petergabriel.com

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigour; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... Author unknown...

This is a nice sentiment that I've read before. Thanks, Ayla.

Thanks poetesses Darcy,I have found your lines very touching.

I am glad you liked the piece LR. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment.

So here I stand you be the judge, because from false accusations I will never budge. Just came to this moon for sounds to inspire, 9 months later I'am a troll bully liar. I know I'am not perfect but pray tell me who is, and the story gets better because I've turned into Ms. Now I'am labelled by some as a bad seed in your crop, whom I'am sure have requested that you give me the chop. So I will make this one hundred per cent clear, unplug my connection if you don't want me here. If the words that are written are hard for you to understand, I am sorry for that there not suppose to be grand. Just little sounds bites of my time here on the moon, and the trials and tribulations of becoming a loon.

Just thinking of your words ...Arebor ..What I really don't get here is that you are told in a five paragraph explanation, on how these people don't have the time to read the threads here.Why try and get some response from emptiness ??

Because the fiction I'am informed is actual fact, they do read these threads, but may or may not read the one's trolls post, not fluffy enough perhaps!

Had to bump and bump up Oz's last words in this thread. Oz 18 June at 4:31pm Posts: 109 (0 today) Status: offline Drifting, slipping, back into your paradigm Fear feigns as confidence Peaking cautiously above the horizon Tops of your eyes shifting, surveying Tentative, yet bold momentarily Your mind, over processing Learned responses, engage Experiences embedded, a permanent page Perspectives, harnessed, click! Disciplined constructs, invoke restraint Developed reality, a surreal fate A barrier, to anything beyond A perimeter-well guarded Impenetrable, a wordless song Despite self-perception of breadth Desire verses capacity, a clarity death Free thinking, throttled Open heart, bottled Embracing a sort of social deity The checklist paradigm

DREA ROSA IMPREZZA From silk adorned in white sheet chocolate flora There lifted a great reason to grin, Sinning in every way possible beneath full moon laurels. Coming back to the hearth again Clamped in Milan and Florence, She was Drea Rosa Imprezza. Some whispers would leak about town That the girl in blue satin Petted heavy in the torch-light Good Italy - night fire Consuming yeast product memories Adorned by all men, Drea Rosa Imprezza was home. I was certain that a ghost lingered Beneath the grass caking my feet My bare essence of youth That tumbled forward always in strides My would-be wife My tepid quotient tied to me- It's fair to say I loved Drea Rosa Imprezza. The raven still squawks a good game Black as pearl tar Ever wondering How we got there on the Venice beach- The long-acquitted defendant of my life- We spoke- Drea Rosa Imprezza and I. Sadly the days grew cold, But tiny spikes of heat remained- Tearing my soul to pieces and calling the one phone call meant to harm. Oh, she knew what it was to laugh And pare my self to a cross Before I ever let rummage become satin again in my eye I see Drea Rosa Imprezza Beneath the stream. She drowned one day When noone was looking. I made up a patchwork blanket For two bodies to cling underneath- I guided my spare tire across the plains of Middle Europe to catch up. I beguiled all the windows of the world to open upon the shadow And treat my beautiful ghost the way all women would want- My dashed wet warrior Sandy through the toes, She spoke to me every night after- My perfect balance- Drea Rosa Imprezza, My love.

AEGEAN - Oddysseas Elytis ?Love The network of islands ?And the prow of its foam ?And the gulls of its dreams ?On its highest mast a sailor ?Whistles a song. ? Love Its song ?nd the horizons of its voyage And the sound of its longing On its wettest rock the bride Waits for a ship. ? Love ?Its ship ?And the nonchalance of its winds And the jib sail of its hope ?On the lightest of its waves an island ?Cradles the arrival. ??- 2 - Playthings,the waters In their shadowy flow Speak with their kisses about the dawn? That begins Horizoning - And the pigeons in their cave Rustle their wings Blue awakening in the source Of day Sun - ?The northwest wind bestows the sail To the sea The hair's caress In the insouciance of its dream Dew - cool ?Waves in the light Revive the eyes Where life sails towards The recognition Life - The surf a kiss on its caressed sand-love The gull bestows its blue liberty ?To the horizon Waves come and go ?Foamy answer in the shell's ear. Who carried away the blonde and sunburned girl? The sea-breeze with its transparent breath Tilts dream's sail Far out Love murmurs its promise-Surf. L'ÉGÉE Amour L'archipel La proue de ses écumes Et les goélands de ses rêves Au grand mât le marin agite Une chanson Amour Sa chanson Les horizons de son voyage Et l'écho de sa nostalgie Sur son rocher le plus mouillé la fiancée attend Un bateau Amour Son bateau L'insouciance de ses vents Et le foc de son espoir À sa moindre ondulation c'est une île que berce La venue. II Joueuses, les eaux Dans les détroits ombreux Par leurs baisers disent l'aurore Qui s'annonce Horizonant — Et du fond de leur grottes les colombes sauvages de bruissement d'ailes propagent un son Éveil bleu dans la source Du jour Soleil — Le vent offre la voile À la mer Les caresses des cheveux Dans l'insouciance de ton rêve Fraîcheur — Vague dans la lumière Faisant renaître les yeux Là où la Vie fait voile Vers le belvédère Vie — III Bruit des eaux baiser caresse sur le sable — Amour Le goéland offre sa liberté bleue À l'horizon Les vagues s'en vont et s'en reviennent Réponse d'écume à l'oreille des coquillages Qui a pris la blonde et la brunie ? Le zéphyr au souffle translucide S'incline au loin voile du rêve Amour murmure sa promesse — Bruit des eaux.

one of mine, freely inspired from Mr Katché piece of music of the same name Walking your side La rue bourgeonne en plein hiver les regards des murs frôlent ton sourire qui me revient comme un soleil éclectique en plein coeur traffic, mouvance écaillée d'un ciel grisonnant de nuages qui pressés chaloupent et double -filent entrainés par la rue sirène, je suis ton pas sans urgence ton pas léger qui fait danser et exécute le gris terni et divaguant des matins et brusquement, il est soleil, tout ralenti et tout se fige feu rouge, plus rien ne bouge plus rien ne bruisse plus rien ne bat que majeur le tempo sous ma peau d'un coeur niant la pause qui s' impose sirène, je suis ton pas ton pas qui écume le jour preste et s'en libère insouciant allégé de demain. Walking your side Street is buding in full winter The glances of the walls are skiming Your smile which goes back to me as an eclectic sun In full heart traffic, Flaked motion of a sky graying of clouds which in a hurry are swinging in double-spining line carried away by the street siren, I follow your step with no emergency your light step which make dance and executes the dim wandering grey of mornings And sudenly it's sun all slows down and stops red fire, Nothing move nothing rustle No more beating unless major the tempo Under my skin of a heart Denying the rest imposed siren, I follow your step which scours the day foaming and agile set free from it thoughtless relieved of tomorrows. PR le 30/10/12

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem. And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet. Cranky Old Man What do you see nurses?… … What do you see? What are you thinking… … when you’re looking at me? A cranky old man… … not very wise, Uncertain of habit… … with faraway eyes? Who dribbles his food… … and makes no reply. When you say in a loud voice… … ‘I do wish you’d try!’ Who seems not to notice… … the things that you do. And forever is losing… … A sock or shoe? Who, resisting or not… … lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding… … The long day to fill? Is that what you’re thinking?… … Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse… … you’re not looking at me. I’ll tell you who I am … … As I sit here so still, As I do at your bidding… … as I eat at your will. I’m a small child of Ten… … with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters… … who love one another A young boy of Sixteen… … with wings on his feet Dreaming that soon now… … a lover he’ll meet. A groom soon at Twenty… … my heart gives a leap. Remembering, the vows… … that I promised to keep. At Twenty-Five, now… … I have young of my own. Who need me to guide… … And a secure happy home. A man of Thirty… … My young now grown fast, Bound to each other… … With ties that should last. At Forty, my young sons… … have grown and are gone, But my woman is beside me… … to see I don’t mourn. At Fifty, once more… … Babies play ‘round my knee, Again, we know children … … My loved one and me. Dark days are upon me… … My wife is now dead. I look at the future… … I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing… … young of their own. And I think of the years… … And the love that I’ve known. I’m now an old man… … and nature is cruel. It’s jest to make old age… … look like a fool. The body, it crumbles… … grace and vigor, depart. There is now a stone… … where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass… … A young man still dwells, And now and again… … my battered heart swells I remember the joys… … I remember the pain. And I’m loving and living… … life over again. I think of the years, all too few… … gone too fast. And accept the stark fact… … that nothing can last. So open your eyes, people… … open and see. Not a cranky old man… … Look closer… see … … . . ME!! Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there too!

THE CELEBRATION I've gotten far down the "G" train track work, To the smallest corner of Brooklyn Lined with Christmas wonders, In tinsel string patches everywhere. There was a man A small person singing Carols, Adjacent to a restaurant facade, He gave me a look of casualty, I fleeted. In preparation for a birth, A pregnant debutant Cajoles the every whim of the streets In a tavern lit with eye-light, Pairing couples in the long nights of December With a brew in each hand. And I continued down to Coney Island Where the souls know no mercy Where the Winter's chill laps endlessly On the Hudson's creatures Bearing their teeth In frozen smiles.

I wonder are there some poems about Mr Gabriel written in here ? Just a question.

Talking about what his music means to us.

PG inspired this one (what the heck eh Pat) don't ask why or how - poetic license I guess King George Station Saw you were standing at the King George Station Reminded me of another time, and place...concentration The race to win at any cost To win the war, it's you I lost Saw you standing aloof and alone at King George Station The Sky Train was plain out of luck Registration at the Station Sanity and soul on the line Concentration - Don't miss a step Don't cut your hand - not this time Saw you standing alone by the sea Swy-a-lana is your Shangrila for all to see, in your eyes The shining moon reflects the shining sea It seems to me we stood this way before... you and me by the sea come home to me...to me Talking to the Captain, solving his mystery Here we go again he said with a grin - here we go Guilt without sin Sin without pain or fustration left it all behind at King George Station Saw you standing at King George Station Time for you to come home - elation Avalon awaits the man Catch the train at King George Station Time is time this time celebration

I never know which a direction lyrics or poems will go, sometimes they just write themselves

I should make clear that the song/poem is inspired by Mr. G. but is not about him - kind of about star crosses lovers separated by lifetimes and war and reincarnation - where the wars they were involved in were more important than a silly love affair - something like that.

what his music means to us ..... a short one Echo Night was never complete Always At the windows blinded embrasure In the hollow Of silence drapes Has been The echo The fragile echo Of a voice. I draw from it my strength I draw from it my faith I draw from it the courage To keep Being me. It has been It is And will be My part of beauty in this world.

here it is Cyn, not removed. can't begin a year without some words ..... falling from our sky Happy new year to all.