Anzio
Sad port of Anzio
you sadden me
Gardens and flowers
bathed in brindisi
melancholy.
Fragola cloud
dissolving around
grotto and villa.
Stone feeding billow
lapping stone.
Sad, strange elegy
of wind and sea-spray
entangled by
gone laughter and
the lovers' cry.
Drowsy rose
abed in salt air
far too heavy for
your stem to bear
with dewy tear.
And you sad, scintillating
scythe of moon,
you ship adrift,
bewitched, without a port
without a home
wound and bless
with homesickness;
chill like a breath
from the vast abyss
my heavy heart.
Sad port of Anzio
into my soul you send
resistless restlessness
and such imperfect peace
that in the end
I'm like a man
in an alien tomb
buried beyond repair
in a foreign land
in a soil not his own.
poem by Robert Dickerson
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Related quotes
Nostalgic wind takes me homebound
Facing strong wind and heavy rain today.
All the vessels in the harbor secured safely.
And the Tugs are in their weather-watch
in case of emergency.
Like a tigress the horrible wind comes
how soft when she is normal
chime like wind bells.
I heard a ship was calling from afar
she is heading to another port
humbly request a shelter in anchorage
until the bad weather get settled.
Though I am alert in the port
I feel like a ship in her pitching & rolling
in the deep sea.
And the the strong wind take me home.
Oh! my loved ones at shore
and I can see them waving happily.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Eavan's Grandma
She feared the women
at the port when her
husband's ship docked
there the port.
She went to the port
to see her husband
each time he arrived
I like the man
and the wife.
'Aren't they
the same kind of girls
anyway? ' he thinks,
she doesn't know it.
(Oct.5,1997)
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Port Adelaide
It is the great City of Port Adelaide
Where heroes are born and legends are made
In the Australian Football League they have their own football team
For to play for Port Adelaide many Port teens do dream.
A place where Indigenous and white Australia meet
And different races live on every street
The Indigenous tribes had their corroborees long ago
By the trees near the banks where the Port waters flow.
Many nineteenth century buildings in Port Adelaide remain
Which one does suppose goes in part to explain
Why so many visitors come to that Town
Port's history is far more than football renown.
The Port river dolphins are famed far and wide
One can see them surface from the harbour side
A tourist attraction and it would be fair to say
That seeing them has made many a vistor's day.
Where the cultures meet Indigenous and European
Port Adelaide a Town where all races are seen
When in South Australia I feel at home there
Few Towns with Port Adelaide can hope to compare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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USS Zydecoldsmobile
You can feel the horses under the hood
Through thick and thin pull us out of the wood
She's the smoothest ride, yeah, you'll ever feel
She's the Delta slide of automobiles
Double clutchin' on the backseat
I hear you, yeah, with your main squeeze
Playing triple row accordian fills
In the USS ZydecOldsmobile
Port of Call Opelousas
Port of Call Lawtell
Port of Call Frilot Cove
In the USS ZydecOldsmobile
Mardi Gras run block the road
Park the car and join the show
Get up on the trunk and dance at will
Aboard the USS ZydecOldsmobile
Port of Call Opelousas
Port of Call Lawtell
Port of Call Frilot Cove
In the USS ZydecOldsmobile
Yeah, Spirit moves through everyone
We have faith and we have fun
God bless the turning wheel
Of my USS ZydecOldsmobile
Port of Call Opelousas
Port of Call Lawtell
Port of Call Frilot Cove
In the USS ZydecOldsmobile
Come ride with me in my ZydecOldsmobile
Double clutchin' with me in my ZydecOldsmobile
Hip shakin' with me in my ZydecOldsmobile
Come ride with me in my ZydecOldsmobile
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Waves At Port Fairy
The white waves at Port Fairy they make a loud din
As on to the long beach the tide does roll in
And the dainty looking silver gulls mew as they fly
As the sun disappears in the gray evening sky
Thousands of centuries before the first Humans came to this great Land
The tide at Port Fairy rolled up the gray sand
Long before the first dinosaurs from their eggs pecked their way free
The huge white waves rolled in the Southern Sea
Though to the Port Fairy locals mine is a strange face
I do feel at home in this beautiful place
The artists have sketched it, the writers of it write
Their stories and poems for to read and recite
A special place to many and a special place to me
Port Fairy where the land does meet with the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The 2010 Port Fairy Music Festival
We are another year older and time is ticking on
And another Music Festival at Port Fairy has come and has gone
Great entertainment for young and for old and for those in their life's prime
And everyone there seemed to have a good time.
In the 2010 Port Fairy Festival some heavy showers of rain
And after an hour the sun shone out again
But this did not dampen the good fun and cheer
Of the Festival with such a great atmosphere.
In port Fairy close to the great City of Warrnambool
The weather it is mostly warm to cool
It is held on the Labor Day Weekend of the Fall
Where a good time is generally had by all.
It brings to people from far and near such great happiness
The 2010 Port Fairy Music Festival another great success
There's music in the festival arenas and music on the street
Where once a year lovers of music do meet.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In my home State of Texas, the Port of Houston operates as the United States' top port for foreign tonnage and our second largest for total tonnage, so I know how important this bill is for the protection of the American people.
quote by Michael McCaul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Best
o
The faithful helm commands the keel,
From port to port fair breezes blow;
But the ship must sail the convex sea,
Nor may she straighter go.
So, man to man; in fair accord,
On thought and will the winds may wait;
But the world will bend the passing word,
Though its shortest course be straight.
From soul to soul the shortest line
At best will bended be:
The ship that holds the straightest course
Still sails the convex sea.
o
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Beautiful Port Fairy
The air is so clean of pollution 'tis free
In Port Fairy the beautiful Town by the sea
With little development it's old charm it retain
You visit it once you will come back again.
They have a huge music festival there once a year
And to it music lovers come from far and near
Musicians from every Land entertain on every street
For three days Port Fairy the place where all cultures do meet.
From Britain and Ireland and Italy and France
The lovers of culture they sing and they dance
Musicians from Africa, Germany, Brazil and Spain
Arrive for the big weekend come sunshine or rain.
Of beautiful Port Fairy 'twould be fair to say
That Utopia from it cannot be far away
It's beautiful beaches the clean ocean air
So few places with it can hope to compare.
The Norfolk pine trees there five or six decades old
One might say a beautiful sight to behold
Just part of Port Fairy's charm and it does seem to me
That Utopia is near to this Town by the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Closer To Home
(m&l - farner)
Everybody listen to me
And return me
My ship
Im your captain
Im your captain
No Im feeling mighty sick
Ive been lost now
Days uncounted
And its months since
Ive seen home
Can you hear me
Can you hear me
Oh am I all alone
If you return me
To my home port
I will kiss you
Mother earth
Take me back now
Take me back now
To the port
Of my birth
To the port
Of my birth
Am I in my cabin dreaming
Or are you really schemeing
To take my ship away from me?
You better think about it
I just cant live without it
So please dont take my ship from me
Yeah yeah yeah
I can feel the hand
Of the stranger
As its tightening
Around my throat
Heaven help me
Heaven help me
Take this stranger
From my boat
Im your captain
Im your captain
Though Im feeling mighty sick
Everybody listen to me
And return me my ship
Im your captain
Yeah yeah yeah, m getting closer to my home
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here I Love You
Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.
The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Port Fairy In Spring
In Port Fairy by the ocean nesting birds chirp and sing
On a sunny day in early September in the early Spring
In a lovely old place on a beautiful day
The Spring is in town for her annual three months stay
In the home gardens and parklands shrubs and trees and flower beds in their flowers
And the coastal lands green after recent Spring showers
In Victoria Spring is such a lovely time of the year
And with each passing day warmer weather is near
The mud nesting magpie larks call out pee wee all day
From Utopia Port Fairy does not seem far away
Near Griffith Island one can hear the ocean's loud din
As the big waves at high tide to the beach rumbles in
In the old coastal town for it's beauty well known
Port Fairy it does have a charm of it's own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Port Burwell
About a quarter of a century ago, when Port Burwell was a
busy, thriving place, several friends accompanied me to
the port to attend a concert, we all being specially invited.
It was in the winter, and there had been a race on the
ice, in which the Port Burwell horse took the lead. We
gave a local piece of some length, but only retain now a
few lines. The people at the concert were highly pleased
with the effusion.
In winter time, who here resort
To pay a visit to your famous port,
They must be clad in fur well,
For it blows cold at Burwell.
But when you wish to trot your horse
You make lake Erie your race course,
And we believe at every heat
All other horses you do beat.
poem by James McIntyre
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Giddy-up
My ship left port without me
and my run has all run out
If my pep were not all petered
I would surely scream and shout
My giddy-up has up-and-gone
with no energy in sight
As inertia's taken over
and momentum's taken flight
Out of gas with spark plugs fouled
I know I'm going nowhere
My engine's stuck in neutral
with my gears all stripped from wear
With gauge on low and not much go
perhaps I'd best not fight it
Instead of run or even walk
it may well be wise to sit
With endurance pushed up to the edge
I need not put it to the test
I could opt for healthy time-out
that would give my self a rest
I believe I'll choose that option
and see where it will lead
And when my ship returns to port
I'll load the energy I need
poem by Mark Bratlie
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The Bonny Port of Sydney
The lovely Port of Sydney
Lies laughing to the sky,
The bonny Port of Sydney,
Where the ships of nations lie.
You shall never see such beauty,
Though you sail the wide world o’er,
As the sunny Port of Sydney,
As we see it from the Shore.
The shades of night are falling
On many ports of call,
But the harbour lights of Sydney
Are the grandest of them all;
Such a city set in jewels
Has ne’er been seen before
As the harbour lights of Sydney
As we see them from the Shore.
I must sail for gloomy London,
Where there are no harbour lights,
Where no sun is seen in winter,
And there are no starry nights;
And the bonny port of Sydney—
I may never see it more,
But I’ll always dream about it
As we view it from North Shore.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Two Children
Heavy hangs the rain-drop
From the burdened spray;
Heavy broods the damp mist
On uplands far away.
Heavy looms the dull sky,
Heavy rolls the sea;
And heavy throbs the young heart
Beneath that lonely tree.
Never has a blue streak
Cleft the clouds since morn;
Never has his grim fate
Smiled since he was born.
Frowning on the infant,
Shadowing childhood's joy
Guardian-angel knows not
That melancholy boy.
Day is passing swiftly
Its sad and sombre prime;
Boyhood sad is merging
In sadder manhood's time:
All the flowers are praying
For sun, before they close,
And he prays too—unconscious—
That sunless human rose.
Blossom—that the west-wind
Has never wooed to blow,
Scentless are thy petals,
Thy dew is cold as snow!
Soul—where kindred kindness,
No early promise woke,
Barren is thy beauty,
As weed upon a rock.
Wither—soul and blossom!
You both were vainly given;
Earth reserves no blessing
For the unblest of heaven!
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winter Rose
Outcast of the Winter wind
A Rose fights for life and lingers on
But a bitter chill-has cast it's fill
And most of the gardens Roses are gone;
But there 'tis one that remains
With a spirit-fighting to the very end
A Rose amongst the snows of time
Embraces the warm of love you send;
So, if you should find yourself missing me
Just look out at the Garden Of Stone
And in the chill of a Winters unforgiving fill
A single Rose stands all alone;
That would be me-waiting still
For the spirit of your warm aura e'er true
Fighting this iced chill-but with a mighty will
This single Rose 'tis waiting for you;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Cares
HAVING certain cares to drown,
To the sea I took them down:
And I threw them in the wave,
That engulfed them like a grave.
Swiftly then I plied the oar
With a light heart to the shore.
But behind me came my foes:
Like a nine-days’ corpse each rose,
And (a ghastly sight to see!)
Clutched the boat and grinned at me!
With a heavy heart, alack,
To the land I bore them back.
Not in Water or in Wine
Can I drown these cares of mine.
But some day, for good and sure,
I shall bury them secure,
Where the soil is rich and brown,
With a stone to keep them down,
And to let their end be known,
Have my name carved on the stone;
So that passers-by may say,
“Here lie cares that had their day,”
And sometimes by moonlight wan,
I may sit that stone upon—
With a spectre’s solemn phlegm—
In my shroud, and laugh at them;
Or—who knows, when all is said?—
Maybe weep because they’re dead.
poem by Victor James Daley
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The Norfolk Pine Of Port Fairy
'Tis said they grow more than a metre each year
And they do seem to have grown since I was last here
The Norfolk Island pine of Port fairy they tower over all
Beside them most other trees look rather small.
Though not quite as tall as the mountain ash tree
They seem to grow well in the Towns by the sea
On either side of the streets by Griffith Island tall and evergreen
These beautiful trees in their dozens are seen.
As a feature of the Town in the Coastal Countryside
The norfolk pine of Port Fairy have become known far and wide
They do look quite graceful for want of a better name
And without them Port Fairy would not look the same.
A feature of Port Fairy for visitors to recall
The evergreen norfolk pine trees stand graceful and tall
Nature's beauty at her finest for Nature lovers to see
On either side of the streets that lead down to the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Amsterdam
This song was first released on the take me to tomorrow album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Of the dreams that he brings from the wide open sea
In the port of amsterdam theres a sailor who sleeps
While the river bank sweeps to the old willow tree
In the port of amsterdam theres a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries in a drunkin down fight
But in the port of amsterdam theres a sailor whos bom
On a muggy, hot mom by the dawns early light
In the port of amsterdam where the sailors all meet
Theres a sailor who eats only fish heads and tails
He will show you his teeth that have rotted too soon
That can swallow the moon that can haul up the I sails
And he asks to the cook with his amms open wide
Bring me more fish, put it down by my side
And he wants so to belch, but hes too full to try
So he gets up and he laughs, and he zips up his fty
In the port of amsterdam you can see sailors dance
Haunches bursting their pants, binding women to paunch
Theyve forgotten the tune that their whiskey voice croaks
And their splitting the night with the roar of their jokes
And they tum and they dance and they laugh and they lust
To the rats it sounds of the accordion burst
Then hes out into the night with their pride in their pants
With a slut that they tow undemeath the street lamps
In the port of amsterdam theres a sailor who drinks
And he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks once again
He drinks to the health of the whores of amsterdam
Who have promised their love to a thousand other men
And they darken their bodies, and their virtue long gone
For a few dirty coins
And then when he cant go on
He plants his nose in the sky
And he wipes it up above
And he spits like to cry for an unfaithful love
In the port of amsterdam, in the port of amsterdam
In the port of amsterdam
Words and music by brel - shuman
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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