Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
David Ehrgott Dec 2015
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
  
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
  
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
  
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
I can't hear you
  
An independent mind that thinks  
An independent mind that thinks
An independent mind that thinks
An independent mind that thinks
  
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
Politicians, Mobs, Celebrities
The really really big big three
  
We're going down and down and down
We're going down and down and down
We're going down and down and down
There's nothing we can do
  
Ignorance leads us to stupidity
Ignorance leads us to stupidity
The gateway to stupidity
Ignorance is insanity
  
More control over the masses
More control over the masses
Gas, tax, and uneven grasses
More control over the masses
  
Half of what we used to have
Half of what we used to have
Half of what we used to have  
And still no time to talk
  
Keep feeding all our enemies
Keep feeding all our enemies
No brains for independancy
We're feeding all our enemies
  
How can we lose everything?
How can we lose everything?
d*ck Cheney making Bling Bling Bling
And we're here losing everything
  
With nothing left we close our mouth
With nothing left we close our mouth
With nothing left we close our mouth
How stupid can we be?
  
We want to stay alive, we're dead
We want to stay alive, we're dead
We're dead if we say one wrong word
We want to stay alive, we're dead
  
We can't think independently
We can't think independently
We must believe, believe, believe
We can't think, we can't think
  
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
Echo, echo, echo, echo
I can't hear you
  
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation
We're building a sounder nation  
  
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
Black and white and red, green, blue
  
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
Andrew molder Nov 2016
Dark in the darkest of the darknees
  echo-  I can't sleep At night  
  she Comforts me with her poison
  Echo-I loved you---edit
  That's why you and 1 drowned
  echo- this Battle Ever end
  scream im screaming im screamlist
  echo- my lungs burning
  you make my life a rollercoaster
  echo - money missing
  the car be swerving
  The hummingbird guiding mewith its light
kevin garcia Oct 2014
Children of the echo tree
Can you hear me?
What punctuates your mind
How survives your kind?
Does the bell ring in your head
When your dreams turn dead
Children of the echo tree?

All you live is a reflection
Of what was said before
Echoes of silence
Echoes of violence
The tree of echo

You are so empty children
Echoes of unoriginal
Not even shadows

Oh echo tree’s spawn
Created all alike
Can’t you see it is you, you hurt
When you scheme and spite

Children of the echo tree
Where does your master sleep?

All copies
So empty
Children of echo tree

What your handler shouts
You repeat it back to me
I see.
The echo tree
It controls you with empathy
Traps you so wickedly

Your stained finger
Displaying your wasted effort
Your reward
More words to echo
How deep you do fall

Children of echo
Who will save you?
Brittany Hesse Mar 2015
With the wind under my wings I soar
I see the west Canadian shore
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
Nuu-chan-nulth – A caring and nurturing people are thee
Small families among the mountains, rivers, and sea
Vancouver Island’s west coast is where you reside
Awaiting your canoes on evenings incoming tide

Your men are fishing in the ocean’s secret places
Worry and hope etched in their weathered faces
Each man knowing the days hunting success must provide
For many wives, children, and elders the spoils they must divide

Your rhythm and harmony with the ocean is strong
Whale hunts and oceans spirits intertwined through your song
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
I hear the east call, and open my wings to take flight
The distant drum’s heartbeat calls from the suns rising light
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
Coast Salish – You know how the sea dances and quivers
As you watch the expanse from your inlets, and rivers
Vigilance is needed in case a Storm approaches
To mount a defence if an enemy encroaches.

Your wise headmen lead with such divine humility
Your family life embodies true equality
Your features are defined by a broad face and flat brow
Your girls with plucked brows, braided hair prepare for their vow

You seasonally harvest your rivers resources
Spawning Eulachon and sturgeon complete their courses
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
As I leave your forests of tall cedars and aged fir
The drumming beckons me up the wild Fraser River
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war


Okanagan – You survive in the Valley and slopes
In a legend of a coyote you set your hopes
He educated you how to live off the hard land
Your very own lives you bestowed in his paw like hand

Your offspring, your joy, your future you know must be taught
So at an early age, to the elders they were brought
Your youths are handpicked and taught the roll they shall assume
If a warrior shall fall another shall resume

Your seasonal harvest of forest meadows and marsh
Will insure you survival when the winters are harsh
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
With the updrafts I glide over the dry desert plains
I hear the drum call from a land where it hardly rains
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
Secwépemc – your men come out through the eastern sunrise’s door
Your women’s entrance faces the stream to ease her chore
In seasonal cozy houses built into the ground
In a secret place your spoils and possessions are found

Your request for spawning salmon grows louder each day
The messenger crickets announce salmons on their way
You hunt with arrows and spears you crafted from strong stone
Needles and jewelry you made from animal bone

You patiently, wait in the winter’s silent brisk eve  
For the deer’s stealthy approach from the snow covered trees  
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
The drum it beckons from the land of river crossroads
The land where men come to bring and trade their canoes loads
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war


Dakelh – You are the people who learned how to barter
You are known as the people who travel on water
With gathered roots you weave fish weirs in the evening air
And you set your high hopes in the chanted salmon prayer

Your children learn from the oral traditions you tell
Chinlac massacres, caves where dwarves shooting arrows dwell
Your widows carry ashes of the husband they held dear
Their Mourning and sadness that will last over a year

The respect for the land for everything you have gain
Though much, and bountiful your harvest some shall remain
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoess, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
A plume of smoke and drum beat come from the distant Northwest
Echoing from the place where the Skeena River rests
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war

Gitxsan –Your Home is surrounded by snow tipped glaciers
Forests of spruce, hemlock, cedars, and subalpine firs
Your chieftain name and duties you hold for a short time
Other Wilp members are only ‘children’ in their prime

Like the rivers your families closely intertwine
Each account told is a lesson that is sublime
Each Wilp has your story told by a tall totem pole
Your History affects and moves you deep in your soul

Deer, Moose, and small mammal in the wild woodlands you stalk
You pursue the Mountain goat through rugged peaks of rock
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
The drums incessantly pounds as I take to the sky
Urgently calling from remote islands of Haida Gwaii
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war

Haida - You live in the pacific northern islands
Your fam’lies Belong to the eagle or raven clans
You watch the tide rise and fall over the rocks and sand
Great mighty sculptures you have created with your hand

With strong healthy cedar trees you made your long dwellings
The entrance way totem your history is telling
Your warrior canoes glide through the rolling waves
Through victories and battles you have prisoner slaves


The sound of the drum beat is mixed in saltwater spray
To Vancouver Island’s west shore I must fine my way
The drum it echo, echo, echo’s, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
As I leave your vast, and memorable territory
In the soft twilight air I watch the sunset’s glory
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war

Kwakwakawakw- So proud you are of your mother tongue
Born in this beautiful land your ancestors came from
Noblemen, Aristocrats, commoners and your slaves
Your narrative exists among your forefathers graves

Your canoes bow is carved into animal features
The whale, otter, salmon and other sea creatures
You hunt with such heroic assurance all year round
In the shapes of well carved masks their likeness will abound

Your long homes are protected by the oceans embrace
First nations, my people, you are a amazing race
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
I leave your land of legends in a misty gray veil
And on the horizons comes change’s white sail
The drum it echoes, echoes, echoes, the drum it echoes through my core
Whispering a haunting rhythm of time, change, and war
The Europeans came into your isolated lands
Dividing your people into tribes, reserves, and bands
Before their arrival you lived mighty, strong, and free
Now your children fight to reclaim their identity

The drum will echo, echo, echo through time’s core
It will whisper a rhythm of time, change, and war
The drum will echo, echo, echo through your core
It will whisper a rhythm of time, change, and war
st64 Mar 2013
You're building up a palace
For the world to see
How great you are
But do they know how loud the echo
In your walls.... is outdone
By the echo in your soul?

All pretty things to fill your life
And make you feel so useful
But yet, your day is dark and grey
And you still feel so blue
Oh, the echo in your soul.


Refrain
Why don't you stop....
Why don't you-ooh stop?
And tend your heart
Oh, feed your mind
And fill up your soul, oh
With beauty that
Cannot..... be seen.


It's easier to see your faith by showing
But then you're stuck in a rut
You'd surely nev-er-er leave
Outdone by the echo in your soul
The echo in your life
The echo in your smile
Oh, the echo-oh.... in your words.

It's harder for you to totally live your truth
For, it's not how you LOOK, but HOW you look
Take off the trappings and reveal
And see who you really are
See what you really are
See what you have become!

And now you're feeling all alone in a crowded room
You try to sound intelligent yet make no sense
Your stilted humour is outdone
By the echo-oh....in your soul.




Star Toucher, 26 March 2013
Written such a long while back...just on observations...lol
Capo on 1.
I see the stars during day
with young and old just like me
dark grey blue clouds
behind a burnt calico tree
velvet lightning from my fingertips
kissing and true words only from our lips
multicolored raindrops bursting to the ground
and when we speak we echo all around
we echo all around
echo all around
we echo all around
echo
I don't see it and I don't care about what it should have been
all I see is what I love
and what I really miss
don't complain I'm not there
I'm in a better place
this is my stop I got my grin
if only you could see my face

Mountains green and full of waves
coming from a smooth warm breeze
animals free and untamed
calm with their spirit just the same
no room for time because it doesn't exist
free your mind and center into bliss
open up your heart and grab yourself a brush
think of nothing tragic
you got a magic canvas
That will echo all around us
it'll echo all around us
it'll echo
it'll echo all around us
oh echo

I don't see it and I don't care about what it should have been
all I see is what I love
and what I really miss
don't complain I'm not there
I'm in a better place
this is my stop I got my grin
if only you could see my face

A golden silhouette upon the shadows from the sun
the lion sleeps within my pride
while the wolf howls at night
they rule my land when I'm gone
searching for my queen
to take her out of this world
and back into my dreams

who you are
is exactly who I am
who we are is different when you understand
who you are
is exactly who I am
who we are is different when you understand

I don't see it and I don't care about what it should have been
all I see is what I love
and what I really miss
don't complain I'm not there
I'm in a better place
this is my stop I got my grin
if only you could see my face
**FadedFate**
Janette Aug 2012
And so resounds the echo...

Sewn against your shadow,
handstitched destiny edges,
unraveled in the fire,
pulses rage
in heart-paced whispers,
collision of midnight panther
pelts, bleed into powder silk,
ravage the gentle merge,
your touch upon my awakening
sway me softly in your gaze
taste me with eyes that pierce
my soul from wingtips of butterflies
cast from the fire of your existence.
Unfold the unspoken words
dripping in the creases of this
throbbing...needing...wanting
heartbeat-slip-stitch,
suture seal the ache
of gossamer flesh
pressed against raven,
twin glances,
the bookmark,
fingertips
tracing the eyeprints
of your words upon me.

...so resounds the echo...

As echo wrecks the body
in a fever of words, purged
from the ****** night,
that devoursand devoursyour lips,
my hands' gentle cradle, spread
its roots dark these russet
threads the gold, swept
wetly over hands, like nerves,
quickening and so laden
with tremors, these words echo echo

Slip knot tongues intertwine,
tangled tasting breathes, exhaled
in slow moans surging, purging
that drinkand craveand need
m o r e
beneath hands that unleash
the fervor, lips pressed through
the flames, as gossamer falls
upon panther silk,
an exigent trespass,
beyond the touch
beyond the kiss,
educe the quake and the quiver
within this rapture.

...so resounds the echo echo...
Simon Jul 2020
Timing is everything when you aren’t certainly prepared to strike down your own advances in the face of extreme fun! Because fun (on the other hand) can’t and will not strike fun at the advances (that is your own product). Only to have (“timing is everything”) shrivel up and die! Except that doesn’t make any sense to have one or the other act as a simple countermeasure conjoin up with an interconnecting way of making things (all the better). But it’s already been like that too begin with! Someone once said as if by the simple means of a very lonesome echo. An echo that doesn’t have any priority to offer itself, except for the many occasions of seemingly never-ending “reverberations” that rebound off an endless process meant to coincide with something more important then itself. (“Itself”) … As in a very lonesome echo that keeps “broadcasting” every chance it could get its own “echo processing” hands on! That is if it’s not already of the “correct sorts” to measure such a claim. (Since a something can’t be seemingly claimed if not for a desire not having its own identity to bear!) For it simply trying to claim something (only to get it right the first time) is only but a fashionable illusion made to show that once something only seemingly happened once… It actually had been going on for an “infinite” amount of time without any specifications for how long it could have lasted? Or how long it’s very “reverberating transmissions” (and the effects surrounding it) would essentially last for? There was never an essential answer to this very question. Since questions aren’t in the correct sorts either, when trying to come to terms with an answer that demanded essential “answers” (right off the bat) in order to carry on forward. True…true…true…. The (someone) again once said, as if by the simple means of a very lonesome echo. How many was that…? And how many times did it resort to acting out in the best interests of something other then itself? The narration of this very passage “ticks” momentarily, as if to really “access” any of what this lonesome echo broadcasting mindlessly was “babbling” about?! When the narration did eventually come to terms about what its own “accessing” safely filtered out in the open for (all to see…not just in itself), it was confused (more then EVER)! What information it simply found out, was about how the lonesome echo repeatedly broadcasted something too many times that of course (it was not seemingly aware of…at first). Because even if it was, it certainly wasn’t caring of the repercussions bending the very instances that are (all the sudden) too alert to take…certainly lightly. Just as the narration of this very passage once took this all to heart (once upon a time ago). (If only for just a single moment). Not long after when it revealed that these very reverberating transmissions were in fact bending the very behavior of this once lonesome echo. And as if the narration hadn’t already been ticking it’s very “accessing protocols” together, revealing also another profound secret piece of information. Is that this all took place long in the past. Showing these very reverberating transmissions were the result of an overly prolonged exposure to something finally catching up too itself. Can you essentially guess what that very (something) was who finally was catching up too itself…? If you did, great! But remember this, as it’s VERY important (so to speak) …. Cast logic completely aside for only just another overly prolonged (“exposure” of a moment) having possibly been the size of another “infinite” lonesome echo broadcasting wildly! (Not to mention fusing its mindless behavior together as one!) You’d (all the sudden) get a random “alerting call” from that very someone who was essentially reaching out with tons and tons of echo’s in order to (not just make a “too long of a point”) when they essentially were only doing it for fun. Except for the fact the lonesome echo was essentially losing itself one reverberating transmission at a time. Strongly revealing another piece of the puzzle…. That it wasn’t just losing itself throughout its own “reaching out” protocol. But simply trying to keep up with its own alerting call it kept casting judgement on in order to simulate some “twisting fate” together. A twisting fate that it initiated together (in it’s reaching out protocol) as “timing is everything”!
Fun isn’t within the priority of itself. Just as someone once said about themselves “once upon a time ago” for being essentially narrated for their very own safety. (Even if it at the time again, “once upon a time ago” was for their good!) Only to have the essential name of this very passage mock itself time and time…again!
Poetry by MAN Mar 2015
Is that an Echo? I hear someone talking back
Is it me? Have I begun to crack?
Heart break memories I have stacks
So tell me "Echo" what do I lack?
Adventure..more games..unique...yet all the same
Maybe its me..Happiness I try to maintain..
To only feel love in moments of hate
Set fire to surroundings as I instigate
Scorpion tail swings..Who did I devastate?
Poison transformed new energy we create
Like a ball toss it to me..
This ball can transcend multiple realities
What you see have no regret..You'll get back what you spent
Memories squat pay no rent..In your head sit like an Elephant
To much pressure no more room
Echo roars back with a sonic boom
Melodic devastating is the tune
Every wolf on the planet howls at the moon
So tell me echo what you think about that?
Can you match me wit for wit..always come back?
Beyond the mirror..see the cracks..
Read scars share stories of many attacks
Stay with me Echo..ugh..Please remain..
Add to my voice when it begins to..strain
Feel my every loss with you I gain
Mimic my heart..Oh Echo..Share the pain..
M.A.N  3-24-15 I performed this poem in a slam competition on 3-14-15...
The Lonely Poet Dec 2020
I was walking in the woods with my friends one day,
when suddenly, their voices stopped.
I look behind me to see an empty white void.
A nullspace.
Nothingness.
Infinitely.
I call into it. Are my friends there?
But all I hear is my own voice.
Echo,
echo,
echo.
My words stream forever into the blankness.
Echo,
echo,
echo.
My words come back to me.
I sit there for a while, listening to my words.
Minutes?
Hours?
You can't have time when there's no space.
I listen to myself calling out across the emptiness.
Then, something calls back.
It is not my words.
It is not words.
It is music.
Suddenly, I am woken up by my friends.
We're going for a walk in the woods today.
If I don't come back, don't worry.
I'm just listening to the music.
Echo,
echo,
echo.
Inside my head.
S D S Jun 2013
There's this echo in my head
It's screaming oh-so-loud
Can't make out what is said
Thoughts are in a shroud

There's this echo in my head
It's screaming oh-so-loud
There's this echo in my head
Overwhelming my mind

There's this echo in my head
There's this echo in my head
It fills my days and nights
There's this echo in my head

And now there's little left
There's this echo in my head
There's this echo in my head
There's this echo in my head
SøułSurvivør Jul 2015
---

A nymph of the woodlands Echo ran
With huntress Dianna
With strength of man

Beautiful creatures
The nymphs were
Attracting Zeus, his heart stirred

Echo had a downfall
In her earthly walk
She had the last word
When she talked

Haughty Hera was Zeus's wife
Jealous women will cause strife

She went looking for her man
But clever Echo had a plan...

She drew the goddess to
Her verbal web
Had the last word to whatever said!

A vengeful god her anger licked
When she found that she was tricked

"You always wanted the last word?
Well, my dear, you
WILL BE HEARD.

But evermore you'll have a lack
You'll not start conversing...
YOU'LL ANSWER BACK !!!"


Poor Echo wandered
woodlands fair
In depression and despair

She was deep in love you see
With Narcissus, his great beauty

But she could never talk to him
So she was treated like the wind

Echo with her broken heart
In hills and caves began to haunt

'Til she simply faded away
These places she still haunts today.

As rock and stone she became

Call her, SHE WILL SAY HER NAME.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/28/2015
Glad to be back on site!
Hope you enjoy reading this.

---
The Terry Tree Dec 2014
You are the echo
On the other side
Of the room
In my heart
You are the beat
That drums within
Every brand new
Day I start

You are the rise
You are the fall
Of every sun
And every moon

Every moment
That I turn around in
If I want to give up
You tell me,
"Not yet,
It's too soon..."

You are the hope
In which I live and dream
The silver clouds and
Colored schemes

I am grateful for my arms
To embrace the love
I've found
In you

I am grateful for my words
To speak the truth
Of how you make
Me feel

I am grateful for my nerves
That send the signals
To let me know
You are here

I am healed

I am grateful for my eyes
For without them
I would have
No sight

Hold me now
In this moment I have found
I am on a journey
To your house of
Living light

I am empowering
My deepest nature
You are the word that
Enlightens my
Destiny
You are the echo
That resonates
Within me

Unearth this infinite
Measure from within
That I can sense
You are the ultimate
Eternal presence

Wake me up
No, let me sleep
You are the holy place
Inside that I never
Want to leave

There are two wolves
Deep within my heart
A wolf of love
And a wolf of hate
I feed the wolf
That resonates
With your love
For your love
Is my love
And my love
Is your
Love

Brilliant, shining
Gorgeous love
Penetrating
From above

I allow this place
To hold me at
All times
I allow your
Breath of love
To rise
Inside
Me like
A dove

My lungs are filled
With truth
My lungs are filled
With you
A breath of wings
Fly like prayers
That say thank you
To your incredible
Warmth as you
Swarm around me
You are there
With a vibration
I can't see
But I can recognize
As your fire
Melts away all pain
Before my
Eyes

You are the echo
On the other side
Of the room
In my heart
You are the beat
That drums within
Every brand new
Day I start

My echo
My sacred journey
My love-connection
The ultimate direction
My favorite footprint
Unsurpassable
Presence of
Protection

I am open to your love
And the boundaries that
Separate me from
The rest of the world
Fall away as I
Evolve

You enlighten
You revolve
You are
A bright blue
Reflection
A sun-filled
Soft Blanket
Of affection

I journey to
Your life house
You are my
Dreamcatcher
My new way of being
You are
The beautiful echo
I'm living and
Breathing

© tHE tERRY tREE
Sayer Mar 2014
I am the rain, filled up inside the ditch
the flood's rockets shooting to the sky
the black mystery in the electric stars, shocking
vaporizing my waves and the boats float on, plunged, and sinking
and the tidal waves keeps coming and beating whatever hand I throw up
to hold myself onto the plank and I drift away and fade away
in your eyes as they send the whole ocean to me and I'm blown away to
space in a space untraveled, and float without gravity or anything to hold me

and then split in two, one colliding toward earth and back to the ocean to
feel you drowning me with your eyes that echo the waves
and the moonlight fills my soul as the tree of life burns
and back up, far away
I still am floating and going farther, and farther away, entering in the
claustrophobia and the beautiful queen looks at me but can't choose which one,
the floating man who will one day vanish, or the man who keeps drowning with obsession
so, the right decision would be to say neither  
but it doesn't solve anything, really
I kept pulling you inside,
so close until I died under your weight
and the rockets keep shooting up from the depths of the ocean
and I keep looking down at the definition of the shore
and the box keeps opening with new tricks and new
obsessions and the screams echo the screams in your eyes which flood
everything inside of me, and the screams echo the screams
and the screams echo the screams
and I'm poured out, your eyes, your body
it's changed
it's new
somehow
I collapse under your weight and your beauty, if you only knew
the waves and space are one (and could we be, I think, could we be)
yet the screams echo the screams
the screams echo the screams
the screams cannot be heard in space, or underwater
*but that doesn't mean they aren't there
Suffocating
I sit alone in the dark
Will you turn on the light
Will you burn oh so bright
So I learn to feel right?

Overcome by the fright
Now my chest's feeling tight
I scream into the night
What is wrong and what's right?

From the shadow's, a glow
Hear a voice I don't know
My own fairytale show?
Nope, it's just an echo (echo) (echo)
Written: October 11, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Dimeter format]
Every string that you cut off
You say prunes but I'm no vine
I'm feeling off and out of tune and out of time

Cause all I have is your song
And when the last string is gone
Only dissonance and distance
Echo on echo on echo on

Every instrument you send to play with mine
It outshines, until shadows are the only place to hide,
And I'm inside

Cause all I have is your song
And when the last friend is gone
Only dissonance and distance
Echo on echo on echo on

When the last string is straining, fading, snap,
Will you clap, will applause or pause fill the wake,
Will you take another broken instrument
That failed to play the song you meant
Will you re-write the last movement
So only the song that you meant
Echoes on Echoes on Echoes on
zero Aug 2018
Sandbox giggles and seesaw chuckles
echo around the park.
Little ones pitter patter on tarmac and grass,
oblivious to their age.
All they know is the sun is shining
and they're going to feel like this forever.

Rubber throwing and hushed whispers
echo around the classroom.
Schoolkids adding and subtracting,
oblivious to their age.
All they know is that they hate math
and they're going to be an astronaut when they grow.

Cheesy pop songs and girly giggles
echo around a bedroom.
She's curling her friend's hair and smiling,
oblivious to her age.
All she knows is that Jake is a cutie
and she's going to marry him when she's 21.

Birthday wishes and lots of love!
echo around the dinner table.
He's having his first beer as an 18-year-old and loving it,
oblivious to his age.
All he knows is that he's going out tonight
and staying up till dawn.

Baby rattles and first words
echo around the house.
The baby is mumbling its first word,
oblivious to the meaning behind it.
All it knows is that its mummy is warm
and it's daddy smells nice.

Memories of sandboxes and summer nights
echo around their heads.
They're laying in a bed in a sanitary place,
oblivious to the current situation.
All they know is that their time is up,
but they had such fun whilst it lasted.
I found out my cousin is 10, not 8 as I remembered.
I held him when he was born...
Time is such a weird thing,
we're oblivious to it's passing,
but in the end, we notice it more than ever.

-Dilon.xo
Am                            G
Ripples are echoes, for those who can't hear
Am                                    G
thunder has light-ning, to tell them its near
Am                                G
The moon is an echo, for no sun in the sky
Am                     G
day is an echo, for night that is why

Am                              G
Guitar’s are in echo, when they are strum
Am                      G
voices respond, re-sounding the hum
Am                               G
Shadows are echoes, at NOON they’re alone
Am                                   G
but the word it reflects, so its called palindrome

Am                                     G
Trains they make echoes, in tunnels with *****
Am                                     G
and though it’s but one, they call them two hoots
Am                           G
A bell has an echo, when ringing the news
Am                            G
anvils have echoes, when horses wear shoes

Am                                  G
Rainbows have echoes, in pots at each end
Am                       G
who was it said, that sunbeams can't bend
Am                           G
Lighthouses flash, with echoes in Morse
Am                                G
for posh sailing boats, and not Viking Norse

Am                            G
A bow has an echo, with a wow at the end
Am                            G
one midnight bark, starts setting a trend
Am                             G
A dream is an echo, of what we once did
Am                   G
hid in a bottle, behind Jeannie’s lid

Am                                    G                
Our words in the ether, will never meet
Am                            G
that’s why an echo, can never cheat
Am                           G
My echo my echo, is loneliest of all
Am                                  G
that’s why they listen, at my wailing wall

Am                                 G
Heartbeats are echoes, like yours and like mine
Am                              G
that’s why this song, must end with a pine.


                             Chorus

        Am                       G
        Echo all echoes, are art on the wall,
        Am                                G
        must be the sadd-est, sounds of them all
        Am                       G
        Echo all echoes, are art on the wall
        Am                               G
        must be the sadd-est, sounds of them all
        Am                       G
        Echo all echoes, are art on the wall,
        Am                                G
        must be the sadd-est, sounds of them all.




Ryan O'Leary ©
25/02/2021
What cavernous space bellows back to me
From depths I encounter so warily?
Those hearts that stared back at me emptily,
Now echo “I love you” so audibly.

Abandoning hope I screamed into the black,
And nothing but darkness answered me back.
The silent response a deafening crack,
Now no echo of “I love you” I lack.

Opened my mouth with hands cupped to each side,
Projecting voice over my swallowed pride,
To space I wanted my love to reside,
Now echo “I love you” from the outside.

Standing alone atop the highest peak,
Into the abyss of loves I would seek,
Speaking whichever love language I speak,
Now echo “I love you” in voice unique.

From depths of another I hope to hear,
An echo of words I said so sincere.
I whisper “I love you” into her ear,
At last the echo “I love you” is here.
https://store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
repetition, that's a good technique, a form of
reiteration, emphasis, as you like to
move in the river of synonymousness -
i mean, plenty to choose from -
well it's a better technique than rhyming,
it's like Kaiser Karl Lagerfeld said
about Coco Chanel's legacy after she died
in 1971: 'people tend to forget, that,
once upon a time, Chanel was old hat.
it was only Parisian doctors' wives who
still wore it. nobody wanted it - it was hopeless.'
(oh i can be couture no problem,
the other side of me that's into galleries -
even though that never brought me much
luck with the ladies, Beelzebub ******* on my
face and i started to squeeze out maggots
ensuring my face was forever crater riddled
moon - yes, excess white blood cells).
that's the same with poetry, it can't be
love me doo d'ah mushy mushy candy-floss
longing crap - mate, i'm a bus ****** and
this bus is coming but it's already 20 minutes late...
and it's ******* cats, dogs, frogs... Norwegian
acid rain, my anorak is peeling like a snake
shedding its skin and you're rewriting the early
Beatles unleashed on the American public:
shaved, hair trimmed into mushroom bops
all that Rene Magritte **** 'love, love me do!'
forget it, it's not going to happen, rhyming is the last
resort, i prefer the chance rhyme, it sometimes
happens, and it's too cute when it happens randomly
rather than with premeditation;
you can also throw out all the other premeditation
of techniques that poetry is known for...
what's the point? and back concerning rhyming,
you really want your poetry to be discussed by
schoolchildren and an english teacher in between
grammar lessons
                                  rhyming schemes and all?
that's how it goes:
         her name was Dazie          (a)
         she was never lazy             (a)
         i wrote her a sonnet           (b)
         reclining on a car bonnet  (b)
                                                               that's how they
do anatomy on poetry, the forensic team will
be with you shortly, the only reason i can think of
and know of as to why people are abhorred by
poetry (it's a natural repellent, spray it on weeds
             and insects, a natural insecticide,
****, spray it everywhere) is, because people on
the academic level have scrutinised it, analysed it
to the extent that it's not even there, it gets you thinking:
so who the hell was paying attention to the mammoth
novels of Tolstoy? oh right... no one!
the forensics, the post-mortem of poetry,
it has literally been mummified - the brain came out
as porridge ****** out through the nose.
are you familiar with Tenacious D's one note song?
that's what rhyming is to me, ever hear it?
it's the -ing twang
                            it's the -ing echo echo echo echo echo...
halfwit variations, you're hitting the same note,
great if you're penetrating a girl and she's giving
you an Opera of Vowels... otherwise it ends up
in a schoolroom, with an english teacher
and the rhyming scheme of a sonnet is?
                          ABAB CDCD EFEF GG
or?
                                                              abracadabra.
personally though Tenacious D's song kiełbasa,
etymology:
                    kieł       (canine, in polish)
   -basa (i'm guessing: the base of)             -
it's a sausage                                based on canines,
kieł (insert a           w    for the         ł.. tongue tied, eh?)
is a reference to a canine, a sharp tooth anyway,
and with -basa             i just intuitively thought of how
a hebrew would write it (i.e. hiding vowels)
and therefore juggled in an      e                  for -base.
they do, even though hebrew has Aleph (א) it hides
the vowels: S VRYTHNG RDS LK S - or i might
just be bullshitting you.
KHAYRI WOULFE Aug 2017
I can't hold on,
I can't let go...


I keep on breathing
But each breath is suffocating.
My heart keeps pounding
But in my own blood,
I'm sinking.


I wanna hold on,
I wanna let go...


Smiling if I'm sad.
Frowning when I'm glad.
The past feels like a dream,
The future, a nightmare.


I'm not holding on,
I'm not letting go...


Here's the feeling I can't express:
There's a fret I can't suppress.
Words, thoughts
I've been screaming to you
Come back as whispers
Like I'm talking to my echo.


Tired of holding on,
Afraid of letting go...


I don't wanna die
But I keep on killing myself.
I need a reason to live.
I need the sun to wake me
From my restless sleep.


I can't hold on,
I can't let go...


Hands stuck in the solid air,
Standing on waters, crystal clear.
Hanging on to the nothingness,
Begging for help from the emptiness.


If I did hold on,
If I do let go...


If I fall deep into the sea,
I only wanted to see:
If I disappear,
Would anyone care?
Shed a single tear?
Pull me up here?


As the gravity drags me deeper...
As the light vanishes from my sight...
As the waters conceal my tears falling...


As I keep on holding on,
As I finally let go...
As I talk to my echo...
And drowning...
Written
11 September 2016

Revised
15 November 2018

Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Ammar Feb 2018
The place we stood to take photos
and you shamelessly owned your bright red chappal (slippers)
and I loved it
the place where I loved you
we checked the shades of lipsticks on our hands
love red on your hand and your skin cream on mine
the place where you asked me for a hug
and your mom nearly caught us in the act

This was also the place we shopped for you
where you kissed me inside a cabin in a try room
the same place we had a conversation & cinnabon
while people stared and almost envied you
because of all the love you got from me
where we loved the dazzling blue traditional dress
which was just too expensive
but that didn't stop us from looking

The place where we broke stereotypes
in more ways than one
and I couldn't help but remember how
we both hated shopping
but loved shopping together
how you always picked faster than I did
but i still picked for you
because you liked it better that way

All I could think of were the words
words you had said there then
and I could only ask myself
if you ever meant a single one

"Choose for me"
"Your choice of dress makes my Eid special"
"Kiss me"
"You are my favorite person to shop with"
"Lets do this again soon"
"Thankyou for the beautiful day"
"I love you"


Those words still echo through the walls of that place
and the walls inside my head

echo
Echo
ECHO
LOUD
STOP

I LOVE YOU
YOU SAID THAT
I FCKING LOVE YOU
YOU SAID THAT

STOP
LOUD
ECHO
Echo
echo

All I can think of are the words
you say now

"I don't even love you anymore"
"I didn't miss you"
"I hope you die"
"I don't want a forever with you"
"I can't commit to you anymore"


I am haunted by your ghost
in this city
and I say ghost because you are dead
this person is a shell with no soul
or heart

I am haunted by your ghost
in this city
everything smells of you
and looks like you
and sounds like you

And I am going crazy
in this place
where **we loved
Kis kaam ki rahi yeh dikhaave ki zindagi
vaade kiye kisi se, guzaari kisi ke saath
Quetta Rose Feb 2019
Him
Was I weak for letting him do what he did?
Did it make me pathetic?
His face stains the inside of my eye lids like bitter red wine would stain a white dress,
His voice is vividly there every time some one calls my name.
Sometimes I can still feel his fingers exploring my body as if he hasn't tainted every inch of it down to my split ends,
sometimes I can feel his lips grazing my ear to whisper vile things.
He has control over me despite the fact he can't physically hurt me anymore,
despite that fact his memory still haunts me...like an echo of him.
His echo lies in bed with me every night,
his echo hides in my shadow whispering all my insecurities as if a second voice,
his echo traces every kiss,
his echo makes love to my dreams creating little demons.
His echo follows me as if it's the ghost of someone I killed...
Maybe it is the ghost...
maybe it's my ghost.
The ghost of who I once was before him.
I hear the echo of my own voice.
In empty rooms.
Rooms once filled with the
tears and laughter of my children.
Rooms which once held the loving
arms of family.
A room which once held the intimate
love of a husband and wife.

I hear the echo.
I hear the echo of my own voice.
In empty rooms.
Among boxes packed.
Boxes awaiting the unfolding.
Of a new chapter in my life.

I hear the echo of my own voice.
In empty rooms.
I see the For Sale sign on the lawn.
I think of the memories.
In every room.
The memories.
Of our family.
Now broken.
And my heart breaks.
Again.

I hear the echoes.
Of a house haunted with memories.
Of both joy and pain.
I remember.
I smile. I grieve.
I ponder...
Then.
Let go.
And walk into the future.
With my hand in the Hand of God.

I hear the echo of my own voice.
I hear the echo of my own tears.
In empty rooms.
In this house full of memories.
I bind each moment to my heart.
And say.
Goodbye.
st64 Feb 2014
“I know you're tired but come, this is the way...

In your light, I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you,
but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.”*        ― Rumi


1.
“You and I have spoken all these words, but for the way we have to go, words are no preparation. I have one small drop of knowing in my soul.
Let it dissolve in your ocean.

A mountain keeps an echo deep inside. That's how I hold your voice.”
― Rumi


2.
“Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you.
Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.

Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.”   ― Rumi


3.
“The way of love is not
a subtle argument.

The door there
is devastation.

Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?

They fall, and falling,
they're given wings.”                          ― Rumi


4.
“The morning wind spreads its fresh smell. We must get up and take that in, that wind that lets us live. Breathe before it's gone.

Sorrow prepares you for joy.
It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow.
Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their
place.”                                     ― Rumi


5.
“You are so weak. Give up to grace.
The ocean takes care of each wave till it gets to shore.
You need more help than you know.

Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone's soul heal.
Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”
― Rumi, The Essential Rumi


6.
“You think you are alive
because you breathe air?
Shame on you,
that you are alive in such a limited way.
Don't be without Love,
so you won't feel dead.
Die in Love
and stay alive forever.

I want to see you.
Know your voice.

Recognise you when you
first come 'round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come
into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.

I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”...                                                       ­     ― Rumi


7.
“When you go through a hard period,
When everything seems to oppose you,
... When you feel you cannot even bear one more minute,
NEVER GIVE UP!
Because it is the time and place that the course will divert!

The cure for pain is in the pain.
In Silence, there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.

The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.”                                       ― Rumi


8.
“Study me as much as you like, you will not know me, for I differ in a hundred ways from what you see me to be. Put yourself behind my eyes and see me as I see myself, for I have chosen to dwell in a place you cannot see.

Moonlight floods the whole sky from horizon to horizon;
How much it can fill your room depends on its windows.”
― Rumi, The Essential Rumi


9.
“Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.
Don't try to see through the distances.
That's not for human beings. Move within,
But don't move the way fear makes you move.

If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?

Start a huge, foolish project, like Noah…it makes absolutely no difference what people think of you.”   ― Rumi


10.
“Do you know what you are?
You are a manuscript oƒ a divine letter.
You are a mirror reflecting a noble face.
This universe is not outside of you.
Look inside yourself;
everything that you want,
you are already that.”
― Rumi, Hush, Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi



11.
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing, there is a field.
I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.

What you seek, is seeking you.”                             ― Rumi


12.
“The lion is most handsome when looking for food.

Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.
Love comes with a knife, not some shy question, and not with fears for its reputation!

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way, eager for you
Without shoes or shawl
I want you to laugh
To **** all your worries
To love you
To nourish you.”                                          ― Rumi


13.
“I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.

The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.”                        ― Rumi


14.
“Suffering is a gift. In it is hidden mercy.

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair.. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.

But listen to me. For one moment - quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
around you.

I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.”
― Rumi


15.
“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep!
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep!
People are going back and forth
across the doorsill where the two worlds touch,
The door is round and open
Don't go back to sleep!

These pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them.”
― Rumi, The Essential Rumi



16.
“Like a sculptor, if necessary,
carve a friend out of stone.
Realise that your inner sight is blind
and try to see a treasure in everyone.”                    ― Rumi


17.
“Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded. Someone sober will worry about things going badly. Let the lover be.

There are lovers content with longing.
I’m not one of them.”    ― Rumi, The Essential Rumi


18.
“There is a secret medicine given only to those who hurt so hard they can't hope.
The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

You were born with potential.
You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness.
You were born with wings.
You are not meant for crawling, so don't.
You have wings.
Learn to use them and fly.”          ― Rumi


19.
“Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
Be notorious.

Inside you, there’s an artist you don’t know about… say yes quickly, if you know, if you’ve known it from before the beginning of the universe.”
― Rumi


20.
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.”     ― Rumi





"On a day
when the wind is perfect,
the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty.
Today is such a day.”
                                               ― Rumi






S T – 25 feb 14
Rumi - born to native Persian speaking parents in 1207.
Died 1273 AD.
Rumi (an evolutionary thinker) believed passionately in the use of music, poetry and dance as a path for reaching God.
Man. In a cleft that's christened Alt
  Under broken stone I halt
  At the bottom of a pit
  That broad noon has never lit,
  And shout a secret to the stone.
  All that I have said and done,
  Now that I am old and ill,
  Turns into a question till
  I lie awake night after night
  And never get the answers right.
  Did that play of mine send out
  Certain men the English shot?
  Did words of mine put too great strain
  On that woman's reeling brain?
  Could my spoken words have checked
  That whereby a house lay wrecked?
  And all seems evil until I
  Sleepless would lie down and die.

Echo. Lie down and die.

Man.                             That were to shirk
  The spiritual intellect's great work,
  And shirk it in vain.  There is no release
  In a bodkin or disease,
  Nor can there be work so great
  As that which cleans man's ***** slate.
  While man can still his body keep
  Wine or love drug him to sleep,
  Waking he thanks the Lord that he
  Has body and its stupidity,
  But body gone he sleeps no more,
  And till his intellect grows sure
  That all's arranged in one clear view,
  pursues the thoughts that I pursue,
  Then stands in judgment on his soul,
  And, all work done, dismisses all
  Out of intellect and sight
  And sinks at last into the night.

Echo. Into the night.

Man.                     O Rocky Voice,
  Shall we in that great night rejoice?
  What do we know but that we face
  One another in this place?
  But hush, for I have lost the theme,
  Its joy or night-seem but a dream;
  Up there some hawk or owl has struck,
  Dropping out of sky or rock,
  A stricken rabbit is crying out,
  And its cry distracts my thought.
All is not what it seems
Because I was an atheist
Long before I realized I was God,
But that was much, much later
Then, at that time, I succumbed
To the lurid but exciting depths
Of freedom, the joy of love and danger
Of searching and of knowledge,
Embracing every moment;
I surrendered to ungovernable impulses
That invoked within my very existence

Still to realise the true extent of this
It's perhaps best to start before the beginning
Before the earth embalmed me
A time when Cyparisse had not
Yet set root in my belly
Nor made sap of my blood
A time when it was possible to speak
To Panza's donkey when I thought of Zanzibar
A time when the vagrancy of my soul
Had not yet embarked
On its erratic itinerary
Plunging me eventually
Into the bright light
Of tainted and squalid reality

Like oscillating libraries, noise oppressed,
Contradictions of dreams
Suddenly I took flight,
With violent wrenches of imagination
In Persia being worshipped
Beneath the moon by Gods;
Caressed by those impetuous charms
A dazzling vision
I thought of death the only sister of charity
Whose dark night has no malevolence;
Black and white, silences that migrated
In sonorous symbolism took control
Shimmering like a painting of a sorrow

Streaked with unashamed colours
A single tear from a promethean candle
I would move to lick the stain of destiny
That pillar inhaling its black perfumes
Like a communicant on his knees.
Exiled in reality, I saw what I had never saw
Or only thought I saw now condemned
To see what has never been seen

Words corralled themselves in my mind
Writhing maggots on a corpse
Wriggling for position waiting to be pronounced
How they flew, taking wings
Hovering for an instant above the page
Hunting out the detritus of man
To feast upon the putrid flesh of misery
I too went searching
For my ancient feast; for Zanzibar

However hideous pages
From the note book of the ******
Imprisoned the words, stampeded the search
Scattering it in many directions
Shattering blue-white eyes
A castrated country, century, impotent, impure
Like politics, the ******* that can be purchased by coin
Like so much bread in the market,
A thousand profanities became the popular song
But silence is the real language of the fool

For he alone bears witness to what he feels
Misfortunes not understood, weeping the popular ballad
Morality and law, parades of red robed Judges
Carcasses, a circus for carrion crows
Yet like a cannibal the dead were still buried in my belly
The gloss of reason hiding madness
Like so many veneered fronts in a proud precinct

Paraded in full view, silence is demanded and got
The words wither, fake time continues,
To count the unrelieved falsehood the chimera of life;
Reason did not imprison me
My life being not heavy enough
Was allowed to take flight
To float above the reasoned realm
Revelations of the truth realised only by detachment
Devoured my mind increased my errorless purpose
The search for Zanzibar

Accepted values; valued only;
Because of this acceptance
Are accepted as value
Thus accepted in silence
The fools resign themselves
To a false reality
One that nails them to a poisoned cross

In the gardens of the dead
Like rowed tulips that
Gardeners know how to match
I found myself, among those who had gone
Remembered yet forgotten
Whose edifice unlike their lives
Reached not upwards but down.
I smelt the scent of unknown things
The perfumes of eternity that histories bind;
Intensity, a murmur; gurgle, as in a child
Yet extreme its aberrations
Like celluloid hand that
Had never known toil
Or wiped sweat from a brow
Laughed yet grimaced
Its smile a crimson smear
The sorrow that it felt
A burnished hand upon its nakedness
To see its enshrouded presence in such a garden
One well stocked and growing
Caressed my being with its glee
To turn white feel the touch
Of its venomous fingers upon my flesh;
Its purpose, to prevent any search for Zanzibar

The stench of death
Then cast its' new
Yet antediluvian gaze
Upon its purpose
Odour of grave
Faraway nonexistent
Yet it is perfume to those
Who feast upon its scent
Moistures mingling with the air
Its common purpose
Floating like un-forgiveness
Its atmosphere ozone sans holes
Its meaning ever present
Its' outcome to halt
The search for Zanzibar

And so the stencils of oriental scribes
Like black shadows overpowered my reason
Floating high above, adrift on an expanse of darkness
However, presently that azure ink
Raised its curtain before my very eyes
Revealing the stage, the illuminated stage
On which I was to set my drama
Where the phantoms of my imagination
Would enact their mysterious mysteries;
A poetic alchemy

Then a golden spark of pure
Nocturnal light blinded me
In an instant I saw, observed
The sun drown in its deathly sea
Its healing wings spread
Fear would see it rise again
Still searching for that fatal flaw, happiness
How many lives do I need?
How many existences will it take?
Incarnations a hundred times
Searching for Zanzibar.
Awakening to continue to
Live the saddest of my dreams

Furtive footsteps through Cimmerian landscapes
Ah such enchantment, do you understand?
Ah such a charm, listen to its undying echo
Feel its charge, that siren call
Cosmic summons, the vagrancy of mind
That caresses the imagination
Whose tender touch can place you
At the apex of the universe
Can lead to Zanzibar.


And so the subtle and foolish tortures
Inflicted upon me by I, my quest began
One that would ascertain, take centre stage
Make an unheard appearance of a philosophy
That, I am everyone and everyone else is me
Eventually at some point
In time and space we are all one
All linked, for we are condemned
Yes condemned to live these lives
This is why the dead have dreams
Dreams about the tyrants and demons
Of other lives of who they were;
Who they have yet to become.
Nourished on half truths,
Forever pulling at the thread
The rotted rags of reason
Those tattered twines
Unravelling the stitching of reality
Of hallucinations, empty illusions
And tarnished dreams create a constant struggle


Therefore for every conscious thing
That happens in the world
There must be a responding reverberation
Within the human soul
Let us put a halt to the calls
For the death of imagination
And demands for imagination to be silent
Such absurdities
For imagination is the true door to reality
For only in imagination
Can there be a bearable act
Of self examination
It is memory that hurts
More than the imagination
Always prefer the imaginary to the real
Imagination is neither an exit
From our nightmares nor
An escape from reality
But the place we are all trying to get to,
Zanzibar its shared images
Its story, its own life a new reality.


Mysteriously in the midst of unknown
Mazagran landscapes I feel
The full impact of fleeting visions
Without the limitations of space or time
Feel the act of experiencing their reality
This requires no explanation, no proof
Either together or separate
Because simply they are,
Judgement, condemnation
Punishments are gone
There is no cleansing a world
Without consciousness
Landscape devoid of people
'La Lune' growling in the orchard of the sea
Calypso again one or ten
Eucharis, tempest or temptress
Take both the meaning and the experience
Taste the tear drops of the sun
Telemachus searching, searching
Zanzibar

The idol, tentacles undulating
Vibrations of collective knowledge
The blank face, featureless
Touching around the domain of Atlas
Speaking in a thousand different tongues
Moving but still, blocks my path
Disturbs the line of imagination
Makes reality quiver
Dream flowers sway in its cosmic wind.
Yet Alhazers' iridescent arch allows
The steerage of my passage
Without pious pilgrimages to empty silences that
Contain an eternity of tears
Who graciously offers coverage
For the echo of footsteps
Allowing the magic moments to come


Robbed of sunlight, artificial night shines
Its deception attempting to secure knowledge
Of a future unknown, winning only it's unattainably
Offering instead knowledge of the past
Master of silence, offers only knowledge
Of invaded consciousness
Bedlam of paradise where Eros and Pan
In congress sleep, close at Zanzibar.


Lifeless beauty that lives everlasting
Time that reason cannot change, only help.
O enchanted torture you have stolen
The taste from my mouth
Masked I against the spectre of reality
Proclaimed the age of 'hasashin'
The creator of recollections, maker of memories
Possessor of impulse giver of echo
That rings in the ear
Cloud cast its surroccoian shadow
Air tinged with the aftermath of fire
Floating in an Asian wind, so subtle
Like a breath suddenly the sound of song
Of dance rents the solitude
Silence is slashed like a canvass screen
Happiness pours forth unconfined
Unfettered, both faces of Kandinsky as one
I extinguish the light, turn to the wall
Gazing upon its Janis face
My eyes behold the giver of pleasure.

Then I found myself in an extraordinary place
Whose skies where made of crystal glass
Water of the enchanted land was blue-grey
Bridges zig-zagged its shimmering domes
I stared as masts and parapets came to life
Its people, musicians sporting
Tangerine and white livery danced
The air filled with the sound of their music
Then as if from nowhere a light hit my eyes
Blinking, this apparition was gone
Can I not always believe what I see
Just because I see what I believe
The inhabitants at once became spectres
Engulfed in thick clouds of smoke and sulphur
Erinyies roamed, inflicting madness
A circus of the macabre sped past
Its symbols of death fluttering frantically
Around this false and fragile world
Suggested children, like creatures in an imagination
Were made ready for their rebirth
By the touch of the poets pen
A thousand Cheribino

In another, swirling sonorous scenes
Stormed the citadels of my mind
Marched through my imagination
Mab engulfed the long closed
Cemeteries of my thought allowing me
To see the dreams of others
Like precious pearls prised from their shells
Their visualisation so intense
Joy overcame me at once
Then a swarm of kisses descended upon me
Like a regiment of famished men
Feasting for the first time
I freely gave myself as the main course
In the most beautiful of banquets
In another, yielding to these seductions
I was enraptured by portraits of beautiful young men
Which appeared to be on the point of speaking
They were most mysterious their intrinsic
Charm so beautiful, stimulated desire
Whose assuagement was so pleasurable
That it might be called pure ecstasy
A perfect pleasure which had never before existed
Entirely individual and new

Thus upon the horizons of my mind
Had been shed a mysterious light
In which I now saw everything bathed
I was summoned by the Prince
Knowing dreams have no limits
I obeyed his call
For a long time failing to set
Foot on the shores of reality
Drinking from the wells of magic
While angels danced on grassy slopes
Disturbed by flames
The stars shot out their fragrance

Sweet smelling; blue abyss
On I went to the court, the court of the Prince of
Poets, a visitor to life
There I spat out the bit of liberty
Embraced the Prince
Courtesans mocked me, ridiculed
Laughed and taunted me
Their jibes merely part of
Their own deluded reality, not of mine
They did not serve my purpose
Dressed as they were
In meaningless words
Clothed in phrases of falsehood
They tried to make me compromise
There was fire burning in my eyes
Vivid dreams were eating up my mind
They wouldn't let me be
There were dead men lying
By the sides of the road
With daylight in their eyes
I saw villages under the sea
I stood at Galactic central point
Watched the earth burn
They did not know
The way to Zanzibar
Could the Prince show me?

However each morning I awoke
I found myself in a purgatorial fog
I roamed lost the alternative harbour
For my soul still distant
The Prince, I discovered, existed
In a twilight world of mysterious ailments
He denied his feelings
Such denial only immersed him
In maintaining the world of external restraints
It created emptiness, a vacancy
Filled by material concerns
I pleaded with him
The emerald gene came down
Soon the leaves of grass
Whispered another order of existence
Strangeness of sensation
Intoxication of vision
Unhinged for mortals
And as the sound increased one cannot
Describe what else it is that has been
I viewed a world transparent
Devoid of illumination within which
Was never a sea or land
Then the prophets were ******
For they were all liars
And I saw the most beautiful flower
Unfolding out of its own roots
For such a flower cannot
Unfold other than it does
I stood on the threshold of Orcus
I met Abbas Effendi the Gene without a name
Bab, Upanishads spilled music in my ears
Called to me in the most spectacular of colours
It was wonderful for the colours
Were like my dreams, red, black and green
I witnessed the three, sometimes as one
Other times as two, again and again
The self eternal and inseparable sons
Of Shakyamuni caressed me with their thoughts
Their music and colour moved about me
In ecstatic rhythm like the peaceful
Waves of the ocean as upon a shore
I read the sentences of silence
Breathed the perfume of never fading flowers
Walked in cherry blossom snow
Heard Hafiz reciting in the night
I saw for the first time
The unfinished likeness of others.

Then one day the Prince
With a sweeping theatrical and
So to speak, allegorical flourish bowed
Called me an exiled angel
Said the time had come to travel
To leave the images of naked heels
Imprinted in the clay
We wondered
Then as if by magic, suddenly the shadows
Of houses, halls, and a church
Emerged like enchanted islands in a fairy tale
The spiritualised forms of civilisation
I was approached by a graceful youth
Draped in cobweb lawn
He was pale, delicately beautiful
Spanish looking, but his name was Alexis Sonyeuse
Whose family it was said was
Related to the French Emperor Napoleon
It was also rumoured that he had
Had a tempestuous affair with the Bishop of Monaco
And once slept with his half brother Julian Apollinaire
When he spoke he was at once original
Delicious, moving, droll and discreetly melancholy
Listening to him was like breathing
The perfume of wondrous flowers
But the scent of datura hung about him
Paralleling his every movement
  Another youth, Edmond also greeted me
He was a young man with aristocratic features
A complexion pink, like a girls
And a bearing at once charmingly gracious
And audaciously insolent
His shirt was strange, the lining
A peculiarly orange colour
A flame coloured taffeta
Like the petticoats of a *****



They looked at me
Furtive glances emanated from their eyes
Training a profound stare upon my person
The two youths took me to 18 Avenue de Friedland
There two boy servants
Adoum and Outhman greeted us
Spinario's lay about its confines
Frezans caressing them
As they touched their feet
A hundred echansons moved
With dazzling delicacy dispensing dreams
In drops from crystalline cups
Here I witnessed the tragic faces of the population
Urnings, cleaning in the midst of anarchist trials
The room a fiery red, stained with light
The caress of forgotten thought
Like the thickness of a sorrow
Musicians playing on broken strings
Crimson ******, who defied the King of Naples
We moved past wretches
Like Virgil, but Danteian
Saw the usurers heard the rustling
Of lute strings the clinking of grey paper
Observed in this Minatare's lair
The purchase of a twelve penny dagger
Liberty of speech meeting its great reckoning
In a little room, Ingram the poltergeist
Of misfortune was there
Dead Scythian, who ever loved you
Loved you as you might, loved you at first sight.

This was a new and exciting world
Whose environs were populated
By the most mysterious and colourful of people
I was introduced by the two youths
To a suicidal young painter who
Was rebelling against his class
He was a somewhat forced intellectual
With an over quixotic passion for equality
Still he was warm, kind and impulsive
Poetry, he made it known
Had opened his mind to the invisible
Beside him was a painting
Exemplifying a new kind of observation
In a style absolutely faultless
Each structure clear, each brush stroke
Falling exactly into place
Inscribed in the top left
Corner were the words
"Quod me nutrit me destruit"
An introduction to himself of a tall youth
Whose eyes possessed a constant
Vagrancy of desire
Who seemed at once, for one so
Amitav Radiance Sep 2014
Your precious words are an echo
Of what the heart wants to say
Only to find voice through the ink
Which fills up the blank pages
Sketching a picture with words
The echo is etched forever
Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes
Beene to me ayding, others to adorne,
Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,
That even the greatest did not greatly scorne
To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,
But joyèd in theyr praise;
And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
And teach the woods and waters to lament
Your dolefull dreriment:
Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;
And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,
Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound;
Ne let the same of any be envide:
So Orpheus did for his owne bride!
So I unto my selfe alone will sing;
The woods shall to me answer, and my Eccho ring.

Early, before the worlds light-giving lampe
His golden beame upon the hils doth spred,
Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe,
Doe ye awake; and, with fresh *****-hed,
Go to the bowre of my belovèd love,
My truest turtle dove;
Bid her awake; for ***** is awake,
And long since ready forth his maske to move,
With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake,
And many a bachelor to waite on him,
In theyr fresh garments trim.
Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight,
For lo! the wishèd day is come at last,
That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,
Pay to her usury of long delight:
And, whylest she doth her dight,
Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare
Both of the rivers and the forrests greene,
And of the sea that neighbours to her neare:
Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.
And let them also with them bring in hand
Another gay girland
For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,
Bound truelove wize, with a blew silke riband.
And let them make great store of bridale poses,
And let them eeke bring store of other flowers,
To deck the bridale bowers.
And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,
For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,
Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,
And diapred lyke the discolored mead.
Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
For she will waken strayt;
The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,
The woods shall to you answer, and your Eccho ring.

Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed
The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well,
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed;
(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell;)
And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake,
Where none doo fishes take;
Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,
And in his waters, which your mirror make,
Behold your faces as the christall bright,
That when you come whereas my love doth lie,
No blemish she may spie.
And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the deere,
That on the hoary mountayne used to towre;
And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,
With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer;
Be also present heere,
To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Wake now, my love, awake! for it is time;
The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed,
All ready to her silver coche to clyme;
And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed.
Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies
And carroll of Loves praise.
The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft;
The Thrush replyes; the Mavis descant playes;
The Ouzell shrills; the Ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
To this dayes merriment.
Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long?
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
T’ awayt the comming of your joyous make,
And hearken to the birds love-learnèd song,
The deawy leaves among!
Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.

My love is now awake out of her dreames,
And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmèd were
With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.
Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,
Helpe quickly her to dight:
But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot
In Joves sweet paradice of Day and Night;
Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot,
And al, that ever in this world is fayre,
Doe make and still repayre:
And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene,
The which doe still adorne her beauties pride,
Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride:
And, as ye her array, still throw betweene
Some graces to be seene;
And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,
The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring.

Now is my love all ready forth to come:
Let all the virgins therefore well awayt:
And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome,
Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt.
Set all your things in seemely good aray,
Fit for so joyfull day:
The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see.
Faire Sun! shew forth thy favourable ray,
And let thy lifull heat not fervent be,
For feare of burning her sunshyny face,
Her beauty to disgrace.
O fayrest Phoebus! father of the Muse!
If ever I did honour thee aright,
Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight,
Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse;
But let this day, let this one day, be myne;
Let all the rest be thine.
Then I thy soverayne prayses loud wil sing,
That all the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloud
Their merry Musick that resounds from far,
The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud,
That well agree withouten breach or jar.
But, most of all, the Damzels doe delite
When they their tymbrels smyte,
And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,
That all the sences they doe ravish quite;
The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,
Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce,
As if it were one voyce,
*****, iö *****, *****, they do shout;
That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill
Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;
To which the people standing all about,
As in approvance, doe thereto applaud,
And loud advaunce her laud;
And evermore they *****, ***** sing,
That al the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,
Lyke Phoebe, from her chamber of the East,
Arysing forth to run her mighty race,
Clad all in white, that seemes a ****** best.
So well it her beseemes, that ye would weene
Some angell she had beene.
Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene,
Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre;
And, being crownèd with a girland greene,
Seeme lyke some mayden Queene.
Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;
Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud,
So farre from being proud.
Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see
So fayre a creature in your towne before;
So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store?
Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,
Her forehead yvory white,
Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,
Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,
Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,
Her paps lyke lyllies budded,
Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre;
And all her body like a pallace fayre,
Ascending up, with many a stately stayre,
To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.
Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,
Upon her so to gaze,
Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,
To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring?

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
The inward beauty of her lively spright,
Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree,
Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,
And stand astonisht lyke to those which red
Medusaes mazeful hed.
There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity,
Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood,
Regard of honour, and mild modesty;
There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,
And giveth lawes alone,
The which the base affections doe obay,
And yeeld theyr services unto her will;
Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may
Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.
Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures,
And unrevealèd pleasures,
Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,
That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring.

Open the temple gates unto my love,
Open them wide that she may enter in,
And all the postes adorne as doth behove,
And all the pillours deck with girlands trim,
For to receyve this Saynt with honour dew,
That commeth in to you.
With trembling steps, and humble reverence,
She commeth in, before th’ Almighties view;
Of her ye virgins learne obedience,
When so ye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud faces:
Bring her up to th’ high altar, that she may
The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endlesse matrimony make;
And let the roring Organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord in lively notes;
The whiles, with hollow throates,
The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing,
That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring.

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,
And blesseth her with his two happy hands,
How the red roses flush up in her cheekes,
And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayne
Like crimsin dyde in grayne:
That even th’ Angels, which continually
About the sacred Altare doe remaine,
Forget their service and about her fly,
Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre,
The more they on it stare.
But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Are governèd with goodly modesty,
That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,
Which may let in a little thought unsownd.
Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand,
The pledge of all our band!
Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing,
That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.

Now al is done: bring home the bride againe;
Bring home the triumph of our victory:
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine;
With joyance bring her and with jollity.
Never had man more joyfull day then this,
Whom heaven would heape with blis,
Make feast therefore now all this live-long day;
This day for ever to me holy is.
Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
Poure out to all that wull,
And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.
Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,
And ***** also crowne with wreathes of vine;
And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,
For they can doo it best:
The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,
And leave your wonted labors for this day:
This day is holy; doe ye write it downe,
That ye for ever it remember may.
This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight,
With Barnaby the bright,
From whence declining daily by degrees,
He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,
When once the Crab behind his back he sees.
But for this time it ill ordainèd was,
To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
And shortest night, when longest fitter weare:
Yet never day so long, but late would passe.
Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,
And bonefiers make all day;
And daunce about them, and about them sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Ah! when will this long weary day have end,
And lende me leave to come unto my love?
How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend?
How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?
Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home,
Within the Westerne fome:
Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest.
Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,
And the bright evening-star with golden creast
Appeare out of the East.
Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love!
That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead,
And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread,
How chearefully thou lookest from above,
And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,
As joying in the sight
Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing,
That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring!

Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past;
Enough it is that all the day was youres:
Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast,
Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.
The night is come, now soon her disaray,
And in her bed her lay;
Lay her in lillies and in violets,
And silken courteins over her display,
And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets.
Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,
In proud humility!
Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took
In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,
Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,
With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,
And leave my love alone,
And leave likewise your former lay to sing:
The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected,
That long daies labour doest at last defray,
And all my cares, which cruell Love collected,
Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye:
Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,
That no man may us see;
And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,
From feare of perrill and foule horror free.
Let no false treason seeke us to entrap,
Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
The safety of our joy;
But let the night be calme, and quietsome,
Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:
Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay,
When he begot the great Tirynthian groome:
Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie
And begot Majesty.
And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing;
Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring.

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,
Be heard all night within, nor yet without:
Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,
Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout.
Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights,
Make sudden sad affrights;
Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,
Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights,
Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes,
Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not,
Fray us with things that be not:
Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be heard,
Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels;
Nor damnèd ghosts, cald up with mighty spels,
Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard:
Ne let th’ unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking
Make us to wish theyr choking.
Let none of these theyr drery accents sing;
Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.

But let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe,
That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,
And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,
May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;
The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves,
Like divers-fethered doves,
Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
And in the secret darke, that none reproves,
Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spread
To filch away sweet snatches of delight,
Conceald through covert night.
Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will!
For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes,
Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,
Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.
All night therefore attend your merry play,
For it will soone be day:
Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing;
Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peepes?
Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright?
Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,
But walkes about high heaven al the night?
O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy
My love with me to spy:
For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,
And for a fleece of wooll, which privily
The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,
His pleasures with thee wrought.
Therefore to us be favorable now;
And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost enlarge,
Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow,
And the chast wombe informe with timely seed
That may our comfort breed:
Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing;
Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring.

And thou, great Juno! which with awful might
The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize;
And the religion of the faith first plight
With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize;
And eeke for comfort often callèd art
Of women in their smart;
Eternally bind thou this lovely band,
And all thy blessings unto us impart.
And thou, glad
Polar Aug 2017
There's a ghost in the machine
A distant heartbeat
An echo
A recollection of tides pulled by the rhythm
Of the moon
A lunar cycle
Of leaves swirled
And now settled
By the whisper
Of the breeze
A message repeated
But not audibly heard
Remembered and understood.
You are in the right place
Where you need to be
All you need now
Is to breathe and be.
Thank you everyone for the likes and comments, my poem being chosen as the Daily has made my day!! :0)
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
The Artist painted
the skies and molded
the stars and galaxies
to His liking.

He sculpted the
mountains out of
clay and dirt.

He wrote music
and taught the birds
to sing His chords.

He carved a place
for the ocean and
poured His love
in its depths.

He made man.
He knit veins to bones.
Skin to ligaments and muscle.
Built a cage to protect our heart
as He knew that it
is so easily broken.
He connected nerves to the brain
and in that brain,
He made so complex of a
system that science is still
baffled by the ***** that
holds the information
of our personality.
Our emotions.
Our passions.

Then.
He did something crazy.
Insane.

He gave man free will.
To love or to hate.
To turn to or against.

And man turned against.
Hid from his Creator.
The One who knows his
inmost being.

And beauty was distorted.

All that is beautiful
is only an
echo.

An echo of the home
that we once knew.
An echo of the original
Artist, the one who
taught us to create.

*All I can do now
is to try and capture
Your beauty
to show to others.
Peace in the echo
The echo of love
Protect us like the hope of Zion

Walk in the echo
The echo of past
Learn from mistakes -
Insanity is doing the same
Over and over
Expecting different results

They say war
Brings about peace

Insanity
Yeah - them suits insane

Jah over all,
What must be will be
All temples fall
And with them bring peace

Peace in the echo
The echo of love
Protect us like the warmth of Sun

Govern yourself
Don't give in
Keep your will
Protect yourself
From their sin
Stand up still
Release yourself
To within
Keep your will

The day of revelation
Shines like supernova
Stardust in color
A reflection of Star

On the rocks of discarded dust
Lands life of decay and rust
Without death,
There'd be no life
And thus, the wilt is no bust

Balance

For each day, a night
For each night, a day

To keep order within chaos
Listening to each wind blowing
Will reveal and lead the communication

— The End —