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Dream

Dreams and drums go together

They reverberate in the sounds of water

I am fond of A frica which is loud with drum

I am fond of Africa where rattle snakes sing

Hush the charm of Voodoo is in action

poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Voodoo Voodoo

U a u a voodoo voodoo
U a u a voodoo
U a u a voodoo voodoo
U a u a voodoo
Voodoo voodoo voodoo voodoo
Voodoo voodoo voodoo voodoo.
Lascia che il mio Voodoo lavori eh
Funziona con tutte ma non con te!
Latte di letto, talismani e fiori
un filtro speciale fatto apposta per te.
Ehy sorella figlia della notte
Dimmi se vieni, se funziona se
Dimmi di s, dimmi come
Dimmi di s, dimmi dove
Voodoo voodoo un po' d'amore
Voodoo voodoo per me
Voodoo voodoo solo un po' d'amore
Yee yee yee yee yee yee!
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo fiamme sulla luna
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo finch ce n'.
Lascia che il mio coso lavori (si spera)
Funziona con tutte ma non con te
Magica donna dalla gatta nera
Ho un filtro fatale fatto apposta per te.
Ehy sorella, figlia del peccato
Dimmi se vieni, se funziona se
Dimmi di s, dimmi come
Dimmi di s, dimmi dove
Voodoo voodoo un po' d'amore
Voodoo voodoo per me
Voodoo voodoo solo un po' d'amore
Yee yee yee yee yee yee!
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo fiamme sulla luna
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo.
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo solco nella duna
Voodoo voodoo I got a feeling
Voodoo voodoo.
Voglio te, questa notte d'estate
Voglio te, anche se non ti piace
Voglio te, senza troppe parole
Voglio che, viene dentro me come un raggio di sole.
Voglio te, questa notte d'estate
Voglio te, anche se non ti piace
Voglio te, senza troppe parole
Voglio che, viene dentro me come un raggio di sole.

[...] Read more

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Pride To Be An African

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of which everybody imitates
My Africa of which culture exceed the Greek
My Africa of which everyone is jealous of

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of enormous natural endowment
My Africa of Non-Violence
My Africa of Amorous populates

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of patriot men and women
My Africa of shelter and vintage hospitality
My Africa of great ancestral mythology

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa that bore fruits of black diamonds
My Africa which is a gift to the whole world
My Africa of great leadership

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of learned youths
My Africa of a bright generation
My Africa true tradition

My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of black pageant women
My Africa of strong men
My Africa from who we all hail from
For every African deserves a Nobel Prize in
Existence.

poem by Fasan paul
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02-04-2012 Brother I give you my answer for Black People African Sahara it mesmerizes the wise largest desert it is asked of we What is Africa is to me 3.3 million miles of grea

Brother I give you my answer
for Black People

African Sahara
it mesmerizes the wise
largest desert
it is asked of we
What is Africa is to me
3.3 million miles
of great desert
once a forest
once a great sea
once an empty hole
in space just waiting
to be that it can
birth the blackness
of who my mothers be
3.3 millions
you can not see it all
Trans Saharan trade
is but a child
weather selling slaves
or selling salt
and always
brought and sold
the black man's art, gold
the paintings
was still for the walls
to surround us
a representation of the thing
that be, the God that
rose Africa from the sea
man got his
walking feet
on Africa's soil
Africa Moors
salt caravans
Africa the salt
of the land
what more did Africa
give to man
gold first mimed
found its glow
in the hands of
a black child
oldest gold jewelry
in Queen Zer's tomb
being as old as this
there is nothing
that we can not do

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poem by David E. Patton
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Don’t Cry For Me Africa

Don’t cry for me Africa
Because I will never let you out of my mind
I hear your voices people of Africa
I hear your cries people of Africa
I see pain in your eyes people of Africa
It is hard to describe what you people of Africa are going through
Poverty strikes you all people of Africa
Don’t cry for me Africa
Because I will keep you in my prayers people of Africa
Power to the people of Africa
People of Africa lift your spirit higher
Lord is the light and truth people of Africa
The Lord sends you a message from his heart to you people of Africa
He said because I love you
I will answer your prayers
I hear your prayers
Don’t cry for me Africa
Because you have a friend that is the Lord
People of Africa continue doing the Lords work
Make a wish people of Africa
The people of Africa are looking at the Lord face to face
Lord here is no paradise
We dream a little dream said the people of Africa to the Lord
The People of Africa Pray that the Lord will give each other strength every day
Don’t cry for me Africa
Save the people of Africa
Strengthened the people of Africa each day
Because I’ll be there in your dreams people of Africa
The people of Africa tells The Lord how much they love him
Don’t cry for me Africa
Lord comes when you are ready people of Africa
Feelings you have for your Lord People of Africa
And I know you will never let it die
Nothing but flowers the people of Africa will plant in the sea shore for the Lord
Don’t cry for me Africa
The people of Africa needs hope to heal there land
The Lord rose up on you people of Africa
Don’t cry for me Africa
My heart will go on
Once I close this door of the ship I will sail across the Atlantic Sea

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Drums of Battersea

They can’t hear in West o’ London, where the worst dine with the best—
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can’t hear in London West—
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be—
They can’t hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery—
Beating from the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating—men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free—
Beating on the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.

And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!—stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty—
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony—
The big bruised heart of England’s in the Drums of Battersea.

Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square—
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty—
Rolling round the English world—the Drums of Battersea.

Oh! I heard them in the Queen’s Hall—aye! and London heard that night—
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory—
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.

And where’er my feet may wander, and howe’er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I’m dreaming—I shall hear them when I’m dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny—
There’s hope!—there’s hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Hush

[Intro:]
Hush baby imma let you know (let you know),
This is how its gonna go (gonna go).......
[Chorus:]
Hush baby imma let you know (let you know),
This is how its gonna go (gonna go), (yeah, uh)
If you wanna come and play (come and play),
We gonna do it my way (my way), (my way).....
Hush baby dont talk so much (so much), I just
wanna feel your touch ( feel your touch), Everything will
be OK (be OK) if we do it my way (my way, my
way).....
[LL Cool J - Verse 1:]
You feel so good, rest of my life, I wish I could,
hold you tight and take a flight, out the hood,
was a foul or just misundastood? My man and a
up to no good, it doesnt really matter, either
way I should, maximize the moment, and hold
you close, jump in the drop spida, and cruise
down the coast, who loved you da most, I was
neva close, when lives was on the line,
confusion in your mind, we spiritually acclined,
sometimes I flip, sometimes you flip,
sometimes we wild out and act like lunatics, we
move to fast, and the whole world's in a rush,
everybody just hush.....(hush , hush)....
[Chorus:]
Hush baby imma let you know (let you know),
this is how its gonna go (gonna go), If you
wanna come and play (come and play), we
gonna do it my way (my way, my way).......
Hush baby dont talk so much (so much), I just
wanna feel your touch (feel your touch), Everything will
be OK (be OK), If we do it my way (my way, my
way)......
[LL Cool J - Verse 2:]
Its all a test, the pain, the drama, da billa in a
Bahamas, the highs, the lows, the Hoop De, the
rolls, the money flowin', certain doors that we go
in, the people we meet, the hands that we shake, \
whether its morton's, or sizzle a steak, everything
will be OK (be OK), if we do it my way (my way,
my way)......
[LL Cool J - Verse 3:]
Cuz' i belive in romance, kissin when ya slow
dance, me bouncin' baby no chance, no matter
the circumstance, whatever it takes girl, I'll swim
to France, cuz' your beautys unmatched, your
such a great catch, unconditional love, forever
we are attached, deal wit da drama, we could

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Cry For My Mama Land

It is 1.50 a.m.
And sleep evades me….because I weep for my motherland!

Sons of Africa,
Daughters of Africa,
Awaken: you have slumbered so long.

Look at the cloudless skies that cover your motherland,
Look at the leafless trees….the barrenness that fills the atmosphere
Look at the evolving deserts, that swallow up your birthright
Listen to the cry of your sons and daughters,
Empty stomachs, jiggered feet, tatters for clothes…..barely enough education if any

Feel the desperation of this land,
Feel the emptiness that engulfs our cradle
See the vanishing green,
See the greed that exists,
oh daughters and sons of Africa!

For how long shall we sit and watch?
While Africa destroys herself?
For how long shall we be divided on the basis of our ethnicity?
Instead of using out diversity as our strength?
For how long shall we be misguided: by our very own kinsmen?
Instead of standing for our own convictions?
For how long shall micro-nationalism take the place of nationhood?
For how long shall we be brainwashed? manipulated? Brainwashed?
For how long will our collective hard-worn freedom and independence be a luxury of only few?
Tell me daughters and sons of Africa, for how long, shall we wallow in the miasma of poverty?

Not anymore, sons and daughters of Africa, nay not anymore!
Because all I need is several more hearts sold to the cause of this continent.
A few souls who will dare dream, of a land that mama Africa could be!
A few who will raise their voices in the streets and condemn: evil, greed, selfishness,
At the expense of their comfort, and even their lives!

Just dream with me,
Mmmh…aaaah….Economic stability, oneness, food security,
Sound leadership, quality and affordable education, employment opportunities,
Good affordable healthcare, good governance policies, …….clean air!

Look at our land, beautiful, divine!
The proud white peaked mountains,
The meandering bold rivers,
The ever peaceful lakes,
The diverse wild life,
The rich culture and heritage,
The diversity of her people,
The dynamism and creativity,
The artstic value that equals none other

[...] Read more

poem by Mukami Mbaabu
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Fear

I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
Candles raise my desire,
Why I'm so far away
No more meaning to my life
No more reason to stay
Freezin'
Feelin'
Breathe in
Breathe in
I'm comin back again
I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
Hazing clouds rain on my head
Empty thoughts fill my ears
Find my shade by the moonlight
Why my thoughts aren't so clear
Demons dreamin'
Breathe in
Breathe in
I'm comin' back again
I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
Ahhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ahhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my vein
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
I'm not the one whose so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my vein
Never did I wanna be here again
And I don't remember why I came
Voodoo Voodoo
Voodoo Voodoo
Voodoo Voodoo
Voodoo Voodoo
So far away (voodoo voodoo)
I'm not the one whose so far away (voodoo voodoo)
I'm not the one whose so far away (voodoo voodoo)

[...] Read more

song performed by Puddle Of Mudd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sing Along To The Song Of The Sea

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the wash of white, wild weather’s wave,
As it gushes galore
Onto strand’s silver shore,
Like a ghost from a galleon’s grave.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the shout of coarse cannon’s rough roar
That rang round Britain’s bays
In Drake’s drum’s finest days,
When England and Spain went to war.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the piping aboard of massed men,
As brave sailors set sail,
Swearing never to fail
If England is threatened again.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the murmur of muttering crew
Who sent cruel Captain Bligh
All adrift ’neath the sky,
As the Bounty retreated from view.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the hovering hum of the heat
In the eye that is formed
In a tropical storm
As it seems to have paused for a sleep.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the pitter and patter of rain,
Which refuses to stop
Until every last drop
Is returned with its might to the main.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the thrash of the threatening tide,
As it rushes, so rough,
In great gales from the gulf,
Fetching flotsam along for the ride.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the moan of a shuddering mast,
As it bends in the gale,
Which hopes it will fail
In the force of its battering blast.

Sing along, sing along to the song of the sea
In the clap of loud thunder’s harsh crack,

[...] Read more

poem by C. Richard Miles
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The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!

So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.

Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,

To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Merlin And Vivien

A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

For he that always bare in bitter grudge
The slights of Arthur and his Table, Mark
The Cornish King, had heard a wandering voice,
A minstrel of Caerlon by strong storm
Blown into shelter at Tintagil, say
That out of naked knightlike purity
Sir Lancelot worshipt no unmarried girl
But the great Queen herself, fought in her name,
Sware by her--vows like theirs, that high in heaven
Love most, but neither marry, nor are given
In marriage, angels of our Lord's report.

He ceased, and then--for Vivien sweetly said
(She sat beside the banquet nearest Mark),
'And is the fair example followed, Sir,
In Arthur's household?'--answered innocently:

'Ay, by some few--ay, truly--youths that hold
It more beseems the perfect virgin knight
To worship woman as true wife beyond
All hopes of gaining, than as maiden girl.
They place their pride in Lancelot and the Queen.
So passionate for an utter purity
Beyond the limit of their bond, are these,
For Arthur bound them not to singleness.
Brave hearts and clean! and yet--God guide them--young.'

Then Mark was half in heart to hurl his cup
Straight at the speaker, but forbore: he rose
To leave the hall, and, Vivien following him,
Turned to her: 'Here are snakes within the grass;
And you methinks, O Vivien, save ye fear
The monkish manhood, and the mask of pure
Worn by this court, can stir them till they sting.'

And Vivien answered, smiling scornfully,
'Why fear? because that fostered at THY court
I savour of thy--virtues? fear them? no.
As Love, if Love is perfect, casts out fear,
So Hate, if Hate is perfect, casts out fear.
My father died in battle against the King,
My mother on his corpse in open field;
She bore me there, for born from death was I
Among the dead and sown upon the wind--

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Voodo People (The Digital Punkz Remix)

Magic people, voodoo people.
The voodoo, who do, what you don't dare do people.
Voodoo!
The voodoo, who do, what you don't dare do people.
The voodoo, who do, what you don't dare do people.
The voodoo!
The voodoo, who do, what you don't dare do people.
The voodoo, who do, what you don't dare do people.
Magic people, magic people, voodoo people, magic people.
Magic people, magic people, voodoo people, magic people.
Magic people, magic people, voodoo people, magic people.
Magic people, magic people, voodoo people, voodoo

song performed by Prodigy
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Drums of Ages

Drums of all that’s right and wrong—of love and hate and scorn,
And the new-born baby hears them and it wails when it is born.
Drums of all that is to be, and all that has gone by,
And we hear them when we’re dreaming, and we hear them while we die.

Drums of martyred innocence and drums of driven guilt
Beating backward from the future when the first rude town was built;
Beating louder through the slave days and the dark and hungry nights,
While the hovels filled the valleys and the castles crowned the heights;
Beating louder while the mansions shifted east from miles of slums—
Don’t you hear them? Don’t you hear them? Don’t you hear the alley drums?

Drums of human sacrifice and drums of war at home—
While the Romans conquered nations they were beating loud in Rome.
Children heard them through the ages, mothers paused and glanced behind,
Madmen saw and heard the drummers, but the rest were deaf and blind.
Peasants starved on fields of plenty, workmen rotted in the slums—
Till the drummers came to Paris and the nations heard the drums.

Drums of hope and bursting hearts—the drums of Westward Ho!—
From the homes of generations and their native land they go.
’Groom and bride and grey-haired mother, bent old men who go alone—
Fleeing bitter persecution for the terrible unknown:
Seeking freedom, rest, or justice—and the peace that never comes—
And the wilderness was conquered when the pilgrims beat their drums.

Drums of Greed that followed fast where men had made the way,
Waking drums of stern rebellion when the exiles turned at bay,
Spreading death and desolation, breeding old-world hells anew,
Until England lost a nation for the blindness of a few.
Still the dirty Jewish talon reached from palaces and slums
Till a hundred thousand English died to stop the farmers’ drums.

Drums of tortured hearts o’ men—the drums that never ceased—
Throbbing through the British Empire from the heart of London East;
Growling louder still wherever, in the wake of those who lead,
Comes the murmur of the board-room and the stealthy steps of greed;
Growling through the Southern cities, murmuring in the Western gums,
Till the Empire falls to pieces at the beating of the drums!

Drums of all that’s right and wrong—of love and hate and scorn;
And the new-born baby hears them, and he wails when he is born.
Drums of all that is to be, and all that has gone by—
And we hear there when we’re dreaming, and we hear then while we die.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Hoodoo / Voodoo Medicine Man

Silence, I'm ashamed, I was left as a child
Dragged from the cradle, I was weaned in the wild
Ran with the wolf pack, flesh torn to shreds
In the compensations, I was left there for dead
Read it in the paper it ain't fair
You know who today don't seem to care
Livin', lovin', gettin' loose
Masturbatin' with a noose
Now someone's kickin' out the chair
Some kind of voodoo
Come across this land
Some kind of voodoo
Be the medicine man
Everybody's lookin' at the sky
Don't believe the cover-ups and lies
They been tellin' us since birth
Pissin' off old Mother Earth
My gones are bygones prophesied
Some kind of voodoo
Come across this land
Some kind of hoodoo
Be the medicine man
Get ready
Wonder should I go or should I stay
'Cause what we got ain't workin' anyway
I did my best, God knows I tried
I feel like I been crucified
Why did you, why did you, why did you take it all away
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man
Voodoo, hoodoo, medicine man

song performed by Aerosmith
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Forest Sanctuary - Part I.

I.
The voices of my home!-I hear them still!
They have been with me through the dreamy night-
The blessed household voices, wont to fill
My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight!
I hear them still, unchang'd:-though some from earth
Are music parted, and the tones of mirth-
Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright!
Have died in others,-yet to me they come,
Singing of boyhood back-the voices of my home!

II.
They call me through this hush of woods, reposing
In the grey stillness of the summer morn,
They wander by when heavy flowers are closing,
And thoughts grow deep, and winds and stars are born;
Ev'n as a fount's remember'd gushings burst
On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst,
E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds, till worn
By quenchless longings, to my soul I say-
Oh! for the dove's swift wings, that I might flee away,

III.
And find mine ark!-yet whither?-I must bear
A yearning heart within me to the grave.
I am of those o'er whom a breath of air-
Just darkening in its course the lake's bright wave,
And sighing through the feathery canes -hath power
To call up shadows, in the silent hour,
From the dim past, as from a wizard's cave!-
So must it be!-These skies above me spread,
Are they my own soft skies?-Ye rest not here, my dead!

IV.
Ye far amidst the southern flowers lie sleeping,
Your graves all smiling in the sunshine clear,
Save one!-a blue, lone, distant main is sweeping
High o'er one gentle head-ye rest not here!-
'Tis not the olive, with a whisper swaying,
Not thy low ripplings, glassy water, playing
Through my own chesnut groves, which fill mine ear;
But the faint echoes in my breast that dwell,
And for their birth-place moan, as moans the ocean-shell.

V.
Peace!-I will dash these fond regrets to earth,
Ev'n as an eagle shakes the cumbering rain
From his strong pinion. Thou that gav'st me birth,
And lineage, and once home,-my native Spain!
My own bright land-my father's land-my child's!

[...] Read more

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Added by Poetry Lover
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Little Man Lost at Vespers - Parody A.A. MILNE Vespers

Little man lost in a world with no heart,
little man called upon, playing a part,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
when will support from society start?

Little man lost, curling up very small
when nobody notices he's there at all,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
all seems unfair when the cupboard is bare.

Little man lost his job, often apart
from hopes of promotion unless he plays smart,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
will the votes counted upset apple-cart?

Little man keeling at foot of the bed,
saw gold is dreams, silver wore in hoar head,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
Christ, no fair Robin Hood's doling fair shares.

Little man's hunger stamps won't ease the cramps
dropp filters through ceiling cracks, happiness damps,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
for walking is healthy when car has the clamps.

Little man's vista through Visa's gone bust,
global economy's threatened, we must
hush, hush, whisper, who’ll dare
plead for the needy confronting despair?

Little man losing out struggles for work,
T.V. instead of expenses or perk,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
though welfare for needy, bank bonus for jerk!

Little man lost counts cost down to a penny,
bank lending cuts spending ruts causing for many,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
when will vain bureaucrat answer vain prayer.

Little man lost with no foot in the door,
Woolworth's now worthless has sunk through the floor,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
when will the wheel turn to set a fair score?

Little man lost at the foot of the tree,
paying through nose for electricity,
hush, hush, whisper who dare,
redundancies, pensions, who’ll care and who’ll share?

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Chronicle Of The Drum

Part I.

At Paris, hard by the Maine barriers,
Whoever will choose to repair,
Midst a dozen of wooden-legged warriors
May haply fall in with old Pierre.
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern
He sits and he prates of old wars,
And moistens his pipe of tobacco
With a drink that is named after Mars.

The beer makes his tongue run the quicker,
And as long as his tap never fails,
Thus over his favorite liquor
Old Peter will tell his old tales.
Says he, 'In my life's ninety summers
Strange changes and chances I've seen,—
So here's to all gentlemen drummers
That ever have thump'd on a skin.

'Brought up in the art military
For four generations we are;
My ancestors drumm'd for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre.
And as each man in life has his station
According as Fortune may fix,
While Conde was waving the baton,
My grandsire was trolling the sticks.

'Ah! those were the days for commanders!
What glories my grandfather won,
Ere bigots, and lackeys, and panders
The fortunes of France had undone!
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland,—
What foeman resisted us then?
No; my grandsire was ever victorious,
My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne.

'He died: and our noble battalions
The jade fickle Fortune forsook;
And at Blenheim, in spite of our valiance,
The victory lay with Malbrook.
The news it was brought to King Louis;
Corbleu! how his Majesty swore
When he heard they had taken my grandsire:
And twelve thousand gentlemen more.

'At Namur, Ramillies, and Malplaquet
Were we posted, on plain or in trench:
Malbrook only need to attack it

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poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beat Of Your Drum

Photograph king, watches you go
Now fashions may change, heaven knows, but you
Still leave a stain on me
Only to go colours may fade
The seasons may change, weather blows, but you still leave a mark on me
Wrong-negative fades-never the twain, reckless and tame
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat I beat it
I feel it
Disco brat-follow the pack
Watching you peel, heaven knows, prison cant hold all this greedy intention
Only to go-i picture you now
Music may change-hi-di-ho keen to follow your nose
Wrong-love out of tune
Sweet is the night, bright light destroys me
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
I like to beat on your drum
I like to beat on your drum
I like your face in the crowd
I like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
Cant beat it
I feel it
Ho beat it
I beat it
Oh yeah
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to yell it out loud
Id like to beat on your drum
Cant beat it cant beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum

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song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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