En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Walking West

Anyone with quiet pace who
walks a gray road in the West
may hear a badger underground where
in deep flint another time is

Caught by flint and held forever,
the quiet pace of God stopped still.
Anyone who listens walks on
time that dogs him single file,

To mountains that are far from people,
the face of the land gone gray like flint.
Badgers dig their little lives there,
quiet-paced the land lies gaunt,

The railroad dies by a yellow depot,
town falls away toward a muddy creek.
Badger-gray the sod goes under
a river of wind, a hawk on a stick.

poem by William Stafford
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As the evening sun faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flint

Who has married a flint?
Who is living with a flint?
Are you okay with the flint? !
Then, use it wisely before it sparks off your life.
Who has married a flint?
Mind you,
It will spark up your life if there is no love.
Who has married the flint?
Please do take care of it before it destroys your life;
The flint is needed to work with but,
It is your lover today;
So take care with the flint before it destroys you.
Who has married the flint?
We all need a flint to work with but,
Sometimes it is very dangerous!
Who has married a flint?
Do accept your life as it is and,
Do learn from it always.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Quiet Life

Somethings happenin but Im just gonna turn a blind eye.
If I see no evil, ask no questions, and I hear no lies.
Cant communicate with minds that are small,
With some people its like talkin to the wall
And a fellow who walks away,
Lives to battle another day.
And Ive really got no appetite
For a fight,
Not tonight.
All I want is a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
No ambition to rock the boat
When I can just stay afloat.
Be content with a quiet life
All I want is a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil at all.
Confidentially, between these walls,
Im on top of it all.
Id rather have em think Im deaf, dumb, and blind
Than aggravation every time I speak my mind
Keep _________ at a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
I could easily blow my top,
Start a row,
But why start now?
Give your daddy a quiet life.
Give your mother a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
[instrumental section]
Give your daddy a quiet life.
Give your mother a quiet life.
Anything for a quiet life.
Confidentially, between these walls,
Im on top of it all.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon The Flint In The Water

This flint, time out of mind, has there abode,
Where crystal streams make their continual road.
Yet it abides a flint as much as 'twere
Before it touched the water, or came there
Its hard obdurateness is not abated,
'Tis not at all by water penetrated.
Though water hath a soft'ning virtue in't,
This stone it can't dissolve, for 'tis a flint.
Yea, though it in the water doth remain,
It doth its fiery nature still retain.
If you oppose it with its opposite,
At you, yea, in your face, its fire 'twill spit.

Comparison.

This flint an emblem is of those that lie,
Like stones, under the Word, until they die.
Its crystal streams have not their nature changed,
They are not, from their lusts, by grace estranged.

poem by John Bunyan
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Badger

The badger grunting on his woodland track
With shaggy hide and sharp nose scrowed with black
Roots in the bushes and the woods, and makes
A great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.
With nose on ground he runs an awkward pace,
And anything will beat him in the race.
The shepherd's dog will run him to his den
Followed and hooted by the dogs and men.
The woodman when the hunting comes about
Goes round at night to stop the foxes out
And hurrying through the bushes to the chin
Breaks the old holes, and tumbles headlong in.
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes bye.
He comes and hears—they let the strongest loose.
The old fox hears the noise and drops the goose.
The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,
And the old hare half wounded buzzes bye.
They get a forked stick to bear him down
And clap the dogs and take him to the town,
And bait him all the day with many dogs,
And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
He turns about to face the loud uproar
And drives the rebels to their very door.
The frequent stone is hurled where e'er they go;
When badgers fight, then every one's a foe.
The dogs are clapt and urged to join the fray;
The badger turns and drives them all away.
Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,
He fights with dogs for bones and beats them all.
The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,
Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.
The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,
The badger grins and never leaves his hold.
He drives the crowd and follows at their heels
And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels.
The frighted women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race,
But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.
He turns again and drives the noisy crowd
And beats the many dogs in noises loud.
He drives away and beats them every one,
And then they loose them all and set them on.
He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,
Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again;
Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.
Some keep a baited badger tame as hog
And tame him till he follows like the dog.
They urge him on like dogs and show fair play.
He beats and scarcely wounded goes away.
Lapt up as if asleep, he scorns to fly
And seizes any dog that ventures nigh.
Clapt like a dog, he never bites the men
But worries dogs and hurries to his den.
They let him out and turn a harrow down
And there he fights the host of all the town.
He licks the patting hand, and tries to play
And never tries to bite or run away,
And runs away from the noise in hollow trees
Burnt by the boys to get a swarm of bees.

poem by John Clare
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We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints

958

We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Golden Rose

A POOR lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.

He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.

But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.

One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,
Gray were his garments, his eyes were deep,
And he held the golden rose in his hand.

She left gold gown, gold town, gold crown,
And followed him straight to a world apart,
And he left her asleep on the wind-washed down,
With the golden rose on her quiet heart.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Stroke A Flint

Stroke a flint, and there is nothing to admire:
Strike a flint, and forthwith flash out sparks of fire.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Red Flower

In the pleasant time of Pentecost,
By the little river Kyll,
I followed the angler's winding path
Or waded the stream at will,
And the friendly fertile German land
Lay round me green and still.

But all day long on the eastern bank
Of the river cool and clear,
Where the curving track of the double rails
Was hardly seen though near,
The endless trains of German troops
Went rolling down to Trier.

They packed the windows with bullet heads
And caps of hodden gray;
They laughed and sang and shouted loud
When the trains were brought to a stay;
They waved their hands and sang again
As they went on their iron way.

No shadow fell on the smiling land,
No cloud arose in the sky;
I could hear the river's quiet tune
When the trains had rattled by;
But my heart sank low with a heavy sense
Of trouble,--I knew not why.

Then came I into a certain field
Where the devil's paint-brush spread
'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills
A flaring splotch of red,--
An evil omen, a bloody sign,
And a token of many dead.

I saw in a vision the field-gray horde
Break forth at the devil's hour,
And trample the earth into crimson mud
In the rage of the Will to Power,--
All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll,
At the sign of the blood-red flower.

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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An Emerald Is As Green As Grass

An emerald is as green as grass;
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.
A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world's desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds fire.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Together

Kicking dirt and rocks we walked
All through the city with lights glaring
Music assaulting us out of hip places
That we'll never fit into.

Wine on my breath and beer on yours
We opened our eyes and drank each other in
Something clicks, we burn.
Flint on flint and we decide.

Wasted time before us
So much to do after us,
In this way we're connected and
We'll grow in the most happy, pain-filled of ways.
Together.

poem by Rachel Stapleton
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Voice Of America

(from the b-side of the single in the shape of a heart; peformed by jackson browne)
Little stevens version appears on his album of the same name.
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Somebody help me, we gotta stop a crime
I been betrayed by my own kind
I been quiet, too quiet
While across the borderline
We die
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
I know that we knew right from wrong once upon a time
Everything we stood for has been compromised
I been quiet, too quiet
While across our borderline
My people lie
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Youre quiet, too quiet
Are you still alive
Inside
Can you hear me? wake up!
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Autumn Landscape

No wind there is that either pipes or moans;
The fields are cold and still; the sky
Is covered with a blue-gray sheet
Of motionless cloud; and at my feet
The river, curling softly by,
Whispers and dimples round its quiet gray stones.

Along the chill green slope that dips and heaves
The road runs rough and silent, lined
With plum-trees, misty and blue-gray,
And poplars pallid as the day,
In masses spectral, undefined,
Pale greenish stems half hid in dry gray leaves.

And on beside the river's sober edge
A long fresh field lies black. Beyond,
Low thickets gray and reddish stand,
Stroked white with birch; and near at hand,
Over a little steel-smooth pond,
Hang multitudes of thin and withering sedge.

Across a waste and solitary rise
A ploughman urges his dull team,
A stooped gray figure with prone brow
That plunges bending to the plough
With strong, uneven steps. The stream
Rings and re-echoes with his furious cries.

Sometimes the lowing of a cow, long-drawn,
Comes from far off; and crows in strings
Pass on the upper silences.
A flock of small gray goldfinches,
Flown down with silvery twitterings,
Rustle among the birch-cones and are gone.

This day the season seems like one that heeds,
With fixed ear and lifted hand,
All moods that yet are known on earth,
All motions that have faintest birth,
If haply she may understand
The utmost inward sense of all her deeds.

poem by Archibald Lampman
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Be quiet Child! ! !

Be quiet child, be quiet I say
No one listens to you today

Your voice is unheared and
not of importance

Be quiet child I say

Let your Brother speak
Be quiet child
I can not hear his voice

I don't have time to listen to you
Be quiet child I say

My Brother speaks
The very words, I was about to say

But Mother she won't listen
Be quiet child she says

I have now grown with babes of my own
but Mother continues to say

Be quiet Lady Be quiet I say
Your voice is unheared and
not of importance

I will not listen to you today!

poem by Tracey TEE
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Shades Of Grey

If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between

song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Late Lark Twitters From The Quiet Skies

the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.

The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and are changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night-
Night with her train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.

So be my passing!
My task accomplish'd and the long day done,
My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,
Let me be gather'd to the quiet west,
The sundown splendid and serene,
Death.

poem by William Ernest Henley
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So Quiet In Here

Foghorns blowing in the night
Salt sea air in the morning breeze
Driving cars all along the coastline
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
The warm look of radiance on your face
And your heart beating close to mine
And the evening fading in the candle glow
This must be what its all about
Oh this must be what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here. so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, yeah, so peaceful in here
All my struggling in the world
And so many dreams that dont come true
Step back, put it all away
It dont matter, it dont matter anymore
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
A glass of wine with some friends
Talking into the wee hours of the dawn
Sit back and relax your mind
This must be, this must be, what its all about
This must be what paradise is like
Oh this must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
Big ships out in the night
And were floating across the waves
Sailing for some other shore
Where we can be what we wanna be
Oh this must be what paradise is like
This must be what paradise is like
Baby its so quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, you can hear, its so quiet

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Fall Ill as One Should, Deliriously

To fall ill as one should, deliriously
Hot, meet everyone again,
To stroll broad avenues in the seashore garden
Full of the wind and the sun.

Even the dead, today, have agreed to come,
And the exiles, into my house.
Lead the child to me by the hand.
Long I have missed him.

I shall eat blue grapes with those who are dead,
Drink the iced
Wine, and watch the gray waterfall pour
On to the damp flint bed.

------

Behind the lake the moon's not stirred
And seems to be a window through
Into a silent, well-lit house,
Where something unpleasant has occured.

Has the master been brought home dead,
The mistress run off with a lover,
Or has a little girl gone missing,
And her shoes found by the creek-bed...

We can't see. But feel some awful thing,
And we don't want to talk.
Doleful, the cry of eagle-owls, and hot
In the garden the wind is blustering.

poem by Anna Akhmatova
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Quiet river

Lazy stars shining on a little cabin,
Lazy moon glistening over river trees;
Old river whispering,
Lappin' 'against the long roots:
So quiet, so serene 'do you feel the blues?

Went down to the river, sat down and listened,
Heard the water talking' quiet,
Real quiet and slow:
'Ain' no need fo' hurry, take yo' time, take your time -yo
Heard it saying-'Son, heres the way life should go

poem by Ravi Upadhye
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Jim Hawkins's diary

every boy grew up must go to the sea
home sick, mother's warm embraces to me
Lily, I love you please just wait for me

waving shades of the sails speak silent words to me
father, now you can be proud of me I went to the sea
I wrote in my diary 'Jim Hawkins went to the sea
for the seagulls can fish accompanied only by me'

I met John Silver and he was with a wooden leg
the sea scent was coming out of his hair form a distant ship
Silver was a seafaring man with a red-green parrot
Silver was the only man, Flint feared the most

Flint was a captain of a vessel with six men crew
murdered all six of the crew and left them to shape
outstretched arms pointing to his prime treasure
the ancient captain sent them to Davy Jones' locker

'Darby M Graw, fetch aft the rum'
Flint has died at a home Pirate's inn
if he brought the pleasure into sin
the vulture is to be dead within

fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest

Silver, I have been to the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find it's mysterious home land (said Silver)
Billy told me to search the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find me at the home land (said Silver)

old mate I long for you and thy wisdom (said Silver)
Silver, thee received their black symptom (said Jim)
captain, together we will reach Flint's kingdom (said Silver)
Billy has died because he received the black symptom (said Jim)

fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest.

poem by Mohammed Hassan
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