By the Road to the Air Base
The calloused grass lies hard
Against the cracking plain:
Life is a grayish stain;
The salt-marsh hems my yard.
Dry dikes rise hill on hill;
In sloughs of tidal slime
Shellfish deposit lime,
Wild seafowl creep at will.
The highway, like a beach,
Turns whiter, shadowy, dry:
Loud, pale against the sky,
The bombing planes hold speech.
Yet fruit grows on the trees;
Here scholars pause to speak;
Through gardens bare and Greek
I hear my neighbor's bees.
poem by Yvor Winters
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The Mission
I open up my head
Inside I find another person's mind
I'm gonna take this chance I've got
I run denying as we speak
Hiding my face among the weak
Some say their day is all away
Into the wild
I'm with a mission
Over the hill
Come here with me
Into the wild
Into the wild
High above the serpentine
I cross below the well-worn lines
Entangled in a missing memory
I find an oversight
I formed this sword that will give rise
To something the world is here to seize
Into the wild
Into the wild
Into the wild
I'm with a mission
Over the hill
Come here with me
Into the wild
I'm with a mission
Over the hill
Come here with me
song performed by by 30 Seconds To Mars from 30 Seconds To Mars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Water Chariot
Sky lies inside the Sky
Welkin lies inside the welkin
Carried away by
Water Chariot
Sun lies inside the sun
Moon lies inside the moon
Carried away by
Water chariot
Mountain lies inside the mountain
Hill lies inside the hill
Carried away by
Water chariot
Womb lies inside the womb
Life lies inside the life
Carried away by
Water chariot
Green inside the green
Breath lies inside the breath
Carried away by
Water chariot
Shore filled and slept,
To him
Water chariot
Like this…
Ascent the water chariot
Passing with elegance
Unattainable sun
Smiling moon
Chattering stars…
Grown Hill, Frazzle Rock
Planted Trees, Blossom Flowers
Adoring bees…
Radiant dhub grass
Young male-female
Grown-up, languish, perished
Dread umbrage vanished
Delighted milestone
Passed, this Water chariot
Sally pleasure trip …
This Life’s chorus
Rotating carnival
Even for Midge
Its own share…
This way…
Ascent the water chariot
Pass with Splendor.
poem by Kavitha Rai
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Neighbor, Neighbor
Neighbor, neighbor, why you messin in my life?
Neighbor, neighbor, youve been talkin to my wife,
Tellin her you seen me
Runnin wild the other night,
Runnin wild the other night.
A neighbor, neighbor, theress always one in every crowd.
A neighbor, neighbor, tellin lies and talkin loud.
You better watch your step now.
You might fall off your cloud.
You might fall off your cloud.
Now I was walking down a dusty road
When along came a neighbor of mine.
He saw me walkin with my head hung down,
He just had to stop and pass the time.
Neighbor, neighbor, floatin in the salty brine.
Floatin in the salty brine.
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Differences
My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell,
My neighbor must look down on me,
Must I look up?--ah, well,
My neighbor lives on the hill,
And I in the valley dwell.
My neighbor reads, and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot,
And sing like a bird when the grass is green
In my small garden plot;
But ah, he reads and prays,
And I--I laugh, God wot.
His face is a book of woe,
And mine is a song of glee;
A slave he is to the great 'They say,'
But I--I am bold and free;
No wonder he smacks of woe,
And I have the tang of glee.
My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I;
'Why take your books and take your prayers,
Give me the open sky;'
My neighbor thinks me a fool,
'The same to yourself,' say I.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Bucket of Water
carrying a bucket of water
up a hill... careful not to spill.
whose life will i come
in contact with today?
and what kind of impact
will i make?
do i do enough?
or am i deluding myself?
do i really care?
or am i just going
through the motions?
when someone talks,
do i listen?
when i listen,
do i really hear?
when someone is hurting,
do i feel it?
or am i so hardened
and calloused from the battles,
that i dont really feel
much of anything?
when someone else needs,
do i take the time to really
be there?
or am i so blind
that i just walk by?
when this day is over,
will i really have lived
every moment?
hard questions you ask yourself...
carrying a bucket of water
up a hill...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Linda And Friends' Hampton Beach Gardens
Crimson,
Sun yellow,
Fairy rose pink,
Blue, Paris lavender
And soft white -
Colors are afloat!
Some rippling flowers
At Hampton Beach
Bloom in roadside island gardens
And in their own rowboats.
The flowers
And more blossoms, too,
Welcome sandy feet, sea gulls,
And sailing butterflies alike.
The beach blossoms
Hold pure sunshine,
Delighting all ages,
From the very old
To little tykes.
How the bright petals shine
During a magical day
By the seashore
In the summery sun!
It is fun to see the beach gardens' treasures
Blooming
Around magnificent Happy Hampton!
Once the spots where the pretty flowers
Now catch the sunbeams
Were just plain dirt
Or bare, hard concrete.
Today the shimmery flowers,
Bringing joyful tidings,
Have our families and friends
To greet.
poem by Gayle Sweeney
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The Hill
Who are those people
living at the top of the hill?
I don't know them.
I guess I never will.
Who are the people
that I see
living at the bottom of the hill
just like me?
We are the complainers
and we find it odd
that the ones at the top of the hill
think they're God.
We need to stop complainin'
and climb up the hill
and shout out loud
'We've had our fill.'
You're not Gods.
You never have been,
These hills where you're livin'
are filled with sin.
You've sinned against humanity
at the bottom of the hill.
And all that you'; ve done
is against God's will.
You're the imposters
with crowns on your head.
You are the laughables
that have been misled.
We, at the bottom of the hill
always will survive.
We'll do what we've always done
to keep our hopes alive.
We will pray.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Little Hill
Oh, here the air is sweet and still,
And soft's the grass to lie on;
And far away's the little hill
They took for Christ to die on.
And there's a hill across the brook,
And down the brook's another;
But, oh, the little hill they took,—
I think I am its mother!
The moon that saw Gethsemane,
I watch it rise and set:
It has so many things to see,
They help it to forget.
But little hills that sit at home
So many hundred years,
Remember Greece, remember Rome,
Remember Mary's tears.
And far away in Palestine,
Sadder than any other,
Grieves still the hill that I call mine,—
I think I am its mother!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Somewhere They Can Find Me
I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me, asleep with the night
And her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
Oh baby, you don't know what I've done
I've committed a crime, I've broken the law
While you were here sleeping and just dreaming of me
I held up and robbed a liquor store
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
Oh my life seems unreal, my crime an illusion
A scene badly written in which I must play
And though it puts me uptight to leave you
I know it's not right to leave you
The morning is just a few hours away
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Look At Nature's Magnificent Painting
i see a slope of a hill filled with trees
and grass
a pathway of human footprints
climbs the hill in concentric circles
a man leads his ass
carrying a bundle of clothes
a pregnant woman follows him
above them is the full moon
on the top of the hill is a little house
roof of hay and walls of bamboos
a tiny light flickers on the window
it is wrapped by the coldness of the wind
and somewhere you feel
a certain orifice
of hope
you cannot just pinpoint exactly where
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Renaissance Man
Well I told you about the forest and trees and the chlorophyll green
Yes I told you the birds will endure flutter wings dance on leaves
Hold onto dreams, hold onto dreams tonight
Well I told you about the high pressure cell coming down on the breeze
And I know that the things you cant see they are hard to believe
Hold onto dreams, hold onto dreams tonight
A new world order has been formed
Between the cheque book and the dawn
A new renaissance man is born
Renaissance man are you ready
Renaissance man
Renaissance man are you ready
See what a world that you can make
Well I heard about the spirit of life is it flickering still
Yes I heard that the dark bellied angels come running up the hill
Hold onto dreams, hold onto dreams tonight
Smash and grab the women and child
All the souls are growing wild
Stripped so bare well the universe stares
Its so close to home that we got to share with you
So many genuine things surround you
Wild weather man well it still confounds you
Cast away the greed and death machine and bytes
And abacus and lights and hold onto your dreams tonight
So you found a hard won friend
To hold your hand and hold your head
A new renaissance to defend
Hold onto dreams, hold onto dreams tonight
Where are we going to be, in 3033
Whats spinning round your brain
Are you a renaissance man or are you a renaissance woman
If you jump out an angel will give you wings
(moginie/garrett/rotsey)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seasons In The Sun
Goodbye my friend its hard to die
when all the birds are singing in the sky
And all the flowers are everywhere
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I'll be there
Goodbye, Papa, please play for me.
I was the black sheep of the family.
And I don't know the ... all these words.
I have boggy turds.
With my B.B. gun I would kill birds.
We had joy. We had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the hills that we climb
were just seasons out of time.
All our lives, we had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the hill that we reached
were just starfish on the beach
Goodbye Michelle my little one
I was the apple of the shiny sun.
And la la la la hill we reach.
All my tears are salty.
I think now I will start to read.
We had joy. We had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the hills that we climb
were just seasons out of time.
We had joy. We had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the hill on the beach
were just starfish on the beach
We had joy. We had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the hills that we climb
were just seasons out of time.
I've had joy. We had fun.
We had seasons in the sun,
but the stars that we reached
were just starfish on the beach
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Childhood Days I Pick Lilies In The Marsh [2]
In my childhood days I picked lilies in the marsh
where the highway now runs almost into eternity
while only cars do pass on the road.
Laid dry, barren and destroyed is the marsh land that I did love
and selfish gain circles out wider while nature is distorted
where the highway now runs almost into eternity
and the plain is full of offices and factories that pushed it aside
and I search for something that can keep the untouchedness
and selfish gain circles out wider while nature is distorted,
there is smoke that like a blanket folds from above over everything
while on the sidewalk there is a marigold
and I search for something that can keep the untouchedness
and notices a flower that grows wild right through the concrete,
and I see no coots or plovers calling
while on the sidewalk there is a marigold
amongst the crowding of people of the one or other group.
In my childhood days I picked lilies in the marsh
and I see no coots or plovers calling
while only cars do pass on the road.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Orchid Atop The Manipal Hill!
Blossomed an Orchid, atop a small hill!
Amidst wild grass, shrubs and wild life that kill;
The hill-top’s plateau underwent much change,
In a short span of time, in varied range;
The landscape into a township became,
The wilderness vanished, buildings came;
Made from the hill’s laterite, rose to fame,
And etched for itself an especial name!
It was harder than the hardest known brick;
The local manpower built it up quick;
No longer did the Tigers, Leopards prowl;
Nor could you hear the Hyena’s howl!
A Citadel had sprung up on the hill;
Just one man’s missionary zeal, vision still;
Did make this amazing reality,
Happen with his unique effort, mighty;
A medical-man turned business-man!
The pioneer of the Manipal-group
Of Educational Institutions;
Who broke records with his string of ventures,
An achievement rare for an Indian.
Over-looking the Arabian sea,
Now stands the esteemed M.A.H. E.;
Where the low hill came to its end-point,
Rose in leaps and bounds, a family-joint!
From the poor man’s pittance saved,
The Syndicate Bank’s foundation was paved;
Some acres of land were purchased for use,
To house the many Institutes;
The whole venture was made self-sufficient;
By the money, the Bank wisely lent;
The hill was reclaimed from its landscape wild,
It was the great TMA Pai’s brain-child!
This ORCHID blossoms on Manipal-hill,
Of beauty and splendour, unequalled still!
poem by John Celes
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Under the Shadow of Kiley's Hill
This is the place where they all were bred;
Some of the rafters are standing still;
Now they are scattered and lost and dead,
Every one from the old nest fled,
Out of the shadow of Kiley's Hill.
Better it is that they ne'er came back --
Changes and chances are quickly rung;
Now the old homestead is gone to rack,
Green is the grass on the well-worn track
Down by the gate where the roses clung.
Gone is the garden they kept with care;
Left to decay at its own sweet will,
Fruit trees and flower-beds eaten bare,
Cattle and sheep where the roses were,
Under the shadow of Kiley's Hill.
Where are the children that strove and grew
In the old homestead in days gone by?
One is away on the far Barcoo
Watching his cattle the long year through,
Watching them starve in the droughts and die.
One, in the town where all cares are rife,
Weary with troubles that cramp and kill,
Fain would be done with the restless strife,
Fain would go back to the old bush life,
Back to the shadow of Kiley's Hill.
One is away on the roving quest,
Seeking his share of the golden spoil;
Out in the wastes of the trackless west,
Wandering ever he gives the best
Of his years and strength to the hopeless toil.
What of the parents? That unkempt mound
Shows where they slumber united still;
Rough is their grave, but they sleep as sound
Out on the range as in holy ground,
Under the shadow of Kiley's Hill.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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At Evening Time There Shall Be Light
THE day was wild with wind and rain,
One grey wrapped sky and sea and shore,
It seemed our marsh would never again
Wear the rich robes that once it wore.
The scattered farms looked sad and chill,
Their sheltering trees writhed all awry,
And waves of mist broke on the hill
Where once the great sea thundered by.
Then God remembered this His land,
This little land that is our own,
He caught the rain up in His hand,
He hid the winds behind His throne,
He soothed the fretful waves to rest,
He called the clouds to come away,
And, by blue pathways, to the west,
They went, like children tired of play.
And then God bade our marsh put on
Its holy vestment of fine gold;
From marge to marge the glory shone
On lichened farm and fence and fold;
In the gold sky that walled the west,
In each transfigured stone and tree,
The glory of God was manifest,
Plain for a little child to see!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Helmsman
O be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
We fled inland with our flocks.
we pastured them in hollows,
cut off from the wind
and the salt track of the marsh.
We worshipped inland—
we stepped past wood-flowers,
we forgot your tang,
we brushed wood-grass.
We wandered from pine-hills
through oak and scrub-oak tangles,
we broke hyssop and bramble,
we caught flower and new bramble-fruit
in our hair: we laughed
as each branch whipped back,
we tore our feet in half-buried rocks
and knotted roots and acorn-cups.
We forgot—we worshipped,
we parted green from green,
we sought further thickets,
we dipped our ankles
through leaf-mould and earth,
and wood and wood-bank enchanted us—
and the feel of the clefts in the bark,
and the slope between tree and tree—
and a slender path strung field to field
and wood to wood
and hill to hill
and the forest after it.
We forgot—for a moment
tree-resin, tree-bark,
sweat of a torn branch
were sweet to taste.
We were enchanted with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass—
in the shorter grass—
we loved all this.
But now, our boat climbs—hesitates—drops—
climbs—hesitates—crawls back—
climbs—hesitates—
O, be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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