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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The So Called Coward And The Traitor
A traitor to his Country many of him do say
He never enlisted to fight in the war far away
But he marches in every anti war parade
Some say cowards are born they cannot be made.
But some have strange ways of defining a coward
By his higher self the man has been empowered
His dad died in war a hero but the son to war said no
In making a stand courage he has to show.
In not going to war he did not rob a young wife
Of the father of her children and the love of her life
And robbed a mother of her beloved son
Many call him a coward and a traitor yet he's not harmed anyone.
The so called coward and the traitor goes out of his way
To help the poor old lady frail, vulnerable and gray
Helps her out when she needs him and never asks her for pay
The young man is my hero of him she does say.
The last post will never be played at his grave
But the so called coward and the traitor in truth is quite brave
He did not go to war distant from his Homeland
And for what he believes in he does make a stand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm a traitor, but I don't consider myself a traitor.
quote by Aldrich Ames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Obsessions Of The Lost Man
i
at the lobby of the manila hotel
you sit on one of the glossy chairs
you hold a square note in your hand
you want to tear it
you sit still and keep on waiting
for no one.
ii
you look at those things near you
closely scrutinizing the
big round Greek pillar
tracing the veins of the pastel brown marble
it speaks a history of this place
the previous war
where your father was the traitor
iii
a compass in your hand
a letter that you have just read
a glass of wine
a silence of your lost world.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Keep On Trucking
His faith is true
And his talent ten fold
In every poem
He speaks the truth
His honesty grand
His devotion so sweet
I think his wife
Is very lucky indeed
He speaks his mind
To what he has seen
On life's rocky roads
Aint that supreme
The man makes
You laugh
Till your sides split
What a great way to go
With a smile on your face
So one word to thee
A poet of the world
Keep on trucking
With your poets and songs
poem by Kaila George
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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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Racist Cowardice
He declares and speaks the truth.
Daring to clear the air...
Of polluted deceitful affairs.
Some distrust such crushing done.
Since honesty had never been delivered...
So bare that it glares,
In the face of those delusioned.
Foundations cracking,
From under false assumptions.
Stunning those fantasized,
By such reductions.
And he is qualified to lead them.
Although they wish his lips would soften.
He declares and speaks the truth to them.
Something that has not been done often...
To a nation afflicted with racist cowardice.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Broken Face
I got a broken face
I got a
I got a broken face
Uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, ooo
I got a broken face (3x)
There was this boy who had two
Children with his sisters
They were his daughters
They were his favourite lovers
I got no lips, I got no tongue
Whatever I say is only spit
I got no lips, I got no tongue
I got a broken face, uh-hu, uh-hu
I got a broken face
There was this man who snapped his poke
In little pieces
And then they drilled holes
And then they put em back in there
I got no lips, I got no tongue
Whatever I say is only spit
I got no lips, I got no tongue
I got a broken face
Uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, uh-hu, ooo
I got a broken face
The little thing who does my laundry
Speaks no english
But if you saw her
Youd say isnt she lovely
I got no lips, I got no tongue
Whatever I say is only spit
I got no lips, I got no tongue
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moment I See Your Face
i can steal some more gazes
beside you
i will not be bored in this trip
sliding across the foamy seas
crossing longer bridges
hopping from one island to another
seeing old ancestral houses
made of hardwood
recalling the ormoc disasters
with thousands dead
floating bloating on the river
i see your face again
i have always seen them all over again
i am alive again
i should have been dead years ago
without you
i hold your hand
you look at me
there are no words
on these wanderings
these travels
of thoughts and cares
inside our hearts
the tourist guide speaks
'this is the house he made for her
the shrine and these walls
to protect her from harm'
we are holding each others arms
as we listen
i do not think of walls
neither will i in the future
build them for you
your face is beside mine
the camera clicks
and another picture is taken
now we shall go to another room
the tour guide speaks again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Bryan Speaks
When Bryan speaks, the town's a hive.
From miles around, the autos drive.
The sparrow chirps. The rooster crows.
The place is kicking and alive.
When Bryan speaks, the bunting glows.
The raw procession onward flows.
The small dogs bark. The children laugh
A wind of springtime fancy blows.
When Bryan speaks, the wigwam shakes.
The corporation magnate quakes.
The pre-convention plot is smashed.
The valiant pleb full-armed awakes.
When Bryan speaks, the sky is ours,
The wheat, the forests, and the flowers.
And who is here to say us nay?
Fled are the ancient tyrant powers.
When Bryan speaks, then I rejoice.
His is the strange composite voice
Of many million singing souls
Who make world-brotherhood their choice.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The ironist is not bitter, he does not seek to undercut everything that seems worthy or serious, he scorns the cheap scoring-off of the wisecracker. He stands, so to speak, somewhat at one side, observes and speaks with a moderation which is occasionally embellished with a flash of controlled exaggeration. He speaks from a certain depth, and thus he is not of the same nature as the wit, who so often speaks from the tongue and no deeper. The wit's desire is to be funny; the ironist is only funny as a secondary achievement.
quote by Robertson Davies
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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That Life Inside the Dream...
there is someone inside you
that comes to you like a stranger at dawn
you look closely
and the face speaks like it were you
that noon time
it speaks of an inner wish
which of course you pretend you do not really understand
because of so much fear
that it could be the real you finally
it is on this land of cloudy paths
and glimmering waters where you take exceptions
you compromise a bit
since the strength of your reason is fast asleep
and you operate merely on
the trickles of the sweat on your skin
it is cold here
and you need the pleasure of hot oil
rubbed on your nape
and the soles of your feet
that really tickles you
much
how many years have you lived here?
you know it well and you until now
has not desired any form of escape
there is death of everything in you beyond this threshold
again you are reminded
'i live on compromises'
you finish the dream
and when you are awake you just dismiss the story
as one that you cannot really remove
too lightly
then you dress yourself
brush your teeth
look at your face in the mirror
forget about it
and then move on
with another segment of your life
'this is life' you assure yourself
then you admire the way you have been acting
on your thoughts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunday A.M.
The morning sky filled with clouds of tomorrow
Heavily laden with their tears of sorrow.
They also have a spiritual purpose and reason
The children of God need the water for every season.
Half the horizon in darkness but quickly to dispel
The other with its time of color to wish us well.
The face of God has more than one expression
A God that desires we learn more than one lesson.
God is light, God is color and God is one
Numbers into numbers and the answer is always the son.
The light far surpasses the darkness of night
An affirmation from our God that all is right.
Our God should be a colorful God as we
God always presents itself as a reflective image you see.
02-06-06 Aho Speaks
poem by AHO Speaks
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An author who speaks about their own books is almost as bad as a mother who speaks about her own children.
quote by Benjamin Disraeli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Universe Speaks To Us
At times the universe speaks to us very clearly in our encounters. It always speaks to us, but we must give a effort to understand.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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On the day of the show, I sit down with someone that speaks very good English and someone who speaks the local language very well and work out what I'm going to say.
quote by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who speaks to the instincts speaks to the deepest in mankind, and finds the readiest response.
quote by Amos Bronson Alcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money speaks, but it speaks with a male voice.
quote by Andrea Dworkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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