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Atom Heart Mother Suite

Lime and limpid green, a second scene
A fight between the blue you once knew.
Floating down, the sound resounds
Around the icy waters underground.
Jupiter and Saturn, Oberon, Miranda and Titania.
Neptune, Titan, Stars can frighten.
Lime and limpid green, a second scene
A fight between the blue you once knew.
Floating down, the sound resounds
Around the icy waters underground.
Jupiter and Saturn, Oberon, Miranda and Titania.
Neptune, Titan, Stars can frighten.
Blinding signs flap,
Flicker, flicker, flicker blam. Pow, pow.
Stairway scare Dan dare who's there?
Lime and limpid green, the sounds around
The icy waters under
Lime and limpid green, the sounds around
The icy waters underground.

song performed by Pink Floyd
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Four Seasons : Winter

See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms,
Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot,
Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life,
When nursed by careless Solitude I lived,
And sung of Nature with unceasing joy,
Pleased have I wander'd through your rough domain;
Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst;
Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brew'd,
In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time,
Till through the lucid chambers of the south
Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smiled.
To thee, the patron of her first essay,
The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song.
Since has she rounded the revolving year:
Skimm'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne,

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Rotting

rotting core of the hollow tree
it twists and creeks
an owl hoots never ending
an icy blast hits the fragile tree
it creeks within its core
the tree snaps in half a big thud when it hits the icy ground
never more to the tree
the icy grave it rots into the ground
forever more

poem by Jonathan Marshall
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The frost dragon

While the dark night chills the earth
it creeps sneaking in
with breath caressing the ground
covering with the kiss of death.

Like a ghoul gliding phantom like
with blue white icy eyes hovering
and nowhere it leaves tracks,
the icy dragon shakes its head,
blowing vapour ice,

freezing where it lands
like summer dew
but for its icy heart
that injures and sometimes kills.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Christmas Sharing!

Its freezing ice chills out there
This winter…this December
To go out, I didn’t dare
Clouds of snow surround my house
But in, I warm my icy toes
A Christmas tree with jingling bells
Magic everywhere spreading its spells
A shining silver star hung on top
And Christmas carols in every snowdrop

While warm and cozy I lay near the fire
At distance I see a girl longing for fire
I open my door to look at her
And in turn she smiles, warmer than fire
Her icy toes and icy nose
Numb hands and pale face
Made me invite her in and show some fire,
And let her have Christmas just like mine

That day, I gave a real Christmas for a girl

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poem by Sania Harris
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The Pass Of The Sierra

ALL night above their rocky bed
They saw the stars march slow;
The wild Sierra overhead,
The desert's death below.
The Indian from his lodge of bark,
The gray bear from his den,
Beyond their camp-fire's wall of dark,
Glared on the mountain men.
Still upward turned, with anxious strain,
Their leader's sleepless eye,
Where splinters of the mountain chain
Stood black against the sky.
The night waned slow: at last, a glow,
A gleam of sudden fire,
Shot up behind the walls of snow,
And tipped each icy spire.
'Up, men!' he cried, 'yon rocky cone,
To-day, please God, we'll pass,
And look from Winter's frozen throne
On Summer's flowers and grass!'

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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Facing The Frost

People, around me, are confidently striding,
While I worry about slipping and sliding.
Where it is clear, my confidence grows,
But where it is icy, my pace, again, slows.

People are walking, looking fairly relaxed;
While I walk, head down, watching my tracks.
I approach an icy patch, and pull a funny face,
As, once again, I find I have to slow my pace.

I see some children on their way to school;
With walking on ice, they seem pretty cool.
From the looks on their faces, it is very clear,
That, unlike me, they do not hold any fear.

Where I am able, I walk along on the grass,
So that icy patches, on the pavement, I pass.
At times, I have no choice, but to face the ice;
With the threat of potential injury, I now dice.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Unhypnagogic State

Here today, tomorrow gone, one, wan,
Yearns for yesterday's illusions bright,
Pain shards slatting shuttered pane, blind blight,
Nightmare shatters song that seemed so strong.
Anticipations fed, le[a]d, b[l]ed, sped, gone.
Ghoulish shades shed light that once read right,
Overdrawn check, wreck, suspect, indict,
Grief's reef sinks hurt heart's glow now woebegone,
Intense pain's reign won't wane, tears stain mind numb.
Calm hovers ill at ease, invites insight's
Sullen reaction stormy, tension tight,
Then 'cease upon the midnight' must succumb.
Abyssmal Lethe spawns soul's black hole schemes,
TEmpest tossed, sleep shoaled, unholy dreams.

Hell harmony dissolves, hope melts, felt wrong,
Youth yields stage, page, to age's cage despite
Past pleasure. Mirage mirror's sable night,
Negates lost hopes, frosts urge surge to belong.
Ahead read as dead end where shadows throng

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Winter

The long days came and went; the riotous bees
Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine,
And men grew faint and thin with too much ease,
And Winter gave no sign:
But all the while beyond the northmost woods
He sat and smiled and watched his spirits play
In elfish dance and eery roundelay,
Tripping in many moods
With snowy curve and fairy crystal shine.

But now the time is come: with southward speed
The elfin spirits pass: a secret sting
Hath fallen and smitten flower and fruit and weed,
And every leafy thing.
The wet woods moan: the dead leaves break and fall;
In still night-watches wakeful men have heard
The muffled pipe of many a passing bird,
High over hut and hall,
Straining to southward and unresting wing.

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poem by Archibald Lampman
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Catterskill Falls

Midst greens and shades the Catterskill leaps,
From cliffs where the wood-flower clings;
All summer he moistens his verdant steeps
With the sweet light spray of the mountain springs;
And he shakes the woods on the mountain side,
When they drip with the rains of autumn-tide.

But when, in the forest bare and old,
The blast of December calls,
He builds, in the starlight clear and cold,
A palace of ice where his torrent falls,
With turret, and arch, and fretwork fair,
And pillars blue as the summer air.

For whom are those glorious chambers wrought,
In the cold and cloudless night?
Is there neither spirit nor motion of thought
In forms so lovely, and hues so bright?
Hear what the gray-haired woodmen tell
Of this wild stream and its rocky dell.

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poem by William Cullen Bryant
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