But I Was Looking at the Permanent Stars
Bugles sang, saddening the evening air,
And bugles answered, sorrowful to hear.
Voices of boys were by the river-side.
Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad.
The shadow of the morrow weighed on men.
Voices of old despondency resigned,
Bowed by the shadow of the morrow, slept.
( ) dying tone
Of receding voices that will not return.
The wailing of the high far-travelling shells
And the deep cursing of the provoking ( )
The monstrous anger of our taciturn guns.
The majesty of the insults of their mouths.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Related quotes
Anthem For Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Chant To The Sun
voices of men
like wailing of the rivers
like riding wild horses
and catching wolves
voices of men
strong and determined
for freedom
under the ruling sun
voices of men
cascading like the Niagara
falls
voices of men so alive
muscles of their arms
shining like metals
to the moon
voices of men
friends of nature
chanting
for more love
life
peace and
harmony
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spleen
(For Arthur Symons)
I was not sorrowful, I could not weep,
And all my memories were put to sleep.
I watched the river grow more white and strange,
All day till evening I watched it change.
All day till evening I watched the rain
Beat wearily upon the window pane
I was not sorrowful, but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.
Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me
The shadow of a shadow utterly.
All day mine hunger for her heart became
Oblivion, until the evening came,
And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep,
With all my memories that could not sleep.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices
If only there were a way to find
the return to sanity from an insane mind,
But pills and counseling oh so much
doesn't seem to help those out of touch
with the world about them that you're in
with peace of mind and not the din
of voices you can't hear.
If only the remembrance of a time gone away
could sneak back in for just a day,
But the door has closed on yesterday.
And those voices always seem to stay.
What are they saying? Why are they there?
Where you are it's so hard to bear
the voices that they hear.
If only the world were a different place
where tortured souls would not have to face
the torment inside that is their plight.
Then maybe the voices would leave at night
and find someplace in the universe
to have their say and cast their curse
and rid them of voices they hear.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Morrow
Clouds aloft and tides below,
Of stormy water from the high winds;
And like a descending shadow from a hero's ashes.
To prove as true from Poland and,
To visit th tombs in Turkey with my lover;
And the voices from the mourners are over now.
The virgins of Africa do lament,
For the blood of their people are as pour as the blessing;
And like the last thought on my throne of love,
But the stars on the sea will be there for the morrow.
Wise ans deep in lore,
And like a worthless clay in a captive;
But the morrow will prove the truth to all.
Of the fingers of man's hand,
Let joy be unconfined to all!
And like the war-note with the memory of the thousands of years;
But my sweet love will always be with you my lonely lady.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Voices In The Sky
Bluebird, flying high
Tell me what you sing
If you could talk to me
What news would you bring
Of voices in the sky
Nightingale, hovering high
Harmonize the wind
Darkness, your symphony
I can hear you sing
Of voices in the sky
Just what is happening to me
I lie awake with the sound of the sea
Calling to me
Old man, passing by
Tell me what you sing
Though your voice be faint
I am listening
Voices in the sky
Children with a skipping rope
Tell me what you sing
Play time is nearly gone
The bells about to ring
Voices in the sky
Just what is happening to me
I lie awake with the sound of the sea
Calling to me
Bluebird, flying high
Tell me what you sing
If you could talk to me
What news would you bring
Of voices in the sky
Voices in the sky
Voices in the sky
Voices in the sky
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices Cryin Out
Voices cryin out, voices cryin out
Voices cryin out in the night hear them call
Voices cryin out hear them call
Its a night
Like no other night
Its a day
Almost turning grey
Its a heart
Like a broken heart
Its a wheel
At the end of day
Its the plight
Of a boy whos scared
Of the waves rushing out
And the wind in the air
Its the sight
Of one longing to taste
Of life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Visions that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Its a song
Of a love unsung
Its the pain
Of just being young
Its a cry
Of a voice unheard
Of a face
Speaking silent words
Its the hope
That the time goes by
Take you upon a wing
Teach your soul to fly
Its a wish
That youll live your experience life
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Oh do you know how it feels to be free
Walking your path of life
Embracing destiny one day at a time
Voices cryin out...oh cant you hear them
Voices cryin out...listen please, listen to the future
Voices cryin out...millions and millions and millions of voices
Voices cryin out...oh oh oh oh
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices crying out hear them call
Voices crying out in the night hear them call
Voices from some foreign shore
Vision that seem an incredible dream
Echoing for more
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out
Voices cryin out...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Makes Me Crazy? -Lila's Story
They found me one day
wandering the wilderness,
hearing voices.
They found me one day
saying 'I hear voices
as clearly as you hear my voice
in this room
yet no one else hears
so that makes me crazy?
The voices denigrate me.
They deny me
and what I want is for them to go away.
Yet, when they speak
they mock me
saying
'they can't hear us because we are blocking them'
and they think you are crazy- this is what makes
us strong
and you weak.'
I hear these voices
and have to drown them out
so I don't hear.
So I don't hear
So I can sleep.
What I need is someone
who believes me:
they know if someone does
their power
is gone.
Does that make me crazy?
I don't think so..
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Ashes Of Life
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were
here!
But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through,—
There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbors knock and
borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There's this little street and this little house.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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With Deaths' Prophetic Ear
Lay my rifle here beside me, set my Bible on my breast,
For a moment let the warning bugles cease;
As the century is closing I am going to my rest,
Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant go in peace.
But loud through all the bugles rings a cadence in mine ear,
And on the winds my hopes of peace are strowed.
Those winds that waft the voices that already I can hear
Of the rooi-baatjes singing on the road.
Yes, the red-coats are returning, I can hear the steady tramp,
After twenty years of waiting, lulled to sleep,
Since rank and file at Potchefstroom we hemmed them in their camp,
And cut them up at Bronkerspruit like sheep.
They shelled us at Ingogo, but we galloped into range,
And we shot the British gunners where they showed.
I guessed they would return to us, I knew the chance must change --
Hark! the rooi-baatjes singing on the road!
But now from snow-swept Canada, from India's torrid plains,
From lone Australian outposts, hither led,
Obeying their commando, as they heard the bugle's strains,
The men in brown have joined the men in red.
They come to find the colours at Majuba left and lost,
They come to pay us back the debt they owed;
And I hear new voices lifted, and I see strange colours tossed,
'Mid the rooi-baatjes singing on the road.
The old, old faiths must falter, and the old, old creeds must fail --
I hear it in that distant murmur low --
The old, old order changes, and 'tis vain for us to rail,
The great world does not want us -- we must go.
And veldt, and spruit, and kopje to the stranger will belong,
No more to trek before him we shall load;
Too well, too well, I know it, for I hear it in the song
Of the rooi-baatjes singing on the road.
poem by Frank Dalby Davison
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Only Voices I hear Are On The Inside
I was born not being able to hear
Born not hearing my mother tell me I'm dear
Born never listening to anyone who spoke to me
Born not enjoying music
Born without the ability to gauge sound, unable to hear the clock tick
But since the day I was born
Since before I could talk, I could scorn
There was one thing I always did hate
And that was the thing deepest inside of me,
The thing for which I cursed fate
Worse than deafness or being unable to see
Since the day I was born I heard voices
Not when loved ones talked, but voices that weren't my choice
To hear, voices that were inside my head
Voices that nobody else heard, but I didn't know if they were lying
Because my hearing has always been dead
I'd hear screeching or dying
When none was there
Those voices they'd tell me what to do and how could I deny them?
They were, they are, and they will be the only ones who care
Because they're the only one that speak to me, I can't find the sin
That I committed to be born like this, to be born broken
I've heard more conversations than any other man
And yet I've never heard man utter a word, through my whole lifespan
The only voices I hear are on the inside
And it's the greatest torment that I hide
They'll just tell me I'm crazy, well in writing
But these voices, they accept me, they sing
These voices they know because they've talked to me
These voices are the only I've ever known the
The first voices I've ever heard
Like a mother, I've never listened to a singing bird
But I've listened to a cacophonous symphony of arguing inside my head
These voices are like the woman I did not choose, but wed
I can't separate myself from them
The only time I hear anything, it's torment to condemn
Me, it's funny that I could never speak to anyone but myself
But I guess I've never, ever, been lonely... not ever.
I
Have
Never
Been
Alone
W ho could save me from myselves?
poem by David Knox
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Voices
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Hey
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper, taking control of me
Watch the dancing shadows run away
All alone once again, afraid
All these faces, changing their shapes on me
I said laid it in my own world, will it ever be free?
Haunted figures around me, I want em' to stay
There always there to protect me, this is one thing you can't take away
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Yeah!
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper in my own mind, will it ever change?
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
I hear you calling
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices (acoustic)
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Hey
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper, taking control of me
Watch the dancing shadows run away
All alone once again, afraid
All these faces, changing their shapes on me
I said laid it in my own world, will it ever be free?
Haunted figures around me, I want em' to stay
There always there to protect me, this is one thing you can't take away
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Yeah!
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper in my own mind, will it ever change?
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
I hear you calling
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anthem For Doomed Youth
[ music: john lombardo/lyric: john lombardo adapts wilfred owen ]
For whom the bells toll
When sentenced to die
The stuttering rifles
Will stifle the cry
The monstrous anger
The fears rapid rattle
A desert inferno
Kids dying like cattle
Dont tell me
Were not prepared
Ive seen todays marine
Hes eighteen and hes eager
He can be quite mean
No mockries for them
No prayers or bells
The demented choirs
The wailing of shells
The boys holding candles
On untraveled roads
The fear spreads like fire
As shrapnel explodes
I think its wrong
To conscript our youth
Against their will
When plenty of our citizenry
Really like to kill
What sign posts will lead
To armageddons fires
What bugles will call them
From crowded grey shires
The women sit quiet
With death on their minds
A slow dusk descending
The drawing of blinds
Make the hunters all line up
Its their idea of fun
And let those be forgiven
Who never owned a gun
Was it him or me
Or the wailing of the dead
The laughing soldiers
Cast their lots
And you can cut the dread
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Only I Could Hear
if only i could hear...
not the cry of hunger,
but the cry of that which feeds.
not the pounding of the guns,
but the silence of peace.
not the tears of the homeless,
but the sound of hammers building shelter.
not the shuffling of money,
but the sound of needs being met.
not the cry of the sick,
but the sound of healing.
not the voices of anger,
but voices in dialogue.
not the bitterness of prejudice,
but the harmony of tolerance.
not the lies that bring division,
but understanding breaking down walls...
if only i could hear...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Little Peace
As I was walking slowly by
a church on Sunday morn
I could hear voices raised
in praise for the lord above.
The voices were sweet and soft,
but loud enough for the lord to hear,
as the praises they were singing
drifted through the air.
Not a single voice
was out of tune
as they sang out there.
When the voices went quiet,
a serine silence drifted down
over everything and everyone around.
God was answering their prayers
for a little peace everywhere today.
23 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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