En.Citatepedia^®.ro

He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven

I HAVE drunk ale from the Country of the Young
And weep because I know all things now:
I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung
The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
Among my leaves in times out of mind:
I became a rush that horses tread:
I became a man, a hater of the wind,
Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head
May not lie on the breast nor his lips on thc hair
Of the woman that he loves, until he dies.
O beast of the wilderness, bird of the air,
Must I endure your amorous cries?

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Bird in a Cage

How much I feel for the poor things
Unable to fly or spread their wings,
Each day with the same view
Sad and lonely nothing to do.

To the bird the world is that room
Confined to the cage, that's his tomb.
For life without freedom is nothing at all
No matter whether you're big or small.

Longing to fly on the breeze
Soaring high over the trees
Seeing new places every day
Flying and twirling in glorious play.

Never knowing freedom of the bird that fly's
Sitting on his perch ‘till he dies.
How can a bird that's born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing, like a stuffed toy.

© Hazel 2012

poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman He Loves

(Troy Seals/Eddie Setser)
You can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
'Cause nothing else shows a part of his soul
Like she does
And she'd be the one to swear that he hung
The moon above
Yeah you can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
She knows him inside out
The things he dreams about
And makes them come true when she can
She knows all of his faults
The demons he's fought
With nothin' but his hard-workin' hands
And he calls out her name
In passion and pain
She makes him stronger each time
Yeah it's there on her lips
And her fingertips
That she's with him to 'til end of the line
(Yeah) you can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves (yes you can)
'Cause nothing else shows a part of his soul
Like she does and she'd be the one to swear that he hung
The moon above
Yeah you can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
You can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
'Cause nothing else shows a part of his soul
Like she does
And she'd be the one to swear that he hung
The moon above
Yeah you can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
Yeah you can tell a lot about a man
By the woman he loves
He loves
He always loves

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Runaway Trains

Shes up there all alone
Im down here changing lanes
Her room was dark and cold
Im listening to the waves
And Im depending on time , babe
To get you out of my mind
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like runaway trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains
She says I understand
Im used to being alone
And holding my own hand
Im stronger than you know
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like runa way trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains
Dont blame me
I guess its one of those things
You can never explain
Like when an angel cries
Like ru naway trains
Like one of those times
Thats never the same
Like when something dies
Like runaway trains

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The heart of a tree

With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.

poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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True Love Leaves No Traces

As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill
So my body leaves no scar
On you and never will
Through windows in the dark
The children come, the children go
Like arrows with no target
Like shackles made of snow
Chorus
True love leaves no traces
If you and I are one
Its lost in our embraces
Like stars agains the sun
As a falling leaf may rest
A moment on the air
So your head upon my breast
So my hand upon your hair
And many nights endure
Without a moon or star
So will we endure
When one is gone and far
Chorus

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Man Woman Hater

no women allowed!
Let me tell you about this love and hate relation
Between a man and a woman
And so none of you all get the wrong interpretation
I cant live with them
Im gonna die without them
Sooner or later
Youll be a he man woman hater
Its inevitable
And to become one
Youve gotta really hate to love them
He man woman hater
He, he man woman hater
You know I love to hate cause I hate to love them
He mans behavior
Doesnt need no explanation
We all got a one track mind
He men have always had a sexual preoccupation
Its gonna be your place or its gonna be mine
Sooner or later
Youll be a he man woman hater
Its inevitable
And to become one
Youve gotta really hate to love them
He man woman hater
He, he man woman hater
You know I love to hate cause I hate to love them
He, he man woman hater
Cant live with em gonna die without em

song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Who Will Speak From a Womb or a Cloud?

Not less light shall the gold and the green lie
On the cyclonic curl and diamonded eye, than
Love lay yesterday on the breast like a beast.
Not less light shall God tread my maze of nerve
Than that great dread of tomorrow drove over
My maze of days. Not less terrible that tread
Stomping upon your grave than I shall tread there.
Who is a god to haunt the tomb but Love?

Therefore I shall be there at morning and midnight,
Not with a straw in my hair and a tear as Ophelia
Floating along my sorrow, but I shall come with
The cabala of things, the cipher of nature, so that
With the mere flounce of a bird's feather crest
I shall speak to you where you sit in all trees,
Where you conspire with all things that are dead.
Who is so far that Love cannot speak to him?

So that no corner can hide you, no autumn of leaves
So deeply close over you that I shall not find you,
To stretch down my hand and sting you with life
Like poison that resurrects. O remember
How once the Lyrae dazzled and how the Novembers
Smoked, so that blood burned, flashed its mica,
And that was life. Now if I dip my hand in your grave
Shall I find it bloody with autumn and bright with stars?
Who is to answer if you will not answer me?

But you are the not yet dead, so cannot answer.
Hung by a hair's breadth to the breath of a lung,
Nothing you know of the hole over which you hang
But that it's dark and deep as tomorrow midnight.
I ask, but you cannot answer except with words
Which show me the mere interior of your fear,
The reverse face of the world. But this,
This is not death, the standing on the head
So that a sky is seen. O who
Who but the not yet born can tell me of my bourne?

Lie you there, lie you there, my never, never,
Never to be delivered daughter, so wise in ways
Where you perch like a bird beyond the horizon,
Seeing but not being seen, above our being?
Then tell me, shall the meeting ever be,
When the corpse dives back through the womb
To clasp his child before it ever was?
Who but the dead can kiss the not yet born?

Sad is space between a start and a finish,
Like the rough roads of stars, fiery and mad.
I go between birth and the urn, a bright ash
Soon blazed to blank, like a fire-ball. But
Nothing I bring from the before, no message,
No clue, no key, no answer. I hear no echo,
Only the sheep's blood dripping from the gun,
The serpent's tear like fire along the branch.
O who will speak from a womb or a cloud?

poem by George Barker
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Evening Song

In the nearly dark tree
out on the bright edge,
he clings to tender leaves,
rides the wind-swayed branch
and sings.

Small bird,
red as the falling sun,
cries his evening song …
to tarried mate?
to fading sky or
guardian tree?

Drawn deep to darkest night,
I cannot ken this creature’s
pure mind; but his breath
leaves my raptured soul
bereft.

poem by Steven Federle
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Be Drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is
singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:"It is time to be
drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Get Drunk

Always be drunk.
That's it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Messiahs Die Young

All of those things that I wanted to say
Well you can take those things and throw them all away- hey hey
Because he who points the finger well only he gets hung
That's why I don't to be a messiah, messiahs die young
All of those things that I wanted to be
Well you can take those things and throw them back at me- he he
Because he is only just as good as he who is the one
That's why I don't to be a messiah, messiahs die young
Messiahs die young.
Messiahs die young!
They die young,
Messiahs die young!
Messiahs die young.
Messiahs die young!
They die young.
Messiahs!
Why get in line if you don't want to wait
They say that time is money-- sell your watch today, hey hey
And if you've never been to China well the slow boat leaves at one
That's why I don't want to be a messiah, messiahs die
I don't want to be a messiah, messiahs die
I don't want to be a messiah! I just want to have fun
Not die young.
Messiahs die young!
They die young.
Messiahs die young!
Messiahs die young.
Messiahs die young!
Messiahs die young.
Messiahs

song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Of Syntax

A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree

The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue

The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog

I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue

I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Days Old

The poetry of this hangover
I don't want to think, not
Too hard anyways
The scenery and fish, they're bad
Take another breath, another look and swallow
Holding the hand of hard times
And fallout
It could be worse...My star could fall
Pacified by little things
Tones of beige and green seem
To halt a scream in waiting
All red eyes, all heads thinking
No one says anything I can
Hear down here on the floor
Where I belong
Too young to find the horses
Too young fighting causes
I get overwhelmed
And I feel three days old
Another day goes and fails
The people lose control just cause'
Things are going slow
Your corduroy coat has left you
Just when you're feeling the wind
And cold
Then comes a rain of old thoughts
That always have to wreck my high
And bring me down
You and I are not the same
You like everything
Arms wave in a spin, blown by
Things I've hated, faded to the point
Where i'm not all there
Curled up on the floor
Where I belong

song performed by by I Mother Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Entangled Hair

oh i see, your hair
entangled last night
must i have been
there? i must have been
drunk, for i do not remember.
Did i kiss you? Did i make
love with you?
I have this sticky feeling you
know and i must have been
guilty of having loved you.
I check my thighs and
they claim innocence.
I ask my lips and
they say they were never
wet last night.
I touch my abdomen
there is no shouting
faggot in there.

so your hair got tangled
last night, and you are telling
me that all this mess is caused
by me?

sorry, things sometimes exist
all in the mind of a woman
scorned.

someone said it, i think
i still remember. Not Shakespeare,
it was someone else,

but not me, i am sure of that.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crooked Piece Of Time

Things got rough
Things got tough
Things got harder than hard
We were just trying to make a livin
In our back yard
We were born too late died to soon
Anxietys a terrible crime
If you dont come now dont come at all
cause its a crooked piece of time.
Its a crooked piece of time that we live in
A crooked piece of time
All in all and all in all
Its a crooked piece of time.
Yesterday morning an ill wind came
Blew your picture
Right out of the picture frame
Even blew the candle out
From underneath the flame
Yesterday morning an ill wind came.

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Night

Crazed shadows, from no golden body
That I can see, embrace me warm ;
All is purple and closed
Round by night's arm.

A brilliance wings from dark-lit voices,
Wild lost voices of shadows white
See the long houses lean
To the weird flight.

Star amorous things that wake at sleep-time
(Because the sun spreads wide like a tree
With no good fruit for them)
Thrill secrecy.

Pale horses ride before the morning,
The secret roots of the sun to tread,
With hoofs shod with venom
And ageless dread;

To breathe on burning emerald grasses
And opalescent dews of the day,
And poison at the core
What smiles may stray.

poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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How Long....

How long will i cry for help?
How long must i cry to you?
It is like swimming things,
Who do have rulers upon them.
How long shall this take to get to you?
How long should i wait for your love?
I will stand my watch and will be,
More fierce than the evening wolves!

The pride of your hearts have deceived you,
Like a great wind over the sea;
Three days and three nights,
A cry from the great fish to teach us all.
How Long....? Oh how long.....? !
Consider your ways like,
A cry from the Fish-Gate;
This seed will grow successfully.

Red horses,
Of each man and his cane;
Black horses,
Of each woman and her cane;
White horses,
Of the seed that will grow successfully;
Dappled horses,
Of the art of a design in my mind;
Bay horses,
Of the great wind at sea;
How long will i cry for help?

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Tiny Sad Song

when you were once a girl
as tiny as a memory
you wish to be like a geisha
serving men
in a nice conversation
that was how you see things
on the limitations of what they have
seen for you
that you too have seen for yourself
Japan is your only country
to be free from your own impoverished country

the leaves of the mahogany tree
all fall out from its branches
one day
showing the beauty of its bare twigs

that was long ago
and then you turn into a woman
and you do not want to talk about it anymore
the mountains know
how ugly is the nudity of the trees
how bare
a mind becomes when deprived of its own thoughts

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet Harmony

There is no wind blowing
The tree stands green, serene.
It enjoys the bird's singing
And wonders: 'What does it mean? '

Blessed by this soft rain
Both the bird and the tree
Keep singing tunes again
Flooding the earth with glee!

The bird's chants soar above the tree
This one feels nurtured by them
Its leaves dancing onto the sea
Where the bird goes and treasures them!

poem by Maria C. Costa
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How Can You Sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you Feels Bad He Let You Go?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really Loves you cant sleep at night?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you cant Eat Because you are no longer there?

How Can you sleep, knowing that all he wants to do is hear your voice every night before he goes to sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that everyday all he do is long for your touch and the warmth of your Lips?

How can you sleep, knowing that your on his mind everyday, Minute, Hour, Second?

How can you sleep, knowing your his one and only, even when your not together?

How can you sleep, telling him truth about him but not being true to yourself?

How can you sleep, not telling him what you know you want him to know?

How can you sleep, knowing he put his trust in you and you let him down?

How can you know so much yet so little?

How Would You Sleep Knowing That One Day Soon Will Be The Last Day You Ever See Him Again Knowing He Did You So Good And Yet One Day You Let Him Down?

poem by Nathaniel Hayes
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