The Elgin Marbles
The clustered Gods, the marching lads,
The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed Three,
The shimmering grey-gold London fog . . .
I wish that Phidias could see!
poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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A Workman To The Gods
Once Phidias stood, with hammer in his hand,
Carving Minerva from the breathing stone,
Tracing with love the winding of a hair,
A single hair upon her head, whereon
A youth of Athens cried, “O Phidias,
Why do you dally on a hidden hair?
When she is lifted to the lofty front
Of the Parthenon, no human eye will see.”
And Phidias thundered on him: “Silence, slave:
Men will not see, but the Immortals will!”
poem by Edwin Markham
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Down To London
Stop - whats that sound
Its the death rattle of this rusty old town
Stop - listen again
Its the sound of laughter all along the thames
Hey - whats my line
Do I have to stay here til the end of time
Im - good lookin and bright
I wanna see life after ten at night
So if they ask you where I am
Im in the back of a transit van
In a squat on the earls court road
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
Hey - whats your name
The boys back home all seem to look the same
You - should stick with me
And one of us will make it, just you see
Stop - whats that sound
Seems like the sixties are still swingin around
Hey - can you hear me back there
Or is there anybody left to care
So if you ask me where they are
Theyre hanging tough in a soho bar
Playing guitars in the underground
Gone down to london tryin to chase that sound
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
So I ask you should I cry or laugh
Drinking tea in a kings cross caff
A leather jacket against the cold
Gone down to london turning coal into gold
Down to london - down to london
Gone down to london to be the king
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mighty
Walking this high road are warriors from an olden time
Curse on this land and the days far behind us
Dragons weve slain, rescued many maidens fair
And no man ever dared break our stride
Or the brotherhood that binds us.
Brothers are we, marching on the roads of time
From this broken land and the days that defined us
All men are free, justice is a sword we hold
Trusting in the knights noble vow
In the brotherhood that binds us.
When the broken are strong
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the beaten are proud
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the twisted can stand
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the silenced can laugh
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the hunted have turned
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the tortured are sane
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the blinded still stare
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the poisoned remain
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
When the voiceless can sing
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And the shackled can run
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
And this downtrodden man holds his face to the sun
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Well be walking high above the world.
(Freak the mighty, Freak the mighty)
Our legend will say
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
Freak the mighty
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London
My visits to London always bring me cheer;
I wish it were possible to bottle the atmosphere.
I would collect together all the sights and sounds,
And surround myself with them, when I’m down.
A trip to London always seems to lift my mood;
By good old London town, I’m easily wooed.
There is always something new and exciting,
Which is why, to me, London seems so inviting.
I may begin a day feeling just a little bit down,
But once in London, a smile replaces my frown.
It’s one of my very favourite places to be;
There’s always so much to do and to see.
I think that London is such an amazing place;
It can suit all your needs, whatever your pace.
In central London, people are always in a rush,
But in the gardens and parks, can be found, hush.
When in London, I always feel on such a high;
My problems, for the day, I can kiss goodbye.
At the end of the day, I don’t want to leave.
The heady mix of aromas, I love to breathe.
I always find it so very hard, to pull myself away,
When, deep in my heart, I desperately want to stay.
Even when, at Waterloo, I’m sat on my train;
In London, a little piece of my heart remains.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Settling
I was welcomed here—clear gold
of late summer, of opening autumn,
the dawn eagle sunning himself on the highest tree,
the mountain revealing herself unclouded, her snow
tinted apricot as she looked west,
Tolerant, in her steadfastness, of the restless sun
forever rising and setting.
Now I am given
a taste of the grey foretold by all and sundry,
a grey both heavy and chill. I've boasted I would not care,
I'm London-born. And I won't. I'll dig in,
into my days, having come here to live, not to visit.
Grey is the price
of neighboring with eagles, of knowing
a mountain's vast presence, seen or unseen.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Almost Alone On Planet London
-where the windows on the train cry
just as i
did they witness the same?
abandoned cranes and merciless rain?
my eyes won't dry that easy
you need to hold me
please
i'm nothing but a baby
grey, grey, grey
it's not even cold
and i like the rain
no weeping this time
it's darker then my soul
almost alone on planet london
almost alone
poem by Dali Luptak
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London
We came from the far North
summered in Crimea
deserted the armed forces
had to disappear
made it to the free West
on a chartered flight
so we could see what
we trained to fight
We were in London
"Let's do it - let's break the law!"
We were in London
Tell it like it is
We were in London
Tell it like it is
Looking for hard work
or credit card fraud
What do you expect from us?
We come from abroad
to get ourselves a new job
on a building-site
They work you so hard
but we trained to fight
We were in London
"Let's do it - let's break the law!"
We were in London
Tell it like it is
We were in London
"Let's do it - let's break the law!"
We were in London
Tell it like it is
My father fought in Afghanistan
His widow's pension ain't worth a damn
My mother works and goes home to cry
I want to live before I die
We were in London
"Let's do it - let's break the law!"
We were in London
Tell it like it is
We were in London
Tell it like it is
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread & Roses
This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the gift you are and the john denver collection - rocky mountain high albums.
As we go marching, marching
In the beauty of the day
A million darkened kitchens
A thousand mill lofts grey
Are touched with all the radiance
That a sudden sun discloses
For the people hear us singing
Bread and roses, bread and roses
As we go marching, marching
We battle too for men
For they are womens children
And we mother them again
Our lives shall not be sweetened
From birth until life closes
Hearts starve as well as bodies
Give us bread, but give us roses
As we go marching, marching
We bring the greater days
For the rising of the women
Means the rising of the race
No more the drudge and idler
Ten that toil where one reposes
But the sharing of lifes glories
Bread and roses, bread and roses
Words by james oppenheim (1912), music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gods Mistake
Have a friend, calls me up
Says hello, then hangs up
He must have read my mind
These are the days of a diffrent paradigm
Maybe once, even twice
He said God does not play dice
Yet if hes everywhere
Hes in casinos with aces to spare
Oh, love is gods mistake
Oh, love is gods mistake
Ours is not to reason why
As we fall from way up high
Into the water
Like a lamb to the slaughter
Even now, gods mistake
Sets us up for one more heartbreak
God you look mighty fine
Dressed as the devil in a cosmic pantomime
Oh, love is gods mistake
Oh, love is gods mistake
Never was so much at stake
Oh, love is gods mistake
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Donneen
When first you came to London Town, Donneen,
Just five years old,
I said—'He'll ask for marble halls, and streets
All paved with gold!'
I thought—'He'll weep, so stricken with amaze,
To hear the roar
Of trampling hoofs, of rushing feet that go
Our way before.'
I said—'He'll fear the throbbing engine's shriek,
The shaking path,
The pushing crowd, the city's comrade cries
Of joy, of wrath.'
And when we stood to hear the mighty heart
Of London Town,
I saw your angry cheek and knew a tear
Had threatened down.
'Why weep,' I whispered by your red gold head,
'Dearest of boys?'
'I cannot hear my new shoes creak,' you said,
'There is such noise.'
Oh, creak, dear shoes, above the city's roar;
Be heard, be seen,
So hearts grow glad, hands clap, and voices cry,
'Here comes Donneen!'
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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London
It was november 4th
I last held your hand
It seemed our time would last forever
You said dont ever leave
I thought youd never go
I wish I could just remember your name...
Youre just a memory now
Like all the ones before
But with your pain Ive had to suffer
Your eyes alight with flame
As the picture burns
I hear the screams from long ago
They cry remember, blood-red streaks on
Velvet throats at night
The streetlights fanned our trail of fame
Through
London london
The memories will never leave me
London london
All I see is you
London london
The cries in the night
Keep bringing me to
London london
Calling out to me
Oh theres some things in life I could never face
The worst is being alone
Sometimes I wish I could have taken your
Place my love
You know I dont want to live forever
Oh let me see you standing in the
Shadows once again
Well walk the streets like long ago in
London london
The fire in your eyes will be bringing me to
London london
All I need is you
The cries in the night keep ringing on in
London london
Calling out to you
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London Seagulls
The pigeons of the Abbey, the pigeons of Saint Paul's,
That woo in windy niches of grey and grimy walls,
The pearl-grey dawns of London, his sky that gleams and glooms,
His stately smoky sunsets are in their changing plumes.
The saucy London sparrows, their Cockney chatter tells
Their parents nested surely in earshot of Bow Bells . . .
But Oh! the London seagulls a-cruising up and down,
They're most like old-time seamen come back to London town.
Old salty swearing seadogs and tarry buccaneers,
With bacca quids and pigtails and ear-rings in their ears,
That spent their money handsome and took their ease ashore
In rowdy Ratcliff aleshops with sand upon the floor . . .
And bawled their old sea-ballads, and told their thumping lies,
In fearsome deep sea lingo to open landsmen's eyes,
And drained their brimming pewters, and spat into the tide,
In old shipboarded taverns by Wapping waterside . . .
And saw there at their moorings the Geordie colliers rock,
The latest pirate dangling at Execution Dock,
The anchored ships unloading their silks and laces fine,
And spices from the Indies, and rum, and Spanish wine . . .
And watched the busy wherries all plying with their fares,
From Globe, Jamaica, Wapping and Cherry Garden Stairs,
And the lighters and the barges a-passing to and fro
As they did on London River two hundred years ago.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Ballade Of Cleopatra's Needle
Ye giant shades of RA and TUM,
Ye ghosts of gods Egyptian,
If murmurs of our planet come
To exiles in the precincts wan
Where, fetish or Olympian,
To help or harm no more ye list,
Look down, if look ye may, and scan
This monument in London mist!
Behold, the hieroglyphs are dumb
That once were read of him that ran
When seistron, cymbal, trump, and drum
Wild music of the Bull began;
When through the chanting priestly clan
Walk'd Ramses, and the high sun kiss'd
This stone, with blessing scored and ban -
This monument in London mist.
The stone endures though gods be numb;
Though human effort, plot, and plan
Be sifted, drifted, like the sum
Of sands in wastes Arabian.
What king may deem him more than man,
What priest says Faith can Time resist
While THIS endures to mark their span -
This monument in London mist?
ENVOY.
Prince, the stone's shade on your divan
Falls; it is longer than ye wist:
It preaches, as Time's gnomon can,
This monument in London mist!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Lads in Their Hundreds
The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,
And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.
There's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart,
And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave,
And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart,
And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave.
I wish one could know them, I wish there were tokens to tell
The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern;
And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell
And watch them depart on the way that they will not return.
But now you may stare as you like and there's nothing to scan;
And brushing your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told
They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,
The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Photo of Schoolboys
Once I saw a photograph
taken by a 71 year old
Japanese tourist
in pre-WW 2 London
Black and white print
of schoolboys with satchels
and shining morning faces
walking briskly down the street
to the brick building -
King Edward IV grammar school
sometime in 1939
The retired entrepreneur from
Yokohama was touring London
when he happened on the scene
and set up his camera
I imagine the chalky teacher
in the classroom and the boys
scrunched over their tasks
I see the lads graduating in due time
and donning Army khaki and RAF blue
I see the Japanese grandfather as his
grandsons land on shores far from home
Boys from London and Yokohama
barely tasting manhood on foreign shores
They lie at peace now
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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London Song
Theres a room in a house in a street in a manor in a borough
Thats part of a city that is generally referred to as london
Its a dark place, a mysterious place
And it is said that if youre born within the sound of bow-bells
You have the necessary qualifications to be christened a londoner
[its a cruel place, its a hard place]
But when you think back to all the great londoners
William blake, charles dickens, dick whittington,
Pearly kings, barrow boys, arthur daley, max wall
And dont forget the kray twins
But if youre ever up on highgate hill on a clear day
You can see right down to leicester square [london, london]
Crystal palace, clapham common, right down to streatham hill
North and south, I feel that Im a londoner still [london, london]
Chiswick bridge to newham and east ham
Churchbells ring out through the land
You were born in london, england
[london, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london]
And theres a tap by a reservoir, leading to a stream,
That turns into a river estuary that eventually opens to the sea
[london, london]
And theres a docker by a wharf, sending cargo overseas,
Unloading foreign trade from a large ocean vessel
In the mighty metropolitan port of london
[london, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london]
When I think of all the londoners still unsung
East-enders, west-enders, oriental-enders
Fu manchu, sherlock holmes, jack spock, henry cooper,
Thomas abecket, thomas moore, and dont forget the kray twins
Theres a part of me that says get out
Then one day Ill hear somebody shout
Sounds to me like you come from london town
But if youre ever up on highgate hill on a clear day,
Ill be there [Ill be there]
Yes I will be there [there]
Through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london
London, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london
London, london, through the dark alley-ways and passages of london, london
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London
Boganvilia fall into the pool
The hard shelled bugs bite my forearm
My right index fingernail chewed to the quick
My cervix is a long scalene
My sprinklers go off at 6pm each day
And sometimes they spray unsuspecting visitors
My pimples are gooses all over my legs
My brow is furrowed and my vision is blurred
And how I do love london
And how I do love london
The birds make guttural sounds and protect me
My friends come to visit and love me a lot
I dont have the energy to fill this
I am lagged from the jet and the 12 hour flight
And how I do love london
And how I do love london
I am intriguied by the boys with the androdonus songs
Sometimes they rhyme sometimes they rhyme not
The steam will smell of eucalyptus in the shower
The hug will feel forced upon you inconsolable thing
And how I do love london
And how I do love london
Deep breaths will not make my brain stand still
To be loved and swallowed are single and depraved
I love speaking french to the taxi drivers
We slept and were cold on the train out of france
And how I do love london
And how I do love london
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Fighting Man
(mick jagger / keith richards)
Everywhere I hear the sound
Of marching, charging feet boy
cause the summers here
And the time is right for
Fighting in the street boy
Hey think the time is right
For a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play
Is just to compromise my solution
What can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock n roll band
cause you see bein london town
Theres just no other place
For a street fighting man
Hey did I tell you that my name
Was called disturbance
And Ill shout and scream
And Ill kill the king and
Ill rail at all his servants
What can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock n roll band
cause you see bein london town
Theres just no place
For a street fighting man
Everywhere I hear the sound
Of marching, charging feet boy
cause the summers here
And the time is right for
Fighting in the street boy
What can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock n roll band
cause you see bein london town
Theres just no other place
For a street fighting man
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Wolves Grey
The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;
And they march to-night and they march to-day
Like the grey wolves grey, like the grey wolves grey.
Nor song nor sound their track reveals,
Save the ceaseless “clock” of the waggon wheels;
But a rift in the mist shows a glint of sun
On the long, dark shape of a toiling gun;
And they strain by night and they drag by day
To a distant goal, like the grey wolves grey.
As the horses toil at the ends of trains,
And the ends of roads on the Blacksoil Plains.
And Ivan digs in the frozen clay,
And he rolls the logs a bed to lay
For a gun that’s five hundred miles away,
But as sure to come as the grey wolves grey.
He is marching on with a purpose grand,
For brother Slav in another land;
Whose tongue, perchance, he cannot understand.—
But he knows the cry from the far-away,
And he smells the blood like the grey wolves grey.
And Ivan’s wife in her den at home,
While hunger looms and his lean wolves come—
With her grey-black bread like the Darling mud,
And her tea-bricks bound with the bullock’s blood—
She shields her cubs by night and day
Like the crouching sluts of the grey wolves grey.
And I march with Ivan where’er he be,
With the foreign blood that is strong in me,
And the love and the hate that is fantasy,
Like the ghosts of a father’s memory.
With the blood that is strange to us to-day
As the strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
Grey wolves,
Grey wolves—
The strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
poem by Henry Lawson
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