The Hawk
'CALL down the hawk from the air;
Let him be hooded or caged
Till the yellow eye has grown mild,
For larder and spit are bare,
The old cook enraged,
The scullion gone wild.'
'I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.'
'What tumbling cloud did you cleave,
Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,
Last evening? that I, who had sat
Dumbfounded before a knave,
Should give to my friend
A pretence of wit.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Hawk IIII
So I sat up and stared at the place the hawk had been-
rose, shuffled to the window, in fact
the Barrio was still the Barrio, in every respect:
the Projects not going anywhere fast,
the cars still parked along the curb
yellow, black, red and green
the little tree empty of wrens.
'Well', I thought,
present or absent
a hawk makes nothing different.
Difference, the mis-en-scene, the meaning
being the human part, and up to me. The hawk
was just a hawk sitting in a place where you don't normally
expect to see a hawk, that's all.
But I couldn't help thinking of the way
the halk made the neighborhood quite wonderful-
here: a flyway, and gone,
just a desolate, hawkless tract.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Island Hawk
Hushed are the whimpering winds on the hill,
Dumb is the shrinking plain,
And the songs that enchanted the woods are still
As I shoot to the skies again!
Does the blood grow black on my fierce bent beak,
Does the down still cling to my claw?
Who brightened these eyes for the prey they seek?
Life, I follow thy law!
For I am the hawk, the hawk, the hawk!
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way?
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
As I glide and glide with my peering head,
Or swerve at a puff of smoke,
Who watcheth my wings on the wind outspread,
Here – gone – with an instant stroke?
Who toucheth the glory of life I feel
As I buffet this great glad gale,
Spire and spire to the cloud-world, wheel,
Loosen my wings and sail?
For I am the hawk, the island hawk,
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
My mate in the nest on the high bright tree
Blazing with dawn and dew,
She knoweth the gleam of the world and the glee
As I drop like a bolt from the blue.
She knoweth the fire of the level flight
As I skim, close, close to the ground,
With the long grass lashing my breast and the bright
Dew-drops flashing around.
She watcheth the hawk, the hawk, the hawk
(Oh, the red-blotched eggs in the nest!)
Watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way.
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
She builded her nest on the high bright wold,
She was taught in a world afar
The lore that is only an April old
Yet old as the evening star.
Life of a far off ancient day
In an hour unhooded her eyes.
In the time of the budding of one green spray
She was wise as the stars are wise.
An eyas in eyry, a yellow-eyed hawk,
On the old elm's burgeoning breast,
She watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way.
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
She hath ridden on white Arabian steeds
Thro' the ringing English dells,
For the joy of a great queen, hunting in state,
To the music of golden bells.
A queen's fair fingers have drawn the hood
And tossed her aloft in the blue,
A white hand eager for needless blood.
I hunt for the needs of two.
A haggard in yarak, a hawk, a hawk!
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
Who fashioned her wide and splendid eyes
That have stared in the eyes of kings?
With a silken twist she was looped to their wrist:
She has clawed at their jewelled rings!
Who flung her first thro' the crimson dawn
To pluck him a prey from the skies,
When the love-light shone upon lake and lawn
In the valleys of Paradise?
Who fashioned the hawk, the hawk, the hawk,
Bent beak and pitiless breast?
Who watcheth him sway in the wild wind's way?
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
Is there ever a song in all the world
Shall say how the quest began
With the beak and the wings that have made us kings
And cruel – almost – as man?
The wild wind whimpers across the heath
Where the sad little tufts of blue
And the red-stained grey little feathers of death
Flutter! Who fashioned us? Who?
Who fashioned the scimitar wings of the hawk,
Bent beak and arrowy breast?
Who watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee – flee – for I quest, I quest.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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When The Walls Came Tumbling Down
On the first day of the first month in some distant year
The whole sky froze golden
Some said it was the aftermath of the radium bomb
While others told of a final retribution
A terrible revenge of the gods
But we understood the grand finale
Fulfillment of a prophecy told many years before
So all that was left was...
All the women were captured and chained
And national suicide was proclaimed
And New America fell to the ground
And all the children lay crippled and lame
But all the nations came together
In fear of the thought of the end
No more would we fight in the streets
No courage had we to defend
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
A blinding light the sun had died
A new moon took its place
Tidal waves and open graves the fate of the unhuman race
The city's heart no longer beats no pity have I left to lend
A sinner sits reciting Dylan it's now that I welcome the end
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Nobody made a sound
Down
song performed by by Def Leppard from On Through The Night
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unknown
Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown
Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.
As a boy reckless and wanton,
Wandering with gun in hand through the forest
Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield,
I shot a hawk perched on the top
Of a dead tree.
He fell with guttural cry
At my feet, his wing broken.
Then I put him in a cage
Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me
When I offered him food.
Daily I search the realms of Hades
For the soul of the hawk,
That I may offer him the friendship
Of one whom life wounded and caged.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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When Love Comes Tumbling
Ive had money, and Ive lost it
Seen an ocean, nearly crossed it
I have been to another world and I have returned
And for every high joy a hard lesson learnt
But when love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
Ive had power, Ive used and abused it
Tasted glory, I have wooed and refused it
Tried to live in a sacred way, I did and I did not
And for everything Ive lost, theres been something else Ive got
But when love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
Ive been up and Ive been down
Sometimes almost level with the ground
Once in every hundred years I can
Still remember who I am
Been in danger, I tried to face it
I saw a mirage, and for seven years I chased it
Im not through with my changes,
Ive got a long way still to run
Im going to play this show even if nobody comes
But when love comes tumbling down
When love comes tumbling down
When love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crown
Ive had money, and Ive lost it
Seen an ocean, nearly crossed it
I have been to another world and I have returned
And for every high joy a hard lesson learnt
But when love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
Ive had power, Ive used and abused it
Tasted glory, I have wooed and refused it
Tried to live in a sacred way, I did and I did not
And for everything Ive lost, theres been something else Ive got
But when love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
Ive been up and Ive been down
Sometimes almost level with the ground
Once in every hundred years I can
Still remember who I am
Been in danger, I tried to face it
I saw a mirage, and for seven years I chased it
Im not through with my changes,
Ive got a long way still to run
Im going to play this show even if nobody comes
But when love comes tumbling down
When love comes tumbling down
When love comes tumbling down
I will wear a crown
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hawk I
There was a hawk on the porch rail this morning
the span of your arm.
suddenly, out of nowhere it was there:
not unknown in Central Park, maybe,
but here in East Harlem-rare,
sitting asquat the gleaming, sun-licked bar.
You could see the projects over its wing-shoulder
the Babel-like water-tower.
You could see the cars parked down the block
like never because of mister or miss hawk.
Never have I seen a hawk so up-close.
I could feel the slight tilt of its reddish head,
its feral, yellow eye, led
it seemed, by genuine interest
to range along the neighborhood
sampling each scene as from a smorgasboard of views-
a bite of this, of this. An eye feast.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Drama
Ochitsuki ga nai towa yoku iwareru no
onaji butai ni nagaku wa irarenai
Nigemawaru you ni kotaete atezuppo
norikaeru you ni hana kara hana eto
Baby let me touch you
ai dake no ai de ii
Let me be the one to please you
Baby let me kiss you
asu made no eien to
yobeba ii darou
Takushii no nioi ga kitsusugiru kara
sonna ni tooku ewa ikenai darou
Mado wo akereba watashi wa jurietto
ima dake no eien wo "Dorama" to yobu nara
Baby let me touch you
tsurete ikenai
Let me be the one to leave you
Baby let me kiss you
serifu mitai na namida
niawanai
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your ecstasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you hear me whisper to your fantasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your remedy
But if you go another way
Then I might be your enemy
Baby let me touch you
ai dake no ai ga ii
Let me be the one to leave you
Tomorrow when I miss you
ano eien ni
mou maniawanai
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your ecstasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you hear me whisper to your fantasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your remedy
But if you go another way
Then I might be your enemy
English translation
I'm often told that I'm fidgety
I can't stay on the same stage for long
As if trying to evade the question, you reply at random
From flower to flower, like transferring trains
Baby let me touch you
I'm fine with love that's love alone
Let me be the one to please you
Baby let me kiss you
Would it be alright to call it
Eternity that lasts until the morrow
The stench of the taxi is too intense
So I probably can't go very far
If I open the window, I'll be Juliet
If you call this momentary eternity, "Drama"
Baby let me touch you
I can't take you with me
Let me be the one to leave you
Baby let me kiss you
Tears that seem scripted
Don't suit you
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your ecstasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you hear me whisper to your fantasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your remedy
But if you go another way
Then I might be your enemy
Baby let me touch you
I'm fine with love that's love alone
Let me be the one to leave you
Tomorrow when I miss you
That eternity
Won't arrive in time
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your ecstasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you hear me whisper to your fantasy
Tumbling tumbling
Can't you see that I will be your remedy
But if you go another way
Then I might be your enemy
song performed by by Utada Hikaru
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Yellow Ribbon On The Old Oak Tree
who can forget the yellow ribbon
on that old oak tree? tell me.
tomorrow, i shall wear my yellow cap
my yellow shirt, my yellow brief,
my yellow pants.
my jaundiced eye, my golden yellow ring.
tomorrow, in my country, the sky is yellow.
all steps lead to the yellow brick road.
all fruits are ripe and mellow and yellow.
Tomorrow, the country is yellow.
Yellow for integrity, Yellow for change.
Yellow for justice. Yellow for truth.
One day more, and the sun shall rise
Yellow as ever.Yellow forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Color of Life (a written picture)
Blue spruce
- in a green garden
Black bird
- above a yellow field
Brown hawk
- against a red canyon
White cloud
- within a blue sky
Purple silouette
- leaning upon an orange dusk
All the colors
of the earth
And all the colors
of those that live therein
Are all the colors
of all of Life.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Handsworth Wood
Have ever you seen
On Halloween,
The cloud that covers the trees so green?
The shroud that covers the last of lovers
The shifting mist of the in-between?
I’ve stood, I’ve stood,
By Handsworth Wood,
I’ve stood as long as I thought I could;
All Hallow’s Eve is the night I grieve
My Genevieve of the purple hood.
She slipped between
The trees so green,
She slipped from me one Halloween;
The cloud had glimmered, the evening shimmered
But she was never to more be seen.
And since that cloud
Became a shroud,
I’ve not forgotten the words I vowed;
My patience burns for the cloud’s return
To help discern what I might have been.
The day she left
I held my breath,
Her sleight of hand was so very deft;
But Genevieve, I still believe
You’ll wander out on some Hallow’s Eve.
I wait in vain,
There’s only rain,
The rain and part of the cloud remain;
But Genevieve I’ve not perceived
Since she went tripping in World’s End Lane.
World End’s Land
In Autumn rain,
There’s nothing left of my lost refrain;
For Handsworth Wood is a neighborhood
Where trees are held in a great disdain.
2 July 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Gothic Wuthering Heights In Ghost Nights
Gothic souls roam
eternal moors spirit
passion birth land
beauty etched
in tempest mist
weathered soul banshee land
wind etched
into trees our youth love bent
into passions land
heather hues red
yellow green mist
purple blue moor moves land
skies cloud lit
dying red crimson yellow soul
rainstorm bound
wild places silent
haunting soul
music is centuries echo in ghost land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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the ballad of Running Bare
The ballad of Running Bare
By the shores of Ichy Coomi,
By the mighty deep sea water,
In a wigwam warm and roomy,
With the big chief`s lovely daughter,
Lived the Indian champion streaker,
The best in Delaware
And they changed his name from Running Deer,
And they called him Running Bare.
So fleet of foot was Running Bare,
That arrows outward he had shot `em
And run forward with such swiftness
That the arrow had pierced his bottom.
Indian braves in village talkum,
“Running Bare him plenty dumb,
Indian must be heapum stupid,
Shoot own arrows up own bum”.
Big chief`s darghter very lovely,
Not too fat and not too skinny,
Wore dress six inches below navel,
So they called her Ha Ha Minne..
But Running Bare him not good husband,
Played Ha Ha Minne fast and loose,
Ran like hell village to village,
Fathering many papoose
Then pale face came one day to village,
Yellow hair skin white as chalk.
When Indian saw his heap big chopper,
Indian call him Tommy Hawk.
When he first saw HaHa Minne
By the light of village fire,
Saw her not too fat and not too skinny,
Filled his heart with mad desire.
Beneath hooded lids he watches her
As she went into her tepee,
When the village was quiet and sleeping.
Tommy Hawk went creepy, creepy.
But before the dawn Running Bare came running,
From his running here and there
Found them in the sack together
Now he`s caught her sleeping bare,
The pale face leaped up from the pallet,
Like a wounded stag at bay
Tried to relieve the situation
By pretending he was gay.
But Running Bare cried, “Ah ya tatchi”.
Which translated means Think I`m daft.
Then he saw his mighty chopper
And the notches carved upon the shaft.
The two men faced each other
What filled HaHa Minne with alarm
Was thre way they smiled at one another
And walked off arm in arm.
poem by Archie Langford
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Silver Is Just A Shiney Grey
That jewlery you gave me,
I thought was so beautiful.
Silver and gold and presious gemstones.
You said they were a symble of your love.
But silver is just a shiny grey,
And you took your love away.
Bit by painful bit,
You asked for a break.
I saw it coming,
But it still hurts the same.
They say that there's always a silver lining
To every cloud.
Silver lineing is still a grey cloud.
Someday, somehow, I'll find out
Gold is just a shiney yellow.
But yellow is happy and sunny.
Someday I'll find my yellow tounged hero.
poem by Melanie Weeks
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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You Ask Me If I Miss The Place
you ask me if i miss
home, and i did not answer you
i go out the door and see
a line of corn growing
along the field
that i plowed
the rooster cocks
a long call
and up there
the hawk
circles us
beside a
dark cloud
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Short Cut
I decided to walk home from the pub through Booth’s wood,
it only took half the time the winding road would.
A minute or so into the wood a fusty smell filled the air
and a ground mist seemed to cover everywhere.
This path I’d walked many times and never noticed this before,
it was very eyrie with no breeze to disturb the mist at all.
I came across a clearing where the trees were further apart,
for no reason a thumping was echoing from my heart.
I stopped and looked all around, just to satisfy my curiosity
when towards me came a cloud of a green luminosity.
It came from within the wood, which was difficult to believe,
but then a purple cloud formed from behind a fallen tree.
Now I was really getting anxious, as I put a sprint into my pace,
then another cloud, a yellow one was heading towards my face.
The thought of going back from where I came entered my mind
so I turned around, but the clouds were in front and behind.
They weren’t in a hurry, but they were slowly closing in,
a blue cloud joined the others, this defied logic and reasoning.
I became overwhelmed and mesmeric, so I had to stand and wait
and let the four clouds surround me, on them rested my fate.
The four clouds enveloped me, as they swirled and mixed into one,
I breathed in their moisture and felt compelled to walk on.
I didn’t know where I was going; I was blinded by the cloud,
but they formed an alley, so I walked within the shroud.
It swirled again together and then separated just as they came,
and departed in four directions, and never came back again.
They had left me standing on the edge of a cliff’s precipice,
which to my local knowledge, until then didn’t exist.
Looking over the edge I could see a crashed aeroplane below,
it must have lost its bearings and navigated to low.
There was nothing I could do, but tomorrow I would return again
and climb down the rock face to inspect the aeroplane.
Early the next morning I descended and found five bodies inside,
a dog, two adults and two children, they died side by side.
The police went to investigate when I reported the crashed plane,
it had crashed in a magnetic storm of swirling cloud and rain.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Primrose
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole--
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks--
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the flange of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree--
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes--
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Say I Wont Be There
(tom springfield)
The springfields
Call the boys and tell them
Say I wont be there
You can tell them
Im not going anywhere
Yesterday was dreaming
But my dream came tumbling down
Call the boys and tell them
Say I wont be there
If you see my darling
Out there in the crowd
Say I still remember
Promises we vowed
Yesterday was dreaming
But my dream came tumbling down
Call the boys and tell them
Say I wont be there
Bring me back my darling
Be my friend for life
I dont want no new lover
I just want a true lover
Call the boys and tell them
I wont spoil their fun
Everyone there dancing
But Im the lonely one
Yesterday was dreaming
But my dream came tumbling down
Call the boys and tell them
Say I wont be there
Bring me back my darling
Be my friend for life
Oh, I dont want no new lover
I just want a true lover
Call the boys and tell them
I wont spoil their fun
Everyone there dancing
But Im the lonely one
Yesterday was dreaming
But my dream came tumbling down
Call the boys and tell them
Say I wont be there
I wont be there
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frances 7
Fluttering
Moving lightly swiftly flying darting skimming
Like a yellow butterfly flitting passing flitting
From flower to flower from tree to tree
From cloud to cloud passing quickly
To depart then die this yellow butterfly
I have never heard it sing I have never heard it cry
Flitting fluttering lightly fluttering this lonely happy yellow butterfly!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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