The Singer Of High State
On hills too harsh for firs to climb,
Where eagle dare not hatch her brood,
Upon the peak of solitude,
With anvils of black granite crude
I forge austerities of rhyme.
Such godlike stuff my spirit drinks
I make grand odes of tempests there.
The steel-winged eagle, if he dare
To cleave these tracts of frozen air,
Hearing such music, swoops and sinks.
Stark clangours of forgotten wars,
Tumults of primal love and hate,
Through crags of song reverberate.
Held by the Singer of High State,
Battalions of the midnight pause.
On hills uplift from Space and Time,
Upon the peak of Solitude,
With stars to give my furnace food,
On anvils of black granite crude
I forge austerities of rhyme.
poem by Louis Golding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Granite Date
(Granite date)
Up in mid air my glare hangs,
in my pulsation and time thumb,
gravel of this end that drums,
amidst ticks, foolish and dumb.
Seconds surround my solitude,
they tick and dance, fastened;
in half lit space, as to delude,
my expectancy 'n' stay absent.
I wait; in a mystified rhythm,
knowing that it may be an end,
solving my rejoiced algorithm,
and solitude's relentless bend.
On slopes bellowing, outwitted,
time is virtue, waiting is merit;
my expectancies only omitted,
of someone else rave to inherit;
My chordal assonance will wait,
on granite crags to love afflict;
an ode on windy feasts to date,
your sentiments that sole depict.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
England My Mother
I
England my mother,
Wardress of waters.
Builder of peoples,
Maker of men,-
Hast thou yet leisure
Left for the muses?
Heed'st thou the songsmith
Forging the rhyme?
Deafened with tumults,
How canst thou hearken?
Strident is faction,
Demos is loud.
Lazarus, hungry,
Menaces Dives;
Labour the giant
Chafes in his hold.
Yet do the songsmiths
Quit not their forges;
Still on life's anvil
Forge they the rhyme.
Still the rapt faces
Glow from the furnace:
Breath of the smithy
Scorches their brows.
Yea, and thou hear'st them?
So shall the hammers
Fashion not vainly
Verses of gold.
II
Lo, with the ancient
Roots of man's nature,
Twines the eternal
Passion of song.
Ever Love fans it,
Ever Life feeds it,
Time cannot age it;
Death cannot slay.
Deep in the world-heart
Stand its foundations,
Tangled with all things,
Twin-made with all.
Nay, what is Nature's
Self, but an endless
Strife toward music,
Euphony, rhyme?
Trees in their blooming,
Tides in their flowing,
Stars in their circling,
Tremble with song.
God on His throne is
Eldest of poets:
Unto His measures
Moveth the Whole.
III
Therefore deride not
Speech of the muses,
England my mother,
Maker of men.
Nations are mortal,
Fragile is greatness;
Fortune may fly thee,
Song shall not fly.
Song the all-girdling,
Song cannot perish:
Men shall make music,
Man shall give ear.
Not while the choric
Chant of creation
Floweth from all things,
Poured without pause,
Cease we to echo
Faintly the descant
Whereto for ever
Dances the world.
IV
So let the songsmith
Proffer his rhyme-gift,
England my mother,
Maker of men.
Gray grows thy count'nance,
Full of the ages;
Time on thy forehead
Sits like a dream:
Song is the potion
All things renewing,
Youth's one elixir,
Fountain of morn.
Thou, at the world-loom
Weaving thy future,
Fitly may'st temper
Toil with delight.
Deemest thou, labour
Only is earnest?
Grave is all beauty,
Solemn is joy.
Song is no bauble-
Slight not the songsmith,
England my mother,
Maker of men.
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How They Command
Snow capped mountains sharply pierce the sky,
Ragged peaks jut upwards stiff and stark.
Cold and frozen wilderness so high,
Standing out, a permanent landmark.
Vastness that amazes all who see
These giants made of rock, rising sheer.
Inhospitable. Only a few
Dare to climb them even though they fear.
These pinnacles soar above the hills,
And give views that take one’s breath away,
How massive they, from a distance seem,
Steep and lofty in their grand array.
They stay the same as year after year,
The elements attack endlessly.
But strong remain, how they command,
And move the rapt soul to ecstasy.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
IF (remembered)
IF I were to write
The poetics of a termite
I might as well bite
Or a flea I could be
Jump and jump
In a jubilee
And take some
Blood with me
Into the air
Into the vast
Universe
Of a man’s hairy arm
IF I were to
Judge other poets
Here those
Who write
Like a tyke
And attired with lots of spikes
I would give them ticks
For some kicks
I would give sticks
To make them pick
And climb the highest peak
And kiss the eagle’s beak
I’ll give them kites
To fly to heights
I’ll make them feel
The strength of steel
And make a deal
To hone their weal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A moment in time! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Summer at peak;
a young man
in a white singlet.
Summer at peak;
a young girl
in short sleeves.
Summer at peak;
A child licks
Ice cream.
Summer at peak;
an infant
On inhaler.
Summer at peak;
A young couple
Cosy in cinema hall seats.
Summer at peak;
A vendor
Sells lime water.
Summer at peak;
Gulmohar petals
lie limp on grass.
Summer at peak;
Dust haze,
Road rage.
Summer at peak;
beads of sweat
slide on lips.
Summer at peak,
Street wars,
Blame it on heat.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truth or Dare
Let's play a little game of truth or dare
Tell me the truth do you love me
I dare you to lie and, if you do I dare you to tell me why
They say the truth shall set you free
So tell the truth and soar like an eagle over the deep blue sea
I dare myself to succeed and reach all of my expectations Truth be told if I shall fail its because I didn't live up to my expectations
I will not blame anyone for my failure and I dare you to do the same
Be honest with yourself, tell the truth when you make a mistake
We all mess up that is part of life but tell the truth when you do I dare you
poem by Craig Mize
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- My Poetry
I thought I started climbing just a hill;
With time, it dawned to me it was a peak;
I knew I had to climb up further still,
The peak was nowhere seen that I did seek.
I wasn't a mountaineer to begin with;
I slowly learnt to climb requiring skill;
Tho' an accident, my climb had its pith,
With ease I'll climb the summit on the hill.
And now I know the gradient so well,
And dangers of the terrain I climb in;
When I will reach the peak, no one can tell,
But now onwards, my ambition's to win.
A beacon from above doth goad me on,
And soon a dress of starry clouds, I'll don.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I write to you because once I worked in your shipping trade
The earliest publication date for the 'Baa, baa black sheep' rhyme or poem is dated 1744. Music was first published for 'Baa, baa black sheep' was in the early nineteenth century making it into a song for children.
The handsome Dictator who cries in debris and he wants a solace it seems?
Under the British management.
Yes Boss! The Buddha said; ' There is no place to hide from our past sins
Not even in the Sky or on Earth,
Somewhere else.'
For the solace I quote this nursery rhyme in gratitude;
'Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.'
*I dedicate this poem to the British Master E.B.Harrison, We worked together on a Libyan Tanker ship 'Um El Faroud' Twenty years ago.I remember the vessel carried crude oil from Benghazi, Tobruk and Tripoli to Italian ports.Oh! The heavy bags of wine we finished together, port of Siracusa & Augusta in Sicily.It's a fading dream and we're just old mile posts now.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stay Away
(words & music by tepper - bennett)
Ten thousand miles even though I roam
I can hear the call of the hills of home
The canyons high and the valleys low
Echo how can you stay away
My dreams are there where the eagle flies
Where the mountain tops seem to touch the sky
The winding streams and the winds that blow
Ask me how can you stay away
Far too long have I stayed apart
From this land that I love and divide my heart
Now, now I know I must go
Where the hills say dont stay away
Where the hills say dont stay away
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Accademia Dei Solinghi
KANTATE IHR VOELKER HOERT
IT is her alone
Now singing
Her lonely song
As though
She is on a very
High tower
On a very
High mountaintop.
WHAT I admire
most is her skill
Of singing
Solitude as though
It is a common
Piece
That any maiden
Of the town
Can sing
and
Sing it well.
A perfect voice
Of solitude
Singing
Alleluia
Alleluia
The God
On High
Shall come
And the
Bride must
Be ready
for the
God-groom
She sings so
Skillfully
And the mountains
And valleys and
All the people
Of the town
Listen and
They cannot
Tell what time
Is it because
All they do
Is listen to
Her as she
sings
Skillfully the
song of solitude
I too was sleepless
I learned the art
Of simply be
Myself
of simply
Be
in solitude
Unknown
to all
She sings
Because she
Is sleepy
and
She did not
Believe
in the
Power of solitude
In fact
what she
Really
believed
In and
what made
Her sing is
The power
of
Her song
It was
her
Projection
Of solitude
Which they
Really mistook
as
solitude
Her song
May be about
Solitude
She was not.
she was not really
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The White Heat
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Re[f]ining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Untile the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Solitude
In solitude I remain
With absolutely nothing to gain
Perhaps in time I will be strong
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song
A solitary place
Is not where I belong
Read my lips and trace the lines on my face
You see! Solitude is not my favourite song
But social isolation
Combined with social manipulation
Places me once again in solitude
You see! Solitude is not my preferred attitude
This isn’t a journey of spiritual enlightenment
As some people might say to my resentment
But in great loneliness of this magnitude
I must find some self awareness in solitude
I must find strength and pretend
That everyone around me is my friend
To put this state of scale of elevation to an end
I must pretend, I must pretend
That even Solitude is my friend
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peak
Peak is here
Peak is there
Go here go there
Go anywhere
and find peak
only peak.
Reach peak
find chick
with chic
be chief.
Chirp, chirp
keep, keep.
Where is peak
where is peak
It is only you
who can pick peak.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black Muddy River
When the last rose of summer pricks my finger,
And the hot sun chills me to the bone,
When I cant hear the song for the singer,
And I cant tell my pillow from a stone,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
When the last bolt of sunshine hits the mountain,
And the stars start to splatter in the sky,
When the moon hits the southwest horizon,
With the scream of an eagle on the fly,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And listen to the ripples as they moan,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
Black muddy river, roll on forever,
I dont care how deep or wide, if youve got another side,
Roll muddy river, roll muddy river, black muddy river, roll.
When it seems like the night will last forever,
And theres nothing left to do but count the years,
When the strings of my heart begin to sever,
And stones fall from my eyes instead of tears,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And dream me a dream of my own,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own, sing me a song of my own.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Writing Frustrations I've Known
-It would seem, I've run out of words.
Nothing left to say.
I have lost my inner voice.
It's gone, completely astray.
Perhaps I should lay down pen and pad.
Never more write a rhyme.
On this poetry that I love
I shall spend no further time.
... not that I was ever truly a poet anyway
... it's just that, well, I did love it so;
... still, it feels the well is dry
... time to just let it go.
- So now, what of me shall be
Feeling empty in heart and head?
What purpose-without a word-shall be heard
With no way to express both hope and dread?
Where have the words gone
Must they ever stay away?
Who has taken my spirit's song
Why has the music of my soul nothing more to say?
... I try... seems of no use...
My mind torn asunder, literary abuse.
(this next part wrote a couple months later)
Listen, what do I hear?
Something is knocking at my gate!
A few months later now
But, not altogether too late.
A lonesome thought comes strolling in
From whence I cannot declare,
Just that it has arrived
With this simple message to share:
' What's a dime
To a lover of verse and rhyme,
And what's to fear
Of criticism drawing near?
For to write only for income
Would soon turn quite burdensome,
As surely as to not write for fear of ridicule
Would be to deny the voice within you.
The words may never turn a single head
But, don't dare believe they'll ever be dead!
God gives meaning to what he wants
Whether anyone else listens or not.
The way it is all spoke
By darling bards, or simple country folk,
Is well worth hearing
And so oft more than a bit endearing.
Don't worry about the rhyme
The perfect place or time,
Just give your soul in words as best you can
And those who should, will understand.
Those who don't
Just won't,
And that's o.k.
God speaks to them in other ways.
Trust his Spirit in all you do
Yes, this includes writing too,
Remember he promised he'd never leave you alone
Even in the simple words of your poems. '
-Pondering it over
I suppose this I've known all along,
Though thoughts may wander
True words are never gone.
Well, ya know what:
I believe I just might pick up paper and pen,
Good or bad, right or wrong...
Give it a go, once again!
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Monsoon at peak! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Monsoon at peak
I hear a monologue-
Rain speaks…
Monsoon at peak,
Thatched roofs
Leak…
Monsoon at peak,
Corn on cob
Wins over coffee…
Monsoon at peak,
Can I go out, mother?
A child pleads…
Monsoon at peak,
A boy steals a look
At a girl soaked to skin…
Monsoon at peak,
Roads flooded,
Where is MCD?
Monsoon at peak,
Umbrellas
New fashion accessory…
Monsoon at peak,
Sun gets much needed
Rest…
Monsoon at peak,
Bathes
Foliage and trees.
Monsoon at peak
Schools closed
Children squeal,
Wish, it rains
Everyday of the week…
Monsoon at peak,
Leave your shoes at the door-
Mother screams…
Monsoon at peak,
Driver stops
To wipe the wind shield…
Monsoon at peak,
Open pavements
Home to many,
Wear deserted look …
Monsoon at peak,
Wet laundry-
Sun rise, please.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
365
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door—
Red—is the Fire's common tint—
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs—within—
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge—
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Solitude
A glass of red wine spent
Recalling life's events
Crowded in my skin
In Solitude
Relishing a melody of lament
Drifting through my window
Gliding in uninvited
In solitude
Last night I cried out loud
For the sake of hearing a sound
Though I did not hear me
In solitude
Gawking at my naked fear
Of living a life unseen
Yearning to belong
In solitude
I woke up in the evening
Read a book out loud
My voice wavering
In Solitude
As the heroine yearned
In an isolated crowd
To be loved
In solitude
I walked around naked
In my new home
My skin in flames
In solitude
Every molecule of air
Brushing against me
Scorched in vain
In solitude
It was raining that morn
When I came to life
My throat stinging
In solitude
I see no soul
I hear no breathing
I smell no skin
In solitude
I mourn not waking up
Next to my beloved
To warm my frozen hind
In solitude
Yet, I feel no cold
And life goes on
As I bury myself
In solitude
poem by Deva De Silva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Would in That Sweet Bosom Be
I would in that sweet bosom be
(O sweet it is and fair it is!)
Where no rude wind might visit me.
Because of sad austerities
I would in that sweet bosom be.
I would be ever in that heart
(O soft I knock and soft entreat her!)
Where only peace might be my part.
Austerities were all the sweeter
So I were ever in that heart.
poem by James Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Sonnet 19 I always aim for chance to catch your eye,
I always aim for chance to catch your eye,
To regal you with all the things you like,
Go places in the hope to pass you by,
Be it on hills or streams, so goes my hike;
Much like a diver of a pearl so rare,
I scour the deeps or shores where waves do break,
As mountaineer, that to summits would dare,
None proves so high to keep me from the peak;
Yet, in my search for songs akin to yours,
Not one Naiad I found singing your art,
Will Sphinx so known for quaint riddle it roars,
Guess rightly all the puzzles of your heart?
.......My hope is Aphrodite to guide your mirth,
.......Along the ways to give this love its birth.
.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!