Milford Sound In Winter
Dark ocean walls, majestically steep,
That dare the skies, that guard a solitude
Of straitened sea from every tempest rude
That uncontrolled molests the outer deep!
White pinnacles, where Summer suns will reap
A silent store of clouds, unloose the flood
That captive long in Winter's hold hath stood,
And wake the mountain mosses from their sleep!
Dark walls! white peaks! unravished silences!
Grey sinuous lane of solitary sea!
Wild cataracts plunging fearless from the height!
And glaciers patient through the centuries!
O would that my revering soul might be
Among your lonely shrines an eremite!
poem by William Gay
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Related quotes
Helderberg Mountain
Outside the first rays fall
on one of the pinnacles
of Helderberg
and I look at the peaks
that disappears gigantic into the height.
In winter
there’s snow on the mountain
and at times
it looks grey and dark
of coldness
through the winter rain.
Today there’s something majestic
the picture
that the mountain
make with the long hot summer day.
There’s the smell of turpentine
while I walk through the rows of trees
and from the top
the Strand and Gordonsbay
lies picture perfect
with the sapphire blue sea
as a backdrop.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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It Really Never Was...
the day is getting darker
painting shadows on the wall
broken wings of blue skies
going for a moment
everything's now in the evening
with longings in the deep
and wishes still not happening
the winter
glasses with frosty roses
and perfect days in somberness
in the white weather
every thought
is now alone
reaching to the mountains
faraway
in silences of time
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
how do I not be alone
when times are like these
how do I not feel the blues
when the clouds surrounds me
with few landings
into summer thoughts
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
the winter
comes soft and sweet
with clean glisten thoughts
and snowflakes that never stop pouring...
when it gets cold outside
the winter
oh the winter
how fresh it can get
how cold it can get
it really never was...
full of romantic
it just has these surprises
in the weather
that can't hold back
the clouds that surrounds me
it really never was...
just the winter
it really never was...
just the winter
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Silhouette of my soul
The dark mountain behind me looks so different
For every time I look it’s changed
My soul has the same identity
For when I think I have finally got it under control
The silhouette changes
The mountain starts it day dark with a siloute that defines it
My soul is always in dark
The mountain gets more defined as sun comes up
My soul is always dark
The mountain end up dark again
The silhouette changes
My soul starts it day
Always hung-over from last days confusing silhouettes
so I begin clawing my way out of the deep hole
Even in sleep my soul is confusing
I dream about things that always seem in the dark
Then one of my silhouettes comes up and shines all the darkness away
Bring a smile to day that started with a mountain of undefined silhouettes
I can hold this in place as long as I need it, because I do…always
So when the darkness approaches to make the mountain undefined
It silhouette lost again my silhouette of counterfeit dies a death everyday
In comes the dark
Drunk again with so many silhouettes of my soul that want to be
I fall down under my mountain of darkness in a silhouette
My soul surrounded by light, but the face of my soul in the dark
Hidden the truth of what all these moments mean
So I pass out drunk on confusion for the next day will be the same
The silhouette of my soul
Million Man March Poem
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.
I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.
But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.
The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.
I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
And still we rise.
poem by Maya Angelou
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I've Come Down to the Ocean
I've come down to the ocean;
The ocean great and wide,
Of pure blue span
And soft white sand
And the beach's crashing tide.
I've come down to the ocean;
The sea so black and queer
Of lightless dark
And fiercest shark,
Where even fearless fear.
I've come down to the ocean;
The waters I can't grasp,
Of strangest deep,
And sunless sleep,
Where the breathing may not gasp.
I've come down to the ocean;
To sing its sea-spray song,
Of salty brine
And waves that shine
Before I've been too long.
poem by Lizzy Anon
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In That Dark Silent Hour
In that dark silent hour
When the wind wants power,
And in the black height
The sky wants light,
Stirless and black
In utter lack,
And not a sound
Escapes from that untroubled round:--
To wake then
In the dark, and ache then
Until the dark is gone--
Lonely, yet not alone;
Hearing another's breath
All the quiet beneath,
Knowing one sleeps near
That day held dear
And dreams held dear; but now
In this sharp moment--how
Share the moment's sweetness,
Forgo its completeness,
Nor be alone
Now the dark is grown
Spiritual and deep
More than in dreams and sleep?
O, it is pain, 'tis need
That so will plead
For a little loneliness.
If it be pain to miss
Loved touch, look and lip,
Companionship
Yet is verier pain
Then, then
In that dark silent hour
When the wind wants power,
And you, near or far, sleep,
And your released thoughts toward me creep
While I, imprisoned, awake,
Ache--ache
To be for one
Long, little moment with myself alone.
poem by John Freeman
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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By The Rosanna--To F.M. Stanzer Thal, Tyrol
The old grey Alp has caught the cloud,
And the torrent river sings aloud;
The glacier-green Rosanna sings
An organ song of its upper springs.
Foaming under the tiers of pine,
I see it dash down the dark ravine,
And it tumbles the rocks in boisterous play,
With an earnest will to find its way.
Sharp it throws out an emerald shoulder,
And, thundering ever of the mountain,
Slaps in sport some giant boulder,
And tops it in a silver fountain.
A chain of foam from end to end,
And a solitude so deep, my friend,
You may forget that man abides
Beyond the great mute mountain-sides.
Yet to me, in this high-walled solitude
Of river and rock and forest rude,
The roaring voice through the long white chain
Is the voice of the world of bubble and brain.
poem by George Meredith
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Rainbow Of Clouds
(09/27/11)
Oh! How I love to look at the sky
So many colors that attract the eye.
Blues, grey s , reds, and oranges too
Create such a perfect view.
Especially at dusk or dawn
When new colors are born.
Or when the white clouds look like
Snow covered mountain tops
And the rippling waves that it creates
Puts you at a restful state.
What about the patches of blue
In between the oranges and grey s
And your heart wishing that they would stay.
The skies can create such a therapeutic state
On which so many of us can relate.
Putting our minds and bodies at such ease
Like the feel of a soft gentle breeze.
It also has its black clouds
Covering its face like a shroud.
These dark clouds tend to hide the day
And you never know what will come your way.
But Even the darkest of clouds can bring joy.
The rains that the dark clouds bring
Gives life to everything.
poem by Louis Rams
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Summer Break
I long to be with you
But summer has built a barrier between us.
I use to wait for summer to come and free me
But now I search of a hammer to break down its walls.
Summer’s walls, however, have not the ability to stand for long
If I can endure the struggle to tear them down
My strength shall come from the memories
We’ve shared and my thoughts of what God has in store for us.
My sweat from summer’s heat shall symbolize my love for you
As it pours off my brow
And the blisters that wear on my hands
Will remind me of my fear of not seeing you again.
So that I might work even harder to overcome Summer’s
Obstacle and hold you in my aching arms.
poem by Richard Noggin
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Solitary confinement
He paces up and down his cell
as he has done so many times before
a human eye peers through his spyhole
watching his every movement.
The prisoner does press ups on the floor
shadow boxes an imaginary opponent
then falls exhausted on to his bed
noticing a fly on the grey ceiling.
He is aware of the eye in the door
but he continues observing the fly
also the tiny spider in the corner
he ignores the watching eye
then falls into a deep sleep.
He dreams of Green verdant fields
long golden sands and crashing ocean waves
holding hands with a beautiful woman
but reality hits him as he wakes in his cell.
Long tedious days of solitary confinement
for killing a fellow prisoner in a fight
but it was a situation of kill or be killed
the law of the jungle inside the dark walls.
Each day the same as the previous one
each year the same as the previous one
this is the life of the solitary prisoner.
poem by Kevin Halls
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THe River Saguenay
Few poets yet in praise of thee
Have tuned a passing lay,
Yet art thou rich in beauties stern,
Thou dark browed Saguenay!
And those grand charms that surely form
For earth her rarest crown
On thee, with strangely lavish hand,
Have all been showered down.
Thine own wild flood, so deep, so dark;
That holds the gaze enthralled
As if by some weird spell, at once
Entranced yet not appalled;
Seeking in vain to pierce those depths,
Where wave and rock have met,
Those depths which, by the hand of man,
Have ne’er been fathomed yet.
And then thy shores—thy rock bound shores,
Where giant cliffs arise,
Raising their untrod, unknown heights
Defiant to the skies,
And casting from their steep, stern brows
Shadows of deepest gloom
Athwart thy wave, till it doth seem
A passage to a tomb.
Such art thou in thy solitude,
Majestic Saguenay!
As lonely and as sternly rude
As in time past away,
When the red man in his fragile bark
Sped o’er thy glassy wave,
And found amid thy forests wild
His cradle, home and grave.
All, all is changed—reigns in his stead
Another race and name,
But, in thy lonely grandeur still,
Proud River, thou’rt the same!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Bamborough Castle
Ye holy Towers that shade the wave-worn steep,
Long may ye rear your aged brows sublime,
Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time
Assail you, and the winds of winter sweep
Round your dark battlements; for far from halls
Of Pride, here Charity hath fixed her seat,
Oft listening, tearful, when the tempests beat
With hollow bodings round your ancient walls;
And Pity, at the dark and stormy hour
Of midnight, when the moon is hid on high,
Keeps her lone watch upon the topmost tower,
And turns her ear to each expiring cry;
Blessed if her aid some fainting wretch may save,
And snatch him cold and speechless from the wave.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Voice Of The Heart
(j.t.stanley/john bettis/b.roberts)
Sometimes when your world seems so big and real
You may run to the shelter of walls
Sometimes you may wish
You could be like your shadow
It fits wherever it falls
Whenever the nights too deep to find
And the morning is too far away
Wherever you are
Theres always a star to guide the way
There to guide the way
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
Tonight if a dream should come to your sleep
With a picture you dont wanna see
Go where it leads, from secret to secret
You are what you want to be
Whenever the sun refuses to shine
And you cant chase the storm clouds away
Wherever you are theres always a star to guide the way
There to guide the way
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
Living in a private world
There are times when its hard to break through
So dont give up
Each time you hurt youve got nothing to lose
Theres a voice inside of you
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
(listen)
If you dream it strong enough
(dream it)
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We will find the answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
(long enough)
If you dream it strong enough
(strong enough)
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
In the voice
In the voice of the heart
We will find the answer
Like a song too long unsung
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To A Tulip-Bulb
SLEEP first,
And let the storm and winter do their worst;
Let all the garden lie
Bare to the angry sky,
The shed leaves shiver and die
Above your bed;
Let the white coverlet
Of sunlit snow be set
Over your sleeping head,
While in the earth you sleep
Where dreams are dear and deep,
And heed nor wind nor snow,
Nor how the dark moons go.
In this sad upper world where Winter's hand
Has bound with chains of ice the weary land.
Then wake
To see the whole world lovely for Spring's sake;
The garden fresh and fair
With green things everywhere,
And winter's want and care
Banished and fled;
Primrose and violet
In every border set,
With rain and sunshine fed.
Then bless the fairy song
That cradled you so long,
And bless the fairy kiss
That wakened you to this--
A world where Winter's dead and Spring doth reign
And lovers whisper in the budding lane.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Clouds And Moods
Puffs of clouds covered the sky
Like my thoughts of you and I.
At times I could see and think clearly
But my mind would get weary.
Those puffs of clouds would take control
And my heart it would hold.
It’s amazing how it could be
That the clouds are like you and me.
When the clouds get dark and grey
We become defensive in every way
And the fights come into play.
And when clouds are a misty white
I want to make love to you day and night.
And when the clouds look like ripples in the sand
I want to squeeze you and hold your hand.
And when the clouds completely cover the sky
I thank god you’re by my side.
poem by Louis Rams
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Its Ok
Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Mountain River.
Grey Mountain River
Chasing high Alps of verdant pasture
Left flower bright by migrating snows
That tarried for a wile in the hallow shadows
Of sharp stone scars that perch falcon
Before flurrying to rejoin the ever wondering winter
Grey Mountain River
Rejoicing over the ruminations of reticent boulders
Who grumble as they split the race
For white crest waves that fold apart
As underneath lesser stones give way with ill grace
And wild banks look on with slow curiosity
Grey Mountain River
Leaping young from stern walls and glowering faces
Before falling in light carved mists
Overlooked by those that weal above the high places
All to escape the machinations of ancient ice
Their thoughts old and grim as they ponder their mountain
poem by William Reed O'Connor
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Chains of Depression
So dark and deep and lonely it is
In this state of horror
No rest for me, no time for me
My soul is mine no more
So dark and deep and lonely it is
Never again I’ll see
My house, my family, my life
No more I’ll ever see
So dark and deep and lonely it is
Just pain stays, forever
It lingers here, always right here
Will it ever end… ever?
So dark and deep and lonely it was
But out I came, back to the top
My thoughts restored, looking up again
Life regained, the flow stopped