Quotes about surge, page 19
Small Dirge for a Frog
A surge through
Heart’s drapes.
Escapes to hear
A small dirge.
A miss me song for a frog.
Caught on the wrong side
Of a Goodyear. I was remiss
In not seeing.
Not to flee the burgeoning kiss
Of vulcanized and headlamp urgency,
This frog was remiss.
Remiss those focused frogs,
Fraught with patience, are.
You played a game of chicken
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poem by David Floren
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Song Of Youth
Sing, youth, the loveliest song you know!
Sing the song that seethes within your breast,
Let your joy burst forth in passion...
Don't hold back your song! Let it soar.
Sing your song, youth. I beg you sing...
Let it seize you, kiss you, inspire you to love
With youthful ardour... Let the foaming wave of feelings
Which your song arouses surge over us.
Sing your song, youth, and laugh like children!
Let the sound of your voice rise to the heavens
And echo back to us again, from the envious stars.
For we adore you, as we adore the sun.
Sing, youth! Sing your joyful song!
Laugh, youth, laugh! The world is yours.
poem by Migjeni
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Song of Youth
Sing, youth, the loveliest song you know!
Sing the song that seethes within your breast,
Let your joy burst forth in passion...
Don't hold back your song! Let it soar.
Sing your song, youth. I beg you sing...
Let it seize you, kiss you, inspire you to love
With youthful ardour... Let the foaming wave of feelings
Which your song arouses surge over us.
Sing your song, youth, and laugh like children!
Let the sound of your voice rise to the heavens
And echo back to us again, from the envious stars.
For we adore you, as we adore the sun.
Sing, youth! Sing your joyful song!
Laugh, youth, laugh! The world is yours.
poem by Millosh Gjergj Nikolla
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The Sailor's Grave at Clo-oose, V.I.
Out of the winds' and the waves' riot,
Out of the loud foam,
He has put in to a great quiet
And a still home.
Here he may lie at ease and wonder
Why the old ship waits,
And hark for the surge and the strong thunder
Of the full Straits,
And look for the fishing fleet at morning,
Shadows like lost souls,
Slide through the fog where the seal's warning
Betrays the shoals,
And watch for the deep-sea liner climbing
Out of the bright West,
With a salmon-sky and her wake shining
Like a tern's breast, --
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poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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Sonnet LII.
FAULTERING and sad the unhappy pilgrim roves,
Who, on the eve of bleak December's night,
Divided far from all he fondly loves,
Journeys alone, along the giddy height
Of these steep cliffs, and as the sun's last ray
Fades in the West, sees, from the rocky verge,
Dark tempests scowling o'er the shortened day,
And hears, with ear appall'd, the impetuous surge
Beneath him thunder!--So, with heart oppress'd,
Alone, reluctant, desolate, and slow,
By Friendship's cheering radiance now unblest,
Along life's rudest path I seem to go;
Nor see where yet the anxious heart may rest,
That, trembling at the past--recoils from future woe.
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Reproduction
When
dry mung bean grows true,
hound brings reaper's quail,
deep in jungle beds,
spun cloth bound cocoon,
doe retires in slouch,
grappling air for space,
briny mating reels,
ferns hold mooring bonds,
coral spawning brief,
sticks weave weathered nest,
bullfrog had droll dirge,
and viral pins host cells.
Then
shy young green shows through,
foundling cheepers fail,
creep thin fungal threads,
one moth flounders soon,
joey hires skin pouch,
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poem by Diane Hine
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O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be!
O, were I loved as I desire to be!
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
Or range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee!
All the inner, all the outer world of pain,
Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;
As I have heard that somewhere in the main
Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.
'I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,
To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, though the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Cleave Thou the Waves
Cleave thou the waves that weltering to and fro
Surge multitudinous. The eternal Powers
Of sun, moon, stars, the air, the hurrying hours,
The winged winds, the still dissolving show
Of clouds in calm or storm, for ever flow
Above thee; while the abysmal sea devours
The untold dead insatiate, where it lowers
O'er glooms unfathomed, limitless, below.
No longer on the golden-fretted sands,
Where many a shallow tide abortive chafes,
Mayst thou delay; life onward sweeping blends
With far-off heaven: the dauntless one who braves
The perilous flood with calm unswerving hands,
The elements sustain: cleave thou the waves.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Sonnets of the Empire: Dawn at Liverpool
The Sunlight laughs along the serried stone
About whose feet the wastrel tide runs free;
Light lie the shipmasts, fairy-like to see,
Athwart the royal city’s splendour thrown;
On runs the noble river, wide and lone,
Like some great soul that presses to the sea
Where life is rendered to eternity
And eager thought hath rest in the Unknown.
So sets thy tide, my country, to the deep
Whose face is black with thunder near and far,
And vexed with fleering gusts and tyrannous rain.
Shall the cloud lift and give thee rest and sleep,
Or wilt thou ’mid the surge and crash of war
Shatter thy life against the invading main?
poem by Archibald Thomas Strong
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The Feel Of A Poem
the words are there
squatting
not in a position to attack
they're more of
in between
a choice of whether to retreat
accept defeat
or surge and collide and
burst and die
the pen looks at all of them
they're so helpless
like unborn babies
like hatched turtles
that do not know where the
sea is
and with a rash decision
the pen strikes at all of them
the hands are fed up
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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