The White Swan
kiss the lake at dawn
graceful, divine, majestic
new queen, the white swan
haiku by Marius Alexandru (27 December 2020)
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To Be And So On
To Be or…
The swan on the lake doesn’t know it is a swan,
they say. How do they know? A swan may look
at us and say to another swan “Darling humans
don’t who they are.” Quite right my lovely, they
are daft that way” (swans have lot in common
with actors, the lake is their stage and we are
their adoring audience) I know that because Tom,
the only actor I have met in the flesh, called me
darling, well, not only me but everyone he spoke
to. Tom died no one calls me darling anymore.
We only think we know ourselves, if we really did
it would be too scary to know that inside us lurks
a monster.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle
Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone
Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond
Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone
So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond
She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone
They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone
poem by Sara Fielder
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The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky
Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer
I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet
To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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The Mirror
Between the woods the afternoon
Its fallen in a golden swoon,
The sun looks down from quiet skies
To where a quiet water lies,
And silent trees stoop down to the trees.
And there I saw a white swan make
Another white swan in the lake;
And, breast to breast, both motionless,
They waited for the wind's caress. . .
And all the water was at ease.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Swan Of Dijon
I was in Dijon when the war's wild blast
Was at its loudest; when there was no sound
From dawn to dawn, save soldiers marching past,
Or rattle of their wagons in the street.
When every engine whistle would repeat
Persistently, with meaning tense, profound,
'We carry men to slaughter' or 'we bring
Remnants of men back as war's offering.'
And there in Dijon, the out-gazing eye
Grew weary of the strife-suggesting scene;
But, searching, found one quiet spot hard by
Where war was not; a little lake whereon
Moved leisurely a stately, tranquil swan,
Majestic and imposing, yet serene.
I was in Dijon, when no sound or sight
Woke thoughts of peace, save this one speck of white,
Sailing 'neath skies of menace, unafraid
While silver fountains for his pleasure played.
Dear Swan of Dijon, it was your good part
To rest a tired heart.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The haunting of a hunter
Once upon a time in the early hours of dawn
A man got up and sallied from his cottage door
Athwart his shoulders a bow and arrows he carried
And towards the forest his steps he hurried.
All day he searched a target for his arrow
Finding none, his anguish grew sharp and narrow.
Hunger and thirst tortured him all day till dusk
And fatigue and pain settled in his limbs to last
Toward the evening as the sun sunk
He by the lake watched a pair of dove white swans
Tall and amorous they looked
As they court their image in a shady nook.
At once an arrow he lanced at one.
A stream of blood red gashed out of the swan.
Late at night his heavy limbs upon a pallet he laid.
Seeking comfort from an adventure long and languid
An unfamiliar dream claimed his haunted rest.
A tortured maid into his slumber burst.
In her one hand she held a white snow feather.
Her tearful, beautiful eyes at him all night were fixed for ever
'What sin what crime you have found in my white dove love? '
She cried engulfed in her loath
Back and forth walked the man in his chamber
Trying to shake off a day not to remember
At the early hour of the next dawn
A man from his cottage door was gone
Across his shoulders a bow and an arrow he took
And in the forest gloom for a well known lake he look
Against the morning sun a single swan he found
With statuesque grace and divine virtue she circled around
A long hour he spotted the sailing swan, alone among none.
Recalling his dreadful dream he knew she was the one.
His inwards were gnawed by regrets
He wished he had never so far strayed
Despair and sorrow dried his tongue
And then at once, he lanced the arrow in his lung
copy rights 2010
Do Swans smile...?
Do Swans smile? ...
Serenity the note of their bodies' flow
Their secret song but none will know
The water's black and moonbeam's white
Become kin with them in the darkened night
Immaculate white, graceful form
Beauty with placid majesty born
To behold the sight of a Swan in waters adrift
Is for a rose to bloom amidst a heart's mists
A sense of quiet joy, warmly does spring
Her presence in the world a smile does bring
She will move with winds and waters in grace
Though no smile may be seen on Her face
And the poem that is She will linger with whom ever the beholder
A Swan brings the smile of sweet lyric though not worn on Her.
poem by Dilshan Boange
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123.Kumaragurupara Swamigal’s Sakalakalavalli Maalai-Stanza 5
Stanza 5
Tamil Transliteration:
Panchap pidhantharu seiyaporr paapang kaerugamenn
Nennjath thadaththala raadhadhennae nedunth that kamalth
Thanjath thuvasa muyarththoansenn naavu magamumvellaikk
Kanjath thavisoth thirundhdhaai sakala kalaavalliyae!
Translation Poem
Occupying Brahman’s red tongue,
Who is holding high, the flag of
Swan white, with long legs red complexion
beating the red colour of lotus into oblivion
and also occupying His great heart
and seated on the white lotus flower
in a beautiful sitting posture
Hey Mother! White swan!
Master of all arts and science!
Wont you make Your soft golden red lotus feet
decorated with the red mehandi
blossom in my heart?
Message:
Focused attention on Art and education and technical acumen are signs of progress
Red Message:
In the ordinary world Red is a danger mark; in mythology red is considered a symbol of victory and ladies wearing red are respected and loved
According to Henry Dreyfus,
1) it is popularly felt that red, the color of blood and fire, represents life and vitality. Red also signifies the color of the sun: a symbol of energy, radiating its vitalizing life force into human beings. Red is also looked upon as a sensual color, and can be associated with man's most profound urges and impulses.
2) red and white together immediately signifies happiness and celebration. The combination of red and white in the decorative ornaments used on wedding or engagement presents has a compelling quality that suggests man's urge to create a bond between his own life and that of the gods. Red and white are also the colors of the uniforms that shrine maidens’ wear (denoting these colors divine nature.)
Here in our stanza we have white swan with red legs, his flag is white, the seat of my Mother Saraswathi is white, her feet are red
A swan is a bird that is a symbol of gracefulness and calmness. Swans are graceful as they float atop the water in ponds, and they are calm creatures. Swans also symbolize sensitivity, love, and beauty. Because it has domain over water as well as air, the swan is considered to be the Bird of Light and is associated with the dawning of the Sun
birds often symbolize the divine. They are often viewed as gods in disguise, or else they are the vehicles of gods and goddesses.
While the peacock is a symbol of material manifestation, the swan stands for the ethereal. It represents the presence of divine inspiration in our world.
Note: in the previous stanza my mother Saraswathi is compared to Peacock and here Swan
This combination signifies the love of the poet for my divine Mother
27 8 09
poem by Rajagopal Haran
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I shall not die for thee
FOR thee, I shall not die,
Woman of high fame and name;
Foolish men thou mayest slay
I and they are not the same.
Why should I expire
For the fire of an eye,
Slender waist or swan-like limb,
Is't for them that I should die?
The round breasts, the fresh skin,
Cheeks crimson, hair so long and rich;
Indeed, indeed, I shall not die,
Please God, not I, for any such.
The golden hair, the forehead thin,
The chaste mien, the gracious ease,
The rounded heel, the languid tone,—
Fools alone find death from these.
Thy sharp wit, thy perfect calm,
Thy thin palm like foam o' the sea;
Thy white neck, thy blue eye,
I shall not die for thee.
Woman, graceful as the swan,
A wise man did nurture me.
Little palm, white neck, bright eye,
I shall not die for ye.
poem by Douglas Hyde
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I have had so many great moments, but I would have to say that dancing the Swan in 'Swan Lake' was such a unique and passionate experience for me. It was such bloody hard work, even at that very early age, that I would not want to try to replicate it again now.
quote by William Kempe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale
Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come,
O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest,
O Swan, and what do you seek?
Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule:
where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom,
and the fragrant scent 'He is I' is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed,
and desires no other joy.
The Local
If you're lost for somewhere to go
When you're walking around llanon
There's a pub up a hill I know
That's simply named the White Swan
You won't find a more friendly crowd
No matter where you may live
Some are quiet but most are loud
But none more so than one named Viv
The landlord likes his horses
And happy to have a bet
No matter what the course is
He never ends up in debt
The drinks on display are diverse
Whether it is spirits or stout
You may want to come to converse
Or to try the food and pig out
So next time you're in transition
And thoughts of where to go are gone
I have a good proposition
And that's to try out the White Swan
poem by Alun Jones
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Tone
Find me a tone for this poem
I am having a hard time
With putting the proper tone
Though I am pretty sure
Of its form
What form to use
The shape of the swan
A white swan
On a lake
Alone
Give me a tone
That conveys what I
Want to convey
To you
A language
That really means
What it says
Something
Creative
A path
That I must
Follow
Leading me
To you
Give me a tone
Please
A tone from
You
The one
I really love
The one
That must
Love me
Too
Truly,
Tell me
What is the
Tone now
Of this poem
Is it begging?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Spirit of Rumi,31-The Swan
How beautiful the white swan,
gliding effortlessly, it seems,
the sunlight shining on those feathers
protecting its skin and body better
than do clothes protect a man!
White as if to proclaim God’s beauty mov ing
on the waters, like the first day of Creation,
it dips its carefully constructed neck so elegantly
to find its invisible food…
while invisibly too, under the surface,
its legs paddle hard and fast…
Who would dare to call the swan
a hypocrite because of this!
In India they call the saints
who seem to glide so effortlessly
through life, glide across our gaze
so that for a moment, we would be them…
call them Paramahansa, great swan..
who knows how hard a swan
finds its life, moving against a fierce current,
lifting its huge body into the air,
knowing direction more clearly than any man…
who knows how hard a saint
works invisibly all the time, has worked,
will work, eternally… for us,
watching on the river-bank of life
the river, itself yearning for the sea,
to lose itself in the vast harbour of the waters…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Love The Wild Swan
"I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
Hash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Cruelly Pure
Swan like movements,
“Swan Lake” melody bursts out in the air,
Slaying it with the greatest ease!
Beautiful in white you are,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at soul!
Mute swan until death comes,
Wing shaped flames burst in my soul,
Slashing it with amazing grace!
Yes, Love burns slow,
Love crawls inside,
Cuts you so deep
That you’ll forever remember,
Never regret!
Beautiful and cruel you are,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at heart!
Steams, hot mist dances like a mistress,
Feather-like touches on my face,
Caressing it with impeccable desire,
Cruelly pure my lover is,
So beautiful and pure,
So beautiful and rebel at soul!
©Elya Thorn. Do not republish without permission!
Part of 'Dark Whisperings and Invocations'
poem by Elya Thorn
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A Swan Song(dying sentence)
Remember me, remember my swan song,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live it all over again,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live that stain of my plastered smile again,
Let this be the last moment,
Let me say the last good-bye,
It won't count anything now,
So let me lay in silence,
Life has treated me well and I have had enough of it,
Lets end this game,
Enough of milling in and out,
Hear my swan song,
And let this end now,
I need to be away,
away from these thorns,
far far away,
Where you'll only see my memories,
my shadows,
my untold stories buried after me,
and my last swan song,
Hear my swan song,
I feel like a fish out of water,
from pillar to post,
fallen back upon,
Let me be buried under sand,
let me give my final test,
I'll never return, its time to sing,
sing my last swan song,
Hear my swan song,
maybe this moment or the other,
my soul would rest in peace,
before disappearing,
let me sing,
sing my swan song,
I only remember now the memory lived in me,
a perfectly encapsulated morsel,
of a good past,
from piebald brush strokes swaying,
to barren now, that I'd become,
As I'll say my last goodbye,
hear my swan song,
because now you'll never hear my voice again,
for ever and ever and ever...
Written on 5/6/11
poem by Ayesha Riaz
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Goddess Saraswathi
White Herself clad in silvery white
White Herself on a river spiritual white
White Herself mounted on a lily white
White Herself consorted with a swan white
Spotless Saraswathi Her divine might
Denudes mind murky its whimsy thought
Revives nous Her sacral delight
Mood of peace inherited heartful freight
She dwelling mindful like She in vedic elite
Trusts each a human in providential tryst
Tranquil strokes bestows Her harmonious lute
Deepest diligence one does perpetuate
Her pristine rosary, codex and water-pot
Impregnate with science, art and all else about
Effulgence Hers does when alight
Unblemished sans literary fright
Each word of a quite poet
Submitted honest unto Her lotus feet
Right thought, right deed rightly in due result
A weaponless Goddess She of an ineffable rapport
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Swan Lee
Swan lee got up at the running foot pow-wow,
Heading from the fire to his waiting canoe.
Chattering squaw untied the wigwam door,
The chief blew smoke rings two by two!
The land in silence stands...
Swan lee, his boat by the bank in the darkness,
Loosened the rope in the creek is entwined.
A feather from the wing of a wild young eagle,
Pointed to the land where his fortune he'd find
The land in silence stands
Swan lee paddled on from the land of his fathers,
His eyes scanned the undergrowth on either side.
From the shore hung a hot, heavy, creature infested
Tropic, swan lee had a bow by his side
The land in silence stands
Swan lee kept time, half on land, half on water,
Grizzly bear and raccoon his fare.
He followed his ears to the great water fall,
Swan lee knew deep down that his squaw was there!
The land in silence stands....
Suddenly the rush of the mighty great thunder,
Confronted swan lee as his song he sang,
In the dawn, with his squaw, he was battling homewards
It was all written down by long silas lang.
The land in silence stands...
The land in silence stands...
The land in silence stands.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swan
Traffic jams, Concorde drones
TV's and radios drown me out
You won't change slamming doors
Temper, temper, that tongue of yours, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
Dumbells crash, babies cry
A thousand voices, mostly lies, drown me out
The underground, Marble Arch
The deafening snap of breaking hearts, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
Barking dogs, the lonely roam
The great unlaid making their way home, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
song performed by by Right Said Fred
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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