If only I pass into nothingness
Should turn up in my memory wheat grain crops,
blonde waves inspire me everlasting wavings,
the bird`s song : the field – a big dissoluteness,
the days` south secretly between us does sift it(...)
Should I look into the thought`s depth : a river
which lightens Undeath – spend my years,
and I have your face like the seaside of the wheat ears:
an icon, that it steals my everything – time!
If only I pass into nothingness,
I will remember you for ever
rich soil for love –
my seaside-longing!,
blonde dreamings will sift you –
young(...)
when,
I –
forgetten
seagulls
should I be food and f l y.
poem by Dumitru Găleșanu from Emotions into Multiverse (25 July 2010), translated by Adrian Constantinescu
Submitted by anonym
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Related quotes
Oh!
OH! let the lighting clouds come instantly
from the snowy summit of the Mount Stake
and let the scythe
come into the blonde hair of the wheat scything
and i have put the sedge
on the rainless back of the field
from the cloud
we sowed the field together with my mother
my sister pruned the grass in needy
and suckled there her newly born baby
OH! the endlees winter of 72
OH! come and warm everwhere and us a little bit
let my melancholic love spring up from my bed
I have three ears of wheat
at the large thrashing field of my village
let the rain and the days sunny
spread everywhere their beauty
I do not want too much
let unbind the infertility of the sky
guard and save our winter provisions
for this
I have descended from the mountain
to the blonde hair of the wheat for cropping
poem by Metin Sahin
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Golden Wheat
Remember me when the South wind blow
Golden wheat, where the waves dance in row
Forget the emptiness and cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Remember me solemnly gazing for doe
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Entwined together on the greens we rolled
Embrace love and the memories you hold
Will you stay with me, as old we grow
Golden wheat, where the wave dance in row
Together we'll erase the world's toll
Embrace love and the memories you hold
South wind lover always know
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
Bodies come together as if made in a mold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
My pledge to you from Heaven and below
Golden wheat, where waves dance in row
With my last breath our love will still unfold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
When we're gone I hope our descendants know
Golden Wheat, where waves dance in row
Feel the south wind, be it warm or cold
Embrace love and the memories you hold
poem by Rhonda Baker
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Sonnet: Parables of Jesus: Grain of Wheat
Unless a grain of wheat is sown in soil,
And dies, decays, transforms, gets life anew,
And sprouts into a sapling through one's toil,
It cannot grow to bear fruits that are due!
The grain of wheat remains as such, if not:
Like selfish men who will not do God's will;
Serve God usefully, they simply cannot,
Nor granary at harvest-time, they fill.
Like grain of wheat, men have God's will to do;
Like Jesus, they must carry cross till death;
Like Saviour Christ, they will resurrect too,
And fulfill purpose for which God gave birth!
But Christ died on the cross for mankind's sins,
And love of man, and Father's obeisance!
poem by John Celes
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Suicide Blonde
(a farriss & m hutchence)
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Was the colour of her hair
Like a cheap distraction
For a new affair
She knew it would finish
Before it began
Something tells me you lost the plan
Chorus
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
She stripped to the beat
But her clothes stay on
White light everywhere
But you cant see a thing
Such a squeeze
A mad sad moment
Glory to you
Glory to you
Take me there
Take me there
Got some revelation
Put into your hands
Save you from your misery
Like rain across the land
Dont you see
The colour of deception
Turning your world around again
Chorus
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting On The Wheat Harvest
as you sow brothers sisters so you wheat harvest reap
as a grain of wheat dies germinates bears fruit to heap
Jesus will completely clean up threshing floor gather his wheat
chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire hell suffering heat
an enemy came in over sowed weeds in among seed wheat
reapers harvest collect weeds burn them saving only wheat
Satan demands sifts men as wheat to blow away in sifting wind
Son of man will send angels to gather chosen ones from ill wind
a grain of wheat falls into the ground dies then bears fruit new life
so hate soul temptation in this world safeguard soul for eternal life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Larkspur
Words roll free from a tongue sometime
From a sometime, tongue-tied tongue,
Words that were heard by the stream and the bird
When the world and the wild were young,
When the world and the wild were young, sometime…
(Larkspur, marigold, ebony, lime) .
Sounds that were born in sweet young breath
In a bubble-sighed, trouble-tried time,
Sounds that were found by a child at the breast
In a bubble-tried pantomime,
In a bubble-tried pantomime, no less…
(Nightshade, cinnamon, green watercress) .
Love is the sound of a word, soft-said
From the lips of the love you too,
Love is the dove of the bubble-thought read
Soft sift from the me to you,
Soft sift from the me to you, soft said…
(Homespun, empathy, marmalade, bread) .
poem by David Lewis Paget (16 December 1973)
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Thoughts In A Wheat-Field
IN his wide fields walks the Master,
In his fair fields, ripe for harvest,
Where the evening sun shines slant-wise
On the rich ears heavy bending;
Saith the Master: 'It is time.'
Though no leaf shows brown decadence,
And September's nightly frost-bite
Only reddens the horizon,
'It is full time,' saith the Master,
The wise Master, 'It is time.'
Lo, he looks. That look compelling
Brings his laborers to the harvest;
Quick they gather, as in autumn
Passage-birds in cloudy eddies
Drop upon the seaside fields;
White wings have they, and white raiment,
White feet shod with swift obedience,
Each lays down his golden palm branch,
And uprears his sickle shining,
'Speak, O Master,--is it time?'
O'er the field the servants hasten,
Where the full-stored ears droop downwards,
Humble with their weight of harvest:
Where the empty ears wave upward,
And the gay tares flaunt in rows:
But the sickles, the sharp sickles,
Flash new dawn at their appearing,
Songs are heard in earth and heaven,
For the reapers are the angels,
And it is the harvest time.
O Great Master, are thy footsteps
Even now upon the mountains?
Are thou walking in thy wheat-field?
Are the snowy-wingèd reapers
Gathering in the silent air?
Are thy signs abroad, the glowing
Of the distant sky, blood-reddened,--
And the near fields trodden, blighted,
Choked by gaudy tares triumphant,--
Sure, it must be harvest time?
Who shall know the Master's coming?
Whether it be at dawn or sunset,
When night dews weigh down the wheat-ears,
Or while noon rides high in heaven,
Sleeping lies the yellow field?
Only, may thy voice, Good Master,
Peal above the reapers' chorus,
And dull sound of sheaves slow falling,--
'Gather all into My garner,
For it is My harvest time.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Parables of Jesus: The Kingdom of Heaven: The Wheat and the Darnel Gospel, Matthew 13: 24-30
Then Jesus told another parable:
‘Kingdom of Heaven- Wheat and the darnel'
Heaven can be compared to that of a man,
Who sowed only good seed in his whole field.
But just when everybody fell asleep,
His enemy had come and sown darnel,
Amongst the wheat and sped away quite fast.
And when the new wheat sprouted very well,
The darnel too appeared amidst the same;
His labourers all went to him and said,
‘Wasn't it good seed that you sowed in your field?
He told them, ‘Some enemy had done this! '
When they asked if they should pull the weeds out,
He told, ‘No, as the wheat would come with it! '
‘Let them both grow until the harvest-time;
And then I will instruct my reapers all,
‘Collect the darnel first; burn the bundles!
Gather the good wheat all into my barn! '
poem by John Celes
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Around And Around
Time as I've known it doesn't take much time to pass by me.
Minutes into days, turn into months turn into years, they hurry by me.
Still I love to see the sun go down and the world go around.
Dreams full of promises, hopes for the future I've had many.
Dreams I can't remember now, hopes that I've forgotten, faded memories.
Still I love to see the sun go down and the world go around.
And I love to see the morning as it steals across the sky,
I love to remember and I love to wonder why,
and I hope that I'm around so I can be there when I die, when I'm gone.
I hope that you will think of me in moments when you're happy and you're smiling.
that the thought will comfort you on cold and cloudy days if you are crying.
And that you'll love to see the sun go down and the world go around and around and around.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Around & Around
This song was first released on the poems, prayers and promises album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Time as Ive known it
Doesnt take much time to pass by me
Minutes into days turn into months turn into years
They hurry by me
Still I love to see the sun go down
And the world go around
Dreams full of promises
Hopes for the future
Ive had many
Dreams I cant remember now
Hopes that Ive forgotten
Faded memories
Still I love to see the sun go down
And the world go around
And I love to see the morning
As it steals across the sky
I love to remember
And I love to wonder why
And I hope that Im around
So I can be there when I die
When Im gone
I hope that you will think of me
In moments when youre happy
And youre smiling
That a thought will comfort you
On cold and cloudy days
If you are crying
Still I love to see the sun go down
And the world go around
And around and around
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loins
Gird up the loins of your mind and be sober,
For in a broad day liht a child is killed!
And the mind will sift us like the wheat.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Morning Cormorant
A sudden sight, a wonder in the humdrum
Among the thronging streets of run-down London
Upon the river bank, crammed in by traffic
A perched, black bird, though nothing as dramatic
As flocks of squawking seagulls on the common
But this sole, common shag won't be forgotten:
Uncommon cormorant, a seaside fisher
Who chose to catch his fish in my New River,
A morning miracle of inspiration
That brightened my dull bus-ride to the station.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Song of the Wheat
We have sung the song of the droving days,
Of the march of the travelling sheep;
By silent stages and lonely ways
Thin, white battalions creep.
But the man who now by the land would thrive
Must his spurs to a plough-share beat.
Is there ever a man in the world alive
To sing the song of the Wheat!
It's west by south of the Great Divide
The grim grey plains run out,
Where the old flock-masters lived and died
In a ceaseless fight with drought.
Weary with waiting and hope deferred
They were ready to own defeat,
Till at last they heard the master-word—
And the master-word was Wheat.
Yarran and Myall and Box and Pine—
’Twas axe and fire for all;
They scarce could tarry to blaze the line
Or wait for the trees to fall,
Ere the team was yoked, and the gates flung wide,
And the dust of the horses’ feet
Rose up like a pillar of smoke to guide
The wonderful march of Wheat.
Furrow by furrow, and fold by fold,
The soil is turned on the plain;
Better than silver and better than gold
Is the surface-mine of the grain;
Better than cattle and better than sheep
In the fight with drought and heat;
For a streak of stubbornness, wide and deep,
Lies hid in a grain of Wheat.
When the stock is swept by the hand of fate,
Deep down in his bed of clay
The brave brown Wheat will lie and wait
For the resurrection day:
Lie hid while the whole world thinks him dead;
But the Spring-rain, soft and sweet,
Will over the steaming paddocks spread
The first green flush of the Wheat.
Green and amber and gold it grows
When the sun sinks late in the West;
And the breeze sweeps over the rippling rows
Where the quail and the skylark nest.
Mountain or river or shining star,
There’s never a sight can beat—
Away to the sky-line stretching far—
A sea of the ripening Wheat.
When the burning harvest sun sinks low,
And the shadows stretch on the plain,
The roaring strippers come and go
Like ships on a sea of grain;
Till the lurching, groaning waggons bear
Their tale of the load complete.
Of the world’s great work he has done his share
Who has gathered a crop of wheat.
Princes and Potentates and Czars,
They travel in regal state,
But old King Wheat has a thousand cars
For his trip to the water-gate;
And his thousand steamships breast the tide
And plough thro’ the wind and sleet
To the lands where the teeming millions bide
That say: “Thank God for Wheat!”
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Tired Of Being Blonde
(l. raspberry)
She left the credit cards under her goodbye note
all of these are yours, goodbye? and that was all she wrote
Keys to the porsche she dropped on the floor in the den
Left in the ? 0 dodge that he drove her in
She wasnt angry, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of running around with the usual guys and gals
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living up to all he expected
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of letting her dreams go neglected
She used to love to know she rounded out his world
She used to love to be all he ever loved in a girl
He liked to buy her clothes that made her sexy and cute
Guess she decided shed been too long away from her roots
She wasnt crazy, she wasnt mad
She just knew in her heart they had drained her of all that she had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of all the platinum frustration
Tired of being blonde
Tired of looking like a cutie on the cover of a magazine
Tired of being blonde
Tired of chasing all the latest sensations
She wasnt angry, no, no, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
She was tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of coping with the desperation
Tired of being blonde
Tired of fighting back the feeling inside that told her to run
Tired of being blonde
Tired of hiding her own inclinations
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cabinessence
Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
Lost and found, you still remain there.
Youll find a meadow filled with grain there.
Ill give you a home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing.
Folks sing a song of the grange.
Nestle in a kiss below there.
The constellations ebb and flow there.
And witness our home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
(truck driving man do what you can)
Who ran the iron horse?
(high-tail your load off the road)
Who ran the iron horse?
(out of night-life-its a gas man)
Who ran the iron horse?
(I dont believe I gotta grieve)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in and out of luck)
Who ran the iron horse?
(with a buck and a booth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catchin on to the truth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the vast past, the last gasp)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the land, in the dust, trust that you must)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catch as catch can)
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Was White Blonde
She was white blonde,
her eyes sometimes bright sky-blue,
she was white blonde,
with a foot right next to the abyss
when I held her tightly against me,
and for the first time really noticed her well,
she was white blonde…
poem by Gert Strydom
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Race Persists in Food Habit
Rice came from the east, wheat from the north.
In south was millet already,2000 years ago,
As staple food of the Dravidian.
Food is the reminder of the race.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dumb Blonde
Dont try to cry your way out of this
Dont try to lie or Ill catch you in it
Dont try to make me feel sorry for you
Just because Im blonde
Dont think Im dumb
Cause this dumb blonde aint nobodys fool
When you left you thought Id sit
An you thought Id wait
An you thought Id cry
You called me a dumb blonde
Ah, but somehow I lived through it
And you know if theres one thing this blonde has learned
Blondes have more fun
You flew too high up off the ground
Its stormy wheater an had to come back down
But Ive found new thread for my old spool
Just because Im blonde
Dont think Im dumb
Cause this dumb blonde aint nobodys fool
When you left you thought Id sit
An you thought Id wait
An you thought Id cry
You called me a dumb blonde
Ah, but somehow I lived through it
And you know if theres one thing this blonde has learned
Blondes have more fun
You flew too high up off the ground
Its stormy wheater an had to come back down
But Ive found new thread for my old spool
Just because Im blonde
Dont think Im dumb
Cause this dumb blonde aint nobodys fool
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What the People Said
By the well, where the bullocks go
Silent and blind and slow --
By the field where the young corn dies
In the face of the sultry skies,
They have heard, as the dull Earth hears
The voice of the wind of an hour,
The sound of the Great Queen's voice:
"My God hath given me years,
Hath granted dominion and power:
And I bid you, O Land, rejoice."
And the ploughman settles the share
More deep in the grudging clod;
For he saith: "The wheat is my care,
And the rest is the will of God.
He sent the Mahratta spear
As He sendeth the rain,
And the Mlech, in the fated year,
Broke the spear in twain.
And was broken in turn. Who knows
How our Lords make strife?
It is good that the young wheat grows,
For the bread is Life."
Then, far and near, as the twilight drew,
Hissed up to the scornful dark
Great serpents, blazing, of red and blue,
That rose and faded, and rose anew.
That the Land might wonder and mark
"To-day is a day of days," they said,
"Make merry, O People, all!"
And the Ploughman listened and bowed his head:
"To-day and to-morrow God's will," he said,
As he trimmed the lamps on the wall.
"He sendeth us years that are good,
As He sendeth the dearth,
He giveth to each man his food,
Or Her food to the Earth.
Our Kings and our Queens are afar --
On their peoples be peace --
God bringeth the rain to the Bar,
That our cattle increase."
And the Ploughman settled the share
More deep in the sun-dried clod:
"Mogul Mahratta, and Mlech from the North,
And White Queen over the Seas --
God raiseth them up and driveth them forth
As the dust of the ploughshare flies in the breeze;
But the wheat and the cattle are all my care,
And the rest is the will of God."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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I always say now that I'm in my blonde years. Because since the end of my marriage, all of my girlfriends have been blonde.
quote by Hugh Hefner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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