Quotes about heave, page 14
Affliction (III)
My heart did heave, and there came forth, 'O God'!
By that I knew that thou wast in the grief,
To guide and govern it to my relief,
Making a sceptre of the rod:
Hadst thou not had thy part,
Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.
But since thy breath gave me both life and shape,
Thou know'st my tallies; and when there's assigned
So much breath to a sigh, what's then behind?
Or if some years with it escape,
The sigh then only is
A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss.
Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still
Constant unto it, making it to be
A point of honour now to grieve in me,
And in thy members suffer ill.
They who lament one cross,
Thou dying daily, praise thee to thy loss.
poem by George Herbert
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Find Now Your Heart, Allow Its Healing
Doth this monster you have become bear a conscience?
Do you not possess means for how to end this?
For you shall carry with you much shame, remorse-
Allow yourself to release it though, over time's course!
Still do believe that your path be righteous?
Or, do you concede perhaps, there be vengeance?
Either way, love, must you allow its leave-
For it to not linger, all effort must be to heave!
Apologies are easy, not though, to swallow pride-
Self-guilt, which you must possess-a lonesome ride!
Find now your heart, allow its healing:
Restore now its capacity for love and feeling!
When there exists, a time, a place-
All else may be sent away, erased!
Maurice Harris,20 December 2007
poem by Maurice Harris
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Prayer to Sandman
Sandman, heave my head
For I have stained my hands
With blood and anguish
I found in virulent berries
I will take your gift as a punishment
As I lunge into wakefulness
Towards my penchant for people
Of lovely and nubile words
From their vestal gaiety
A wonderful profusion of fantasy;
That is, and will never be.
Beneath the thicket of periwinkles
And the cold belly of the earth
I will buoy my apprehensions
In a slumber induced by your grains
Perhaps, from the sands of time.
Puissant Sandman,
Before you jeopardize me
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poem by Norman Santos
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March 26, 1974
R.Frost 100th B'day
The air was soft, the ground still cold.
In wet dull pastures where I strolled
Was something I could not believe.
Dead grass appeared to slide and heave,
Though still too frozen-flat to stir,
And rocks to twitch, and all to blur.
What was this rippling of the land?
Was matter getting out of hand
And making free with natural law?
I stopped and blinked, and then I saw
A fact as eerie as a dream.
There was a subtle flood of stream
Moving upon the face of things.
It came from standing pools and springs
And what of snow was still around;
It came of winter's giving ground
So that the freeze was coming out,
As when a set mind, blessed by doubt,
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poem by Richard Wilbur
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How Did You Rest, Last Night?
'How did you rest, last night?'--
I've heard my gran'pap say
Them words a thousand times--that's right--
Jes them words thataway!
As punctchul-like as morning dast
To ever heave in sight
Gran'pap 'ud allus haf to ast--
'How did you rest, last night?'
Us young-uns used to grin,
At breakfast, on the sly,
And mock the wobble of his chin
And eyebrows belt so high
And kind: _'How did you rest, last night?'_
We'd mumble and let on
Our voices trimbled, and our sight
Was dim, and hearin' gone.
* * * * *
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Palm Tree
Palm-tree: single-legged giant,
topping other trees,
peering at the firmament -
It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling
and fly away, away,
if only it had wings.
The tree seems to express its wish
in the tossing of its head:
its fronds heave and swish -
It thinks, Maybe my leaves are feathers,
and nothing stops me now
from rising on their flutter.
All day the fronds the windblown tree
soar and flap and shudder
as though it thinks it can fly,
As though it wanders in the skies,
travelling who knows where,
wheeling past the stars -
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poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Ocean's Song
We walked amongst the ruins famed in story
Of Rozel-Tower,
And saw the boundless waters stretch in glory
And heave in power.
O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder,
Whilst waves marked time.
"Appear, O Truth!" thou sang'st with tone of thunder,
"And shine sublime!
"The world's enslaved and hunted down by beagles,
To despots sold.
Souls of deep thinkers, soar like mighty eagles!
The Right uphold.
"Be born! arise! o'er the earth and wild waves bounding,
Peoples and suns!
Let darkness vanish; tocsins be resounding,
And flash, ye guns!
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poem by Victor Hugo
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My God Walks
my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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No Worst, There Is None
No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring.
Comforter, where, where is your comforting?
Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?
My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief{\-}
Woe, w{'o}rld-sorrow; on an {'a}ge-old {'a}nvil w{'i}nce and s{'i}ng --
Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked "No ling-
Ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief."
O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap
May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small
Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep,
Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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South Eastern Sea of Mekong Delta
The company sent our cargo afloat;
nautilus stand on the rigging, aloft;
it is the dusk time ghosts visit oft,
tearing silences alongside the boat.
Sea roils upon the superstructure,
streaming forecastle to breakwater,
tide hits bullward as a loose cotter,
forces our suspicion for a fracture.
Water entered through the hatch;
-turn ten degrees to haul the wind,
rhythmic heave and a flashing glint,
with a swelling head-sea mismatch.
Winds Beaufort fast on evil squeal,
Iron-like gusts, we bellow the horn;
hulls down, hollers a signal to warn,
of the suffered damage on the keel.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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