Man is a wonderful creature; he sees through the layers of fat (eyes), hears through a bone (ears) and speaks through a lump of flesh (tongue).
Ali in Peak of Eloquence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Avoiding A Rejection
take a part of your
pelvic bone
close your eyes
let someone take
the flesh
and bone to bone
of your own bone
let it grow
smoothly
to get rid of the pain
and start anew
bone to bone
of my contention
following yours
nothing
opposing
blood following
the flow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Avoid Rejection
take a part of your
pelvic bone
close your eyes
let someone take
the flesh
and bone to bone
of your own bone
let it grow
smoothly
to get rid of the pain
and start anew
bone to bone
of my contention
following yours
nothing
opposing
blood following
the flow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Kind Of Monster
These are the eyes that can't see me
These are the hands that drop your trust
These are the boots that kick you around
This is the tongue that speaks on ths inside
These are the ears that ring with hate
This is the face that'll never change
This is the fist that grinds you down
This is the voice of silence no more
These are the legs in circles run
This is the beating you'll never know
These are the lips that taste no freedom
This is the feel that's not so safe
This is the face that you'll never change
This is the god that ain't so pure
This is the god that is not pure
This is the voice of silence no more
We the people
Are we the people?
Some kind of monster
This monster lives
This is the face that stones you cold
This is the moment that needs to breathe
These are the claws that scratch these wounds
This is the pain that never leaves
This is the tongue that whips you down
This is the burden of every man
These are the screams that pierce your skin
This is the voice of silence no more
This is the test of flesh and soul
This is the trap that smells so good
This is the flood that drains these eyes
These are the looks that chill to the bone
These are the fears that swing over head
These are the weights that hold you down
This is the end that will never end
This is the voice of silence no more
We the people
Are we the people?
Some kind of monster
This monster lives
This is the cloud that swallows trust
This is the black that uncolors us
This is the face that you hide from
This is the mask that comes undone
Ominous
I'm in us
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wise man speaks of what he sees, the idiot of what he hears.
The Bone Of The House
in the house
he is a bone,
not a flesh on
the side
dogs outside are
waiting
he is not the
kind of bone
that any dog
wants,
the useless bone
in the kitchen
mere shadow of
the soup-stock
left-over of the flesh
inside the garbage can.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A silente creature
The silent creature
populates the human
minds
A silent creature
is invisible but
reliable and fizzy
This creature is
silent because she
needs to be
understood, refined and
she wants a
lot of aids
A silent creature
is an explosion
of life
To be a
silent creature is
a fresh and
wonderful sensation
A silent creature
is an angelical
messenger
She is a
happy, ancient, colorful
and vital imagine
A silent creature
tells many different
and interesting stories
Sometimes the silent
creature deceives to
defeat the racism
A silent creature
is defenseless from
the not curious
A silent creature
is a desirable
but desperate and
suspicious person
A silent creature
can be an
alter ego
She is a
guide of dignity
and human values
poem by Laura arwen
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Eight Years Old
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Speak now the word that April hears,
Let March have all his royal way;
Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears
All tunes her children hear or play,
Because the crown of eight glad years
On one bright head is set to-day.
II.
What matters cloud or sun to-day
To him who wears the wreath of years
So many, and all like flowers at play
With wind and sunshine, while his ears
Hear only song on every way?
More sweet than spring triumphant hears
Ring through the revel-rout of May
Are these, the notes that winter fears.
III.
Strong-hearted winter knows and fears
The music made of love at play,
Or haply loves the tune he hears
From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,
Whose molten music thaws his ears
Late frozen, deaf but yesterday
To sounds of dying and dawning years,
Now quickened on his deathward way.
IV.
For deathward now lies winter’s way
Down the green vestibule of years
That each year brightens day by day
With flower and shower till hope scarce fears
And fear grows wholly hope of May.
But we—the music in our ears
Made of love’s pulses as they play
The heart alone that makes it hears.
V.
The heart it is that plays and hears
High salutation of to-day.
Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears
Its own unworthiness to play
Fit music for those eight sweet years,
Or sing their blithe accomplished way.
No song quite worth a young child’s ears
Broke ever even from birds in May.
VI.
There beats not in the heart of May,
When summer hopes and springtide fears,
There falls not from the height of day,
When sunlight speaks and silence hears,
So sweet a psalm as children play
And sing, each hour of all their years,
Each moment of their lovely way,
And know not how it thrills our ears.
VII.
Ah child, what are we, that our ears
Should hear you singing on your way,
Should have this happiness? The years
Whose hurrying wings about us play
Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears
Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,
Being sinless as the spring, that hears
Her own heart praise her every day.
VIII.
Yet we too triumph in the day
That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,
To lighten daylight, and to play
Such notes as darkness knows and fears,
The child whose face illumes our way,
Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,
Whose hand is as the hand of May
To bring us flowers from eight full years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Ode to a Loved One
LEST as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee, all the while,
Softly speaks and sweetly smile.
'Twas this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For, while I gazed, in transport tossed,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost;
My bosom glowed; the subtle flame
Ran quick through all my vital frame;
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung;
My ears with hollow murmurs rung;
In dewy damps my limbs were chilled;
My blood with gentle horrors thrilled:
My feeble pulse forgot to play;
I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Merry Go Down
Skin and bone
Tremble on the throne
Something unexpected couldnt hurt
Behind my eyes scenes I cant describe
Intimidated, fascinated, stealing glances
Flesh and wire
Knotted with desire
Chewing on my lip to hide the truth
Picture this, everything I miss
Circle back and forth until Im green all over
Green all over
No fair, music in the air
Under your spell
Fell beneath the carousel
The sound had me spinning all around
Under your wonderful carousel
Merry go down
Skin and bone
Tremble on the throne
Something unexpected but deserved
Picture this, everything I miss
Heavens daughter underwater conversations
Flesh and wire, knotted desire
Circle back and forth until Im green all over
Green all over
No fair, music in the air
Under your spell
Fell beneath the carousel
The sound had me spinning all around
Under your wonderful carousel
Merry go down
Under your wonderful carousel
Merry go down
song performed by by Folk Implosion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Layers
You must consider that everything is layered
The earth has layers of air, water, soil, rock, fire to its
Core
Molten fire
A fruit has layers of an external cover
Something hard, then soft and a
Sometimes a hollow core
A cake has layers too of sugar coating
Moist cake
And chocolate
End layer
My body has layers of skin
Tissue, flesh, bone
And nerves and
Marrow
The core can be hollow
And the mind
The soul has layers of understanding
Layers and layers of consciousness
To sub consciousness
Ego superego
To a layer
Beyond our grasp
Tips of the tongues
Slippages
Déjà vu
Memory gaps
Did we meet somewhere?
Do I remember you?
These sorts of some things
That happen which we know we can explain yet we can’t
Something somewhere
Could be
What if
Was I there somewhere sometime?
She somehow touches me and I feel it
I don’t really remember when
That smile that you wear was the same smile I saw somewhere
Foggy places, opaque faces, vague bodies hugging us in dreams
Murky rivers bathing us hazy rains lazily sizing Zen in showers
Some windows in some house
Remaining close
My heart is light and it is flying like a little light bird on its first wing
There is always a sense of awe and wonder to everything that I do here
An onion peeling, layer by layer, tear by tear
Here. I am. Here I am becoming unfolding to another beginning
No entries and no exits
Off limits, nothing yet allowed.
Meanwhile I am breathing, smelling something somewhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ringfinger
Well youve got me working so heard lately.
Working my hands until they bleed.
If I was twice the man I could be.
Id still be half of what you need
Still you lead me and I follow
Anything you ask you know Ill do.
But this one act of consecration is what I ask of you
Ringfinger.
Promise carved in stone.
Deeper than the sea.
Ringfinger.
Sever flesh and bone
And offer it to me.
You just left me nailed here.
Hanging like jesus on the cross.
Ill be dying for your sins.
And aiding to the cause.
Ringfinger.
Promise carved in stone.
Deeper than the sea.
Ringfinger.
Sever flesh and bone
And offer it to me.
Wrap my eyes in bandages.
Confessions I see through.
I get everything I want.
When I get part of you.
Ringfinger.
Promise carved in stone.
Deeper than the sea.
Ringfinger.
Sever flesh and bone
And offer it to me.
Ringfinger.
Promise carved in stone.
Deeper than the sea.
Ringfinger.
Devils flesh and bone
Do something for me.
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Is Beautiful?
i am not beautiful
people see right through me
i am not beautiful
it's the world
who made such pretty things
i am not beautiful
nor heavens said i am
i am not beautiful
it's the world who judge this book
i am not beautiful
i am just a person
with mere imaginations
i am not handsome
i am merely a boy
with this physical nature
it's the world who tells me
and so i must understand
i am not beautiful
who is beautiful?
in the eyes of the Almighty i am so
i am beautiful
i am a soul
God made me
flesh to flesh
bone of One's bone
every breath of His breath
i am beautiful
it's the world that hovers
the hidden lies
i am beautiful
with the grace of heavens
i call along
and so i must need to understand
i am beautiful.
***
every single atom God created is made beautifully and so as atoms grew bigger, one strange creature was formed---HUMAN, and by that, everyone is made beautiful--- all pretty and handsome.
***
so refrain from discriminating yourself
because in you
they will see God's perfection.
poem by Anthony John Oliveros
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A Bouquet Of Flower
A bouquet of flower
lying under the feet,
I saw one day, on the
the Romantic street.
A little girl was crying,
it was perhaps her.
it fell from her hand,
and smashed under the car!
I asked what she cried for-
told she bought, for mom's grave.
But, the bouquet was spoiled,
and she couldn't manage to save.
The red roses and fern,
made the heaven once
turned to suddenly to
a lump of red flesh by chance!
My eyes filled with
tear, as I perceived,
my own melted heart,
is lump being perished!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Specter of Brocken
It sees by negative eyes.
All cannot come to like.
I dislike all.
It sees by affirmative eyes.
All are wonderful.
I like all.
It sees by negative eyes.
Everyone has seemed to hide the crime.
Everyone is a criminal.
It sees by affirmative eyes.
Everyone seems to be pure.
Everyone is a good human.
Eyes see the shadow.
Head writes the story.
Story that changes depending on feelings.
The truth is transparent ahead of feelings.
Eyes see the shadow.
Head writes the story.
Story was written only from my prejudice.
Fusion Womanhood
in western nose features
in the still grace of form
in colours sparse informal
Picasso pays homage to Africa
she speaks with her hands
hears with many ears past
stands in poise confidence beauty
free to be a unique appreciated woman
a woman who sees who she wants to be
there is great peace love sage within
many joys to future balance reign
Picasso themes woman equality free
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The City With Eyes
The city with eyes
Sees everything,
City with eyes
Hears everything
Feels everything
The city with eyes
Sees people living on the rough side of the streets
Sees people eating crumbs from the floor
Sees people with ripped clothes and no shoes
Watching other people wearing lubatones walking past
It cries not one but millions of tears
For them
Tears which touch every one
Which soaks everything
Rain, they call it.
The city with eyes
Watching
What has happened to my city?
It cries with sorrow
The city with eyes
Feels the sadness
Of those in need, sad, hurt, …
Watching what was happy
To what is sad know
Truly
Truly i am your bone and your flesh!
And like the muse of the sons born to King David in Hebron;
But, the bridle of the bondage is always seen around us.
Truly i am your bone and your flesh!
But the swords of life are here today to slay one and another;
For, hatred is now the way of the people.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The sixth sense
Eyes are there to steer the way;
Ears are there to tell the way.
Nose to sense the danger, tongue
To select food and skin to feel heat.
I direct my eyes to see women,
Ears to hear them, nose to smell them,
Tongue to kiss them and skin to toss them.
Is it due to sixth sense or starvation?
18.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Forbidden Fruit
He presses it to his lips,
Bares his teeth,
And nips at the flesh.
Sweet liquid escapes his lips
And races with his tongue
From the corner
Of his mouth.
He catches the nectarous droplet
And draws it back inside.
Oh my!
How I long for a taste!
To touch his delicious lips with mine.
To fold my tongue through
The warm sweetness of him
Again...again and again.
Ohhhh to hear my name groaned
Through his baritone voice
As my body sings his song.
His eyes....his beautiful eyes are....
Uh oh! !
He sees me!
I feel crimson warmth spread
Across my face
And wonder..
How long have I been staring at him?
© 2012
poem by Ruby Honeytip
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: LXXXVIII
THE SAME CONTINUED
There were two with thee in thine agony,
I and another. In that hour supreme
We stood beside thy cross and gazed at thee,
Waiting till death should wake thee from thy dream.
Thy hands held both our hands and clung to them
And drew them to each other. We could see
Thy dumb lips open as to either name
And thy eyes turn to our eyes wistfully.
O eloquent eyes! Ye were not closed in vain.
Still from the grave ye speak, ``Behold a son,
Behold a mother.'' From that rite of pain
We two went home together bone of bone
And flesh of flesh, distinguished among men,
Thy witnesses till death shall come again.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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