Quotes about midway, page 11
A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini
Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
Shelley.
I
Out of the dawning heavens that hear
Young wings and feet of the new year
Move through their twilight, and shed round
Soft showers of sound,
Soothing the season with sweet rain,
If greeting come to make me fain,
What is it I can send again?
2
I know not if the year shall send
Tidings to usward as a friend,
And salutation, and such things
Bear on his wings
As the soul turns and thirsts unto
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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The power of my love
If you ventured to leap from unprecedented heights of
the building,
the power of my love would stop you from colliding
with the earth.
if you thought of consuming vials of deadly snake
poison,
the power of my love would transform it into golden
herbs revitalizing life.
if you planned to severe the bunch of blissful veins
on your wrist,
the power of my love would replace them with
impenetrable sheets of metal.
if you pondered on pursuing nefarious paths of
lechery,
the power of my love would freeze your footsteps
violently midway.
if you dreamt of driving your automobile at breakneck
speeds,
the power of my love would impregnate your persona
from all sides,
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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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In the World of Frail-Brick Words
I diligently built a solid world of
Frail-brick-words around you
When winds of fear
Uproot me from
All possible directions
I cling to your torso
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words
Going round and round
In the square fantasy of yours
I always miss the centre
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words
You're always on look out
To live a fantasy; travelled against
Time to reach my solid world
Of frail-brick-words
Expecting to drench yourself
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Stonewall Jackson (Ascribed To A Virginian)
One man we claim of wrought reknown
Which not the North shall care to slur;
A Modern lived who sleeps in death,
Calm as the marble Ancients are:
'Tis he whose life, though a vapor's wreath,
Was charged with the lightning's burning breath -
Stonewall, stormer of the war.
But who shall hymn the Roman heart?
A stoic he, but even more:
The iron will and lion thew
Were strong to inflict as to endure:
Who like him could stand, or pursue?
His fate the fatalist followed through;
In all his great soul found to do
Stonewall followed his star.
He followed his star on the Romney march
Through the sleet to the wintry war;
And he followed it on when he bowed the grain -
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poem by Herman Melville
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Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of nature. The calm shade
Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze
That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm
To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here
Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men,
And made thee loathe thy life. The primal curse
Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth,
But not in vengance. God hath yoked to guilt
Her pale tormentor, Misery. Hence these shades
Are still the abode of gladness; the thick roof
Of green and stirring branches is alive
And musical with birds, that sing and sport
In wantonness of spirit; while below
The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,
Chirps merrily. Throngs of insects in the shade
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poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Kubla Khan
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
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poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Wind’s Tidings In August 1870
'OH voice of summer winds among the trees,
What soft news art thou bringing to us here?
Dost thou come whispering of hushed scenes like these,
Languid in sunlight, while the drowsy deer
Couch placidly at rest, and from the brake
The song of fearless wild birds rings out clear,
And groves and meadows and this baby lake
Are dreaming to thy dreaming lullaby?
Art telling of hushed scenes like these? Awake,
Answer, sweet dying wind, and do not die.'
And the voice of the faint winds, dying away,
Answered me, 'Nay.'
'Oh voice of summer winds, then art thou come
From fluttering in the tangles of the vines
Beside the blue blue seas, in the far home
Of the dim olives and the dusky pines,
And from the cypress bosks, and where the air
Grows lush and heavy 'twixt the dark starred lines
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poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Bellerophon
I
Maimed, beggared, grey; seeking an alms; with nod
Of palsy doing task of thanks for bread;
Upon the stature of a God,
He whom the Gods have struck bends low his head.
II
Weak words he has, that slip the nerveless tongue
Deformed, like his great frame: a broken arc:
Once radiant as the javelin flung
Right at the centre breastplate of his mark.
III
Oft pausing on his white-eyed inward look,
Some undermountain narrative he tells,
As gapped by Lykian heat the brook
Cut from the source that in the upland swells.
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poem by George Meredith
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Let Me Open Up Our Love File (I Felt Magic In The Air)
(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)
for only the second time together
enjoying and being lost in rainy romantic weather
you stared here and there
while walking to metro station
but i looked at you as my final destination
(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)
all of sudden, you pointed something
quickly, for you,
i was ready to do anything
you asked for ice-cream
there I was living up my dream
(let me open up our love file
cherish along with me and just smile)
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poem by Anuj Raj Singh
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Dangerous Edge
Our interest being on the dangerous edge,
we think we’re able to see more
in truth than those whom we deplore
because they do not plumb the depths and dredge
the nuances of books in Hebrew, Greek,
and German, even English, though
we think vernacular below
our goal––the knowledge-heaven that we seek
beyond our grasp! We’re insecure
about ourselves, but as for those
who aren’t we’re somewhat bellicose,
despising them because they say they’re sure.
Inspired by Robert Browning’s “Bishop Blougram’s Apology”:
A simile!
We mortals cross the ocean of this world
Each in his average cabin of a life;
The best's not big, the worst yields elbow-room.
Now for our six months' voyage-how prepare?
You come on shipboard with a landsman's list
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poem by Gershon Hepner
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