Related quotes: . 'On the ferry-boats the...

Upon This Wide Water, For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985, Manhattan

.
'On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are
more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.'
- Walt Whitman, from 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry'

Upon this wide water, Whitman's bay, wandering
outward toward Eastward windings -

Upon this white-starred charted bay we ride
gray with midnight leaning toward the Towers**
distant growing, stalking, yellow and glowing,
mimicing the stars -

Our eyes stare tearing,
seawind pushes lids to slits.
We glimmer. Lights shimmer
ahead and above,
and still we cry -

the wind.

The ferry, furtive, floats the edge of Manhatta.
There's power pushing against the bow,
riptides to the rear, but we go on,
approach sleepily, enamored of gin and
the beds we will make again and again
pulling sheets tighter. This stretching water
safe-keeps the light of eyes and the city there-

Upon the water's wide skirt one will, quiet,
lift up a hand to the spray, sway for love,
and pray for the world -

A dark tern unfurls from the sail
of a starboard yacht, flirts once with
the silhouette extended upon the wave,
then leaves, an under-turning rail or rudder
sinking in the ferrier's wake.

Each night there must be one, out there,
on the deck, supplicating in boozy tongue,
oozing heart-love all over, spurning the way
things go down in the world, cheap spindrift
the cranes know of, dipping their bloated beaks
to the waves. And he must dip his head, braying,
with his hands motioning to the night -

Away! Away!

[**World Trade Towers]

poem by Warren Falcon
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Related quotes

Upon This Wide Water, On Our Broken Boat - Two For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985 Manhattan

'On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are
more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.'
- Walt Whitman, from 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry'

Upon this wide water, Whitman's bay, wandering
outward toward Eastward windings -

Upon this white-starred charted bay we ride
gray with midnight leaning toward the Towers**
distant growing, stalking, yellow and glowing,
mimicing the stars -

Our eyes stare tearing,
seawind pushes lids to slits.
We glimmer. Lights shimmer
ahead and above,
and still we cry -

the wind.

Upon the water's wide skirt one will, quiet,
lift up a hand to the spray, sway for love,
and pray for the world -

A dark tern unfurls from the sail
of a starboard yacht, flirts once with
the silhouette extended upon the wave,
then leaves, an under-turning rail or rudder
sinking in the ferrier's wake.

Away! Away!

[**World Trade Towers]

'Others the same - others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, What is it then between us? ...What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? ' - Walt Whitman

On our broken boat the harsh light will not break.
We see our day clearly as we can.
Tell the night, now it's here to stay, that

once I glanced the sleeping youth, legs against the wall,
felt a pall descend upon us here,
this boat lancing the bay waters darkly.

Some to books then, the priest to his sad, effeminate stare.
I can no longer envy those of the black cloth
so bend and tie the shoe.
We shod our feet against what long loss of motion,
eyes downcast or boldly returning the stare?

Beneath each eye there's some familiar look we refuse.
We map our way to sleep in the palms of shy or frightened hands.

poem by Warren Falcon
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Looking for Water

Still the leaves are spinning 'round
Take my hand as we go down, and down, and down
Looking for water
Well, our light's gone in a New York minute
Don't know about you, but my heart's not in it
(Looking, looking, looking)
I'm looking for water
I'm looking for water
(Looking, looking, looking)
I can't breathe the air, can't raise a fact
'Cause all we've got left is a beat in the night, and I'm
(Looking for water)
Looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
Take my hand as we go down, and down
Leave it all behind, nothing could be found
(I'm, looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
(I, looking for water)
Looking everywhere
(Looking for water)
Looking here and there
(I'm looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I can't live in this cage, I can't eat this candy
The edge of the earth to the spin in my head
The look in your eyes and never means never
The dawn's early light, baby, dark is forever
(Looking, looking)
(Looking, looking)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)

song performed by by David Bowie, music by David Bowie, lyrics by David Bowie from Reality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Horse and Cart Ferry

It was old Jerry Brown,
Who’d an office in town,
And he used to get jocular, very;
And he’d go to the Shore
When they’d serve him no more,
And, of course, by the passenger ferry,
A sight on the passenger ferry.
Now this is a song of the ferry,
And a lay of the juice of the berry;
’Tis the ballad of Brown,
Who’d a business in town,
And commenced to go down
Very slow,
Don’t you know?
By coming home just a bit merry.

By the Drunks’ Boat—that’s right—
On a Saturday night
He would often be past being merry;
With his back teeth afloat,
On the twelve o’clock boat,
And a spectacle there on the ferry
(A picture to all on the ferry).

In the mornings, ashamed—
’Twas the last drink he blamed,
Though the first was the matter with Jerry,
With his nerve out of joint,
He’d sneak down to Blue’s Point,
And he’d cross by the horse-and-cart ferry,
Like a thief—by the horse-and-cart ferry.

But long before night
He’d most likely be tight,
And a subject and theme for George Perry;
And he’d cross to the Shore,
Somewhat worse than before,
And a nuisance to all on the ferry;
Singing-drunk on the passenger ferry.

And so it went on
Till his reason seemed gone,
And the Law, so it seemed, got a derry
On Brown. He went down,
And they sent him to town
One day, by “the trap,” on the ferry—
The Government trap on the ferry.

He was sober and sane
When he came back again,
And the past he’d determined to bury—
Or, I mean, live it down—
And he crossed from the town
Like a man, on the passenger ferry.
(There were sceptical souls on that ferry.)

They say ’twas the jaw
Of his mother-in-law
Drove him back to the juice of the berry;
But he soon got afloat
On the passenger boat
Or adrift on the horse-and-cart ferry
(Wrongly called the ve-hic-ular ferry).

The drink had him fast,
And he drank till at last
He dried up—a withered old cherry;
And they thought him no loss
When they sent him across
In a box, on the cart-and-horse ferry—
In a low, covered trap on the ferry.

Which I rise to explain—
If the moral ain’t plain,
And if you’re a cove that gets merry—
Always stick, when “afloat,”
To the passenger boat;
Or else to the cart-and-horse ferry,
Or you’ll make matters worse, like old Jerry.

But this is the song of the ferry,
And the lay of the juice of the berry;
And you will not deny—
If you read by-and-bye—
That the casual eye
Of the Tight
At first sight
Misses much in the song of the ferry.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Only One Mother

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,
But only one mother to dry your eyes,
Hundreds of shells on the shore together,
But only one mother to have forever
Hundreds of birds that go singing by,
But only one mother to help you try
Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather.
But only one mother to treat us like treasure
Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
But only one mother to help us move on
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
But only one mother the world wide over
Hundreds of people to tell apart
But only one mother to give us her heart

poem by Kaitlin Skelding
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Ferry Me Across The Water

‘Ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘If you've a penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
‘I have a penny in my purse,
And my eyes are blue;
So ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue,
And for the penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Island Of Love (Love Ballad) :

The ferry crossed the water.
The ferry crossed the sea.
The ferry crossed to the island.
To the island, the island of love.

On the island of love.
There are songbirds above.
On the island of love.
They sing their song.
They sing a song that songbirds sing.
On the island, the island of love.

The ferry crossed the water.
The ferry crossed the sea.
The ferry crossed to the island.
To the island, the island of love.

On the island of love.
There are lovers ashore.
On the island of love.
There's love at your door.
There's love on the shore.
There are songbirds above.
On the island, the island of love.

So much love in the air.
So much love everywhere.
Love might knock at your door.
You might come ashore.
To the island, the island of love.

You might stay on the island of love..

Love Ballad By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1984,2009..
ALL rights reserved..

poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face
to face.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious
you are to me!
On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning
home, are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to
me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the
day;
The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme--myself disintegrated, every
one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings--on
the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away; 10
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of others--the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to
shore;
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide;
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the
heights of Brooklyn to the south and east;
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half
an hour high;
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others
will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling
back to the sea of the ebb-tide.

It avails not, neither time or place--distance avails not; 20
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many
generations hence;
I project myself--also I return--I am with you, and know how it is.

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright
flow, I was refresh'd;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift
current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-
stem'd pipes of steamboats, I look'd.

I too many and many a time cross'd the river, the sun half an hour
high;
I watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls--I saw them high in the air,
floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies, and
left the rest in strong shadow, 30
I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the
south.

I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my
head in the sun-lit water,
Look'd on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,
Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships,
Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops--saw the ships at anchor,
The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars, 40
The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender
serpentine pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-
houses,
The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the
wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set,
The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the
frolicsome crests and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the
granite store-houses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd on
each side by the barges--the hay-boat, the belated lighter,
On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning
high and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow
light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of
streets.

These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you; 50
I project myself a moment to tell you--also I return.

I loved well those cities;
I loved well the stately and rapid river;
The men and women I saw were all near to me;
Others the same--others who look back on me, because I look'd forward
to them;
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

What is it, then, between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not--distance avails not, and place avails
not.

I too lived--Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine; 60
I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the
waters around it;
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon
me.

I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution;
I too had receiv'd identity by my Body;
That I was, I knew was of my body--and what I should be, I knew I
should be of my body.

It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw patches down upon me also;
The best I had done seem'd to me blank and suspicious; 70
My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality
meagre? would not people laugh at me?

It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil;
I am he who knew what it was to be evil;
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb'd, blush'd, resented, lied, stole, grudg'd,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant;
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not
wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these
wanting. 80

But I was Manhattanese, friendly and proud!
I was call'd by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as
they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of
their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or public assembly,
yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing,
sleeping,
Play'd the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we
like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.

Closer yet I approach you;
What thought you have of me, I had as much of you--I laid in my
stores in advance; 90
I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born.

Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot
see me?

It is not you alone, nor I alone;
Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few centuries;
It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its due emission,
From the general centre of all, and forming a part of all:
Everything indicates--the smallest does, and the largest does;
A necessary film envelopes all, and envelopes the Soul for a proper
time. 100

Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately and admirable to
me than my mast-hemm'd Manhattan,
My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide,
The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight,
and the belated lighter;
Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and
with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest
name as I approach;
Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or
man that looks in my face,
Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

We understand, then, do we not?
What I promis'd without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
What the study could not teach--what the preaching could not
accomplish, is accomplish'd, is it not?
What the push of reading could not start, is started by me
personally, is it not? 110

Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg'd waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! drench with your splendor me, or the
men and women generations after me;
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!--stand up, beautiful hills of
Brooklyn!
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public
assembly!
Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my
nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or
actress! 120
Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one
makes it!

Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be
looking upon you;
Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet
haste with the hasting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in
the air;
Receive the summer sky, you water! and faithfully hold it, till all
downcast eyes have time to take it from you;
Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any
one's head, in the sun-lit water;
Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail'd
schooners, sloops, lighters!
Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower'd at sunset;
Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at
nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the
houses;
Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are; 130
You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul;
About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our divinest
aromas;
Thrive, cities! bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and
sufficient rivers;
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual;
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.

We descend upon you and all things--we arrest you all;
We realize the soul only by you, you faithful solids and fluids;
Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality;
Through you every proof, comparison, and all the suggestions and
determinations of ourselves.

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers! you
novices! 140
We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate
henceforward;
Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves
from us;
We use you, and do not cast you aside--we plant you permanently
within us;
We fathom you not--we love you--there is perfection in you also;
You furnish your parts toward eternity;
Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.

poem by Walt Whitman
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Open water!

Open water, open water!
All the weary winter's yearning
Bursts in restless passion burning.
Scarce is seen the blue of ocean,
And the hours seem months in motion.

Open water, open water!
Smiles the sun on ice defiant,
Eats it like a shameless giant:
Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it,
Swift the freezing night remakes it.

Open water, open water!
Storm shall be the overcomer
Sweeping on from others' summer
Billows free all foes to swallow,-
Crash and fall and sinking follow.

Open water, open water!
Mirrored mountains are appearing,
Boats with steam and sail are nearing,
Inward come the wide world's surges,
Outward joy of combat urges.

Open water, open water!
Fiery sun and cooling shower
Quicken earth to speak with power.
Soul responds, the wonder viewing:
Strength is here for life's renewing.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Ferry fear

Ocean of water
Running over thousand eight hundred miles
Wherever I see
Water water everywhere
Ferry service in full swing
Between Medertary and Dhubri
Of the beautiful Brahmaputra
At times frightening too
On one such trip
With more than four hundred people onboard
Workmen, women and children all among them
Some motorbikes too
Precariously placed
Dark vegetation found all over shores
Catamarans here and there
Fisherman boats hovering around
Looking for feasty fishing
When all of a sudden
Heavy cyclone
Followed by thunder and lightning
The ferry almost nearing shore
Twisted and swirled
Rocking terribly
Collapsing completely
Everyone fell
Drenched deep inside the massive river
A little later
Rescue operations started desperately
More than two hundred people washed aside
Many still drowned
Lets all pray for those noble souls
To rest in peace
And no such disastrous incidents happen…

poem by Vijay Sai
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As We Fall

as we fall into the water
let us clasp our hands together

bright day is done,
black night has come

washing over our heads

an icy wind is blowing
grasp the liferaft we are throwing

we'll make it through, with one another
though our minds may start to sever

and float off into space

keep your head above black water
keep it steady, do not falter

we'll help you float, if you try to try
if we help each other, we cannot die

I know it seems absurd now

as we fall through frigid water
see the surf is getting harder

see the sad vieled moon that is not glowing
if we must survive, we must keep rowing

through the murky water

shadowed creatures grap our legs
wieghing them down, sinking like kegs

gasping for a breath of air
splashing in the witch's lair

NO! keep your head above the water

the sandy shore is not in sight
a sky, and in it, no shining light

this world we must survive
stay together as we dive

into dark & murky waters

poem by Gina Prettybrowneyes
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Ghost Of Our Love

Watching the waves rolling to the shore,
as I sit throwing pebbles into the water.
The smoke from my cigarette
drifts over my head,
caught in the evening breeze.

Pictures of you move across my mind,
and I sit wondering
how many waves you will see
before you reach that distant shore,
where your new life will begin.

Tears leak from my eyes,
as I remember
why you were sailing away.
There was nothing I could say
to make you stay.

The storms were too long,
too dark in intensity,
and too many.
Now you are going half a world away.
I wish you luck my love.

Standing I look out, at the restless sea.
For a few moments,
an almost eternity.
I stand there seeing nothing,
but curling while rolling waves.

’Good luck and goodbye.’
I whispered in the breeze
before turning away,
heading back to n empty home
that is waiting for me.

The ghost of our love,
my only company.
As I reach the path,
there is a light on within.
My key slips into the lock,
it turns and the door opens.

Your silhouette stands there
with arms outstretched.
Is this just a ghost of out love?
Our fingertips touch
and my heart begins to beat once more.

poem by David Harris
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Your Own Special Way

Go far enough and you will reach,
A place where the sea runs underneath.
We'll see our shadow, high in the sky,
Dying away in the night.
I've sailed the world for seven years,
And left all i love behind in tears.
Oh, won't you come here, wherever you are,
I've been all alone long enough.
You, you have your own special way,
Of holding my hand keep it way 'bove the water,
Don't ever let go - oh no, no, no.
You, you have your own special way,
Of turning the world so it's facing
The way that i'm going. don't ever
Don't ever stop.
Whose seen the wind not you or i,
But when the ship moves she's passing by.
Between you and me i really don't think,
She knows where she's going at all.
You, you have your own special way,
Of carrying me twice round the world
Never closer to home than the day,
The day i started.
You, you have your own special way,
Hold onto my hand keep it way 'bove the water,
Don't ever let go no, no, no.
What mean the dreams night after night.
The man in the moon's a blinding light.
Won't you come out whoever you are,
You've followed me quiet long enough.
You, you have your own special way,
Of holding my hand, don't ever let go.
You, you have your own special way,
Of turning the world so it's facing
The way that i'm going, don't ever,
Don't ever leave me.

song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ferry Across The Mersey

Life goes on day after day after day after day.
Hearts torn in every way,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay,
And here I'll stay.
People they rush every where, Each with their own secret care,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay,
And here I'll stay
People around every corner, they seem to smile and say, they'll tell you!
We don't care what you name is boy, We'll never send you away,
Send you away, Send you away, Send you away
So I'll continue to say here's where I always must stay,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love,
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay.
and here I'll Stay, stay, stay,
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.

song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friend-Ship

My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship

poem by Mandy Author2
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Friend-Ship

poem by Mandy Author
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Ticket On A Ferry Ride

By jeff barry and bobby bloom
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I wonder if she knows
That I dont really want to go, oh no
I still love her so.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I never though the day
Would come when I would say good bye this way
Wanted so to stay.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I still love her so.
Dont really wanna go.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I wonder if she knows
That I dont really have to go, oh no
I still love her so.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride, ah.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride (repeat).

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elegy For My Father

HLF, August 8,1918—August 22,1997

“Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seal’s wide spindrift gaze towards paradise.”
—Hart Crane, “Voyages”

“If a lion could talk, we couldn’t understand it”
—Ludwig Wittgenstein

Under the ocean that stretches out wordlessly
past the long edge of the last human shore,
there are deep windows the waves haven't opened,
where night is reflected through decades of glass.
There is the nursery, there is the nanny,
there are my father’s unreachable eyes
turned towards the window. Is the child uneasy?
His is the death that is circling the stars.

In the deep room where candles burn soundlessly
and peace pours at last through the cells of our bodies,
three of us are watching, one of us is staring
with the wide gaze of a wild, wave-fed seal.
Incense and sage speak in smoke loud as waves,
and crickets sing sand towards the edge of the hourglass.
We wait outside time, while night collects courage
around us. The vigil is wordless. And you

watch the longest, move the farthest, besieged by your breath,
pulling into your body. You stare towards your death,
head arched on the pillow, your left fingers curled.
Your mouth sucking gently, unmoved by these hours
and their vigil of salt spray, you show us how far
you are going, and how long the long minutes are,
while spiralling night watches over the room
and takes you, until you watch us in turn.

Lions speak their own language. You are still breathing.
Here is release. Here is your pillow,
cool like a handkerchief pressed in a pocket.
Here is your white tousled long growing hair.
Here is a kiss on your temple to hold you
safe through your solitude’s long steady war;
here, you can go. We will stay with you,
keeping the silence we all came here for.

Night, take his left hand, turning the pages.
Spin with the windows and doors that he mended.
Spin with his answers, patient, impatient.
Spin with his dry independence, his arms
warmed by the needs of his family, his hands
flying under the wide, carved gold ring, and the pages
flying so his thought could fly. His breath slows,
lending its edges out to the night.

Here is his open mouth. Silence is here
like one more new question that he will not answer.
A leaf is his temple. The dark is the prayer.
He has given his body; his hand lies above
the sheets in a symbol of wholeness, a curve
of thumb and forefinger, ringed with wide gold,
and the instant that empties his breath is a flame
faced with a sudden cathedral's new stone.

poem by Annie Finch
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You and I, Only in dreams

You and I sail our boats across the sea
As the wind whistled in their soft symphony
Just like love songs that I heard in my dreams
And swaying our body to the tune of wave
You squeeze me tighter closer to you, then
I see your eyes glistened like water from a blue.

Then I remember our first embrace
The smile flickers on a salty water of glee
On where we’re watching the sea birds fly.
And gaze the gloaming day at the shingle.
Those sweet memories reflect on my mind
Painted in my heart, etched in my soul

Even if, it was only seen in my dreams
Like building a castle that made of sand.
As a stroke of wave, our love will vanish along.
Is it a dream of mine that end?
Like missing you in the midst of the shore
Where my heart was left in the tide of solitude

You and I travel on the wings of love
Fly as the bird higher than high
Until we drowned in the ocean of love
Until we found the pearl of affection
That captivates each other senses
That more than our heart could ever say

But then, this love is just an illusion
That you and I is only in dreams
That can be forgotten until the morning dawn
That can be buried in the shadow of water dance.
You, and I, only in my dreams
That can be blown by winds from shore

poem by Cheryl Aldea
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song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Water Is Wide

The Water is Wide" is a traditional folk song. The girls have been
performing it now and then for years and years. I've been lucky
enough to see Mary-Chapin Carpenter add a beautiful third part to the
harmony on a few occasions.
The Water is Wide.
The water is wide, I can't cross o'er
And neither I have wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row - my love and I
Now love is gentle, and love is kind
The sweetest flower when first it's new
But love grows old, and waxes cold
And fades away like morning dew
There is a ship, she sails the sea
She's loaded deep as deep can be
But not as deep as the love I'm in
I know not how I sink or swim
The water is wide, I can't cross o'er
And neither I have wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row - my love and I
And both shall row - my love and I

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Upon This Wide Water, For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985, Manhattan

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