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Continual Conversation With A Silent Man

The old brown hen and the old blue sky,
Between the two we live and die--
The broken cartwheel on the hill.

As if, in the presence of the sea,
We dried our nets and mended sail
And talked of never-ending things,

Of the never-ending storm of will,
One will and many wills, and the wind,
Of many meanings in the leaves,

Brought down to one below the eaves,
Link, of that tempest, to the farm,
The chain of the turquoise hen and sky

And the wheel that broke as the cart went by.
It is not a voice that is under the eaves.
It is not speech, the sound we hear

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poem by Wallace Stevens
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Gothic Romance

Dream and dance, dream and dance
As tango through the turquoise tide.
Dream, dream, flying at the flower's glance
As tango through the turquoise tide,
Keeping bumblebees in trance.
Mountain brooks in sunshine glance,
Glance and trickle their path to hide.
Love me, sweetheart, stay with me in this Gothic romance.

Romance me and stay, romance me and stay.
Do you hear the whistle's wonderfully song?
Stay, stay, this night we may search the milky way.
Do you hear the whistle's wonderfully song?
Wonderfully weird whistling demand the light of the day.
So let the tears go and they will flow away
And stay with me, when love may be so strong.
Just stay with me, sweetheart, love me in this Gothic romance.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Dream Catcher

Ride purple stallions from the gold forest
We are going to find real answers
Rainbows shed their mellow glow
Love rides wings of sweet euphoria
Nothing lasts except the angels
Walk the sea slowly belonging to the stars

Axis spins like the eternal man
We felt things that night by the black light
When posters melted like flowers
Three dimensions seemed confined
Up and down the relative man
Now we are there and here but still here
Are you with me baby?
Free in the moving shadows of turquoise
See the cactus fill with sunrise

Red sun shines like the day Custer died
A pathetic human being
Out of the corner she rides fires

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Question Of Life

The Little One sought answers, too.
The elders gave advice.
Not satisfied if truths were true,
If wisdoms were so wise...
The Little One went on his way,
To find life's meaning there,
Beyond the words he heard that day
That left him unaware.

The Little One was told at last,
By one old precious voice,
Grandfather's words left him aghast,
'Your life end's not your choice...'
But then he saw his own old face,
The Old One spoke and said,
'My Little One, it's no disgrace,
Life lasts until you're dead...'

The Little One observed these truths,
The Old One carried on...

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poem by Denis Martindale
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 34

A man, professing to be a hermit in the desert of Syria, attended for years to his devotions and subsisted on the leaves of trees. A padshah, who had gone in that direction by way of pilgrimage, approached him and said: ‘If thou thinkest proper, we shall prepare a place for thee in the town where thou wilt enjoy leisure for thy devotions and others may profit by thy spiritual advice as well as imitate thy good works.’ The hermit refused compliance but the pillars of the State were of opinion that, in order to please the king, he ought to spend a few days in town to ascertain the state of the place; so that if he feared that the purity of his precious time might become turbid by association with strangers, he would still have the option to refuse compliance. It is related that the hermit entered the town where a private garden-house of the king, which was a heart-expanding and soul refreshing locality, had been prepared to receive him.

Its red roses were like the cheeks of belles,
Its hyacinths like the ringlets of mistresses
Protected from the inclemency of mid-winter
Like sucklings who have not yet tasted the nurse’s milk.
And branches with pomegranates upon them:
Fire suspended from the green-trees.

The king immediately sent him a beautiful slave-girl:

After beholding this hermit-deceiving crescent-moon
Of the form of an angel and the beauty of a peacock,
After seeing her it would be impossible
To an anchorite’s nature to remain patient.

After her he sent likewise a slave-boy of wonderful beauty and graceful placidity:

People around him are dying with thirst
And he, who looks like a cupbearer, gives no drink.

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poem by Sa di
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Alcan Road

Open the gate to the red land
Alcan road, by the turquoise lake
Starry skies, a mushroom cloud
Folding waves - in a foamy tide
Washing in beds - of opal shells
white gulls cry - for you and I
butterflies - float away
drift over pools - of salt and clay
mountain man - frosted child
eagles cry - puppets of god
strung like time - molded in form
trees bend back - and trails distort
it leads to the land - of Alcan Road
the turquoise lake - and starry skies
mushroom clouds - folding waves
foamy tides - of salt and brine

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paprika Plains

It fell from midnight skies
It drummed on the galvanized
In the washroom, women tracked the rain
Up to the make-up mirror
Liquid soap and grass
And jungle gardenia crash
On pine-sol and beer ...
Its stifling in here ...
Ive got to get some air ...
Im going outside to get some air
Back in my hometown
They would have cleared the floor
Just to watch the rain come down!
Theyre such sky oriented people--
Geared to changing weather ...
Im floating off in time
Im floating off
Im floating off in time
When I was three feet tall
And wide eyed open to it all

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song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dance Figure

Dark-eyed,
O woman of my dreams,
Ivory sandalled,
There is none like thee among the dancers,
None with swift feet.
I have not found thee in the tents,
In the broken darkness.
I have not found thee at the well-head
Among the women with pitchers.
Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark;
Thy face as a river with lights.

White as an almond are thy shoulders;
As new almonds stripped from the husk.
They guard thee not with eunuchs;
Not with bars of copper.

Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest.
A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in
patterns, hast thou gathered about thee,

[...] Read more

poem by Ezra Pound
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The tones of gray, pale turquoise and pink will prevail.

quote by Christian Dior
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Attolent From The Air

An atoll is it
that I see or a cloud born
by turquoise blue sea

poem by Jonathan Robin
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