The Drowned Girl
Once she had drowned and started her slow descent
Down the streams to where the great rivers broaden
Oh, the open sky chant most magnificent
As if it was acting as her bodys guardian
Wreck and duck weed slowly increased her weight
By clasping her in their slimy grip
Through her limbs, the cold blooded fishes played
Creatures and plant life kept on, thus obstructing her last trip
And the sky that same evening grew dark as smoke
And its stars through the night kept the brightness still soaring
But it quickly grew clear when dawn now broke
To see that she got one further morning
Once her pallid trunk had rotted beyond repair
It happened quite slowly that she gently slipped from gods thoughts
First with her face, then her hands, right at the last with her hair
Leaving those corpse-choked rivers just one more corpse
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
My Hands
my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,
my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open
they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon
you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea
'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '
i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.
let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stars were racing
Stars were racing; waves were washing headlands.
Salt went blind, and tears were slowly drying.
Darkened were the bedrooms; thoughts were racing,
And the Sphinx was listening to the desert.
Candles swam. It seemed that the Colossus'
Blood grew cold; upon his lips was spreading
The blue shadow smile of the Sahara.
With the turning tide the night was waning.
Sea-breeze from Morocco touched the water.
Simooms blew. In snowdrifts snored Archangel.
Candles swam; the rough draft of 'The Prophet'
Slowly dried, and dawn broke on the Ganges.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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If I should die
1 If I should die to-night
2 And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
3 Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay --
4 If I should die to-night,
5 And you should come in deepest grief and woe --
6 And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe,"
7 I might arise in my large white cravat
8 And say, "What's that?"
9 If I should die to-night
10 And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
11 Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
12 I say, if I should die to-night
13 And you should come to me, and there and then
14 Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten,
15 I might arise the while,
16 But I'd drop dead again.
poem by Benjamin Franklin King
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Barbriallen
It was in the merry month of May
When green bugs were a-swelling
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For the love of Barbriallen
He sent his servant to the town
The place where she'd been dwelling
Say master dear has sent me here
If your name be Barbriallen
And slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she went to him
And all she said when she got there
Young man I think you are dying
Oh, don't you remember the other day
When we where in a tavern
You drank your health to the ladies there
And you slided Barbriallen
He turned his face unto the wall
He turned his back upon her
Adieu, adieu to all my friends
Be kind to Barbriallen
She looked to the east, she looked to the west
She saw his corpse a-coming
Oh, put him down for me she cried
That I may gaze upon him
The more she looked, the more she grieved
She bursted it out in crying
Oh, pick me up and carry me home
For I feel like I am dying
They buried sweet Willy in the old church yard
And Barbara in the new one
From Willy's grave there grew a rose
From Barbara's a green briar
They grew and they grew on the old church wall
And could not grow no higher
And there they tied in a true love's knot
The rose bush and the briar
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Weed
I dreamed that dead, and meditating,
I lay upon a grave, or bed,
(at least, some cold and close-built bower).
In the cold heart, its final thought
stood frozen, drawn immense and clear,
stiff and idle as I was there;
and we remained unchanged together
for a year, a minute, an hour.
Suddenly there was a motion,
as startling, there, to every sense
as an explosion. Then it dropped
to insistent, cautious creeping
in the region of the heart,
prodding me from desperate sleep.
I raised my head. A slight young weed
had pushed up through the heart and its
green head was nodding on the breast.
(All this was in the dark.)
It grew an inch like a blade of grass;
next, one leaf shot out of its side
a twisting, waving flag, and then
two leaves moved like a semaphore.
The stem grew thick. The nervous roots
reached to each side; the graceful head
changed its position mysteriously,
since there was neither sun nor moon
to catch its young attention.
The rooted heart began to change
(not beat) and then it split apart
and from it broke a flood of water.
Two rivers glanced off from the sides,
one to the right, one to the left,
two rushing, half-clear streams,
(the ribs made of them two cascades)
which assuredly, smooth as glass,
went off through the fine black grains of earth.
The weed was almost swept away;
it struggled with its leaves,
lifting them fringed with heavy drops.
A few drops fell upon my face
and in my eyes, so I could see
(or, in that black place, thought I saw)
that each drop contained a light,
a small, illuminated scene;
the weed-deflected stream was made
itself of racing images.
(As if a river should carry all
the scenes that it had once reflected
shut in its waters, and not floating
on momentary surfaces.)
The weed stood in the severed heart.
"What are you doing there?" I asked.
It lifted its head all dripping wet
(with my own thoughts?)
and answered then: "I grow," it said,
"but to divide your heart again."
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Night Queen
It was deep midnight
the sky was crystal clear
millions not millions
but billions of stars
assembled in the open sky
was it a procession
or obeisance of Night Queen
The downpour of stars
appeared as undulating scarf
studded with jewels
the humming of stars
was breaking silence of nature
as if
singing in praise of night queen
All stars slowly moved down
to horizon of sky
it was the time
for farewell of Night Queen
The king of the day sent a gift
of morning star to embellish her neck
then with a reddish shawl on her shoulder
I asked one of star
why do you assemble after every dusk
the star could not answer
after asking so many stars
I could know the Venus comes
after every dusk
to receive the Night Queen
The Night Queen comes to meet
her beloved Moon and slowly covers
the face of moon for a night
The Night Queen covers the entire creatures
under her veil to give them rest
and to give relief from days toil.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Let us be like rivers, Love
The Table shall never meet the Fuji again
Let us be like rivers, Love
Great rivers, not mountains!
On their epic journey to grace
The Land of the gods with much needed hope
Where an arid desert is the ‘mirror of heaven’
Great rivers run from a Great Lake
Ignorant of borders, boundaries or nationalities
They run
But no matter how long or how apart they grow
Great rivers are sure to become one sometime
At the edge of some distant sea
poem by LLM Mbatha
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051110C happy awakening
brightness slowly showing her lips
kissing vast surface including leaves
pushing nocturnal creatures to caves
while we get ready coming out of eves
we check our body before getting up
did we lost any sleeping through night
i stretch to my satisfaction i'm complete
my hair, my limbs even my aging teeth
i smile and pat my back; pick up weight
did few curls to stimulate these muscles
i lined up few golf balls putted to a cup
oh! my footprints makes it break to right
poem by Manonton Dalan
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A Life's Story
THE morning broke in a pearly haze,
Then the east grew duskly red:
'Oh, my only day, oh, my day of days,
To-day he will come,' I said.
As the sun climbed up in the clearer sky,
The mists fell down at his feet;
'There is sunshine too in my heart,' said I,
'For to-day is the day we meet;
Perhaps even now he is journeying fast--
Perhaps he is almost here.'
And my heart leaped up at each foot that passed,
With the thought that he might be near.
In my garden the fairest flowers that grew
I plucked for him, sweet, dew-wet,
And held them ready, the whole day through,
To gladden him when we met.
The sun shone warm on the longing earth,
That thrilled to his fervent kiss;
But what to me was the sun's smile worth,
When I longed for that smile of his?
The hours in their flight seemed strangely slow
For the sake of the hour to be;
'Go swiftly now--and more slowly go
When he shall be here with me.'
But the level light of late afternoon
Fell cold on me, still alone;
My flowers were dying, gathered too soon,
And my whole day's work undone.
With empty heart and unsatisfied
I turned from the red sunset:
'Short time for his coming is left,' I cried,
'It shall not be evening yet.'
But the sky grows pale, and a weak wind wakes,
And long flights of birds go home,
And slowly and surely the day's spell breaks,
And I know that he will not come.
Perhaps he has never turned my way,
Nor known how my heart would wait;
Perhaps he has sought me the whole long day,
And has failed at my very gate;
Perhaps all these hours of increasing pain
Have been only a dream of a day,
And after the night I shall wake again,
And 'To-day he comes,' I shall say.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Religions of Man - Part I - or - Get Close to the Shore Yourself
The Religions of Man
Are like vast rivers
Meandering slowly
Across great plains to the ocean
Fed
By waters from the heavens
Travelling different directions
To reach the same ultimate destination
But
Some now flow so slow
That they have lost all sense of direction
Others have become altogether dried up
Some so polluted
They support no hope for life
Either here or after
So
Best use your own senses
And your mind
To find how to get close
To the shore by yourself
Where you will find
Fast clear streams
That flow straight into
The Ocean of Truth
That still patiently
Awaits us
poem by Egal Bohen
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A Dream Of Death
WHERE shall we sail to-day?'--Thus said, methought,
A voice that only could be heard in dreams:
And on we glided without mast or oar,
A wondrous boat upon a wondrous sea.
Sudden, the shore curved inward to a bay,
Broad, calm, with gorgeous sea-weeds waving slow
Beneath the water, like rich thoughts that stir
In the mysterious deep of poets' hearts.
So still, so fair, so rosy in the dawn
Lay that bright bay: yet something seemed to breath,
Or in the air, or from the whispering waves,
Or from that voice, as near as one's own soul,
'There was a wreck last night.' A wreck? then where
The ship, the crew?--The all-entombing sea
On which is writ nor name nor chronicle
Laid itself o'er them with smooth crystal smile.
'Yet was the wreck last night.'. And gazing down
Deep down below the surface, we were ware
Of ghastly faces with their open eyes
Uplooking to the dawn they could not see.
One moved with moving sea-weeds: one lay prone,
The tinted fishes gliding o'er his breast;
One, caught by floating hair, rocked quietly
Upon his reedy cradle, like a child.
'The wreck has been'--said the melodious voice,
'Yet all is peace. The dead, that, while we slept,
Struggled for life, now sleep and fear no storms:
O'er them let us not weep when heaven smiles.'
So we sailed on above the diamond sands,
Bright sea-flowers, and white faces stony calm,
Till the waves bore us to the open main,
And the great sun arose upon the world.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Host Of The Air
O'DRISCOLL drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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By The Rivers Dark
By the rivers dark
I wandered on.
I lived my life
In babylon.
And I did forget
My holy song:
And I had no strength
In babylon.
By the rivers dark
Where I could not see
Who was waiting there
Who was hunting me.
And he cut my lip
And he cut my heart.
So I could not drink
From the river dark.
And he covered me,
And I saw within,
My lawless heart
And my wedding ring,
I did not know
And I could not see
Who was waiting there,
Who was hunting me.
By the rivers dark
I panicked on.
I belonged at last
To babylon.
Then he struck my heart
With a deadly force,
And he said, this heart:
It is not yours.
And he gave the wind
My wedding ring;
And he circled us
With everything.
By the rivers dark,
In a wounded dawn,
I live my life
In babylon.
Though I take my song
From a withered limb,
Both song and tree,
They sing for him.
Be the truth unsaid
And the blessing gone,
If I forget
My babylon.
I did not know
And I could not see
Who was waiting there,
Who was hunting me.
By the rivers dark,
Where it all goes on;
By the rivers dark
In babylon.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cool Refuge
At last, a place to hide away, cool refuge from the sun...
Some solitude, a chance to stay, where nothing much gets done.
A perfect spot meant to beguile the busy beasts on Earth,
No more to worry for a while, for what is worry worth?
The sun was fierce and in his face. Too close for comfort, friend.
The tiger tried to slow the pace till he was on the mend...
And once his ears heard nothing new, he slowly closed his eyes
And lowly breathed and time just flew and caught him by surprise.
The sun had moved across the sky, now tired, in retreat.
The tiger didn't question why the sky eye lost its heat.
Enough to know his cool refuge would soon be cooler still...
His change in mood would then be huge and end this passing thrill.
The tiger tarried in repose with great tranquillity
And gently scratched his tickled nose with tingling ecstasy...
One final hour in the shade... his refuge then grew cold.
The sad decision must be made, now that the day grew old...
So up he stood, with strength renewed, recharged and vibrant now
And thankful for this interlude, vowed to return... somehow...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cool Refuge'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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song - And Broken Dreams
Two lovers slowly dancing
There was stardust in the air
Falling on the perfect romance
On their innocence and flair
Blue velvet long black hair
And you and I were waltzing
But it must have been a dream
There were legends in the making
Drifting through that gentle scene
As cool as seventeen
The double doors swung open
And we spilled into the world
In between the smoke and mirrors
Where forgetting soon begun
Our rainbow in the dust
Four lovers slowly drifting
As the credits crossed the screen
They were legends well past breaking
On the dark side of their dreams
As blind as seventeen
(chorus)
And round we danced as love we chanced
The stars were riding on a bet
The moon had placed upon the sea
And lost as on we danced and fell
For soon your cheeks grew wet
With wasted years and broken dreams
16 03 2010
As slow as you are loving me
Slowly I know
Slowly slowly
I know what
Slow is, how
Is it to be slow
To be very
Slow like
A snail, like
A turtle like
A feather
Falling in air,
Like an ice cube
Melting and
Water dripping
Like you, slowly
Touching me,
Slow as how
Slow as you can
Be slowly loving
Me, slowly killing
Me in this kind
Of love so slow in
Suspended animation
Squeeze me, fleece me, and eke me out,
Crumple me, disarrange me, scatter me
Crease me, fold me, scrunch, crinkle,
Corrugate me, crimp me, and furrow me, ripple & ruffle me;
Jumble me, mess me, I am in love with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emilys Song
Lovely to know the warmth
Youre smile can bring to me
I want to tell you but the words you do not know
Sing me a lullaby
Of songs you cannot write
And I will listen for theres beauty where theres love
And in the morning of my life
And in the evening of my day
I will try to understand in what you say...
Rivers of endless
Tides have passed beneath my feet
And all too soon they had me standing on my own
Then when my eyes were closed
You opened them for me
And now we journey thro our lives to what will be
And in the morning of my life
And in the evening of my day
I will try to understand in what you say
Through all that life can give to you
Only true love will see you through
And will stand beside you now in what you say
And in the morning of my life
And in the evening of my day
I will try to understand in what you say
Take me into your world
Alone I can not go
For Ive been here so long
Youre leaving me behind
Walk with me now
Into your land of fairy tales
And open up that book of pages in my mind
And open up that book of ages in my mind
...
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dawn And Dark
GOD with His million cares
Went to the left or right,
Leaving our world; and the day
Grew night.
Back from a sphere He came
Over a starry lawn,
Looked at our world; and the dark
Grew dawn.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Irony of a golden bud
The only irony is, , ,
you ve been sowed by a shallow seed
which dwelled in a weed
a wayward ir responsible wind
got you to virgin earth,
a gush of seconds.. where the corpse was battered
witnessing the dream get shattered
The creepy crawly weight, , on the meek fragile breath
weeks of torture, , , months of turmoils, , ,
and there grew a Golden bud in the womb of soil
firming its root in my hollow soul
poem by Laila laila
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Magical Lore of the Sea
When the Moon arouse in the east,
And crimson skies streaked in west,
Sea glimmered in the evening starlight
And the sun sank in the deep blue twilight.
Evening Star shone from afar
And slowly the veil of light unfurled
Diamonds grew as clusters of star
And the wind hummed and chuckled.
The waves strewn and sea hewn
By a magical glow of the Moon,
The sea boomed and life it sewn,
With the cold reflections in gloom
And magical creatures danced and roamed
And plants bloomed upon moonlit mould
Deer ran helter-skelter as the lions roared
And a magical lore of the sea unfold.
Night after night as the time passed
A new life the Sea canvassed
Of warriors of old she portrayed one night
Who fought the foe and hailed a knight.
And once she revealed in her immense womb
Magical fishes and dolphins in the gloom
Sharks and whales plunging up and down
As the waves rolled with a grin and frown
A magical lore of the Sea unfold
As the Moonlight shines onto her
A magical lore of the Sea untold
Fades away as the Moon sinks into her.
poem by Ravenend Frost
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