Just a Saturday Afternoon
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Showing posts with label sand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sand. Show all posts
Voices of Solitude
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Through the
Wind’s Trance
By Peter S. Quinn
Here are the lost waves
Reaching to the shore
With the invisible craves
With what each man is for
Rasping the sands time sea
From nocturnal struggle
Forever in the night to be
As a performing obstacle
Penetrating every silence
From lost indistinct rise
Through the wind's trance
The hidden - in its disguise
Innumerable bizarre so pure
The seeds from buried earth
That to the people will lure
To give their missing - its birth
Hear the voice of the land
That chooses roots to be born
Invincible waves to understand
Between each contrasts it's torn
Circulating the current song
From numerous convey of hope
To struggle and rises so strong
Of succeeding newborn zest lope
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Through the
Wind’s Trance
By Peter S. Quinn
Here are the lost waves
Reaching to the shore
With the invisible craves
With what each man is for
Rasping the sands time sea
From nocturnal struggle
Forever in the night to be
As a performing obstacle
Penetrating every silence
From lost indistinct rise
Through the wind's trance
The hidden - in its disguise
Innumerable bizarre so pure
The seeds from buried earth
That to the people will lure
To give their missing - its birth
Hear the voice of the land
That chooses roots to be born
Invincible waves to understand
Between each contrasts it's torn
Circulating the current song
From numerous convey of hope
To struggle and rises so strong
Of succeeding newborn zest lope
.
Bring The Light
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© 2009 - Ben Heine
Come Here - Light
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
After light comes darkness
And after darkness comes light
For you and with - I shall caress
And fly onto your flight
To the sunshine nearby
Just across the dim sea
Through the blue morning sky
That the soul sets free
Every hour of the dark
Shall not dwell on too long
For the gleams must spark
In a new day breaking song
That shall melt any ice
That has broken its way
In the roots full of lies
That now meet brighter day
Come here with your speech
In to love of the far
With every thought it’ll teach
Of peace – not of war
Come here in your wings
Fly among true love
With what it to the heart brings
Full of sunshine from above
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© 2009 - Ben HeineCome Here - Light
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
After light comes darkness
And after darkness comes light
For you and with - I shall caress
And fly onto your flight
To the sunshine nearby
Just across the dim sea
Through the blue morning sky
That the soul sets free
Every hour of the dark
Shall not dwell on too long
For the gleams must spark
In a new day breaking song
That shall melt any ice
That has broken its way
In the roots full of lies
That now meet brighter day
Come here with your speech
In to love of the far
With every thought it’ll teach
Of peace – not of war
Come here in your wings
Fly among true love
With what it to the heart brings
Full of sunshine from above
.
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Desert
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By Roy Brammell
Sage brush! Mile after mile,
Quiet in the sun, and shimmering;
Ever in the sun, ever shimmering!
The long low mountains
Seem to crouch beneath the heat,
And the earth, dried to a powder,
Is strewn with choked brown grass.
Ants burrow in the ground
And live on things that perish here.
Stream beds are dry, beaten paths
Of rabbits and sage coyotes
That for keen thirst run the full length
Of each ravine, and fall at last
As did one here whose bones lie scattered,
White as snow beneath the sun.
God, the waste! the quivering waste!
Where things grow up to die!
(Poem's source : www.skyways.lib.ks.us)
----------------
The poem and photo appeared
on hubzay.deviantart.com
.
By Roy Brammell
Sage brush! Mile after mile,
Quiet in the sun, and shimmering;
Ever in the sun, ever shimmering!
The long low mountains
Seem to crouch beneath the heat,
And the earth, dried to a powder,
Is strewn with choked brown grass.
Ants burrow in the ground
And live on things that perish here.
Stream beds are dry, beaten paths
Of rabbits and sage coyotes
That for keen thirst run the full length
Of each ravine, and fall at last
As did one here whose bones lie scattered,
White as snow beneath the sun.
God, the waste! the quivering waste!
Where things grow up to die!
(Poem's source : www.skyways.lib.ks.us)
----------------
The poem and photo appeared
on hubzay.deviantart.com
.
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