Daedalus And Icarus
Daedalus says:
Go on sonny but remember that you are walking and not flying
the wings are just an ornament and you are stepping on a meadow
that warm gust is just the humid earth of summer
and that cold one is a brook
the sky is full of leaves and small animals
Icarus says:
The eyes like two stones return straight to earth
and see a farmer who knocks asunder oily till
a grub which wiggles in a furrow
bad grub which cuts the bond of a plant with the earth
Daedalus says:
Sonny this is not true The Cosmos is merely light
and earth is a bowl of shadows Look as here colors play
dust rises from above the sea smoke rises to the sky
of noblest atoms a rainbow sets itself now
Icarus says:
Arms hurt father from this beating at vacuum
legs are getting numb and miss thorns and sharp stones
I cannot keep looking at the sun as you do father
I sunken whole in the dark rays of the earth
Description of the catastrophe:
Now Icarus falls down head first
the last frame of him is a glimpse of a heal childlike small
being swallowed by the devouring sea
Up above the father cries out the name
which no longer belongs to a neck or a head
but only to a remembrance
Commentary:
He was so young did not understand that wings are just a metaphor
a bit of wax and feathers and a contempt for the laws of gravitation
I cannot hold a body at an elevation of a great many feet
The essence of the matter is in having our hearts
which are coursed by heavy blood
fill with air
and this very thing Icarus did not want to accept
let us pray
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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Related quotes
the recent fall of Icarus
i was busy talking to you
about poetry and too sad
we did not bother listening
to the recent fall of Icarus
what i heard later was that
Icarus did not die
He is alive and so thankful
of his melted wax wings
the radar did not detect him
and so here he is knocking
at my door
asking for a little time
to be with us in this
safe house
it was his father who was shot
because he was
shouting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Icarus Did Fall
When Icarus did fall
his wings were scorched,
when Icarus did fall
a bolt of lightning did strike him
in the sea near to a island,
to help him there were nobody
when Icarus did fall
poem by Gert Strydom
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Icarus Fell
Icarus tried to feel wonderful,
He could try at least to fly,
But instigators of happiness were beautiful.
Instead of flight, the tragic became
A comical effect as he flew
And wings were aflutter and warm.
Near the ocean, his Sun was against him,
For dripping was the oil into ocean,
And diving was the maniac, all numb.
Icarus is still aiming for life,
But he sighs and he drowns,
With water as his foe and wife.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
of the year was
awake tingling
near
the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself
sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings' wax
unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The Icarus Of Housewives, Circa 1981
From ashtrays he rises
when birds in backyards
have been fed their seed,
a dove amid the starlings.
In smoke filled stupor we stare.
Icarus climbs our stairs,
waves his muscled arms
in doorways mimicking
the starlings in stocking feet.
He feels his way blindly
down hallways, a whirlwind
of feathers trailing behind.
And one day like any other day,
bedroom windows open,
he is gone into the sun to
make his movements golden,
to steel his flight a monument
of silver in the sky over Cleveland,
over Chicago, the Dakota plains.
And we are still reeling.
Come back.
Come back, Icarus.
Plead our case to the sun
but do not fly too close.
And it is a day like any other day
we lose him to a solar flare.
All our litigation cannot raise him up again,
our curtains closed in protest to the sun.
poem by Warren Falcon
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My Father cuts a Furrow
My father cuts a furrow, true lines does he run,
My father cuts a furrow, no horses did he have,
My father cuts a furrow no fields, hills of grass,
My fathers furrows were wisdom,
This is what he had.
To his dying day his gait was straight and true,
My father was not a farmer, for the city,
All he knew.
As father cut his furrow, so does hit son, I am told,
The wisdom my Father passed on to lay dormant,
Many years, put on hold, not until the age of 78 did
I realize, not much time left, as I too was growing old,
So I write my poetry from my fathers wisdom,
That was willed to me, only way to have my stories told.
As father cut his furrow, so does his son, to pass
The wisdom, that was left from father,
God Bless his soul.
poem by Charles Garcia
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To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well:
larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that feel back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Winged Man
The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits,
The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates,
The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar,
Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar.
There stands the cunning workman, the crafty past all praise,
The man who chained the Minotaur, the man who built the Maze.
His young son is beside him and the boy's face is a light,
A light of dawn and wonder and of valor infinite.
Their great vans beat the cloven air, like eagles they mount up,
Motes in the wine of morning, specks in a crystal cup,
And lest his wings should melt apace old Daedalus flies low,
But Icarus beats up, beats up, he goes where lightnings go.
He cares no more for warnings, he rushes through the sky,
Braving the crags of ether, daring the gods on high,
Black 'gainst the crimson sunset, golden o'er cloudy snows,
With all Adventure in his heart the first winged man arose.
Dropping gold, dropping gold, where the mists of morning rolled,
On he kept his way undaunted, though his breaths were stabs of cold,
Through the mystery of dawning that no mortal may behold.
Now he shouts, now he sings in the rapture of his wings,
And his great heart burns intenser with the strength of his desire,
As he circles like a swallow, wheeling, flaming, gyre on gyre.
Gazing straight at the sun, half his pilgrimage is done,
And he staggers for a moment, hurries on, reels backward, swerves
In a rain of scattered feathers as he falls in broken curves.
Icarus, Icarus, though the end is piteous,
Yet forever, yea, forever we shall see thee rising thus,
See the first supernal glory, not the ruin hideous.
You were Man, you who ran farther than our eyes can scan,
Man absurd, gigantic, eager for impossible Romance,
Overthrowing all Hell's legions with one warped and broken lance.
On the highest steeps of Space he will have his dwelling-place,
In those far, terrific regions where the cold comes down like Death
Gleams the red glint of his pinions, smokes the vapor of his breath.
Floating downward, very clear, still the echoes reach the ear
Of a little tune he whistles and a little song he sings,
Mounting, mounting still, triumphant, on his torn and broken wings!
poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
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O Father
Thus, upon the ground did my body walk
and across the lands did it roam and talk
but O father of my tearing eyes tell me now
what happened to the earth and my old folk
Did my heart astray alone in the darkest way
or did my humble soul denied to remain and stay
but O father of my crying heart tell me then
what happened to the earth and the old way
I see as if my eyes got dropped down on the cheek
or it may be like my sorrows and agony reaching a peak
but O father of my broken back in the dusty past
what happened to the earth that I used to seek
By my own hands my blood did I share freely
in the tubs of wisdom in the rage of the daily
but O father where did my blood now astray
what happened to the earth of the lovely
O father my body got the agony now and then
and my soul tired of roaming and the time is when
O father the time is here and it came to me
where I can raise up and roar outside the den
O father, who was my father through in time
how I wonder what you are and how am I
but O father no time is left to say no time
verily, that's my tomb here, and then I, to goodbye
poem by Taher Shemaly
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My Home Remains Sky
I will not return to earth
Once on the earth and the earth turned me down, only briefly with
I went back to the sky, I'm in heaven where my original
In the sky more beautiful in the sky over calm
Actually I had stayed at home on earth
Even now I miss her
But on earth I could scarcely recognize the permanence
So I'm just one or two times to the earth
I am the son of heaven who loves the sky
High and difficult to reach, or do not think anyone
After the sky I'm difficult and not easy to come back to earth
Only the rain was the tears that tell of the earth
Echoed devastated what is on earth
And I will continue in the sky
Before there was earth is really for me
Earth friendly and beautiful for me
So that's what eternity will tell their own
And we both lost in eternity swallow
Silence swallowed, swallowed by the beauty
Swallowed by time, into the night and day
Swallowed by love and affection both of us forever
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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God Cries Down Over Head-Only After A Renewed Begin.
God cries when droplets of rain water plummet to Earth.
God exhales and blows his breath downward towards Earth, when
windy breezes are given birth.
God only cries with shame for man.
God painted rainbows from palets of colored pacts with man.
God turns up the heat of the Sun when man gets cold.
God opens his arms to man when he wants to welcome his son back
up to his fold and home.
God welcomes his lost sheep back only when man finds his way back
to beliefe in his father.
God does send down to Earth snow and ice from his dissappointed cold heart, only after man erringly errs from God's ways and laws-to sin.
God is the almighty creator and man's own father...
To be forgiven by Him we must all love our fellow man and commit no sin.
So that on judgement day we will be able to anew begin.
poem by Michael Gale
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War Profits
THE horns of the moon are tipped
With pearl. Her lover, wooed
By charms and won, Endymion,
Inherits quietude.
White the gleam
Of the dream
On his eyes.
The horns of the sun are dipt
In ruddy flame that flings
Adventurous young Icarus
To earth on ruined wings.
But he flew,
But he knew
Winds and skies.
Lucifer's horns have a crust
Of gold and topaz gem
On points that thrust to yellow dust
The heart that covets them.
Heed! take heed!
For by greed
Glory dies.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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History Of the Airplane
And the Wright brothers said they thought they had invented
something that could make peace on earth
(if the wrong brothers didn’t get hold of it)
when their wonderful flying machine took off at Kitty Hawk
into the kingdom of birds but the parliament of birds was freaked out
by this man-made bird and fled to heaven
And then the famous Spirit of Saint Louis took off eastward and
flew across the Big Pond with Lindy at the controls in his leather
helmet and goggles hoping to sight the doves of peace but he did not
Even though he circled Versailles
And then the famous Yankee Clipper took off in the opposite
direction and flew across the terrific Pacific but the pacific doves
were frighted by this strange amphibious bird and hid in the orient sky
And then the famous Flying Fortress took off bristling with guns
and testosterone to make the world safe for peace and capitalism
but the birds of peace were nowhere to be found before or after Hiroshima
And so then clever men built bigger and faster flying machines and
these great man-made birds with jet plumage flew higher than any
real birds and seemed about to fly into the sun and melt their wings
and like Icarus crash to earth
And the Wright brothers were long forgotten in the high-flying
bombers that now began to visit their blessings on various Third
Worlds all the while claiming they were searching for doves of
peace
And they kept flying and flying until they flew right into the 21st
century and then one fine day a Third World struck back and
stormed the great planes and flew them straight into the beating
heart of Skyscraper America where there were no aviaries and no
parliaments of doves and in a blinding flash America became a part
of the scorched earth of the world
And a wind of ashes blows across the land
And for one long moment in eternity
There is chaos and despair
And buried loves and voices
Cries and whispers
Fill the air
Everywhere
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Mr. Cogito and the Imagination
Mr. Cogito never trusted
tricks of the imagination
the piano at the top of the Alps
played false concerts for him
he didn't appreciate labyrinths
the Sphinx filled him with loathing
he lived in a house with no basement
without mirrors of dialectics
jungles of tangled images
were not his home
he would rarely soar
on the wings of metaphor
and then he fell like Icarus
into the embrace of the Great Mother
he adored tautologies
explanations
idem per idem
that a bird is a bird
slavery means slavery
a knife is a knife
death remains death
he loved
the flat horizon
a straight line
the gravity of the earth
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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I May Blend With The Red Sky Again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
a sensate object
splashes in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is I
The sea is not green
It is black
I am trying to be
Off-white
for you
To see
But you can’t
You did not try
seeing hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
into a suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blending With The Sky Again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
A splash in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is me
The sea is not green
It is blacker than black
I am trying to be
Off-white for you
To see.
But you can’t
You did not try
Thinking hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
As the suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Story Of OVO
(Only available on some editions)
A long time ago, in a far away land
Theo was the man who learned to understand
The riches of the earth
And all that it was worth
The first man that ever tried to stand with his own plan
Now this man was all about the wind rain and trees
He knew that it would take care of all of his families
Now Ion was the son who spent his nights and days
Looking for all kinds of ways to get his father's praise
In all daddy's ways he just wanted to impress
Make it faster, stronger is what he tried to stress
Sofia was the girl
Living in her own world
She found love and joy with a young sky boy
Sky boys were seen as less to the rest
So it would seem
Sofia went into the woods to daydream
With love in her eyes
Her own father would despise
Her love for the young sky boy he would destroy
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch the world go by
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch as life goes by
When Theo was gone, his son Ion took the power
And in his daddy's name, he built the biggest strongest tower
The earth people and sky people divided by machines
And the ones who had nothing were the ones who had the wings
The sky boy just wanted everything to be equal
From full-time lover to now fighting for his people
Now Beth was the mom
Who really loved to weave
She couldn't believe her own son would decieve
The sky people got hungry and their welfare was ignored
She let them in the tower and the bloody battle roared
Down came iron and the tower fell as well
The dark days were over and the sky people's hell
Feet in the earth
Heads in the sky
We watch the world go by
Feet in the
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indra
DOWN to the sand-covered earth.
Straw from the harvested fields soiled our feet;
Dust from the high-roads,
Smoke from the cities,
Foul-smelling breaths,
Fumes from cellars and kitchens,
All we endured.
Then to the open sea we fled,
Filling our lungs with air,
Shaking our wings,
And laving our feet.
Indra, Lord of the Heavens,
Hear us!
Hear our sighing!
Unclean is the earth;
Evil is life;
Neither good nor bad
Can men be deemed.
As they can, they live,
One day at a time.
Sons of dust, through dust they journey;
Born out of dust, to dust they return.
Given they were, for trudging,
Feet, not wings for flying.
Dusty they grow--
Lies the fault then with them,
Or with Thee?
poem by August Strindberg
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To Be Red
i may blend with the red sky again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
a sensate object
splashes in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is I
The sea is not green
It is black
I am trying to be
Off-white
for you
To see
But you can’t
You did not try
seeing hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
into a suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Honor Our Father! ! !
I remember when I was young,
My New Life with Christ, Just begun,
I became Born-again!
I'll Never forget that day,
When Jesus came in my heart, To Stay!
He's been guiding me all this way,
One day I asked Him'Father, What should I do?
My earthly Dad, wants to be called father too
I know Your Word says, Call No man Father
On Earth, But Only Our Father in Heaven,
You're The Father -of us all, This is True! ! !
Father replied'My Child, You don't understand
'I AM' 'Your Holy Father'
Your earthly father is a Human, man
But You are to Honor Your Father and Mother,
Because that's one of My Commands,
By Honoring them, You also Honor Me!
I appointed Your Parents, to guide You to see,
Jesus! Through Him, You've come to me,
'I AM' The Holy Father, I give Eternal Life!
poem by Patricia Martin
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