En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Death Of A Song

In the stillness of morning
hangs fog like smoke veils
her waiting in street

I watch my window
wavering shadow
announcing death of a song

poem by R.K. Singh
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The Bell Rings

The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.

Valentine's love song chimes unheard in the ears of the pained.
They walk in stuffy, dry lines behind the moving pyre.
Why are they afraid to cry? Tradition dictates
Happiness.
They are moving to
The next world.
But no one laughs and coincidentally
No one cries
As the slow snake of despair slithers silently to the side of the stream.

The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.

Once a partnership expressed in words, now in emotion.
On this day we have opposites. The smoke rises from the bank
And every man has his head bowed. Every woman out of purile
RESPECT veils their face with mourning.
There
is
a
chain which is now broken.
There was love, there was a song,
Sung by the air, now full of smoke and flames,
Surged by the winds, now carrying her ashes
Now there is sadness and death.

The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.

The lotus trees dip over the side of the river where we used
To meet. There are two spaces on the grass were we sat.
They are empty now. The petals float away, carrying your memories
As the smoke in the air.

The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.

poem by Alex Sigston
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A Radio With Guts

it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.

poem by Charles Bukowski
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Death As Itself

Blowing in the breeze I saw Death
Upon wing like any other bird
But Death was not sing son
Death sang with a dreadful crow!
Death would perch outside my window waiting
ALWAYS waiting
Waiting outside my window
Though always quiet
As if it were listening for something, someone
then, one day, on the Eve of All Hollows
It left with a great flurry and a TERRIBLE cry
It left
Little did I know that it was I it had been waiting for
and it was I who had left in a flurry and a terrible cry
For I am Death as itself

poem by Samantha Rak
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It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

The Reign of Death

Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Valentines Day

She was the color of tv
Her mouth curled under like a metal snake
Although holy wood was sad
Theyd remember this as valentines day
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
I saw that pregnant girl today
She didnt know that it was dead inside
Even though it was alive
Some of us are really born to die
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death

song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentine's Day

She was the color of TV
her mouth curled under like a metal snake
although Holy Wood was sad
they'd remember this as Valentine's day

flies are waiting

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood

I saw that pregnant girl today
she didn't know that it was dead inside
even though it was alive
some of us are really born to die

flies are waiting

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without Someone

I watch the cars move
I watch the lights up on the window
I walk along the street
Im only thinking of you
I watch the clock staring from the wall
It hardly moves at all
Its you Im waiting for.
Chorus:
Without someone I can depend on
Im lost without someone
As I go on, I hope youre remembering Im lost without someone.
All alone, no one around
I watch the shadows falling faster
The city lights begin to glow
And then I start to realize
I count the hours as they slip away
Into another day
Wondering where youll stay.
Repeat chorus
Still watching the cars move
Still watching the lights upon the window
Im walking down the street
Im only thinking of you
I hear the night as it calls to me
It plays a symphony
It says youre gone from me.
Repeat chorus
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saturn Nights

Written by dan peek, 1972
Found on homecoming and highway.
One more song about movin along the highway
Feel the fantasy in the air
(ah -- --)
Filled the room with flowers from norway
Sensed her majesty in the air
Made a sign bove your doorway, to show I care
Ive been waiting every morning
Just to help you find your way
Ive been standing on your corner
(dont go away) dont go away
One more song about movin along the highway
Feel the fantasy in the air
Ive been waiting every morning
Just to help you find your way
Ive been waiting every morning
Help me make it through the day
Ive been waiting every morning
Just to help you find your way
Ive been waiting every morning
Help me make it through the day
Ive been waiting every morning ...

song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Singer

Nay! sing no more thy wild delusive strain
(I heard them say, while I my song pursued),
'Tis but the rage of thy delirious brain
(I heard them say, yet still my song renewed):
Nay! sing no more with reckless, idle breath
Of man immortal and of life to come,
For one brief moment scan the face of death,
Then be thy foolish song for ever dumb;
Behold the dusty ash that once was fire,
And mark the summer leaf in autumn fall,
Watch thou the wavering breath of man expire,
And know that Death hath lordship over all
(I heard them say with many a scornful word,
Yet still sang on as one who nothing heard).

poem by William Gay
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Sunday Morning Silence

It is a December morning,
a Sunday morning silence has descended over all.
The street outside my window is quiet.
A frost has painted everything white.
Winter is now getting us in its grip.
I sit here quietly contemplating
at the brightness of this new day
as my breathe creates little mists
with every breathe I take
and the Sunday morning silence
hangs over everything
awaiting for things to wakeup
and greet another day.

7 December 2008

poem by David Harris
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Evolving Hurts!

evolving hurts,
shedding
...skin,

soul turning colors,
waiting,
...waiting,

for the long cold stillness.

death by death,
learning
...to
.....live,

blow by blow,
till
...the
......shadows
.........d isappear.

left as it began,
no baggage,
...empty hands,

covered by the snow,
long
...stillness
.......to
........ ..spring.

evolving hurts!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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November 28,2007 is the International Day of Stillness: A Poem for the day

'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so well?

Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?

Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.

I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?

Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?

Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;

I sit with the angry and disturbed,
and watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;

I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;

I sit with those who pray or meditate,
as they find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;

I walk in the gardens of the dawn,
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I listen to the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;

Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
May I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guenevere

We had a game
I called her guenevere
And she would always call me galahad
I was her king
She was my queen
My guenevere
The days were warm
The nights were sweet
I didnt think
That something troubling me
My guenevere
You left one night
Farewell guenevere
Where are you
Guenevere come back to camelot
Galahad is waiting
Guenevere come back to camelot
Watch the morning breaking
The city streets
No longer are
The english countryside
They used to be
My armor rusts
My sword is waiting
For guenevere
Where are you
Guenevere come back to camelot
Galahad is waiting
Guenevere come back to camelot
Watch the morning breaking
All the songs
I used to sing
I long to sing
For you
Said in my letter
Write me soon
Im waiting here
My lady
Guenevere come back to camelot
Galahad is waiting
Guenevere come back to camelot
Watch the morning breaking
Guenevere come back to camelot
Galahad is waiting
Guenevere come back to camelot
Watch the morning breaking...

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am... (Bottomless Pool)

i am...
the bottomless pool
at the foot of the cliff,
the moment just before dawn.
the broken window
of the abandoned house,
the tire swing casting shadows.
i am the eyes of god
in the crickets' song,
the shovel caked with dirt.
i am the thrust of the pelvis,
and the death of the soul,
the unseen sweeper of hearts.
i am the tongue that evolves,
the fish that walk on land.
i am the drumbeat of lives remembered.
i am the child we cannot return to,
and the grave waiting in stillness.
i am the crash of ideas,
the eater of thoughts.
i am seaweed in the mouth of the thinker.
i am ears that pray,
and fists that repent,
i am the mark of Cain.
i am the lover your heart desires,
the face of smoke and incense.
i am the cross, and borrowed wings,
i am the webbed feet of ancient longing.
i am the sinner, and the sin,
i am the whole man picking up pieces.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The gliding death angel

Only a dot is caught
in the early morning air
of the eagle
in its morning flight
where almost invisible small
it hangs storeys high
in radial winds
in a little dot against the blue
before with stretched out claws
lightning fast
as a shadow
it falls from heaven
with death
striking in precision.

[Reference: Arend speel doodsengel by Jan Lourens.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Stillness: a Poem for the International Day of Stillness, November 28

'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'

I said to Stillness,
how can you teach me so well?

Stillness said,
By being with you always.

I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?

Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.

I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?

Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?

I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?

Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:

I sit with babies while they smile;

I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;

I sit with the angry and disturbed,
And watch them grow to peace;

I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;

I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;

I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;

I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;

I sit with those who pray or meditate,
and watch them find God in themselves;

I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;

I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I hear the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;

I walk in the gardens of the dawn;
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch.

Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?

I said to Stillness,
may I never leave you.

And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:

‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’

*
(With acknowledgements to Iain Trousdell of New Zealand, whose poem quoted from in the first two lines inspired this extension..)

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Blueberry

INTRO:(PRINCE ITIAL)
Watch it!Watch it!
Daz is coming and there'll be no more waiting
Watch it!Watch it!
Kurupt is coming and there'll be no more waiting
Watch it!Watch it!
Doggystyle is coming and there'll be no more waiting
You might be shooting up close with the Itial ever lose respectin

VERSE 1:(KURUPT)
Now follow me deep in the depths of my mind
Thinkin many plots blossoms how amny times?
I'm sedated my (?conscriptiated?) from beginning
Broke in the bombest weed smoke that will make a nigga choke
To my loccs way down in the Valley deep
To my homies in the Pound from L-ong Beach
To my bulls out in Philly coz all they smoke is phillies
Wit' these silly ass bitches out for a niggas riches
Now really really ever slip or trip
A big shout out to my niggas in ??
I spits the vocabulary to sinks MCs like ships
With my nocturnal rhymes and editorial clips
I gotta click that'll hit you like a thousand volts
The homies catchin cases

song performed by by Snoop Dogg from Tha Doggfather
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Feelings of the Wrong and Innocent Part 1

I cry on a dark night.
In my room looking out the window
Nothing in sight,
Only my reflection out the window
As I cry.

I cry because I'm angry.
I see the boys in the street
With poor innocent ladies,
Scared to death, why?
As I cry.

47th street of Chicago filled with women
Trying to make a living.
They need guidence,
But who when all the women are gone
To takecare of their kids.
In my window I cry.

poem by Paris.O Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thru The Window

Thru the window, I slip away
Into the darkness, time has come
I must use caution, summer nights are here, Ill race for the shadows, Ill make a trail
No one can follow, and all I feel
Is the breeze rushin by my face
Runnin free thru the night in the street
Like it best when I feel the heat
I know my babys waitin just for me
Creepin, thru her neighborhood
I hope nobody, has seen or heard
My intentions, are driven by this flame inside
I see her light on, her silhouettes
In the window, shes waiting for
My arrival, on this summer night
Runnin free thru the night in the street
Like it best when I feel the heat
Runnin free thru the night in the street
I know my babys waiting just for me
Runnin free thru the night in the street
I like it best when I fell the heat, oh yeah
Thru her window, she slips away
I hear her heartbeat
High emotion, takes us where weve never been before

song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under Cover of Night

To slip into your shadow under cover of night.
To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window.
That shadow at the window is you and no one else;
it's you.
Do not open that window behind whose curtains you're moving.
Shut your eyes.
I'd like to shut them with my lips.
But the window opens and the breeze, the breeze
which strangely balances flame and flag surrounds my escape
with its cloak.
The window opens: it's not you.
I knew it all along.

poem by Robert Desnos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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