have their immortality.
There too is all fulfilment of desire:
In this the valley of my Paradise
I find again lost ideals, dreams too fair
For lasting; there I meet once more mine own
Whom Death has stolen, or Life estranged from me, --
And thither, with the coming of the dark,
Thou comest, and the night is full of stars.

poem by Dora Wilcox
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