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The sun and its retinue of planets drift as a group through the vast gulfs of space that separate the stars.

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Winds, Sun, And Stars

Are the winds, which constantly reshape trees,
A silent messenger, sending my love to you-
Or is it just as it would seem, a mere breeze! ? !
I should think both; so long as it is the one, it is the other too!

Is the Sun and its rays, most brilliant,
Responsible for collecting my ardor in the East
And setting in the West-for you, its recipient! ? !
I should think it does this much, at the very least!

Are the stars, which blanket the sky, each and every night,
Another means by which my love's strength may reach you! ? !
Does it not transcend from the Heavens, to present within your sight?
I should think it is there at all times, with a presence to beseech you
To embrace it, as it has embraced you-and shall, evermore;
Perhaps you shall be loved by another-but, shall never, more!

-Maurice Harris,11 July 2010

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Will the stars now leave the sky will the sun and all the planets…

Voices calling in the early morning
so we jump up and getting dressed
rush to tall wide windows
that overlook the bay

In the twilight of the morning
we watch the water slip away
and soon the sand and muddy
bottom and all the fish lie bare

People went out collecting fish
they built a fire and cooked
the fish in a great big pot
the children were so happy

I watched all day and wondered
Will the stars now leave the sky
will the sun and all the planets
We can never forget that day

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If Only The Moon, The Sun And The Stars Are

if only the moon and the sun and the stars
are for sale,
if only the night can be packaged exclusively
for personal use
if only the day can be bottled and sealed
for a certain exclusivity
if only the stars can be put in a glass bowl
and let them stay there
like some goldfishes
if only all the other planets and comets and meteors
can be kept in the store
and all for sale
and if you ask them from me
i will buy them for you,

but then what will you do with all these?
tell me.

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Sun and the old man

Sun and the old man
It was an early morning.
Cool and mild breeze were blowing.
The sun was rising from the east.
Its beautiful red rays were calm and cool
and
were looking like the beautiful face of a bride.
However, in the noon, the scenario has been changed.
The sun rays were hot and cruel
They were looking like a cruel angry man.
In the evening, the sun was going to set in the west.
The sun rays were cool and calm.
They were looking like the stretched hands of an old man
lying on the bed.

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Sun And Rain And Seed

The distance calls.
Hedges and dry stone walls
On hillsides, flocks of sheep.
Rough cliffs high, valleys deep.
One stretched out patchwork quilt,
Time formed, from rocks and silt.
Our planet’s richness shown,
Under the sky’s ozone.

The distance calls.
Even through heavy squalls,
The wind, the trees reshape,
Mists falling like a cape.
Weathered timber barns,
Mountains, vales and tarns.
All grace this pleasant earth,
Prized beauty of such worth.

The distance calls.
Swift rivers, waterfalls
All senses become sharp.
The salmon, trout and carp,
Swim silently and glide,
Not easily espied.
These lands are fertile still,
With stream, with brook, with rill.

The distance calls.
Hear cows in cattle stalls.
Across the loose blown hay,
Their bellows drift away,
Fields grassed, look rich and green,
The air is fresh and clean.
And nature’s cleansed anew.
Space for every hue,
For what more does one need,
Just sun and rain and seed.


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The Sun and The Moon

As the Sun
Sets on the Sea
With its reddish glow
And orange hues...
The day shades in for me
Awakening the
Night of Darkness
Within me...

And the setting Sun
On the horizon
Beckons me
Nearer to it
As if asking me
To seek shelter
In its radiant warmth
And magnanimous
Splendour...

Yet when I see
The swirling waters
Of the Sea...
With their myriad colours
Reflecting the Setting Sun's
Evening Glory -
I remember that
It is all a mirage
For the very same Sun
Inviting me in with all
Its Grandeur -
Can Scorch me dry
On one of those days
When it is bright and shining
In the clear, blue sky.

So I see it,
Cherish it
From far-away...
I love the sun setting
On the Sea
It is a lovely sight for me
Every day
Yet - I always revert back
To my night of darkness
When the sun sets in
Even if it is lonely and
Shadowy out here...

I still prefer
The coolness of the night
The bright, starry delight
Of the sky and the stars
And in that darkness -
That still, sombre mood
Of being alone, solitary
And so very lonely...
The tears in my eyes
Speak to my Beloved
Sans any words
Nor any letters
Yet feelings galore
Dreams aplenty...

The beautiful Moon
with its subtle grace
Takes the place
Of my messenger of love.
In its blue moonlight
I bask and ask -
Questions aplenty
To my Beloved.

And I wait and I wait
For the answers to come
Drifting by...
Like the soft evening breeze
And the cool night air
Rejuvenating me,
Arousing me
Teasing me
Making love to me...
Revitalising and
Refreshing me -
From lands afar,
Across the miles
Over the seven seas.

Like a clandestine affair
Of the Night
Amidst the stars and the sky
Where I laugh and I cry
With You
In my Fantasies...
Like it happens every night
When the Sun goes down
And ushers in the Night -
And Yes - The Witness
Of this night long
Love affair...
Fantasising without a care -
Remains my messenger of love:
The eternal Moon
With its blue moonlight.

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The Village of Tayport and Its Surroundings

All ye pleasure-seekers, where'er ye be,
I pray ye all be advised by me,
Go and visit Tayport on the banks o' the Tay,
And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday.

The village and its surroundings are magnificent to be seen,
And the shops on the High Street are tidy and clean,
And the goods, I'm sure, would please the Queen,
They cannot be surpassed in Edinburgh or Aberdeen.

And the villagers' gardens are lovely to be seen,
There sweet flowers grow and gooseberries green.
And the fragrant air will make you feel gay
While viewing the scenery there on the banks of the Tay.

Scotscraig is an ancient and a most charming spot,
And once seen by visitors will never be forgot.
'Twas there that Archbishop Sharp lived long ago,
And the flower-garden there is a very grand show.

The flower beds there are very beautiful to see,
They surpass the Baxter Park flower beds in Dundee,
And are all enclosed in a round ring,
And there the bee and the butterfly are often on the wing.

Scotscraig farm-house is magnificent to see
With its beautiful rich fields of wheat and barley,
And the farm-house steading is certainly very fine,
And the scenery is charming in the summer time.

The Serpentine Walk is a secluded spot in Scotscraig wood,
And to be walking there 'twould do one's heart good.
There the lovers can enjoy themselves in its shady bowers
By telling tales of love to wile away the tedious hours.

There innocent rabbits do sport and play
During the livelong summer day
Amongst the ivy and shrubberies green,
And screened all day from the sun's sheen.

Then, lovers of the picturesque, off and away
To the village of Tayport on the banks o' the Tay,
And ramble through Scotscraig wood,
It will, I'm sure, do your bodies good.

And, as ye walk along the Serpentine Walk,
With each other ye can have a social talk,
And ye will hear the birds singing away,
Which will make your hearts feel light and gay.

And while walking underneath the branches of the trees,
Ye will hear the humming of the bees.
Therefore, pleasure-seekers, make no delay,
But visit Scotscraig wood on a fine summer day.

There visitors can be shaded from the sun in the summer time,
While walking along the secluded Serpentine,
By the spreading branches of the big trees,
Or from the undergrowth ivy, if they please.

Do not forget to visit the old Tower,
Where Archbishop Sharp spent many an hour,
Viewing the beautiful scenery for miles away
Along the bonnie banks o' the silvery Tay.

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Patrick White

I Should Lie In The Sun And Melt Into The Grass

I should lie in the sun and melt into the grass.
I listen to the bikers throttling up like chain-saws.
I sit here urgently trying not to pollute time.
A poem's got one foot on shore and one in the boat.
Let Atlantis rise or sink as it will. I can wait.
Even when it's calm, my heart is an idling storm
and every third thought is a voodoo doll
as it sees itself on the inside
behind the eyelid of a visionary eclipse.
Nothing to worry about. I'm not going to put
the eyes of the telescope out for looking at Lady Godiva.

Look at me tracking myself all over this paper,
mouse and bird letters in the snow at the base of a juniper.
How human it is to forgo yourself for a future that doesn't exist.
God, I wish there were more fireflies in my life than street signs.
Do you see the lack of meaning in how things are understood?
Thought will get you as far as a frog on a lily pad
but once you get there it's easy to see it's the lily that shines
in a whole other realm of language
that everyone understands but no one can speak.
I watch the honeysuckle burn the gate I came through.
I note the blue eye shadow of the damselfly
applying herself like a cosmetic pencil to the heavy petals
of the wild roses tangled in the fallen birch.

What a shock it would be if I were to take off my lifemask
and you were to discover me infinitely closer to you
like a dimension you hadn't detected in your awareness
than the light is to what you see when
you're sitting up in bed alone in the dark at three in the morning.
What a world, hey? What do you make of it?
The marvel and the horror and the mystery
and the way destiny manifestly unrolls like a lottery
for every living thing on a planet that occasionally plays
Russian roulette with the asteroids, and our tiny part in it all,
this mere speck of nothingness that can embody
in its formless spaces within, the superclustering of galaxies?
And the pain and the anger and the sorrow and the fear
and the way things change and disappear
as you look for the forms of your expectations everywhere
and everything's either an approximation or consolation
of what you can see so clearly, it burns the air?

I should lie down in the sun and melt into the grass,
but forgotten among buildings here, I am unbound
and not even the dead are as free as I am right now.
The whole universe is one big solid insight
where inanimate things are just another mode of motion
sitting in the room like Latin, dogpaddling in space and time,
and I'm tucked under your eyelids like a loveletter
you weren't expecting in a language that could read you
like any one of the seventy-two scholars of the Septuagint.
I've been listening to you for lightyears like leaves
listen for the wind and the rain and the moonlight
and what you have felt about being alive
to say hello and sing farewell, has been my feeling,
and when you have wept at the intransigence of angels
and the generosity of their expansive interventions,
I have been humbled by the eyes of my own exaltations.
And my feet swept out from under me
like an undertow of shadows on the moon.

Sister Lunacy, who can stand in the light
of these intensities and immensities for long
this vertigo of stars and skulls, bells and scars
without reeling in the delirium of simply being here
to witness them as if they somehow depended on us
to embody them in our hearts and minds and voids
as if they were no different from us than we were,
all waves of awareness the wind blows up on the ocean.
The imagination transforms everything in to us.
The stars reek of the eyes that have gazed up at them
like pyres and telescopes and censers, it's
in the hair of a comet like the smell of a lover,
it's what makes the meteorites as kissable
as the head of a snake to the lips of a gentle enemy.

Sister Lunacy, my heartfelt muse, my dark-side dakini,
what have you been dancing for all these years?
Have you been pearldiving among the castanets
for a moonrise in the mouth of a seashell
that could sing to you like the ocean you're lost upon?
You're the station every seeker gets to
on a pilgrimage he doesn't know he's taking
where he damns the consequences and blessings alike
and enters into the spiritual life as a rebel of compassion
as he addresses himself to what's arrayed before him
as if there were only one voice between himself and another
like a bridge that flows, like a star
that doesn't drown in your eye like a firefly.
And if there were anything I could ever say I was
it would have to be this just as it is, this
endlessness I keep being poured out into
as if my heart were the only waterclock I could live by
and disembodied space the only medium
that could accommodate my shapeshifting adaptations
like goldfish coming to the surface to feed on the stars.

Sister Lunacy, the moon reaches down to the roots of the river reeds
and the catfish thrive among the wild rice in the shallows,
and eyes in the darkness high overhead, as if
someone shattered a mirror into a billion bits of awareness
see you standing on your barren precipice
and long to know what it is you're thinking.
In order to understand you must become the thing itself.
You must abdicate your own presence to be
remotely at peace with the world, it's a strawdog anyway,
and it burns too fast to be much of a lighthouse.
And o my darkness, there are so many skins you have yet to shed
like the moon trying on a wardrobe of water
laying her gown across the lake like an early frost of sequins.
I shall come to you at first as a premonition
as lightly as a cloud touches the mountain, an aberrant insight,
a synchronistic intuition of our simultaneity,
and in your breath my breath shall be an atmosphere
and in your eye my eye shall lavish the most intimate of stars,
and in your blood my blood shall be the poppy and the rose.

Sister Lunacy, even after the house has burnt to the ground
my passion stands like a blackened doorway in the rain
and though I look at you through a broken window,
the moon is whole, and the sky is not torn or bruised.

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The Sun And The Moon

Our love is like the sun and the moon,
But your weeping is breaking my heart;
So come and let me welcome you gladly with my muse,
For you are full of honour and truth.

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The Sun and the moon, you are.

As the sun you burn me.
As the moon you cool me.
The sun and the moon, both I like.
Hot from cold, cold from hot,
Like pain and pleasure you give.
Each for the other I like.
Be the sun or the moon as you like.
2.12.2000, Vijayvada

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Emily Dickinson

The Sun and Moon must make their haste

871

The Sun and Moon must make their haste—
The Stars express around
For in the Zones of Paradise
The Lord alone is burned—

His Eye, it is the East and West—
The North and South when He
Do concentrate His Countenance
Like Glow Worms, flee away—

Oh Poor and Far—
Oh Hindred Eye
That hunted for the Day—
The Lord a Candle entertains
Entirely for Thee—

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The river and its waves are one

The river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?

When the wave rises,
it is the water;
and when it falls,
it is the same water again.

Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave,
shall it no longer be considered as water?

Within the Supreme Brahma,
the worlds are being told like beads:
Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.

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Where no sun raises its rays

Autumn, spring, summer and winter comes
where no sun raises its rays,
where no wind blows or any snow falls
in the temple of the heart.

The eyes portray like shining lights
the currents of the soul
reflecting the great continent
called the mind

and noise falls through the channels
of the ears
breaking on the shores
of meaning and sense.

Tears come from the well
of emotions in the deep
where feelings sprout
in flowers or weeds
which grows or wither away.

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Just One Sun and So Many Sunrises

Just one Sun
and so many sunrises.
Just one Universe
and so many nations.

Just one nation
and so many living beings.
And all life -
at the mercy of the Sun.

One part will soon welcome the Sun,
yet another has embraced it already.
One part has bid farewell to the Sun,
another will soon follow.

Sunrise upon sunrise,
each part of the world -
gets its turn to be engulfed
in daylight and darkness alternately.

Dreams reign somewhere,
realization dawns elsewhere.
Just one Sun
and so many sunrises.

16 June 2010
9: 25 am

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Ask 11: To you I leave the sun and moon

To you I leave the sun and moon
and dream that I may catch you soon,
Dreams float on gently as the breeze,
Please me don’t tease me babe,
It isn’t so easy anymore

Your standing in the doorway and I cant take it anymore.

Slip on slide,
Back to hide
Behind the rules
That used to tie
Y0ou down.

Let loose with a frown,
Don’t you wish to see the light?
Don’t you wish to know your wrong from right?
Don’t you wish to search for ancient wisdoms in this land?

Take me by the hand as we walk the nightmares of this town

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The Sun and The Moon Of Man

The rays of the sun and moon and stars that align.
The rays of the Sun that remains as far and wide.
The rays of the Sun that gives life to those that think and plan.
The rays of the Sun, that plants the rivers so He can drink and stand.

For He is of the Sun that stood forever stark.
until the days of His unaltered ways, misled to some be, dark.
The Earth and moon and stars grow ever glum with stride.
Remember that it is Man, who prides himself glad, with sin, this ride.

Shadowy realms follow Him as He greedily stays.
Just remember this, He bathes within His own untarnished rays.

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The sun and seas a jolly cast?

The sun and seas a jolly cast
As is the sail tied to the mast
And those laggards anchored
Without a future or a past…

Who are they to sink then?
To the bottom of a glass
Without the lowly courage
To weigh anchor, outclass…

Them that is first and last
The oceans fleet of stars.
Who are they to sink then?
Lower than the rank of Czars.

…Should, they not sail the seas
That storm and rage.
Hold—strait the tiller, helmsman
Waves beat my breast a sage!

"God be their maiden-voyage
All in him find harbor.
Set sail loathsome, wreckage!
Oar thy soul to him thy savior".

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House Of The Rising Sun

Traditional
There is a house in new orleans
Call it the rising sun
And its been the ruin
Of many a poor girl
And me, oh lord, Im one
If Id listened what my mama said
Be at home today
Bein so young
And foolish, my lord
Let a gambler lead me astray
My mother was a tailor
Sews new blue jeans
My sweethearts is a drunkarad, lord
Drinks down in new orleans
Go tell my baby sister
Never do what I have done
Shun that house in new orleans
They call it the rising sun
Goin back to new orleans
Race is almost run
Goin back to spend my life
Beneath, beneath, beneath, oh lord
Beneath, oh now
Beneath the rising, rising sun
Now, now
You come on bye

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House Of The Rising Sun

There is a house in new orleans
They call the rising sun
And its been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know Im one
My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new bluejeans
My father was a gamblin man
Down in new orleans
Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time hes satisfied
Is when hes on a drunk
Oh mother tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Spend your lives in sin and misery
In the house of the rising sun
Well, I got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train
Im goin back to new orleans
To wear that ball and chain
Well, there is a house in new orleans
They call the rising sun
And its been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know Im one

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The ocean, sun and sea

The calm water of Uvongo lagoon
brought tranquillity to you
and we would row a canoe
or float in that transparent pool
watching the cliff and the waterfall.

It was where the ocean, sun and sea
became a part of you and me
and you lay on that beach
of fine white sand

and walked up and down
in your black one piece swimsuit
which showed you big breasts
very alluring
perfectly tanned and looking gorgeous
as if treading on dry land
like the Israelites
before the flood waters came

with your eyes hidden
behind a pair of sunglasses
and a light wind ruffled through
your page cut auburn hair.

Later thunder fell from the sky,
a massive storm struck there,
the floodwaters came
and swept the lagoon,
the beach and shore
and everything away

into the blue sea
and then there wasn’t anymore
a you and me.

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