"windily" poems
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
3.5k
Incarnate devil in a talking snake,
The central plains of Asia in his garden,
In shaping-time the circle stung awake,
In shapes of sin forked out the bearded apple,
And God walked there who was a fiddling warden
And played down pardon from the heavens' hill.
When we were strangers to the guided seas,
A handmade moon half holy in a cloud,
The wisemen tell me that the garden gods
Twined good and evil on an eastern tree;
And when the moon rose windily it was
Black as the beast and paler than the cross.
We in our Eden knew the secret guardian
In sacred waters that no frost could harden,
And in the mighty mornings of the earth;
Hell in a horn of sulphur and the cloven myth,
All heaven in the midnight of the sun,
A serpent fiddled in the shaping-time.
3.5k
The candy-cane stripes mingle freely among the
Saffron-clothed C moon and fourteen-handed star.
They swim navy-like in the blue.
The reds and whites alternate
Till the states are properly represented.
They ask of nothing more, nothing more.
What does it hold? What does it teach us?
The wild history of it roars and thunders
Like a hurricane that never stops.
But it did. How did we overthrow
Something so mighty, so white
As an unstoppable hurricane?
And the purpose of it all? Freedom.
Freedom and independence. Two righteous
Morals so hard to obtain.
At what cost did we attain them?
Bloodshed, shrieks, lies, torment and tears.
It was all worth it, love, all of it.
When Jack finally crawled down the beanstalk,
We never flew higher, braver or breezier
With such dignity and unfaltering spirit.
We have come so far to this place, this place
Where hatred shreds to little warm hearts and people
Are just people no matter how colourful they are.
We’re a rare hybrid of ethics: the sarong-laden man milking the rubber tree
Is no different than the blackened faces down in the tin mines
And the ones that hand-built the train tracks, woody and sturdy.
Seven chants of it that fateful afternoon
And we cried knowing, knowing we have made it.
Toiled sweat never tasted sweeter. Merdeka!
Most of us laughed and rejoiced.
Some were heard wailing and flying off to where
They rightfully belong. We don’t want you here. We never did.
The dove’s free now,
Free of thick metal bars
That caged it for centuries and
It flies now, wings spread into
A feathery horizon, windily flapping back and forth
Into a new world, a new promise called Malaysia.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
The half-shut doors through which we heard that music
Are softly closed. Horns mutter down to silence.
The stars whirl out, the night grows deep.
Darkness settles upon us. A vague refrain
Drowsily teases at the drowsy brain.
In numberless rooms we stretch ourselves and sleep.
Where have we been? What savage chaos of music
Whirls in our dreams?--We suddenly rise in darkness,
Open our eyes, cry out, and sleep once more.
We dream we are numberless sea-waves languidly foaming
A warm white moonlit shore;
Or clouds blown windily over a sky at midnight,
Or chords of music scattered in hurrying darkness,
Or a singing sound of rain . . .
We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.
1.6k
If my heart was a flower,
Would you not pluck me?
If my hair was a meadow,
Would you nae huddle me?
If my hands wanted yours,
Would you not hold mine?
If my lips were cloudburst,
Would mine quench thirst?
If my dress danced windily,
Would you nae haply join in?
If my eyes were pearl oysters,
Would you freshly shuck me?
If my skin were of the Selkies,'
Would you offer me nae seas?
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Twiddling thumbs in a cold dark room.
Windily breeze whispers across the skin.
Stuck in this chair not knowing where to begin.
Glaring around at shadowing silhouettes.
Lifeless they lay still and at peace.
Jealously pleasing each eye.
All alone in this box.
Somehow feeling mocked.
Losing connection to the everyday normality.
Thoughts become deluded and afraid.
Thumbs picking up pace.
Sun greets with a harmonious beckon.
Light seeps through the cracks.
Thoughts travel through the mind.
Wishing never to awake.
Cherish existing without really knowing why.
Dreaming the best sovereign.
Allowing this embracement of warmth.
Cusping the morning internally.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
Dylan Thomas went wearily, windily to the sea,
Where dogs ran and tongues wagged saltily,
Sea battered boats sang shanties to the bearded shore,
As the sea legged gulls barked and cried hungrily
The shadowy sun surrendered to a once bitten moon,
And the sand stood still by the windy wet dune
Nov 28, 2020
Nov 28, 2020 at 12:57 AM UTC
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
I am windily spreading
Out of my feelings and my death
The dream which comes by
Beyond the gates of my sight
Later again and ages
The blurred vision of whom gives a glance
In the intrinsically turbulent wine
Just for a second
And everything dies
I am thy me as wine is vines'
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC