Heroic Simile
When the swordsman fell in Kurosawa's Seven Samurai
in the gray rain,
in Cinemascope and the Tokugawa dynasty,
he fell straight as a pine, he fell
as Ajax fell in Homer
in chanted dactyls and the tree was so huge
the woodsman returned for two days
to that lucky place before he was done with the sawing
and on the third day he brought his uncle.
They stacked logs in the resinous air,
hacking the small limbs off,
tying those bundles separately.
The slabs near the root
were quartered and still they were awkwardly large;
the logs from midtree they halved:
ten bundles and four great piles of fragrant wood,
moons and quarter moons and half moons
ridged by the saw's tooth.
The woodsman and the old man his uncle
are standing in midforest
on a floor of pine silt and spring mud.
They have stopped working
because they are tired and because
I have imagined no pack animal
or primitive wagon. They are too canny
to call in neighbors and come home
with a few logs after three days' work.
They are waiting for me to do something
or for the overseer of the Great Lord
to come and arrest them.
How patient they are!
The old man smokes a pipe and spits.
The young man is thinking he would be rich
if he were already rich and had a mule.
Ten days of hauling
and on the seventh day they'll probably
be caught, go home empty-handed
or worse. I don't know
whether they're Japanese or Mycenaean
and there's nothing I can do.
The path from here to that village
is not translated. A hero, dying,
gives off stillness to the air.
A man and a woman walk from the movies
to the house in the silence of separate fidelities.
There are limits to imagination.
poem by Robert Hass
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
SONG On: Animal Love
There lived a girl called Lovina,
Whose animal-love was great;
Tall, she was and so much lean, ah!
She sang songs for a treat.
She had a sister, with whom she fought,
Right from her child-hood days!
Both were aged, a year’s diff’rence;
And so they fight-her mother says.
She did her home-work, in a short time,
Dreamt while her mother cooks!
In argument, she was so good,
And loved to read animal-books.
Once there fell down, a small Squirrel,
As she stood ‘neath a Mango-tree;
She laid it gently in a box,
The Squirrel-babe was no more free!
She fed the Squirrel, fruit and nut,
And lullabied it to a sleep;
The baby Squirrel loved her much,
Their friendship grew so deep.
She sang to it and fondled it,
And talked to it whenever free;
She kept it cosy, neat and clean;
Her holidays, went off in glee!
One day, the Squirrel fell so ill;
Perhaps, it thought of its mother!
So, you must set the Squirrel free;
Her doctor-uncle advised her.
With Squirrel ill, her heart turned sad,
Poor Lovina, could not sleep well;
For long, she kept awake and cried;
Was the Squirrel ill ‘cause it fell?
The poor girl prayed, all night and day;
She prayed to God to make it well;
And wished, she could become a fay!
Her life now seemed to look like hell!
She kissed her Squirrel, one more time;
Her Uncle let it up a tree;
The Squirrel squeaked and wagged its tail;
And jumped with joy, away, afree!
Lovina too now wept with joy;
Her pet-Squirrel seemed quite alright!
Her heart leapt like the Squirrel, Boy!
Her Uncle’s words were quite correct.
But Lovina missed her Squirrel;
She visited the Mango-tree;
She hopes to meet her pet some day,
Her friend, never turned up to see!
Ye love your God through animals!
Ye love thy sister first, then else;
Man hath a soul, animals don’t,
“Love thy neighbour, ”the Poet tells!
specially dedicated to my neice Rubina, an animal-lover herself, a true incident in her life!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sure Got Cold After The Rain Fell
Album: Sharp Dressed Men: A Tribute To ZZ Top
(Billy F. Gibbons)
Rain fell this mornin',
Made me feel so bad
On account of my baby
Walked off with another man.
Like takin' eyesight from the blind man
And money from the poor
That woman took my lovin'
And walked on out that door
And it sure got cold after the rain fell
Not from the sky, from my eye
--- Instrumental ---
Somebody tell me
Makes a man feel this way
Like a river without water,
Like night without day
And it sure got cold after the rain fell
Not from the sky, from my eye
--- Instrumental ---
Started early in the mornin'
You hear that rain to fall
With thunderbolts and lightning
The wind begins to call
Your worry's superficial
'Cause you slept on through the night
But stormy weather keeps you wond'rin'
If ev'rything's all right
And it sure got cold after the rain fell
Not from the sky, but from my eye
Not from the sky, Lord from my eye
--- Instrumental ---
After the rain fell
And it sure got cold after the rain fell
And it sure got cold after the rain fell
After the rain fell
And it sure got cold...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home
(alan jackson)
In a small town down in georgia over forty years ago
Her maiden name was musik til she met that jackson boy
They married young like folks did then, not a penny to their name
But they believe the one you vow to love
Should always stay that same
And on the land his daddy gave him, a foundation under way
For a love to last forever or until their dying day
They built a bond thats strong enough to stand the test of time
And a place for us to turn to when our lives were in a bind
And they made their house from a toolshed
Grandaddy rolled down on two logs
And they builts walls all around it
And they made that house a home
They taught us bout good living
They taught is right and wrong
Lord therell never be another place
In this world Ill call home
My momma raised five children, four girls then there was me
She found her strength with faith in gof and love of family
She never had a social life, home was all she knew
Except the time she took a job, to play a bill or two
My daddy skinned his knuckles on the cars that he repaired
He never earned much money but he gane us all he had
He never made the front page but he did the best he couold
And folks drove their cars from miles around
To let him look underneath the hood
And they made their house from a toolshed
Grandaddy rolled down on two logs
And they builts walls all around it
And they made that house a home
They taught us bout good living
They taught is right and wrong
Lord therell never be another place
In this world Ill call home
No therell never be another place in this world
That Ill call home
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little House Made Out Of Logs
I was raised in a little house
Made out of logs
Had a dirt chimney
Made from moss
Cut out windows
No glass at all
Little house
Made out of logs
Never swept any floor
Made out of dirt
You don't see any more
Kerosene lamps
Water from the spring
Makes me thirsty again
Raised on potatoes and cornbread
Wood stove was all we had
Never thought much about the holidays
Just a season for another time and place
Can't forget how I was raised
Makes you learn to appreciate
I could do the same in time
Little log house
On my mind
poem by Monette Paul
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Lorraine
Long ago a lonely man stood
Off of a quiet avenue
A pretty girl in passing chanced to look
Thats when he fell, fell for you
I listen to the rain
Pounding on the railing
The beats a sweet, soft refrain
Of how he found you lorraine
Hes rocking on a porch you used to know
Here where he swore his love was true
He sips his drink and dreams the days of old
Of when he fell, fell for you
I listen to the rain...
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Courting Disaster
I was twenty-three when I saw her first,
Without a word of a lie,
She had wandered into the woods by me
With a basket, held on high,
Her auburn hair reflected the sun
And she flashed me a dazzling smile,
That turned my head to the way she led
As I followed her, over the stile.
She skipped along at a steady pace
Weaved in and out through the trees,
Collected the broad-rimmed mushrooms there
As she stopped, and fell to her knees,
Her dress flared out as it caught the wind
And her hair was floated wide,
I hid by a tree, and held my breath
As I thought of her, as a bride.
She had such a look of innocence,
Was free as the birds of the air,
The legs and the grace of a peasant girl
Brought up in the great out-there,
She ran right up to a Woodsman's house
That was hidden by branch and vine,
Then danced right in through the open door,
And then I knew; she was mine!
The door was closed when I finally knocked
But I heard a terrible moan,
And minutes later the door unlocked,
In the hall stood a fusty crone,
She stared at me through her hoary eyes
With never a hint of grace,
‘What do you want? ' she growled at me,
For the shock must have shown in my face.
‘That girl, who danced in a moment back,
I'm here to discover her name.'
‘There is no girl, ' said the ancient hack,
‘You'd better return where you came! '
‘I saw her enter, I must insist,
I'll not be gulled by your lies! '
‘That girl's been dead for a long time back,
You'd better leave now, if you're wise! '
She slammed the door in my face just then
So I wandered back through the trees,
A raincloud covered the midday sun
And I felt the chill of a breeze,
The rain came down as I walked back home,
Climbed over the ricketty stile,
Was drenched to the skin as I wandered in,
And thought to resort to guile.
For days I lingered by that old track,
The place that I'd seen her first,
I felt so miserable, holding back,
As I thought, and feared for the worst,
What if the girl was a sprite, who'd died,
Just as the old crone said?
Try as I might, I couldn't believe,
Nor get her out of my head.
I finally went to the Woodsman's house
And I hid in a patch by the vine,
When suddenly out of the door came tripping
The girl, with her eyes a-shine,
She skipped away with her basket, filled
With linen and loaves and cheese,
And I caught her then in a shady glade
As she stopped, and fell to her knees.
‘I hoped you'd come, ' were the words she said
As she laid a cloth on the ground,
‘I have to hide from that grey old witch
So I go where I'll never be found.'
She broke the bread and she poured the wine
And we ate and drank in the glade,
My mind was filled with a sudden chill
But I thought of fun in the shade.
‘So when are you going to kiss me, then? '
She said when we finished our feast,
‘I've fed your animal spirits, now,
It's time I was paid, at least! '
I kissed her there in the shady glade
And we tumbled there in the leaves,
Then I fell asleep, and she'd gone when I
Awoke, and the heart, it grieves.
I stumbled home, but was feeling faint
I had aches and pains in my head,
I staggered through to the bedroom, then
I found her asleep in my bed,
She woke and sat, and she stared at me
But her face had begun to change,
There were lines and wrinkles around her eyes
And her hair was grey with age.
‘I need you now that my time is short,
Come and rest your weary head, '
I caught a glimpse in the mirror then
And it filled me full of dread,
For the face of a man of middle age
Stared back at me from the glass,
‘Just what have to done to me? ' I said…
‘Do you really have to ask? '
‘I fed on your animal needs, and you
Gave something to set me free,
If you want me to be a bright young thing
Then you must replenish me.'
I saw she aged by the minute there
And she soon let out a moan,
For lying in bed was a figure of dread,
That hoary old witch, the crone!
I'm far too weak to get out of bed,
But Elli goes out on her own,
She carries her basket into the wood
For the mushrooms she eats alone,
My beard is grey and I dread each day
As she bleeds my life from its core,
But she's as lovely as ever she was
At a hundred and twenty-four!
26 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Walking Home Through the Rain
Walking home through the rain reminds me
Of those long past school days
The wet tie flying in the wind
The mud in those stiff academic shoes
Reflections and dreams of insurrection
Walking through the rain reminds me
Of trying to keep my wet shoes clean
First day at work rain drumming down
On my laborious earnest dampened head.
Walking through the rain in a foreign land reminds me
How often I longed for home: the slashing familiar rain
In alleys lined with laburnum: how even the cold betrayed me
The drops fell into eyes and then in rivulets
Leaked out treacherously again
Walking through the wet wet rain
Walking working wishing wondering
Waiting for a kind of fate
Waiting for kind fate
Fatally kind; rain, when you fell on parched land
Only then did my soul, apaised, try to understand.
Copyright: Rani Turton
poem by Rani Turton
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How I Fell
i fell so down
i want to be lied down in the ground
besides the ones i lost year round
i fell like a dog who just got put down
i need a girl to fell my pain
i fell if i had one it would ease my pain
i hate living in a foster home
why can't i live with a family member at home
i want to cry when i have to sleep in a stangers house
i fell so lettle just like a mouse
every day i have to fight to stay free
every day i have to be strong not to weep
i miss not hanging with my family
i got to see them more when i was locked down
i fell so bad right about now
every day that i live alone
i fell so bad
sir loc homes couldn't solve why i fell alone
i miss you guys i mean my family
i can't go on like every thing is dandy
i want to leave this cold cold world
maybe i won't when ii find that special girl
i can't wait to leave this world
please god answer me why didi it have to be me
my sisters went home i got put in a strangers home
i got tooken away from who ever i thought loved me
now they come around wanting to hug me
i can't stand living away from my family
please god help me
i fell so sad, bad and mad
poem by Phillip Dalsing
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Grenouillage à Trois
Deep in the forest, on two logs
were perched two rather handsome frogs.
The logs were pretty close together
and served as shelters for the weather.
Now, on the smaller of the logs
was sitting, still, the bigger frog.
He looked across and had discovered
that on a tree a third frog hovered,
apparently intent to pounce!
He must have weighed a paltry ounce.
They say that from necessity
all frogs, no matter where they be
will act. So this one did pretend
for competition soon to end
that in the tree the frog was meat,
a moth or insect he would eat.
Thus ends the story of the frogs
on trees and on two fallen logs,
while after all they got together
and sheltered in their log from weather.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Will winds come?
Sky was dark.
Holding thick bundles of rain inside
waiting for winds to
open bundles of rain,
take away heavy bundles
and free me to play with
white cool light clouds.
Sky was worried.
Will winds come and free me
from this dark bundles of rain
making me feel tired
making my knees paining?
When will those winds come?
How long I have to carry these dark bundles?
Waiting for winds
will I fall down
with tiring weakening bundles
of these dark clouds
in my hand?
Even the sun is moving down
with colour changing to red
going for rest for night.
When will these winds come?
Am I destined to fall down
tired and exhausted
with ever increasing burden
of these dark clouds in my hand?
10, September,2008
poem by Thomas Viruvelil
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The Boy's Candidate
Las' time 'at Uncle Sidney come,
He bringed a watermelon home--
An' half the boys in town,
Come taggin' after him.--An' he
Says, when we et it,--_'Gracious me!
'S the boy-house fell down?'_
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A journey through an interminable poetic landscape
In the midst of the dense thicket
of the poet-milky wood, just beyond the gas pumps
standing as lonely as a trio of crows
waiting for a poet’s metaphor, and just beyond
where the pavement ends,
the road divided:
I took the road less travelled,
- unlike, say, a wise purveyor of ice-cream;
pausing only to think, as the evening
fell like sadness from my cigarette, that
the other road will be for me
for ever, the road I did not take
into the landscape which I did not see,
in the time that will not return;
but the road I took, led past
plum-trees, showering Spring’s wild daffodils
as with a late Spring snow, falling quietly
like the sighs of young slant-eyed girls thinking of love;
I’m glad I took that road; for later, when Autumn
with its mists and mellow plumful fruitiness,
came silently, so silently,
I took that road again; although I’m told
the other road was much the same;
but now, as the brown leaves fell and swirled,
the small, hard plums had fallen;
I took some home, put them in the ice-box;
were they juicy, cold on my morning lips?
No. They’d gone; along with the girl
I’d brought home, and the crate of beer;
just a note on the ice-box door:
‘I used to worship your poetry; now
I know that you’ve sold out… loser…’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Home R Not Home
Home a place of comfort
Home a place you love
Home a place you make a living
Not home you fell alone
Not home you fell like you don’t belong
Not home you’re out of your comfort zone
Always lost
Always confused
Hating it
Wishing you were back home
No fun
Hopping you didn’t waste your time
Lost
Lonely
Always lost
Always confused
Home R Not Home
poem by Keith Young
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The Ballad of Uncle Mukungu
He's my uncle and to my father a brother,
To many a darling or to all and sundry rather;
A pot of knowledge unique, and of humor and quit,
And queer a sight, a wonder as right.
This mine uncle as much do I love,
For he be within and near must cause me to laugh;
And you, liking or not whether,
Never can stand my uncle's weather.
I won't tell all- my uncle's long,
A story you would love as of humor strong;
I will do you a bit, and perhaps a bit more,
Of Mukungu's sweet and sometimes some sore.
At class three a dropout my uncle became,
And thus many had it- uncle has lost his aim;
But no! Who harbored thoughts so was but mistaken,
Listen to Mukungu and your ribs will be shaken.
His talk will behind leave no bit of sagacity,
That bit by bit and all kills ambiance of solemnity;
To imbue the air and emotion with humor high and enough,
To bury hate option and hatch of uncle to love.
Uncle is a guru of eating great,
And many a cuisine none he does hate;
And thus he's indefatigable bull of village,
Cuts through others like a sharpest edge.
Perfect artist he is and scientist as well,
He'll sing a song and tell the stars fell;
He has his language and in he's a virtuoso,
Moreover he acts and he's a star so.
poem by Willy Munyoki
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Seventh Heaven
Ive been to places where the sun goes down
Each day and never rises
Ive been to places in a dark room
Where we played with our disguises
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
It was a dream, I heard a voice
I put it down to wishful thinking
It was a dream, a silent scream
Out of the blue, a new beginning
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
And then I fell upon a stroke of luck
That led to my good fortune
And then I fell upon my knees
And gently kissed the ground you walk on
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Use To Believe Any Moon Could Be Blue
I use to believe any Moon could be blue.
Before I discovered there were actual Blue Moons.
Feeling depressed and selfishly centered.
Waiting for someone or something,
To find its orbit around me.
On days like the one I am having...
I wished to be spoiled.
I'm tired of doing that for myself.
All that talk about being happy alone...
Doesn't work on the weekends.
Or on rainy, cold or full Moon lit nights.
Don't listen to anyone who lies and says the opposite.
I've squeezed my foam filled pillows flat.
I have to fold them and hold them in my palms,
Just to feel my head lifted at a comfortable angle.
And that is sad.
I use to believe any Moon could be blue.
Before I discovered there were actual Blue Moons.
I use to think that way.
But lately I've been thinking I should change my pillows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Legend of the Moon People
Two moons circle
a remote garden planet
The moon spirits become restless
and go down to walk the garden path
The Great Fire in the sky
smiles upon them and they
each become small moons
reflecting His day star light
Crossing paths one evening
both are drawn to the light of the other
Hand in hand, they now walk
the garden path together
He is Tortoise Moon
and she is Laughing Moon Woman
He is a gradual receding tide,
kind and gentle.
Passionate and impatient,
she is the rush of tide returning
May two moon people ever orbit
in perfect symmetry,
bound by the inimitable force
of gravitational attraction
poem by E.e. Wilholt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Scream
A keen axe the woodsman did heft;
The tree he struck let out a silent scream
Stunned...the woodsman stood bereft
After the woeful cry in his lucid dream
Woodsman said, "I'll Leave the tree alive n' whole"
Whilst the silent scream still echoed in his head
He understood, all living things have a soul,
And only blind men see everything as dead
The woodsman now saw all life with new eyes
Content was he to know that no-thing ever dies
ROTMS
View ROTMS writings, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Til I Fell In Love With You
Well my nerves are exploding and my bodys tense
I feel like the whole world got me pinned up against the fence
Ive been hit too hard; Ive seen too much
Nothing can heal me now, but your touch
I dont know what Im gonna do
I was all right til I fell in love with you
Well my house is on fire; burning to the sky
I thought it would rain but the clouds passed by
Now I feel like Im coming to the end of my way
But I know God is my shield and he wont lead me astray
Still I dont know what Im gonna do
I was all right til I fell in love with you
Boys in the street beginning to play
Girls like birds flying away
When Im gone you will remember my name
Im gonna win my way to wealth and fame
I dont know what Im gonna do
I was all right til I fell in love with you
Junk is piling up; taking up space
My eyes feel like theyre falling off my face
Sweat falling down, Im staring at the floor
Im thinking about that girl who wont be back no more
I dont know what Im gonna do
I was all right til I fell in love with you
Well Im tired of talking; Im tired of trying to explain
My attempts to please you were all in vain
Tomorrow night before the sun goes down
If Im still among the living, Ill be dixie bound
I just dont know what Im gonna do
I was all right til I fell in love with you.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man Young And Old: VIII. Summer And Spring
We sat under an old thorn-tree
And talked away the night,
Told all that had been said or done
Since first we saw the light,
And when we talked of growing up
Knew that we'd halved a soul
And fell the one in t'other's arms
That we might make it whole;
Then peter had a murdering look,
For it seemed that he and she
Had spoken of their childish days
Under that very tree.
O what a bursting out there was,
And what a blossoming,
When we had all the summer-time
And she had all the spring!
poem by William Butler Yeats
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