On the Deck
sonnet #18
on the deck
i sit in silence on the deck at night
and look into the gloom. the low winds utter
low sighing sounds. along the horizon’s height
the mountains rise darkly in the waning light;
within the house, behind a wind-blown shutter,
a flickering light burns, and white moths flutter
against the casement in their blundering flight.
attracted by the glow of brighter lamps,
the younger guys have left me with my ‘pipe’,
listening to the wind and crickets call.
i only think: the sun has dried my cramps,
the mist will touch the morn, the time is ripe
and in the sky, the stars begin to fall.
poem by Derrick Hubert Schnabel
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Related quotes
A Death-Parting
LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Mad As We Are
Yes I drink away the hurt, and wishing that the ghost would fade away
There was something more I had to do before you turned and walked away
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Pins and needles climbing up
The spite of bold cathedrals ever high
I'm not sure that I could cross this river, I'm not sure I want to try
Shadows is that's left of you
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon Glow
The darkest night, flows with a
wind hush through open blackness.
Ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Rivulets spill with water
across the mountain plains;
as liquid rolls down along the steep slope-
ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Stars glitter through sparkles
of the darkest night.
Wind cold breeze swifts;
swiftly into space.
Laughter engulfs the moon light.
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Moon light angles corners,
as sweet melodies swell into air,
of silence.
You ever sight the bird dance,
as shadow flicker
upon the moon?
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
poem by Celine Berghmans
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This day will be another exciting day
I see how the sun rises today
A faint glow crawling slowly
On the gray clouds of dawn
Making a hole on the blackness
Of disappearing night skies
Some white birds still sleep
High above the treetops
They wake up and fly away
On this young horizon
On this golden silence
The morning starts to unfold
Rays of light like needles
Piercing the colder winds
Some leaves fall gently
The grass receiving them
A sparrow has just taken
This green fat worm on its beak
The sound of the wind
Whispers from the far mountains
It is a nice sunny day for me
Exciting Saturday, no work just play.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Search For Silence
I'll sit here in my bedroom
where the silence is sometimes deafening
(when I have thoughts on my mind
that need to be discussed) .
As I clear my mind to listen
to the silence
I realize there is no silence here.
The ticking of the old wind-up alarm clock
becomes so loud...
I feel compelled to move
my ''experiment'' to another room.
I find a comfortable spot
in the bathroom.
Sitting on the bench that normally holds
the all-important reading material
I begin to listen for the silence.
It takes very little time
for me to realize this is not the room
for silence.
The sink begins dripping
almost as if to mock me
and say ''Silence...yeah right! ''
I tighten the faucet only
to be laughed at by the toilet
as it makes it's usual
groan while it levels off the water in the bowl.
This is surely not the room for silence.
I head to the kitchen.
There must be silence here.
I find it still and quiet until I really listen.
The flourescent light above the stove
is whining as if to say ''I'm here! ''
I turn it off and begin my quest for silence
once more.
The refridgerator lets out a God-awful noise
that makes me jump.
It only last a few seconds but it's enough
to ruin the mood.
I begin to wonder if silence
can ever truly be found
in a house that is lived in.
I go sit in the living room.
As I plop down on the micro-suede couch
and listen to the music it makes against my flannel pajamas
I laugh.
Who wants silence?
I love the sounds of my life.
This house is full of sounds...
love, laughter, water dripping, lights flickering,
the clocks ticking....
and I'm listening
and loving every sound!
Ride On The Wind... Forever...
I Want To Ride On The Wind… Forever
I Want To Ride Over Land and Sea
I Want To Ride on The Wind… Forever
… and I Want You Riding With Me…
I Want To Ride On The Wind Over Mountains
And Touch The Sky, So Blue
Then Raise Oceans, Like Sparkling Fountains
And Splash Through Water, Kissing You
I Want To Ride On The Wind… Hold Its Mane
Ride The Wind… Wild and Free
For The Wind – Will Never Be Tame…
So Hold On Tight and Just… Breathe…
… Ride The Wind – Let It Begin – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Breathe It In – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Blow Again – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Raise The Wind – Ride The Wind!
I Want To Ride On The Wind – In The Moonlight
I Want To Ride On The Wind – In The Clouds
And Wave To The Wings of Eagles in Flight
… then Float like Snow – Dancing Down
I Want To Ride On The Wind Forever
I Want To Ride and Rush-Up Rainbow-Stairs
I Want To Ride On The Wind – Forever
For Your Sweet-Breath Beckons Me… Everywhere
… Ride The Wind – Let It Begin – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Breathe It In – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Blow Again – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Raise The Wind – Ride The Wind!
poem by MoonBee Canady
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The Herons Of Elmwood. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
Warm and still is the summer night,
As here by the river's brink I wander;
White overhead are the stars, and white
The glimmering lamps on the hillside yonder.
Silent are all the sounds of day;
Nothing I hear but the chirp of crickets,
And the cry of the herons winging their way
O'er the poet's house in the Elmwood thickets.
Call to him, herons, as slowly you pass
To your roosts in the haunts of the exiled thrushes,
Sing him the song of the green morass;
And the tides that water the reeds and rushes.
Sing him the mystical Song of the Hern,
And the secret that baffles our utmost seeking;
For only a sound of lament we discern,
And cannot interpret the words you are speaking.
Sing of the air, and the wild delight
Of wings that uplift and winds that uphold you,
The joy of freedom, the rapture of flight
Through the drift of the floating mists that infold you.
Of the landscape lying so far below,
With its towns and rivers and desert places;
And the splendor of light above, and the glow
Of the limitless, blue, ethereal spaces.
Ask him if songs of the Troubadours,
Or of Minnesingers in old black-letter,
Sound in his ears more sweet than yours,
And if yours are not sweeter and wilder and better.
Sing to him, say to him, here at his gate,
Where the boughs of the stately elms are meeting,
Some one hath lingered to meditate,
And send him unseen this friendly greeting;
That many another hath done the same,
Though not by a sound was the silence broken;
The surest pledge of a deathless name
Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Available Light
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
The restless wind
Has seen all things
In every kind of light
Rising with the full moon
To go howling through the night
The sleepless wind
Has heard all things
Between the sea and sky
In the canyons of the city
You can hear the buildings cry
Oh the wind can carry
All the voices of the sea
Oh the wind can carry
All the echoes home to me
Run with wind and weather
To the music of the sea
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Chase the wind around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Play of light
A photograph
The way I used to be
Some half-forgotten stranger
Doesnt mean that much to me
Trick of light
Moving picture
Moments caught in flight
Make the shadows darker
Or the colors shine too bright
Oh the light can carry
All the visions of the sea
Oh the light can carry
All the images to me
Run to light from shadow
Sun gives me no rest
Promise offered in the east
Broken in the west
Chase the sun around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
All four winds together
Cant bring the world to me
Shadows hide the play of light
So much I want to see
Chase the light around the world
I want to look at life --- in the available light
Ill go with the wind
Ill stand in the light
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Storm
There are so many islands!
As many islands as the stars at night
on that branched tree from which meteors are shaken
like falling fruit around the schooner Flight.
But things must fall,and so it always was,
on one hand Venus,on the other Mars;
fall,and are one,just as this earth is one
island in archipelagoes of stars.
My first friend was the sea.Now,is my last.
I stop talking now.I work,then I read,
cotching under a lantern hooked to the mast.
I try to forget what happiness was,
and when that don't work,I study the stars.
Sometimes is just me,and the soft-scissored foam
as the deck turn white and the moon open
a cloud like a door,and the light over me
is a road in white moonlight taking me home.
Shabine sang to you from the depths of the sea.
poem by Derek Walcott
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Strangered In The Night
Well it was dark at midnight
There was hardly any moon
And no one really saw much
No one was really sure
But something didnt seem right
Something seemed kinda queer
The roar turned into whispers
Everyone stood t here
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well I didnt see them shotguns
I didnt see no knife
I saw this crazy black guy
With a demon in his eyes
I heard him say white man
Ive seen that silver cue
You dont remember me well
But I remember you
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well the knife just left his fingers
As the black guy took his aim
White guys head exploded
My God how much pain
And then everybody scattered
I heard some woman scream
God damn you old black bastard
Youve blown away my dreams
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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[Month of] June
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The Summer dark is but the dawn of day.
The last of sunset fades into the morning,
The morning calls you from the dark away.
The holy mist, the white mist of the morning,
Was wreathing upward on my lonely way.
The way was waiting for your own adorning
That should complete the broad adorned day.
Rise up, and do begin the day's adorning;
The little eastern clouds are dapple grey:
There will be wind among the leaves to-day;
It is the very promise of the morning.
Lux Tua Via Mea: your light's my way -
Then do rise up and make it perfect day.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Eagle night
Eagle night and seen by sea
A distant call, in sonnet key
In any moment, place or time
A distant call is sent from high
Eagle night, i swear I’ve sawn
Eagle flight with salty winds
By the pinnacle of water and land
Where sea winds crash and struggle the sand
Call again, from a place that’s near
Always close, so one can hear
Or so can be thought the truth of such things
Resonate from eagle wings
Never foreboding the loss of a call
Never shorn for a sighting once more
The discontent of the mind is evaded
And all the wanting of life unladen
The call, one call, one sight, any wind
Reminds the heart of the sweetest thing
Deep remnants of a time unkempt
And narrowing from this lively nest
Illusioned by dreams of taste and touch
But grasped in song by night eagle clutch
poem by Julia Grandi
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Summer Song
THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways' shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it's oh! for once to play thro' the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!
There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,
Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps are glow-worms light,
Between the silver aspens and the west's last gold.
And it's oh! to drink delight in the lovely lonely night,
To be young before the heart grows old!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Splendor Of The Days
Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'
All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
poem by Jean Blewett
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The Rising Of The Storm
THE lake's dark breast
Is all unrest,
It heaves with a sob and a sigh.
Like a tremulous bird,
From its slumber stirred,
The moon is a-tilt in the sky.
From the silent deep
The waters sweep,
But faint on the cold white stones,
And the wavelets fly
With a plaintive cry
O'er the old earth's bare, bleak bones.
And the spray upsprings
On its ghost-white wings,
And tosses a kiss at the stars;
While a water-sprite,
In sea-pearls dight,
Hums a sea-hymn's solemn bars.
Far out in the night,
On the wavering sight
I see a dark hull loom;
And its light on high,
Like a Cyclops' eye,
Shines out through the mist and gloom.
Now the winds well up
From the earth's deep cup,
And fall on the sea and shore,
And against the pier
The waters rear
And break with a sullen roar.
Up comes the gale,
And the mist-wrought veil
Gives way to the lightning's glare,
And the cloud-drifts fall,
A sombre pall,
O'er water, earth, and air.
The storm-king flies,
His whip he plies,
And bellows down the wind.
The lightning rash
With blinding flash
Comes pricking on behind.
Rise, waters, rise,
And taunt the skies
With your swift-flitting form.
Sweep, wild winds, sweep,
And tear the deep
To atoms in the storm.
And the waters leapt,
And the wild winds swept,
And blew out the moon in the sky,
And I laughed with glee,
It was joy to me
As the storm went raging by!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Inability...
i should have gone to the other side
beyond this boundary
where i can be left alone
to speak
to the wind
i should have flapped my wings
and leave this place for good
but what shall that wind have me to offer?
what shall that island give me?
shall it entertain me with all my secret longings?
shall the wind promise me more places for my own
imaginative consumption?
shall there be more strange ideas that i have to embrace
like those whores in my
silly dreams?
i am staying because there is an ear of this page
that is still listening
there is still the hand of your time
that is holding me
so that my tongue can dance so that my eyes can see more
about what is not here
about what is not familiar about what i never hold
like love, like the minutest of affection
for i am telling you
i have become a gong always sounding what nothing keeps on saying
i have not met love
i have not shared affection
i am guilty as judged
by the standards of the masses
by the cruelty of the mob
the gallows of emptiness are hanging me in mid-air
my feet cannot touch the ground
my eyes cannot see the sky
my arms are tied and can never touch freedom
i am as helpless as a dry leaf blown by the desert winds
towards a horizon that is now
beyond description.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking Back On Today
30th of April seems like yesterday
bought a house above the ocean where
our kids could laugh and play
i called u from paris to tell you that i
wrote our names on the observation deck
of the Eiffel Tower
Reamember those nights playing "summer wind"
on the jukebox of the bar where we used to go
we made out in the bathroom
and you walked me to my house
i tried to convince you not to go home
if only i had more time
i'd take u where u wanted to go
Italy isnt the same without you here
if only i had one wish
id want a million trillion lifetimes
that i could spend with you
id fall in love with you again and again
1st of novemeber 1998
i was thinking of what to say when i would call
denice come over to my house cause youre the one for me
well drink cheap whine and watch for shooting stars
song performed by by Ataris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being Left Out
we arrive here together
when the moon was full
for what reason i am left out
i am alone
and you who are all my friends
like sparrows
flew away from me
together
i am like a tree without leaves
and the rocks from the cliff
stare at me in silence
the rivers have their tryst with the sea
the clouds in reunion with the wind
all in their ecstasies
bursting
the fire of sunset amazes me
i want to go near and be burned
there is something lovely
in that red and orange blaze
soon the black bird comes and hovers
on the land that i walk
soon the silence of the stars shall shoo away
the madness of my heart
i may cry and be like the rain and flood all
the paths that you have left me
i may topple some bridges and witness
the fading colors of the rainbow
the dissolving mist of the mountains
these are the utilities of futility
someone has cried and no one listens
i have a dream for many nights now
i have become the moon owning my own light
i speak to my heart and my ears listen
i shine my own light and i am now silent with a hundred stars
you all left me and now i must thrive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The wind calls no one by their name
The wind calls no one by their name-
But howls and howls, before it wane.
Awakens at the dark of moon,
Circling mountains in the gloom,
Whistling high it's sovereign song-
That no one's on earth for long.
The wind has syllables unknown,
And for millenia has blown
Its keening cry, out on the plains,
Its fearsome dirge, that sounds like pain-
If you would learn the ways of wind,
All your days on earth would end.
The wind's capricious and alone,
And of true loneliness, it moans;
It knows no warmth of company,
But bland caresses of the trees.
The wind could take you far away-
To where no words could ever say.
poem by Patti Masterman
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At Nightfall
The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate,
And the fields where poplars stand are very still,
All our groves of green delight have been invaded,
There are voices quite unknown upon the hill;
The wind has grown too weary for a comrade,
It is keening in the rushes spent and low,
Let us join our hands and hasten very softly
To the little, olden, friendly path we know.
The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate,
Very, very far away in lonely skies,
The trees that were our friends are strangers to us,
And the fern is full of whispers and of sighs.
The sounds we hear are not what we may share in,
We may not linger where the white moths roam,
We must hasten yet more swiftly, little playmate,
To the house among the pines that is our home.
The dark is creeping closer yet, my playmate,
And the woods seem crowding nearer as we go,
Oh, how very, very bold have grown the shadows,
They may touch us as they flutter to and fro!
The silence is too dreadful for our laughter,
The night is very full of strange alarms,
But it cannot hurt us now, O, little playmate,
One more step and we are safe in mother's arms!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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