The Dread Voyage
1 Trim the sails the weird stars under—
2 Past the iron hail and thunder,
3 Past the mystery and the wonder,
4 Sails our fated bark;
5 Past the myriad voices hailing,
6 Past the moaning and the wailing,
7 The far voices failing, failing,
8 Drive we to the dark.
9 Past the headlands grim and sombre,
10 Past the shores of mist and slumber,
11 Leagues on leagues no man may number,
12 Soundings none can mark;
13 While the olden voices calling,
14 One by one behind are falling;
15 Into silence dread, appalling,
16 Drift we to the dark.
17 Far behind, the sad eyes yearning,
18 Hands that wring for our returning,
19 Lamps of love yet vainly burning:
20 Past the headlands stark!
21 Through the wintry snows and sleeting,
22 On our pallid faces beating,
23 Through the phantom twilight fleeting,
24 Drive we to the dark.
25 Without knowledge, without warning,
26 Drive we to no lands of morning;
27 Far ahead no signals horning
28 Hail our nightward bark.
29 Hopeless, helpless, weird, outdriven,
30 Fateless, friendless, dread, unshriven,
31 For some race-doom unforgiven,
32 Drive we to the dark.
33 Not one craven or unseemly;
34 In the flare-light gleaming dimly,
35 Each ghost-face is watching grimly:
36 Past the headlands stark!
37 Hearts wherein no hope may waken,
38 Like the clouds of night wind-shaken,
39 Chartless, anchorless, forsaken,
40 Drift we to the dark.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Dark Past
My past is dark
It's full of pain and tears
My past is my story
My past made me stronger
People still don't know why my past is dark
But I will tell you
No more hiding for me
My past is red stained razors
I admit I did cut
But, I will no more
My closest friend was the only one that knew
Me and her alike in so many ways
We helped each other through thick and thin
My future is bright and happy
I am loved and always will be loved
In my future I will not shed a tear
For I will be surrounded by loved ones
My past is erased I have no regrets
My life is better oh..so much better
poem by Jasmine Kayleen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cloudburst (terzanelle)
The clouds are dark as the night
until the sky opens it sluices
with here and there light
pouring down gathered juices
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
until the sky opens it sluices
with lightning falling with feelers, ready to plunder
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
bashing down, and people flee in fright
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
splattering in fury, causing people to drown
and man and beast is desolate
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
with people struggling past fear, past hope, past hate.
The clouds are dark as the night
and man and beast is desolate
with here and there light.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A silent murder
A silent murder
A whispering grave
Voices are spoken
But they all fade away
Left all alone
In this forsaken home
Pictures we'll bare
Lost long voices we'll share
Broken memories of the past
Where too good to last
So pack up your bags
This is your last chance
Voices we long to hear
Are crackled, unclear
And faces we miss
Are long lost in the mist
New people we will meet
Eyes don't leave our feet
For memories from our past
Were built strong, to forever last
Frame your past
Shatter your future
Lose yourself in the moment
Lose yourself in the past
Twisted lives, will forever last
Frame your past
Jump inside
Hate the moment
So feed me more lies
poem by Shannon daffsdffjk
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At last, to be identified!
174
At last, to be identified!
At last, the lamps upon thy side
The rest of Life to see!
Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!
Past Sunrise!
Ah, What leagues there were
Between our feet, and Day!
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unknown Sky
Clock t[r]icks past midnight’s arbitrary mark,
set within time-zone drawn through needle’s eye.
Another night sails on as vital spark
skips over time-line, casts an unseen die
rolling haphazardly across light, dark
patchwork weaving quilt for unknown sky.
But soon sky sinks, eyes close, as all must die.
Thus I record ephemera, remark
subjectively, - however hard I try
to grasp relationships, steer blind my bark
between s[c]yllabic whirlpools ‘how’ and ‘why’ -
until, in turn, sucked into one way sleep,
I
lie
stark.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Isles Of Sleep.
The opiate isles upon time's sea
In the dream-dark
Rise with their harbours silently
Before each day-abandoned bark,
And the worn mariner anchors there
Till thought, new-waked in the dewy air,
Sings like a lark.
The silent isles with their dream-shores
On the waves float,
Whereto the faint-eyed mariner oars
Within the dusk his eerie boat;
All care put by, like one who knows
No tide there turns and no wind blows,
Near or remote!
From day to day upon time's main
We sail on so,
Sure every night some port to gain
In the dream-dark where no winds blow;
Until we too this sea have cross'd
E'en like the galleons that were tost
Here long ago.
Some seem each day to sail so far,
They reach that shore
So very soon where all things are
As they will be for evermore;
Some for so many a night and day
Have to drift on their lonely way
Ere all is o'er.
But all sails touch the land at last:
The slowest come
As in a mist out of the past —
The last dream-isle fades on the foam,
The last stars rise, the last stars set,
And there is but the last day yet
'Tween them and home.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Exultation is the going
Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea,
Past the houses — past the headlands —
Into deep Eternity —
Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cemetery Drive
cemetery drive,
covered in mist,
driving down the road,
so cold,
the crypts and tombstones cast dark shadow,
the bats and the wind,
grimly howl,
cemetery drive,
a place of shadow,
cemetery drive,
tall dead trees,
comfort the dead,
black roses grow along the road,
they fight the cold,
and give the living hope,
the living hope their hearts never stop,
and they'll never have to call cemetery drive home,
and tend to the shadows and black roses
poem by Catie Belle Stark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Inherit The Wind
The lingering shadows of those
who are gone from our grasp
bring comfort to those
who had to say behind.
Their voices inherit the wind
on cold and lonely nights.
Their voices can be heard
telling us everything is all right
when the shadows of loneliness
fall across our sight.
Our weeping call to come back
is answered in the wind
and the shaking branches
touched by a breeze.
Candles were lit to show us the way
when the clouds of darkness surround
and the voices inheriting the wind compound.
We walk with eyes blinded
into an eternal light
to be consumed within.
No one knows our boundaries
when angels take flight
and we only go when we are ready
to face the eternal night.
Those we left have no fear
we maybe gone, but we are still here.
Our voices inherit the wind on dark blustery nights.
We are those fleeting shadows
you catch from the corner of your eye.
We seek not to alarm you,
just to guide you along,
we are your past nudging you
into the future where you belong.
28 March 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh So Scared
I really hate the dark
I run fast past the park
Creepy monsters lurk under the bed
I gave him a special name 'Fred'
Scary things lurk out in the dark
Even that little Chihuahua's bark
The winds' whistle chills me to the bone
I am almost afraid to answer the phone
When scary stories are told I run and hide
And hate the thought of a dark cloud surrounded tide
The boogie monster is a childs worst nightmare
Carlos McBooger adds a little more flare
To this day I am still afraid of the dark
And hate the sound of that little bitty bark.
poem by Kilee Burton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Days From Knowing
(gillian welch/matt rollings)
Now the nights turned pink
On the eastern edges
But the sky is cold and still
And I wonder if its the sunrise
Warning the desert
Or the lights of tucson from over the hill
Its a hard way to love you
This long distance romance
Always stopping and starting again
I dont mind the miles
When im out on the highway
But even when im with you the miles just dont end
And im two days from knowing
Whether I can be strong
If I spend one more night in your arms
So ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure
As the night closes down
It fills the horizon
And stretches it out at the seams
And im not sure if tomorow
Im gonna be any closer
To closing the distance between you and me
And im two days from knowing
Whether I can be strong
If I spend one more night in your arms
So ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure
Well ive a mind to keep going
And drive right past your door
But im two days from knowing for sure
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forest Of Souls
The path was dark and shadowed,
They walked as their children followed.
Through the forest to the feild,
For time they shall not yeild.
Lost souls on their paths to fate,
As the reach eternals gate.
The path was dark and shadowed
They walked on as their children followed
The darkness is overcoming
As if to bow before what they are becoming.
They walk with their eyes ahead,
with nowhere to go but where they are lead.
They walk with family, with lovers,
As the mist lightly huvers
The path was dark and shadowed,
As they walk on with more coming to follow.
Their souls are lost, their hearts are gone,
As they walk through the woods as they walk on.
They carry the memories with them,
They leave all their feelings behind them.
Now they walk as one,
Until all but an empy shell is gone.
The path becomes dark and shadowed,
As more people come to follow.
The souls of men, of people,
As they all come, all the people.
They walk through the forest, through the wood,
Down the path of fate, past where they once stood.
The path is dark and shadowed,
As more and more people follow.
They walk past trees,
And plants and bushes, past all of these.
They walk, an empty shell, their emotions and their being...gone.
The souls walk on.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dyes Cast
Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.
A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.
Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.
Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.
Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.
His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.
The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.
‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’
27 December 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Dark Of The Sun
In the dark of the sun
Will you save me a place
Give me hope, give me comfort
Get me to a better place
Saw you sail across a river
Underneath orions sword
In your eyes there was a freedom
I had never known before
Hey yeah yeah
In the dark of the sun
We will stand together
Yeah we will stand as one
Oh in the dark of the sun
Past my days of great confusion
Past my days of wondering why
Will I sail into the heavens
Constellations in my eyes
Hey yeah yeah
In the dark of the sun
We will stand together
Yeah we will stand as one
Oh in the dark of the sun
Hey yeah yeah
In the dark of the sun
We will stand together
Yeah we will stand as one
Oh in the dark of the sun
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Smothering of Poets
A love which ends badly-
if we let it-
freezes Time;
and we move on
covering it;
leaving it unchanged and unresolved.
We plant the last Kiss
with a question mark
knotted in the Semi-finish..
We drag our Dead Poet Love
into the future
bound and gagged
in the truck of the car
because all past loves
are Dead Poets;
we ignore the muffled cries
in the rear;
drive toward the future
tamping down the present
with a finger
dipped in
past and jaded memory.
We smother old past poets
put them away in the dark closet
because New Love
most often
doesn't share our love of
Former Poetries.
We reel in the Future now
before it is born;
strangled;
we make Hope for New Love
to lie
down in the cold;
but, our warm coat
is in the closet
which means
at odd times
in the chill
we dream of dead poets,
who sometimes
don't remain
dead still
in the trunk of the car
in the closet
in the category
nil.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time Long Past
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past.
A tone which is now forever fled,
A hope which is now forever past,
A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past.
There were sweet dreams in the night
Of Time long past:
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last--
That Time long past.
There is regret, almost remorse,
For Time long past.
'Tis like a child's belovèd corse
A father watches, till at last
Beauty is like remembrance, cast
From Time long past.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sheep
LIKE the slow thunder of long seas on the height
Where God has set no sea,
Voices of folded sheep in the quiet of night
Came on the wind to me.
Like the low murmur of full tide on a beach
Where tide shall never roll,
They sent their mournful, inarticulate speech
Heavily on my soul.
Past is my sorrow, the night past, and the morn
Bright on her golden sills.
Only the hill-fold voices drowsily scorn
The comfort of the hills.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Dog Tray
THE morn of life is past,
And ev'ning comes at last;
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of merry forms I've seen
Upon the village green,
Sporting with my old dog Tray.
Chorus: Old dog Tray's ever faithful; Grief cannot drive him away; He's gentle, he is kind, I'll never, never find A better friend than old dog Tray.
The forms I called my own
Have vanish'd one by one,
The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all pass'd away;
Their happy smiles have flown,
Their gentle voices gone,
I've nothing left but old dog Tray.
Chorus.
When thoughts recall the past,
His eyes are on me cast,
I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say;
Although he cannot speak,
I'll vainly, vainly seek
A better friend than old dog Tray.
Chorus.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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How Shall I Remember You?
How shall I remember you
searching memory’s dark, dry rooms?
Under high ceilings and dim attic lamps
I hear only echoes of my childhood’s lost past.
You’re calling me outside, past the dark screen door
onto the back porch, to watch the gathering evening storm,
and there I see the willow tree, dancing in the wind
its long green leaves thrashing the sky, its supple branches bend
when following its sure, straight path, the lightning struck it down
and, like all things ultimately, smashed it dying into the ground.
Although I’ve searched these dry, long years after both of you had died,
my tears are done, I see the sun, and my flashing anger is now satisfied.
poem by Steven Federle
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