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That's Enough!
a small child,
sitting on the stoop,
cracking walnuts with a hammer.
i often feel this way
when i try to comprehend
god, infinity, and the meaning of life.
scientific thrusts
only leave more questions.
and philosophy turns
wine into water!
i can still taste the walnuts,
perhaps that's enough!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The God speaks
Macbeth speaks; Hamlet speaks.
We say Shakespeare speaks.
Krishna speaks to Arjuna.
We don’t say Vyasar speaks.
21.11.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Who Run The World? Squirrels!
World run by squirrels?
Humans will be in perils.
If squirrels run the world
Let's see what will unfurl.
The world will fill with nuts.
Walnuts, pine and peanuts.
Management geta the walnuts.
Middle class gets the pine nuts
That leaves the rest peanuts!
the world of Eli
i am in a world
where i am the only one
walking
no one speaks to me
and i have seen
no one
no shadow, no hint that
somewhere over there there must be another creature
a butterfly
or a little bird
or perhaps a fish
or a pebble
or perhaps a sprouting bean
it gets lonely
when one speaks only to himself
because the rest have taken the stances
of being gone into nowhere
without a location
i am in this world
too big for me
soundless, empty,
i am in the world of
Eli.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thus speaks the star
Thus speaks the star
Leave them asleep
Thus speaks the star
Buried the past
Thus speaks the star
Go for fresh start
Thus speaks the star
Life is our and our
Thus speaks the star
Be optimistic and go far.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Simone
Days, months, and years cultivated in a hidden garden;
And a mountain top watered with love,
But with the melting of the valley around like walnuts!
Herbs and observations,
The pleasure ground of beauty and the glory of love;
Green in the midst of the water with the shades of trees,
But with love and sincere care to win your muse!
Simone,
Of this fertile land of apples, plums, apricots and pears;
But the phenomena around is full of your love!
Very curious and squatting,
With the melting of the valley around like walnuts;
But the Queen's native language is for us to learn,
And like a hard journey in the land of your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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Walnuts and pears you plant for your heirs.
One who speaks fair words feeds you with an empty spoon.
5. Priceless
Chopping up walnuts whipping up cream
Grating fine chocolate that tastes like a dream
Out from the oven all cakes raised well
Looking delicious and what a great smell
Onto a rack place the sponges to cool
Watching with interest whilst perched on a stool
Melting more chocolate to use as a topping
Take all the walnuts spent so much time chopping
Lifting cooled bottom cake onto a tray
Thickly whipped cream spread as thick as you may
Then placed the top sponge on cream like a hat
Sharp eyes watched cream they belonged to our cat
Hot melted chocolate now drizzled on top
Getting quite thick we will soon have to stop
Sprinkle the nuts into chocolate now setting
Along with the grated choc we’re not forgetting
Could it be time to try what looks nice?
Two sponges in one means you get something twice
Where is the knife that will cut me a slice?
Whatever it costs I will pay any price
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Now Let Us Begin
man if he is true to be man, is more real if he is at first
less of himself, when he is empty, when he is emptied,
when he is emptying. It is like the stomach, you feel it more
when it is empty rather than when it is full
it speaks to you when it is hungry
it grunts
it growls
it even howls
and sometimes it whistles
than when it is bloated with so much food
and wine and desserts.Because in hunger, in the hopelessness
of our state, in the emptiness of our being
we know where we will place
everything.
we will know our dreams, we meet our hopes,
for the first time
we know precisely when to wish,
and where to put them
when we are emptying,
when we are emptied
and now we are sure when we are filling.
let us begin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Sky
I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Silence Speaks
At the brink of the midnight
When every mortal sleeps
When voices turn their faces
Then the sweet silence speaks
With the onset of the moonlight
Slowly deserting the streets
When the noises are duped
Then the sweet silence speaks
When the zephyrs are high
At the snow covered peaks
And the voices get numb
Then the sweet silence speaks
I desperately wait to meet her
Through days and all through the weeks
I really die to hear her voice
And then the sweet silence speaks
Through an edge of a dream
When my sweety slowly peaks
All of a sudden I wake up
When the sweet silence speaks
poem by Sumeet Mukherjee
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Your Mimicry
one day
you get tired
mimicking the
mynah bird
you only want
it to know your language
and to bait it
with your own style
you mimic it but it does not
learn from your
mimicking and you stop and one day
it looks at you
with pity and it speaks its own language
from the forest, which is
if you listen well enough
sad and lonely
and even dying
it speaks of a desire to be returned
to its own place
it is drawing to you a forest
a dark spot,
a hounding sound of its
niche
one day you
see the light of its night song
a red moon
a drift on the black marsh
and so you take it
and release it from your mimicry
and both of you
are finally free
and the forest is
one happy family
and the cage of your expectations
becomes empty
life has arrived returning back
your own tongue
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wankers
Being born Ignorant; in America
it feels strange to know nothing.
And of this your secret most will lie
never to be so sure, safety.
I walk into a store; out over there
next too that place out yonder,
that same chamber of commerce,
billed as your next heart of America.
Of what is red and white or real,
blue some what like you, when I smile.
I ask the old balding tailor who speaks
with a fake french midwestern accent
I'm sure he is wankers and the worst of it.
I see the empty Rosetta stone case empty
But forced to prequalify again or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so: some where out here,
Someone must know about it so I ask the tailor.
In America so full of wankers, and if you ask them.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Empty Old Houses
Empty Old Houses
Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it
Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it
Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them
Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them
Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them
Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life
Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
poem by David Whalen
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty time, empty place. Empty heart, empty space.
Empty time, empty place.
Empty heart, empty space.
Give a little, fight a war
Take a lot, there is more.
Left to die, all alone.
Blackened sins to atone.
In a place by a stream,
in a dark, empty dream.
In a room candles glow.
Truth prevails if you know.
Something sweet and something blue.
Something with a natural hue.