Equilibrium: Part Iii
Through the darkling hallways
at an interval before nightfall,
he plods along in solitude
without a sound,
his arctic facade
an elegy to Spring
as he carries
his spendthrift youth
to the water's edge.
Yet stamina swells
with each movement
toward the black sea line.
He comes to know
laughter once more,
avers exuberance,
collects sargasso, shells, driftwood,
Nature's invincibility;
and eventually, altogether filled,
streams forth once more
- a young boy
flowing green along the sand,
within him a stronger man
exploring a lusher conscience.
May 26,2008
GWG
poem by Gregory Wm. Gunn
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A Country Path in Late Spring
The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.
And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.
Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.
Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.
Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring nature nature spring; spring nature nature spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Days of Spring Are Near
The days of spring are near
With the flowing water around
In every heart of youth to steer
That still with the winter's bound
So lovely as each loneliness
And black as rocks in the hills
These condense come with caress
As water splashes and spills
The youth of new springtime's here
Is in every life and brawl
Where the falls shall touch and bear
In its freshness of its early call
And bring mystics wind to blow
While the leaves are becoming green
Away is then all winter's snow
With the life's sullenness between
The days of spring thoughts steer
Into the young days fairly bright
And become here free everywhere
With returning of our summer light
To lift the hearts to higher grounds
And there bring us peace of mind
Fill up the air with springtime sounds
Leaving the dusky diffuses behind
(*never since the middle summer's spring, met we— Shakespeare [I could also use 'freedom' instead of 'spring'])
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Good day, this is music of millions
Do not look for anything faster.
Do not look for anything stronger.
Under the cape of happiness
magical sound carres us.
Sound that carries like the wind
carries desert sand.
Sound which a summer day
brings to an autumn night.
Into dreary autumn
it brings spring breath.
Breath which lifts us
Between the sky and the earth.
Breath which lasts
Like neverendng music.
The music of millions becomes
Our eternal day.
Good day, my dear.
This is Paco de Lucia.
This is Tango Flamenco.
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Ocean Breakers
She went to water;
she always did.
The heaving ocean
matched her heavy breathing;
it was a Ocean of Tears
like hers.
The swells crash
against the shore
relentlessly;
life was relentless too.
The foam;
Anger in the Water that day.
She went to water
she always did,
moving among the sand dunes,
face against the wind.
The sea gulls overhead;
caw! caw! caw!
She lifts her arms,
the wind blows her sleeves
making a flapping sound;
she could hear whispers
between the breakers,
she could hear weeping
among the retreating waves.
She stood there
on the Edge of Forever.
There is no end to the ocean.
Every day it calls to the Sun
and makes it rise.
.
Every night it extinguishes it.
She could walk to China;
she could
and no one would know;
no one would know.
The voice said
'I thought I would find you here'
Waves crashing
more soothing now
two tracks in the sand.
Sad swells
rise again
and retreat;
time and ocean breaks
bring them back together again.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Water's Edge
Wet salt sand, water’s edge
Rushing sound of surf and rolling sea.
As if each wave were a deep deep breath
And the surt but a gentle exhalation
The breeze light over the ocean arriving from who knows where
With messages of calm.
The sun playing games with the fragile whisps of clouds
Hide and seek, catch me if you can games
And the smells and the scents and fragrances
Telling of the world beyond and along and backing onto that shore line.
Messages not in a bottle but of the world
The world of the gentle and the strong
Of the motionless and the moving
Where a simple line marks out clear
What is far and what is near.
Gazing out to sea
Just me
And the shore
And the water’s edge
And the sun
And the breeze
And the swirl of senses
That chase clouds and roll and rush and whisper
At that wet salt sand water’s edge
This all comes to me.
poem by David Keig
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Lines For A Taoist Adept
My friend lives high on East Mountain.
His nature is to love the hills and gorges.
In green spring he sleeps in empty woodland,
Still there when the noon sun brightens.
Pine-tree winds to dust his hair.
Rock-filled streams to cleanse his senses.
Free of all sound and stress,
Resting on a wedge of cloud and mist.
A Duet
'FLOWERS nodding gaily, scent in air,
Flowers posied, flowers for the hair,
Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare----'
'O pick me some!'
'Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum,
Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper Come,
Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb----'
'O let me hear.'
'Eyes so black they draw one trembling near,
Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear,
Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear----'
'O look at me!'
'Kisses sadly blown across the sea,
Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free,
Bob-a-cherry kisses 'neath a tree----'
'O give me one!'
Thus sand a king and queen in Babylon.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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Kahe Ri Nalini Tu Kumlahni...
When glacier recedes,
Your eyes start flowing,
and by the swollen river
an island is swallowed up.
You swim from the lake to the shore
of grief to err again.
Water was your home,
water is your life.
Soft marble swells up in deep crevices
of brain, shaking the foundation of
thoughts, naked as it is.
The fog sleeps on the sea for eternity.
The wrath of sky will burn the skeletons
buried in sand.
Summer will bring the violence.
You cry for forgotton greens,
and kelp and sailing ships
full of hops.
When the hymn recedes,
your eyes start flowing.
* A line from one of Kabir’s famous poems which means ‘O lotus! why thou witherest thus...’
poem by Satish Verma
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My Young Beloved's Bag
my young beloved's bag is very big
as a fashı on nowadays in young girls
hanging on the shoulder
usually black
like the soldier boots she puts on
that she used to boot me
sometimes in anger
what are there inside the black big bag
you can never guess
she carries everything in it
as the mall she works in
sometimes she puts the mall key in
because she is very secure
and tough
the bag is as if all her life
first comes the cell-phone
though she cannot find it easily
then her loved ones
sometimes she hides them in it
whom she wants to hide even from me
tjen tweezers
a lot of maje ups
sometimes even shoers and slippers
may be abottle of rose water
or a bottle of drinking water
toothpastes..pads..tooth brushes
even cleaning papers, napkins, toı let papers,
lipsticks, boxes of creams, balms, clippers
my young is lş ike the mall she works in
what eles are there in the black bag
you can never guess
varı ous and any kinds of several things
you caN NEVER İ MAGİ NE
or can imagine
even she wants to park her car in it
but there is no room for the car yet
because she carries me in her black big bag too
and locks me there
in case ı can escape and leave her lonely
never the less
ı know
she loves me most
above everything
in her bag
she bears me and carries me everywhere
poem by Metin Sahin
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Early Works - Oh To Be
Oh, to be at home again,
where lilies lie in fields
and larks fly overhead
while the sun warms each dropp of dew.
Oh, to be a child once more
in the spring of ones youth
to know the innocence of nature
in pastures always green.
Oh to see the green grass laze
as a breeze blows it to and fro
and know the perfume scent of flowers
along the hedgerows where they grow.
Oh, to be able to turn back the clock
that has too many times chimed,
and go back to our youth
of cartoons and nursery rhymes.
Oh, to be what will never be again
is and old mans plaintive joy
with wistful bouts of imagination
he wishes he were once more a boy.
10 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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When I Was Young
(e. burdon, d. briggs)
Producer: carter
Album: the collected recordings (94), private dancer emi centenary edition (96)
B-side of the better be good to me single
The rooms were so much colder then
My father was a soldier then
The times were very hard
When I was young
When I was young
I smoked my first cigarette at ten
And for boys I had a bad yen
I had quite a ball
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young it was more important
Pain more painful, the laughter much louder, yeah
When I was young
When I was young
I met my first love at thirteen
He was brown, and I was pretty green
I learned quite a lot
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young it was more important
Pain more painful, the laughter much louder, yeah
When I was young
My faith was so much stronger then
I believed in fellow men
I was so much older then
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Castles Made Of Sand
Down the street you can hear her scream
You're a disgrace as she slams the door
in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
and all the neighbors start to gossip and drool
He cries oh girl you must be mad
What happened to the sweet love you and me had
Against the door he leans and start a scene
and his tears fall and burn the garden green
And so castles made of sand
fall in the sea
eventually
A little Indian brave who before he was ten
played wargames in the woods with his Indian friends
And he built a dream that when he grew up
he would be a fearless warrior Indian chief
Many moons past and more the dream grew strong
until tomorrow he would sing his first war song
and fight his first battle
but something went wrong
surprise attack killed him in his sleep that night
And so castles made of sand
fall in the sea
eventually
There was a young girl
whose heart was a frown
'cause she was crippled for life
and she couldn't speak a sound
and she wished and prayed
she could stop livin'
so she decide to die
She drew her wheelchair to the edge of the shore
and to her legs she smiled
You won't hurt me no more
But then a sight she'd never seen made her jump and say
Look a golden winged ship is passing my way
And it really didn't have to stop
It just kept on going
And so castles made of sand
slips into the sea
eventually
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Water's Edge
At the water’s edge, I stop and stand for a while.
Lost in thought, my face wears a hint of a smile.
Chalky cliffs are covered with a white, misty veil;
To spot them, in the distance, you could almost fail.
Across the sea’s surface, waves restlessly roam;
They break, and create lots of thick, frothy foam.
The water laps against the shore in a wavy line;
The lines of land and sea, are difficult to define.
My toes sink deep into the dark, sodden sand,
At the very point, where the sea meets the land.
The sand is peppered with pebbles and sea shells.
Nearby, I hear a child’s excited squeals and yells.
I scoop up a handful of water: it’s as cold as ice;
It sparkles in the sunlight, which looks rather nice.
Salty seawater rains down from my frozen fingers;
Suspended in mid air, for a split second, it lingers.
Under the sultry sun, the sea glimmers and glistens.
To the seagulls’ rowdy, raucous cries, I love to listen.
Being barefooted by the water’s edge is so very tactile;
The joy experienced is the same for both man and child.
Looking back up the beach, I spy the silken sand dunes;
When walked upon, the sands sing, and play little tunes.
I love being by the sea; I love the sights and the sounds;
Being by the sea, is one of the best ever feelings around.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Change Of Color Of The Wind And The Sun
earlier there is this color of comfort
soft light spreading on the grass
pastel green to light green and then
deeper, like a pond covered with
floating moss
stone coated with greenish
river and driftwood floating
in silence
i sit patiently waiting for the coming of the changes
faint light getting stronger the sun rises from the twin peaks
peeping tom between two breasts of green hills
light spreads getting stronger
the lady walking on the path begins to wear her turban
noonday, the shadow becomes short and compressed
flashed against a rock
scorched the grasses stiffen short of the water
the moisture is gone
and then the hot air reigns
there is this silence that keeps running
to the places of the heart
fanning leaves comforting a grieving
man under a mango tree
someone left him
someone is shattered like a very dry leaf
crumpled and cracked and calling for help
the plain is dry and wide
there is no shadow of a horse coming
on the other side of the road
far to the edge of the mirage
there are only watery illusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Castles Made Of Sand
Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually
A little indian brave who before he was ten,
Played wargames in the woods with his indian friends
And he built up a dream that when he grew up
He would be a fearless warrior indian cheif
Many moons past and more the dream grew strong until
Tomorrow he would sing his first warsong and fight his first battle
But something went wrong, surprise attack killed him in his sleep that night
And so castles made of sand melts into the sea, eventually
There was a young girl, whos heart was a frown
cause she was crippled for life,
And she couldnt speak a sound
And she wished and prayed she could stop living,
So she decided to die
She drew her wheelchair to the edge of the shore
And to her legs she smiled you wont hurt me no more
But then a sight shed never seen made her jump and say
Look a golden winged ship is passing my way
And it really didnt have to stop, it just kept on going...
And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Lay With You
Love on one hand
Laughter on the other
To have both in one lifetime
Bliss finds its guideline
Songs of the nightingale
Echo spring's daffodils
Purple irises stood still
They and I listen at will
Kaleidoscope décor
From nature's score
Green eyed mascara streams
Red poppies frame my dreams
Paintings in indigo
Capture Monet's faces
Limoges porcelains vases
Adorn their graces
From the wings of love
Spring borrows its brush
Its canvas masterpiece
God's centerpiece
My vision evolving
My heart revolving
Beauty eyes of May
Temper nature's way
Side by side
I lay with you
Of love and rapture
My poem I capture
Nature charms my thankful eye
Nature serenades all my whys
Why ask what is nature's purpose?
I dwell in God's churches
poem by leaking Pen
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I Had Been To This Sea Sometime Before (Catena Rondo)
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
it had been on a tranquil summer day,
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
while a tiny boat rocks upon the wake
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
before deeper in the water we both dare,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
while you smile in a way that I adore
we hear the thundering on a distant shore
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
while you smile in a way that I adore,
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
trying to find a way back, a way to go,
while you smile in a way that I adore
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while still together we do struggle on
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are trying to get back, to be free,
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
hear the engine of a fishing boat run
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
as we both stagger out upon a beach
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently;
a rich boat owner looks at you, smiles at me,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently,
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
but still we are in a world our very own
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
I had been to this sea sometime before,
while we kiss each other and kiss some more;
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
it had been on a tranquil summer day;
I had been to this sea sometime before.
poem by Gert Strydom
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This Is No Fish Story
We had been up and down Redwood Creek
For what seemed to me to be all day
Watching my grandfather fish for salmon
We started at the mouth of the river
Hiked over sand rocks and slippery green moss
The only reason I was there was
The fried chicken and potato salad
My grandmother made the night before
Lunch seemed so far away
My grandfather was out of sight
He had worked his way upstream
When we heard him yell 'FISH ON! '
My grandmother who had been hanging back with me
Left me in the sand
I had to move fast to catch up
Moving around large pieces of driftwood
He had certainly hooked something
His rod bending if half then straightening
As he let line out
With the reel's drag on
I knew how to fish
I just didn't like to
I had no patience
I wasn't like bird hunting
If I got bored bird hunting
When I was by myself
With just my dog
I could take a shot anyway
Just for practice
To get the dog used to the noise
Because I had no patience
At the age of twelve
I had never seen so much line out before
He kept backing further up the wide beach
It looked to me as if the fish knew the way
And was headed back to the ocean
Hook in his mouth
My guess was he was no longer
In the mood for spawning
He had my grandfather on
Nothing personal on either side
My grandfather wanted to land the salmon
The salmon it appeared wanted
My grandfather in the water
This primal tug of war
Went on for some time
The salmon tried everything
It tried going behind submerged trees
It woud take a run
Straight at the beach
My grandfather reeling in the slack
As fast as he could
The salmon would then jump high
Doubling back away yanking on the line
Trying to dislodge the hook
Or snap the line (he'd been on before)
They were both getting tired
My grandfather timed the next
Pull on his fishing rod
With the jump of the salmon
Too close to shore this time
The beast was on the beach in front of me
My grandfather was still reeling in line
He knew it wasn't landed yet
He was hollering for my grandmother
To grab a piece of driftwood
To club the monster
Who was glaring at me with one eye
His other eye was in the sand
My grandfather's shinning metal lure
Stuck out of a bloody mouth
Gills were grasping for oxygen in dry air
I swear I saw in that eye the reflection
Of my grandmother running
A hunk of driftwood in hand
The eye saw it too
With one last flop like a large wrestler
Just before the count of three
He went up into the air
Snapped the line hit the water and was gone
I'm not sure what pound test the line was
Whatever it was it wasn't enough
My gandfather's favorite lure
With his hand-tied leader
Were following their catch
As fast as they could
Not knowing it was they
That had been caught
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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To A Mountain Spring
Strange little spring, by channels past our telling,
Gentle, resistless, welling, welling, welling;
Through what blind ways, we know not whence
You darkling come to dance and dimple--
Strange little spring!
Nature hath no such innocence,
And no more secret thing--
So mysterious and so simple;
Earth hath no such fairy daughter
Of all her witchcraft shapes of water.
When all the land with summer burns,
And brazen noon rides hot and high,
And tongues are parched and grasses dry,
Still are you green and hushed with ferns,
And cool as some old sanctuary;
Still are you brimming o'er with dew
And stars that dipped their feet in you.
And I believe when none is by,
Only the young moon in the sky--
The Greeks of old were right about you--
A naiad, like a marble flower,
Lifts up her lovely shape from out you,
Swaying like a silver shower.
So in old years dead and gone
Brimmed the spring on Helicon,
Just a little spring like you--
Ferns and moss and stars and dew--
Nigh the sacred Muses' dwelling,
Dancing, dimpling, welling, welling.
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
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Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
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