Vanishings
As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day
Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea,
Turning his face to eastward suddenly
Sees a lack-lustre world all chill and gray,-
Then, wandering sunless whitherso he may,
Feels the first dubious dumb obscurity,
And vague foregloomings of the Dark to be,
Close like a sadness round his glimmering way;
So I, from drifting dreambound on and on
About strange isles of utter bliss, in seas
Whose waves are unimagined melodies,
Rose and beheld the dreamless world anew:
Sad were the fields, and dim with splendours gone
The strait sky-glimpses fugitive and few.
poem by William Watson
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Beyond The Horizons...
Beyond these trees tall and these fields green
I see the horizons a strange sight.
It`s the marriage of the sky and the earth.
A gaze tranquilises my pains.
And I am transported into a world of bliss.
Beyond the the pride of the seen around
Lingers the ego of the unknown!
Banished from the joys of the little ones
My adulthood explores the heights far still
And a strange smile conquers on my face.
Beyond the horizons I see nothing now
Perhaps I need those glimpses later.
The present will soon begin to impoverish me
Delighting the egos of my inner self
And then I shall fly unto the world beyond the horizons.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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World Spinnin' Round
(pilson, hendrix)
Lately i don't hesitate to tell you how i feel
See, good times come, good time go
Gotta hold on to what is real
Everything is changing
But that's alright
Gotta take what comes like a roll on the dice
You know that it ain't easy
Live and learn one day at a time
Because..
Feels like my world is spinnin' round
Every day it changes
Feels like my whole world is spinnin' round
Round and round, round and round
Feels like my world is spinnin' round and round
Maybe i'm just looking for a way to ease my mind
Keep on searching for what it takes
Well, the lord knows what i will find
You know it ain't easy
Live and learn one day at a time
Because..
Feels like my world is spinnin' round
Every day it changes
Feels like my whole world is spinnin' round
Round and round, round and round
Feels like my world is spinnin' round
Every day it changes
Feels like my whole world is spinnin' round and round
And round
Spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
Feels like my world is spinnin' round
Every day it changes
Feels like my whole world is spinnin' round
Round and round, round and round
Feels like my world is spinnin' round
Every day it changes
Feels like my whole world is spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
You know it ain't easy
To live and learn one day at a time
You know it ain't east
To live and learn one day at a time
(repeat)
song performed by by War And Peace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Self-Meditation
If when you close your eyes, this world is gone,
An inner world comes into your purview;
And when you close your ears while all alone,
This world anew, you can better review.
And when your skin’s benumbed, outer world’s lost,
You can now look better into your mind;
The world inside has become yours and vast;
The things you yearned for, you can always find.
Now, when you blank your mind, this world too wanes;
A tranquil state prevails one never felt!
Without sadness or joy, trifles or pains;
Now, hold your breath and things will tend to melt.
Self-meditation makes a man feel God,
For, deep within his heart, resides the Lord!
poem by John Celes
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Song Of Slaves In The Desert
WHERE are we going? where are we going,
Where are we going, Rubee?
Lord of peoples, lord of lands,
Look across these shining sands,
Through the furnace of the noon,
Through the white light of the moon.
Strong the Ghiblee wind is blowing,
Strange and large the world is growing!
Speak and tell us where we are going,
Where are we going, Rubee?
Bornou land was rich and good,
Wells of water, fields of food,
Dourra fields, and bloom of bean,
And the palm-tree cool and green:
Bornou land we see no longer,
Here we thirst and here we hunger,
Here the Moor-man smites in anger:
Where are we going, Rubee?
When we went from Bornou land,
We were like the leaves and sand,
We were many, we are few;
Life has one, and death has two:
Whitened bones our path are showing,
Thou All-seeing, thou All-knowing!
Hear us, tell us, where are we going,
Where are we going, Rubee?
Moons of marches from our eyes
Bornou land behind us lies;
Stranger round us day by day
Bends the desert circle gray;
Wild the waves of sand are flowing,
Hot the winds above them blowing, —
Lord of all things! where are we going?
Where are we going, Rubee?
We are weak, but Thou art strong.;
Short our lives, but Thine is long;
We are blind, but Thou hast eyes;
We are fools, but Thou art wise!
Thou, our morrow's pathway knowing
Through the strange world round us growing,
Hear us, tell us where are we going,
Where are we going, Rubee?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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When the World Goes Dark
when the world goes dark
and the grief emerges
washes over your being
pushing over your mind
when the world goes dark
and the monsters come out
taunting you with your fears
rocking your soul with pain
when the world goes dark
and time stops suddenly
and your trapped
in a never ending struggle
when the world goes dark
and the pain floods you
your heart shatters again
your souls light put out
when the world goes dark
and your all alone
crying those bitter tears
that taste like sadness
when the world goes dark
and only the truth is left
the ugly reality comes forth
the real behind all the masks
when the world goes dark
and its just you and me
my true self with show
i have nothing left unknown
poem by Sophie Kennedy
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Maidenhood
THROUGH her fair world of blossoms fresh and bright,
Veiled with her maiden innocence, she goes;
Not all the splendour of the waxing light
She sees, nor all the colour of the rose;
And yet who knows what finer hues she sees,
Hid by our wisdom from our longing eyes?
Who knows what light she sees in skies and seas
Which is withholden from our seas and skies?
Shod with her youth the thorny paths she treads
And feels not yet the treachery of the thorn,
Her crown of lilies still its perfume sheds
Where Love, the thorny crown, not yet is borne.
Yet in the mystery of her peaceful way
Who knows what fears beset her innocence,
Who, trembling, learns that thorns will wound some day,
And wonders what thorns are, and why, and whence?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Jaundiced Eyes
let your jaundiced eyes
for the last time of your breath
see the redness of
a rose
the greenness of grass
the blueness of the sea
the drifting white colors
of the clouds
for once
be not bound by your sickness
that shall take
you to death
or close your eyes
to see
what black really is
this world is not all yellow
as you always insist
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Happy Islands
O FAR away, and far away,
The Happy Islands lie;
In bluer seas of calm than these,
Beneath a bluer sky.
The sea, a shining girdle, winds
Round cliff and cape and bay,
With flash and gleam, and there they dream,
O far and far away!
Upon a rim of sapphire sea,
As some sweet girl might lean
Her breast of snow, my Islands glow,
All exquisite and green.
The cliffs like shining ramparts rise,
The golden beaches gleam;
And thro' the hills sing silver rills,
And cataract and stream.
Bright in a mist of leaves, on height
And headland, waving high,
The flame-flowers lean, and burn between
Splendours of sea and sky.
The still, bright forests, massed and green,
Like painted woodlands glow
In shade and shine; and belts of pine
Climb up to meet the snow.
No burning drought with fevered breath,
Nor blight of bitter hail,
Blackens the yield of fruitful field,
Nor sears the flowery vale.
Ah me! my Isles! my Happy Isles!
The Isles that nurtured me;
My heart is fain to cross again
Those leagues of purple sea,—
To watch at sunset from the hills
The headlands fade in mist,
'Mid changing glows, of gold and rose
And Bloom-of-Amethyst.
I tread to-day a sunless strand
Under sad skies of grey,
But summer smiles in my fair Isles
So far and far away.
poem by Inez Isabel Maud Peacocke
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Until Her Death
I.
UNTIL her death!' the words read strange yet real,
Like things afar off suddenly brought near:--
Will it be slow or speedy, full of fear,
Or calm as a spent day of peace ideal?
II.
Will her brown locks lie white on coffin pillow?
Will these her eyes, that sometime were called sweet,
Close, after years of dried-up tears, or meet
Death's dust in midst of weeping? And that billow,--
III.
Her restless heart,--will it be stopped, still heaving?
Or softly ebb 'neath age's placid breath?
Will it be lonely, this mysterious death,
Fit close unto her solitary living,--
IV.
A turning of her face to the wall, nought spoken,
Exchanging this world's light for heaven's;--or will
She part in pain, from warm love to the chill
Unknown, pursued with cries of hearts half-broken?
V.
With fond lips felt through the blind mists of dying,
And close arms clung to in the struggle vain;--
Or, these all past, will death to her be gain,
Unto her life's long question God's replying?
VI.
No more. Within his hand, divine as tender,
He holds the mystic measure of her days;
And be they few or many, His the praise,--
In life or death her Keeper and Defender.
VII.
Then, come He soon or late, she will not fear Him;
Be her end lone or loveful, she'll not grieve;
For He whom she believed in--doth believe--
Will call her from the dust, and she will hear Him.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Veiled Scenes Behind The Sun
Perceived glimpses cast emotions
Perceptions give glimpses
Wrapped in a draped veil
Cupped hands you hold out with discretion
An offering of vagueness
When a turning sun reveals
Truth maybe scant but
Concealing the obvious is obvious
When a turning sun reveals
Eyes meeting eyes are not insincere
When the turning sun reveals
A pall fades behind the dark side
Truth in abstention drapes around me
It revolves then evolves
Bending the beating heart
When a turning sun reveals
When the turning sun turns
There is dimness, there is luminosity
Aspirations and bleakness
For all this disappears behind the sun gloaming
poem by Eric Von Rohr
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When the Great Gray Ships Come In
To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o’er mapless miles of sea,
On winds and tides the gospel rides that the furthermost isles are free,
And the furthermost isles make answer, harbor, and height, and hill,
Breaker and beach cry, each to each, “’Tis the Mother who calls! Be still!”
Mother! new-found, beloved, and strong to hold from harm,
Stretching to these across the seas the shield of her sovereign arm,
Who summoned the guns of her sailor sons, who bade her navies roam,
Who calls again to the leagues of main, and who calls them this time home!
And the great gray ships are silent, and the weary watchers rest;
The black cloud dies in the August skies, and deep in the golden west
Invisible hands are limning a glory of crimson bars,
And far above is the wonder of a myriad wakened stars!
Peace! As the tidings silence the strenuous cannonade,
Peace at last! is the bugle blast the length of the long blockade,
And eyes of vigil weary are lit with the glad release,
From ship to ship and from lip to lip it is “Peace! Thank God for peace.”
Ah, in the sweet hereafter Columbia still shall show
The sons of these who swept the seas how she bade them rise and go,—
How, when the stirring summons smote on her children’s ear,
South and North at the call stood forth, and the whole land answered, “Here!”
For the soul of the soldier’s story and the heart of the sailor’s song
Are all of those who meet their foes as right should meet with wrong,
Who fight their guns till the foeman runs, and then, on the decks they trod,
Brave faces raise, and give the praise to the grace of their country’s God!
Yes, it is good to battle, and good to be strong and free,
To carry the hearts of a people to the uttermost ends of sea,
To see the day steal up the bay where the enemy lies in wait,
To run your ship to the harbor’s lip and sink her across the strait:—
But better the golden evening when the ships round heads for home,
And the long gray miles slip swiftly past in a swirl of seething foam,
And the people wait at the haven’s gate to greet the men who win!
Thank God for peace! Thank God for peace, when the great gray ships come in!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Moon-Struck
IT is a moor
Barren and treeless; lying high and bare
Beneath the archèd sky. The rushing winds
Fly over it, each with his strong bow bent
And quiver full of whistling arrows keen.
I am a woman, lonely, old, and poor.
If there be any one who watches me
(But there is none) adown the long blank wold,
My figure painted on the level sky
Would startle him as if it were a ghost,--
And like a ghost, a weary wandering ghost,
I roam and roam, and shiver through the dark
That will not hide me. O but for one hour,
One blessed hour of warm and dewy night,
To wrap me like a pall--with not an eye
In earth or heaven to pierce the black serene.
Night, call yet this? No night; no dark--no rest--
A moon-ray sweeps down sudden from the sky,
And smites the moor--
Is't thou, accursèd Thing,
Broad, pallid, like a great woe looming out--
Out of its long-sealed grave, to fill all earth
With its dead, ghastly smile? Art there again,
Round, perfect, large, as when we buried thee,
I and the kindly clouds that heard my prayers?
I'll sit me down and meet thee face to face,
Mine enemy!--Why didst thou rise upon
My world--my innocent world, to make me mad?
Wherefore shine forth, a tiny tremulous curve
Hung out in the gray sunset beauteously,
To tempt mine eyes--then nightly to increase
Slow orbing, till thy full, blank, pitiless stare
Hunts me across the world?
No rest--no dark.
Hour after hour that passionless bright face
Climbs up the desolate blue. I will press down
The lids on my tired eyeballs--crouch in dust,
And pray.
--Thank God, thank God!--a cloud has hid
My torturer. The night at last is free:
Forth peep in crowds the merry twinkling stars.
Ah, we'll shine out, the little silly stars
And I; we'll dance together across the moor,
They up aloft--I here. At last, at last
We are avengèd of our adversary!
The freshening of the night air feels like dawn.
Who said that I was mad? I will arise,
Throw off my burthen, march across the wold
Airily--Ha! what, stumbling? Nay, no fear--
I am used unto the dark, for many a year
Steering compassionless athwart the waste
To where, deep hid in valleys of white mist,
The pleasant home-lights shine. I will but pause,
Turn round and gaze--
O me! O miserable me!
The cloud-bank overflows: sudden outpour
The bright white moon-rays--ah! I drown, I drown,
And o'er the flood, with steady motion, slow
It walketh--my inexorable Doom.
No more: I shall not struggle any more:
I will lie down as quiet as a child,--
I can but die.
There, I have hid my face:
Stray travellers passing o'er the silent wold
Would only say, 'She sleeps.'
Glare on, my Doom;
I will not look at thee: and if at times
I shiver, still I neither weep nor moan:
Angels may see, I neither weep nor moan.
Was that sharp whistling wind the morning breeze
That calls the stars back to the obscure of heaven?
I am very cold.--And yet there is a change.
Less fiercely the sharp moonbeams smite my brain,
My heart beats slower, duller: soothing rest
Like a soft garment binds my shuddering limbs.--
If I looked up now, should I see it still
Gibbeted ghastly in the hopeless sky?--
No!
It is very strange: all things seem strange:
Pale spectral face, I do not fear thee now:
Was't this mere shadow which did haunt me once
Like an avenging fiend?--Well, we fade out
Together: I'll nor dread nor curse thee more.
How calm the earth seems! and I know the moor
Glistens with dew-stars. I will try and turn
My poor face eastward. Close not, eyes! That light
Fringing the far hills, all so fair--so fair,
Is it not dawn? I am dying, but 't is dawn.
'Upon the mountains I behold the feet
Of my Beloved: let us forth to meet'--
Death.
This is death. I see the light no more;
I sleep.
But like a morning bird my soul
Springs singing upward, into the deeps of heaven
Through world on world to follow Infinite Day.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Storm-Waves And Fog On Dorr’s Point,
THE fog's gray curtain round me draws,
And leaves no world to me
Save this swift drama of the stirred
And restless sea.
Forth of the shrouding fog they roll,
As from a viewless world,
Leap spectral white, and, pausing, break,
In thunder hurled.
Ever they climb and cling anew,
Slide from the smooth rock wall,
With thin white fingers grip the weeds
And seaward crawl.
In rhythmic rote o'er shivering sands
They glide adown the shore
With murmurous whispering of 'Hush!'
And then no more.
poem by Silas Weir Mitchell
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The Death of Grandfather
We waited commonly for sleep or even death.
The instances were wearisome as ages.
But suddenly the wind's refreshing breath
Touched through the window the Holy Bible's pages:
An old man goes there - who's now all white-haired -
With rapid steps and merry eyes, alone,
He smiles to us, and often calls with hand,
And leaves us with a gait, that is well-known.
And suddenly we all, who watched the old man's track,
Well recognized just him who now lay before us,
And turning in a sudden rapture back,
Beheld a corpse with eyes forever closed ...
And it was good for us the soul's way to trace,
And, in the leaving one, to find the glee it's forming.
The time had come. Recall and love in grace,
And celebrate another house-warming!
poem by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
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And Suddenly The World Goes Dark
to Simoncelli
The night lost its star
And suddenly the world goes dark
The light turns out to dim
And I barely see the clear sight
The life without you
And suddenly the world goes blind
Where did you go from this way
And what you left behind
The love lost its warmth
And suddenly the world goes cold
Did the wind blow too strong
Or did I forget to take my breath
The face without smile
And suddenly the world goes hard
I could only feel bitterness
And the cry of sorrow screaming inside
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Half Heaven Half Hell
The whole universe has two main divisions
One of horrible hells, one of lovely heavens.
Eyes are to watch scenes of two categories
One of Venus' face, one of frown of Furies.
Ears are to hear melodies or death bells
One buys pleasing pleasures, and other sells.
Tears are filled with deep pain or bursting joy
Shed by ruined age or by an adolescent boy.
Black hair with passage of time becomes gray
Either life is spent in prayer or in play.
Shining teeth get retirement in old age
They are to get rid of mouth's muttering cage.
Joys are to wither into sadness one day
Each comedy becomes at last a tragic play.
Life is divided into days and nights
And men into cowards and daring knights.
Sometimes sun and sometimes fog is to rule space
Sometimes death and sometimes life is face to face.
The world is a combination of two extremes
One has nightmares and the other sweet dreams.
poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai
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The World is Round
see the world is round see
it goes round and round
a darma wheel, balancing up
good and evil, day and night
every inch of the globe has
its bright and dark hours
each man his triumphs and losses
see the world goes round and round
even the eyes are created round
to have an all-round view of things
and not a skewered world
see the world goes round and
round, a darma wheel as we move
from one creation to the other
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Story Of Old
She has heard stories of old
Of men with legs
That takes the lives of many
Of her friends
Is all this just a fantasy as she thinks of stories of old
As she sits basking in the sun
Her golden flesh cascading
With the sprays of the deep blue sea
She sits upon the rock
Were the waves laps
From morn to night
Braiding her long raven hair
As her tail sways to the waves
From story's of old
The golden rays reflect
Of the gems of spray
As it splashes around her
In its foamy depth of blue wonder
She opens her rose colored lips
To sing a soft haunting melody
That as captured a many souls
That has been cast into a world of bliss
She dives below the waves
To capture a friend
Its skin so smooth
As it roams the seven seas
They frolic and play
In the ocean of jade
That as carried the life
Of so many souls
Down to the depths of the seas
But amongst the beauty
Of the seven seas
She still wonders
How man can walk upon the earth
With two legs I might add
Is that no a tad strange
For one who lives under the sea
How can they breathe the air?
That strangles the voice of purity
How can they dance as gracefully?
As the dolphins swim
From place to place with so much ease
Then to her surprise
She finds a dream come true
The one that moves her soul
The one that makes her shake with
Exquisite joy at the mere sight of his face
Is a mere mortal just like you and me?
She longs to be apart of his world
To walk the lands and smell the flowers
That bloom in April showers
She longs to be apart of his world
To feel the warmth of Mother Nature
As the sun shines down on thee
She longs to taste the tender kiss
Of love that blooms inside one soul
As man and wife learns the joys of life
She longs to hear the laughter
Of children running through the lands
As they play hide and seek
In the land of make believe
She longs to hold a child
Close to her heart
And sing sweet lullabies
In a mothers world of bliss
Her soul bleeds
To hear the sounds of family
Singing their Christmas yuletides
With glee as they sing carols
Next to a snowy Christmas tree
All that just out of reach
As she watches with sorrow
At the man that invades her dreams
She glances at one last chance
To touch him briefly
As the waves surges
To carry her to her ultimate of all dreams
Tears fall as she realizes
To let him know she exists
She must risk her life for just one touch of bliss
She touches him briefly he sees her
She sees him he wonders
To himself is this just but a dream
He catches her beauty before a glimpse in the light
He catches his breath as he watches her float
In mid air graceful with all that she is
Then like a dream she fades
Into the deep blue ocean
Never to be seen again
Was it just a dream?
Was it just a fantasy of stories of old?
Of how mermaids captured the soul
Of mere mortal men to lure them
To their deaths to the bottom
Of the deep blue sea
Perhaps the vision he just saw
Was in fact just a fantasy
One told by many
A story of old
poem by Kaila George
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We Close Our Eyes
We close our eyes
We close our eyes and dream and the world has turned around again
When everybody is running in the big race
And having a good time
Who am I to cast a shadow
Who am i?
I looked death in the face last night
I saw him in a mirror
And he simply smiled
He told me not to worry
He told me just to take my time
Chorus:
We close our eyes and the world has turned around again
We close our eyes and dream and another year has come and gone
We close our eyes and the world has turned around again
We close our eyes and dream ...
And if you come to me
And if you touch my hand
I might just slip away
I might just disappear
Who am i?
And if you think Im worth it
And if you think its not too late
We might start falling
If we dont try to hard
We might start falling in love
(chorus)
Were on the healing path
Were on a roller coaster ride
That could never turn back
And if you love me
And if you really try
To make the seconds count
Then we can close our eyes
(chorus)
We close our eyes and the world has turned around again
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In September
SPRING scarce had greener fields to show than these
Of mid September; through the still warm noon
The rivulets ripple forth a gladder tune
Than ever in the summer; from the trees
Dusk-green, and murmuring inward melodies,
No leaf drops yet; only our evenings swoon
In pallid skies more suddenly, and the moon
Finds motionless white mists out on the leas.
Dear chance it were in some rough wood-god's lair
A month hence, gazing on the last bright field,
To sink o'er-drowsed, and dream that wild-flowers blew
Around my head and feet silently there,
Till Spring's glad choir adown the valley pealed,
And violets trembled in the morning dew.
poem by Edward Dowden
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