Tales Of Brave Ulysses
By eric clapton and martin sharp
You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever,
But you rode upon a steamer to the violence of the sun.
And the colors of the sea blind your eyes with trembling mermaids,
And you touch the distant beaches with tales of brave ulysses:
How his naked ears were tortured by the sirens sweetly singing,
For the sparkling waves are calling you to kiss their white laced lips.
And you see a girls brown body dancing through the turquoise,
And her footprints make you follow where the sky loves the sea.
And when your fingers find her, she drowns you in her body,
Carving deep blue ripples in the tissues of your mind.
The tiny purple fishes run laughing through your fingers,
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter.
Her name is aphrodite and she rides a crimson shell,
And you know you cannot leave her for you touched the distant sands
With tales of brave ulysses; how his naked ears were tortured
By the sirens sweetly singing.
The tiny purple fishes run lauging through your fingers,
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Tales Of Brave Ulysses
By eric clapton and martin sharp
You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever,
But you rode upon a steamer to the violence of the sun.
And the colors of the sea blind your eyes with trembling mermaids,
And you touch the distant beaches with tales of brave ulysses:
How his naked ears were tortured by the sirens sweetly singing,
For the sparkling waves are calling you to kiss their white laced lips.
And you see a girls brown body dancing through the turquoise,
And her footprints make you follow where the sky loves the sea.
And when your fingers find her, she drowns you in her body,
Carving deep blue ripples in the tissues of your mind.
The tiny purple fishes run laughing through your fingers,
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter.
Her name is aphrodite and she rides a crimson shell,
And you know you cannot leave her for you touched the distant sands
With tales of brave ulysses; how his naked ears were tortured
By the sirens sweetly singing.
The tiny purple fishes run lauging through your fingers,
And you want to take her with you to the hard land of the winter.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Ah, Winter!
chill breeze
blowing into
nose eyes n ears
clogged nostrils
watery eyes
choked breathing
ah, but the denuded
trees bearing
bunches of flowers
at each stem
purple orange
white yellows
feasting eyes
through a veil
of watering eyes
colors spraying
perfume forced into
blocked nostrils
chilled winds
pouring dulcet
winter notes
into dumb ears
lungs fail to draw
full cycle of breath!
ah, winter
pleasantly chilling
ah, winter...!
aaachoooooooooooo!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Unconsciously
one night
beside me
my friend
you touch
my body
with your
fingers
you kiss
my lips
with your
warm lips
i let you
unleash
feelings
perhaps
long buried
like an
ancestor
the morning
after i ask
you why
and you say
you were
unconscious
you ask to
be forgiven
saying sorry
so sorry &
that the same
may not be
repeated
i touch
your mouth
with my
hand &
tell you
you have
nothing to
be afraid
of nothing
to be sorry
about
i perfectfly
understand
how is it
to be
unrequited
this body
is yours
this body
is meant to
be shared
by another
who loves
to touch
who loves
to kiss
who loves
to be in love
who loves
to be a part
of the flesh
who loves
to be just
the man that
you are
consciously
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like Summer Even Though It's Winter
Gaze up towards
the pale blue sky
and mourn for the
deep blue days of Summer.
Crunch, crunch go your boots
in the cold snow which has fallen
to lie on the hard ground once again.
The coldness of the winter air
numbs your ears and hands
making you long to follow
Summer to the warmth of spanish sands.
But if that's not possible
take heart in the fact that Summer
will return to banish winter once again.
poem by Andrew Matthews
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Winter Has Come
Definitely winter has come.
The evergreen shrub's white flowers have disappeared.
The ginko trees have turned into brooms.
Like a sharp sharp piercing, winter has come.
Everyone dislikes winter.
Deserted by grasses and trees, run away from by insects, winter has come.
Winter,
come to me, come to me.
I have winter's strength, winter is my victim.
Permeate through, penetrate into!
Make fires break out! Bury with snow I
Like a sharp knife, winter has come.
poem by KotaroTakamura
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The Naked Body In The River
i put you in the river
naked,
perfect body for my
feast at night till dawn
and then i sleep in
the morning
too tired
these loving eyes
still dead about you
someone beyond
the touch of my fingers
naked body
so beautiful but
it has no eyes
and hence
cannot see me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Keep me warm
A winter day will sometimes bring me the
flu, but I always wait on the blazing sun that
rises every now and then in winter season,
warm sunshine, warm you are, every morning
you bring your life, your lucent light warm up my
fingers, my face my body, sometimes my nose I
can't feel, but you indulge my face and warm my
cold days, your risen in winter season is like
seen you giving birth to life, winter, winter wont
give me the blues, nor make my days gloomy,
there will always be you cheerful and bright,
my mornings you bring the gift of sunlit, a glint
of sunshine can make me feel blessed,
unalterable you are, sovereign, enigmatic
and brilliant to all beings.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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When You Unzip Me
when you unzip me
the zipping sound climbs up to my chest
and then
it opens my heart
my mind wanders in fantasy lands
and then
my heart goes singing in springtime
my thighs trembling
my toes dancing
your fingers crawl all over my body
you lips your tongue......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Winter Angel
Her long honey-gold curls rest in my hand,
The smokey-blue eyes look up for kindness.
Cheeks, a soft pink, make everyone gaze in awe!
Her numb fingers lightly touch my arm,
A warm glow of happiness and love flows through me.
I think of how beautiful she would be next winter,
My little cherry blossom makes the winter more joyful.
Now asleep in my arms, she dreams of color,
I will never let go of my winter angel.
I See You in Your Fingers
I see your fingers
I see you in your fingers
I see your history from your fingers
I feel your touch from your fingers
They don't tell a lie to me
They don't give me a fake smile
Or promising kiss
But they give me a warm hold
and tickling touch
I see you from your fingers
I see the truth from your fingers
I see you in your fingers
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Winter
Winter comes
with A Winter’s Tale
of all that has gone before.
Ulysses toasts his feet before an Ithacan fire
dreaming of Ilium.
Letting go.
Letting go gain and loss.
A winter’s tale –
words upon a page,
ripples upon a mind
like ripples upon a sea.
The wind drops
sea becomes calm.
Where are the ripples then?
Mind lets go.
Where is Ilium?
Où sont les neiges d’antan?
Did anything happen?
Does anything happen?
Où sont les neiges d’antan?
In this flat calm of total peace
can anything exist?
poem by Brian Taylor
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Fingers Of Love
Can you imagine this
An itch to sensitive to scratch
The light that falls through the cracks
An insect to delicate to catch
I hear the endless murmur
Every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze
And the sound that comes to carry me
Across the land and over the sea
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I can't look back
Fingers of love move down
Colour is its own reward
Colour is its own reward
The chiming of a perfect chord
Let's go jumping overboard
Into waves of joy and clarity
Your hands come out to rescue me
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
Fall by the way
From the cradle to the grave
From a palace to the gutter
From beneath the dying waves
To the sun like fingers of love
Through waves of joy and clarity
A fallen angel walked on the sea
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
For you to find me
And all I want
Fingers of love move down
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is A Spring Afternoon
Everything here is yellow and green.
Listen to its throat, its earthskin,
the bone dry voices of the peepers
as they throb like advertisements.
The small animals of the woods
are carrying their deathmasks
into a narrow winter cave.
The scarecrow has plucked out
his two eyes like diamonds
and walked into the village.
The general and the postman
have taken off their packs.
This has all happened before
but nothing here is obsolete.
Everything here is possible.
Because of this
perhaps a young girl has laid down
her winter clothes and has casually
placed herself upon a tree limb
that hangs over a pool in the river.
She has been poured out onto the limb,
low above the houses of the fishes
as they swim in and out of her reflection
and up and down the stairs of her legs.
Her body carries clouds all the way home.
She is overlooking her watery face
in the river where blind men
come to bathe at midday.
Because of this
the ground, that winter nightmare,
has cured its sores and burst
with green birds and vitamins.
Because of this
the trees turn in their trenches
and hold up little rain cups
by their slender fingers.
Because of this
a woman stands by her stove
singing and cooking flowers.
Everything here is yellow and green.
Surely spring will allow
a girl without a stitch on
to turn softly in her sunlight
and not be afraid of her bed.
She has already counted seven
blossoms in her green green mirror.
Two rivers combine beneath her.
The face of the child wrinkles.
in the water and is gone forever.
The woman is all that can be seen
in her animal loveliness.
Her cherished and obstinate skin
lies deeply under the watery tree.
Everything is altogether possible
and the blind men can also see.
poem by Anne Sexton
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On The 4th Of July
Shall I tell it again how we started as friends
who would run into one another now and again.
At the Yippee Cai O or the Mesa Dupree, or a dozen different everyday places to be.
I was living alone, we were ever so brave on the telephone.
Would you care to come down for fireworks time,
we could each just reach, we step out of line.
And the smell of the smoke and the lay of the land
and the feeling of finding one's heart in one's hand
and the tiny tin voice of the radio band singing "love must stand,"
love forever and ever must stand.
Unbelievable you, impossible me, the fool who fell out of the family tree,
the fellow that found the philosopher's stone, deep underground like a dinosaur bone.
Who fell into you at a quarter to two with a tear in your eye for the Fourth of July
for the patriots and the minutemen and the things you believe they believed in then
Such as freedom, and freedom's land and the kingdom of God and the rights of man
with the tiny tin voice of the radio band singing "love must stand,"
love forever and ever must stand and forever must stand.
Oh, the smell of the smoke as we lay on the land
and the feeling of finding my heart in my hand
with the tiny tin voice of the radio band singing "love must stand,"
love forever and ever must stand and forever must stand.
All on the Fourth of July, on the Fourth of July.
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Fourth Of July
Shall I tell it again how we started as friends
Who would run into one another now and again
At the yippee cai o or the mesa dupree
Or a dozen different everyday places to be
I was loping along living alone
We were ever so brave on the telephone
Would you care to come down for fireworks time
We could each just reach
We step out of line
And the smell of the smoke and the lay of the land
And the feeling of finding ones heart in ones hand
And the tiny tin voice of the radio band singing
Love must stand
Love forever and ever must stand
Unbelievable you, impossible me
The fool who fell out of the family tree
The fellow that found the philosophers stone
Deep underground like a dinosaur bone
Who fell into you at a quarter to two
With a tear in your eye for the fourth of july
For the patriots and the minutemen
And the things you believe they believed in then
Such as freedom, and freedoms land
And the kingdom of God and the rights of man
With the tiny tin voice of the radio band
Singing love must stand
Love forever and ever must stand
And forever must stand
Oh the smell of the smoke as we lay on the land
And the feeling of finding my heart in my hand
With the tiny tin voice of the radio band
Singing love must stand
Love forever and ever must stand
All on the fourth of july
On the fourth of july
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick bed
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sick bed[2}
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Purple World
If all of a peacock was purple
It would be a star—
No cerulean or evergreen—
No place for
Mermaids to admire it—
Purple fanning underneath the sun,
Showing all of the tourists—
All of the housewives that he is
A man—maybe if they could love
Through an everyday metamorphosis,
They would wish upon him—
To feed him popcorn
And to make love to him—
The usual hijinks between the orchards
And the highways—in the singing
Prisons where they they—
But it is not possible for them to think of
Him as anything else than a peacock,
Even if all of purpled fanned—
Though he is more beautiful than them—
And at night,
After the busses leave the animals naked
Underneath the heartthrob heavens,
He will count dreams to himself in
His purple world—
Think of all of the women he could have
Married—
If he were not only a peacock, a star in
The purple world.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Death Of Love
When my arm is cold and numbed
And then laid to its final rest
I wander what thought that it could have
If only to God and man it could confess.
When my eyes close for their very last time
What would be the last sight for them to see,
Would it be a sight, that gave a delight
To be cherished by my soul through me.
When my fingers loose their sense of touch
What touch would be missed most of all
Would it be the roses in the summertime
Or the many leaves, that I touched in the fall.
When my lips quiver their last time to close
What would be the last thought of it to miss
Would it be to say a prayer or maybe speak a thought
Or would it be, to give my one last kiss.
When it is my time to to leave this world
I know from this world I must leave alone
But I need to feel love, as I say goodbye to life
As never again will my soul or thoughts roam.
Before my arm goes it needs one last hug
Then it will go with a pain and a delight
And before my eyes close shut as surely as they will
They must see heaven in sight, that night.
Before my fingers loose their since of touch
A woman's hair or a rose I need to brush
They must feel the softness that they once had known
Then happily they will leave with just a hush.
My heart would beat one last time for you
And for my lips, what would be their final wish
Would it to say a prayer or a poem to recite,
Or it would be a last goodbye kiss.
When my body is gone and it is buried deep
And my soul is heading to heaven above
No one might worry about me leaving this world
But when I gone, there will be the death of love..
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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