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Quotes about the fog

My view of fog

People often view fog in one way only
I personally don't see it that way, and...
the feeling it conjures is more than just lonely
It's totally different...
as night is to day

It depends on your age and your state of mind
to be able to see fog in a different light
To see it one way only is to be partially blind
and most peoples vision is locked in...
too tight

Fog, coldly defined, is water suspended in air
And while defined so, gives no true definition, and yet
we know fog can defy easy description and,
can tiptoe soft as a kitten....or slither snake-like
from it's lair

To a child, fog's a soft, hidey-place plaything,
droplets of laughter, giggling out of the mist

[...] Read more

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The Fog

The fog slunk down from Labrador, stealthy, sure, and slow,
Southwardly shifting, far inshore, so never a man might know
How the sea it trod with feet soft-shod, watching the distance dim.
Where the fishing-fleet to the eastward beat, white dots on the ocean’s rim.
Feeling the sands with its furtive hands, fingering cape and cove.
Where the sweet salt smells of the nearer swells up the sloping hillside rove;
Where the whimpering sea-gulls swoop and soar, and the great king-herons go,
The fog slunk down from Labrador, stealthy, sure, and slow!

Then a stillness fell on crag and cliff, on beach and breaker fell,
As the sea-breeze brought on its final whiff the note of a distant bell,
One faint, far sound, and the fog unwound its mantle across the lea.
Joined hand in hand with a wind from land, and the twain went out to sea.
And the wind that rose spoke soft, of those who watch on the cliffs at dawn,
And the fog’s white lips, of sinking ships where the tortured tempests spawn,
As, each to each, they told once more such things as fishers know,
When the fog slinks down from Labrador, stealthy, sure, and slow !

Oh, the wan, white hours go limping by, when that pall comes in between
The great, blue bell of the cloudless sky and the ocean’s romping green!

[...] Read more

poem by from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1901)Report problemRelated quotes
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Rudyard Kipling

The Rhyme Of The Three Sealers

Away by the lands of the Japanee
Where the paper lanterns glow
And the crews of all the shipping drink
In the house of Blood Street Joe,
At twilight, when the landward breeze
Brings up the harbour noise,
And ebb of Yokohama Bay
Swigs chattering through the buoys,
In Cisco's Dewdrop Dining-Rooms
They tell the tale anew
Of a hidden sea and a hidden fight,
When the ~Baltic~ ran from the ~Northern Light~
And the ~Stralsund~ fought the two.

Now this is the Law of the Muscovite, that he proves with shot and steel,
When ye come by his isles in the Smoky Sea ye must not take the seal,
Where the gray sea goes nakedly between the weed-hung shelves,
And the little blue fox he is bred for his skin
and the seal they breed for themselves;
For when the ~matkas~ seek the shore to drop their pups aland,

[...] Read more

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Chocked

Trees above her, below her, to each side of her
Fog obstracting her view, where should she be?
She cannot tell what day it is anymore than she can tell what time it is
which way should she turn?
The fog swallows her feet
When she thinks she has found the right path, she sees an opening...
Then the fog shollows it
She has been mislead again
...and again
......and again
She screams, shes tired, she is choked by the fog, betrayed by the trees
Feels like shes been here forever
Trees that dont talk back anymore
No one is there to guide her
She is lost
The trees and fog are making her second guess every step she makes
mocking her, humilating her, laughing at her
At one time she thought they would lead her
Following each way the breeze decided to sway the trees
Going with the fog because where there is fog there is water

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Choked

Trees above her, below her, to each side of her
Fog obstructing her view, where should she be?
She cannot tell what day it is any more than she can tell what time it is
Which way should she turn?
The fog swallows her feet
When she thinks she has found the right path, she sees an opening...
Then the fog swallows it
She has been misled again
...and again
......and again
She screams, she’s tired; she is choked by the fog, betrayed by the trees
Feels like she’s been here forever
Trees that don’t talk back anymore
No one is there to guide her
She is lost
The trees and fog are making her second guess every step she makes
Mocking her, humiliating her, laughing at her
At one time she thought they would lead her
Following each way the breeze decided to sway the trees
Going with the fog because where there is fog there is water

[...] Read more

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As The Fog Rolls In

Kerouac comes out of the fog & mist
a ghost smoking a joint
offers me some
finally -

what suffering I think
to scratch out a few lines
stolen from the humming dynamo
which spins the universe -

cars pass along the low road
more pass on the higher road
red & blue lights along the horizon
disappear in the thick Atlantic fog
which swallows all remaining lights
car headlights
the farmer arrives turning on the light
which floods out through the barn doors
releases the horses to wander around their corral
the big red horse moves towards the fence

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Hemingway's Bizarre Dream: The Oldman And The Fog,1st.Episode

..no longer, the fog..
could see the man
because, another fog..
made of man..
in between
and..no longer, the man..
could see the fog
because, another man..
made of fog..
also in between
so they decided..
the oldman,
and the youngfog..
to have a battle against..
the man made fog,
and the fog made man
and if they won the battle..
they'd exchange their names,
the fog would be the man,
and the man would be the fog..

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Fog

As I walk along the coastal road, to the neighbouring bay,
A curtain of thick fog suddenly comes swirling my way.
Through the dense haze, I can spot the odd car headlight,
But everything else is now completely hidden from sight.

With my journey, I decide it isn’t wise to carry on,
As my sense of direction has now completely gone.
I begin to retrace my footsteps back towards the town,
Unable to believe how quickly the fog has come down.

With familiar sights now totally obscured from view,
I feel a little bit lost, and, I admit, a little anxious too.
All around me, there is a dense veil of consuming whiteness,
But it is tinged with a gloomy grey, so there is no brightness.

I spotted the fog earlier, obscuring the nearby hilltops,
But, I carried on, assuming that’s where it would stop.
But the fog came tumbling down, on to the land below;
There wasn’t any nook or cranny, where the fog didn’t go.

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Fog, Yet Another Point Of View

Fog, Yet Another Point Of View


Near Fisherman’s Wharf, quite late at night
Tendrils of music and mist mix together
Slim young ladies and slender young men
Street musicians, with grand aspirations
Dressed a bit tattered, on lonely street corners
Used as impromptu stages
While fingers of fog probe…searching tentatively…
Testing and tasting

Self-written songs ghost into the night
Tremulous voices, hopefully singing
Few people stop, even less truly listen
Some dropping change in foam cups at their sides
All the while fog sniffs like dogs, at ankles and feet
Touching, licking, testing and tasting

Too young to truly know of their songs deep emotions

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I Stand In The Fog, Afraid To Move

I stand in the Fog, afraid to move.
I might Fall. It calls. It wants me. I fear It.
The Crag, Hole, Mouth, End, Edge, Crack, Ledge, Bottom, Pull.
All names for It.
It wants me, but It knows I will not come to It.
It sends the Fog, Confuser, Deceiver, Trickster, Liar.
It sends the Fog to fetch me, confuse me, trick me, bring me to It.
I fear It, despise It, but secretly, want It, need It.
I stand trapped, struck, frozen.
The Tug, Light, Meadow, Life, calling me also.
I want to go, but I fear the Fog and It.
I do not know where It is.
The Tug and Pull.
They fight over me.
I beg for them to stop, for the Fog to life so I can walk away, but the Fog will not fade.
I stand in the Fog, afraid to move.

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