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Sky And Water
Birds fly in the sky,
Below the fishes
Swim in the big flat sea.
A bird
Jumps into the water,
Head down, aiming
To catch a fish.
Deeper,
A fish, as it swims up
Toward the surface,
Catches the birds.
As the fish jumps into the air,
A bird catches the fish.
Fishes are birds,
Only water is not like
The air.
poem by Atef Ayadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rain(1)
I thought the Rain had stopped awhile;
I walk’d the balcony floor in style!
Quivered, the Rain fell on my back;
Noisy Birds on trees, did I track.
I walk’d a bit despite the Rain;
Enraptured by the songs in train;
They seemed to ask one another;
Why wet our plumes and our feather?
The Rain stopp’d as though their prayer,
Was heard by Heaven in answer;
The noisy chirp died to a lull;
As if the Birds thanked God in full;
Maker, He cares for creatures all;
Pays heed to the least of their call.
poem by John Celes
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Upon The Lark and The Fowler
Thou simple bird, what makes thou here to play?
Look, there's the fowler, pr'ythee come away.
Do'st not behold the net? Look there, 'tis spread,
Venture a little further, thou art dead.
Is there not room enough in all the field
For thee to play in, but thou needs must yield
To the deceitful glitt'ring of a glass,
Plac'd betwixt nets, to bring thy death to pass?
Bird, if thou art so much for dazzling light,
Look, there's the sun above thee; dart upright;
Thy nature is to soar up to the sky,
Why wilt thou come down to the nets and die?
Take no heed to the fowler's tempting call;
This whistle, he enchanteth birds withal.
Or if thou see'st a live bird in his net,
Believe she's there, 'cause hence she cannot get.
Look how he tempteth thee with is decoy,
That he may rob thee of thy life, thy joy.
Come, pr'ythee bird, I pr'ythee come away,
Why should this net thee take, when 'scape thou may?
Hadst thou not wings, or were thy feathers pull'd,
Or wast thou blind, or fast asleep wer't lull'd,
The case would somewhat alter, but for thee,
Thy eyes are ope, and thou hast wings to flee.
Remember that thy song is in thy rise,
Not in thy fall; earth's not thy paradise.
Keep up aloft, then, let thy circuits be
Above, where birds from fowler's nets are free.
Comparison.
This fowler is an emblem of the devil,
His nets and whistle, figures of all evil.
His glass an emblem is of sinful pleasure,
And his decoy of who counts sin a treasure.
This simple lark's a shadow of a saint,
Under allurings, ready now to faint.
This admonisher a true teacher is,
Whose works to show the soul the snare and bliss,
And how it may this fowler's net escape,
And not commit upon itself this rape.
poem by John Bunyan
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January Mist
Sometimes at night I hear small birds lament.
Dark notes that seem to second moon's descent.
Cold is the color of a deep regret,
An etude perfected by winterset.
The world was music and it turned us round.
Stirred by the subtle atmospheric sound,
You gently sketched a snowflake on my face
Which shall be mine till light has left this place.
Such solace has the power to outlast time,
To lock a small bird's elegy in rhyme.
Somewhere beyond the January mist,
The magic of our landscape still exists.
Copyright,2008, Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Landing
Thick black soul
Moving slow, moving close to you
This life I don't know
It seems kinda sick to me
Hold each other tight
Walking through to my destiny
This glitter in my eye
Catches light catches sympathy
This glitter in my eye
Catches light catches sympathy
Your lips are moving but I can't hear what you say
Stars are falling but you still feel the same way
This shield
What is real
Is believing
(Ha-ha-ha-aaa)
[REPEAT]
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One beats the bush and another catches the birds.
On Reading Graham Greene's 'The Quiet American
Pyle and Fowler
So civilized
Fighting over Phoung
And Vietnam
So quietly
Pyle offers her his world
White picket fence
Baseball games and picnics
He'd hide the grime and mayhem
He used to win her
Fowler is honest in his need
Naked loneliness is all he has
No wedding ring
No London Bridge nor Westminster
Just his ache and desire
Phoung was one taxi dance
From whoring more openly
She sold herself for safety
Her youth disguised her wantonness
Fowler knew but Pyle didn't
That was Greene's vision
But what if she were another –
Fatima rather than Phoung
And a desert rose, not an orchid –
Just fifty years later
poem by Robert J Meyer
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Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The cobweb pretends to catch dew-drops and catches flies.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pigeons at Glasgow.
Why there are so many crippled, walking and limping on the yard?
Why are their joints ripped off, missing one in the middle?
How is she lost half of her leg, balancing as a ballerina?
Did he step on the mine's head, in the battle field of Afghan?
They are neither the enemy nor the friendly soldiers,
They are neither the arrogant nor the cunning creatures,
They are neither the noisy nor the clumsy scavengers,
They are the beautiful and humble pigeons.
I saw these mutilated pigeons frolicking in the lobby,
Where thousands of people walk everyday without folly,
To catch a train at Glasgow railway station in UK,
These poor little birds are wandering picturesque.
Who hurt these misfortune birds?
I looked up at the ventilators,
Where the nails are nailed,
That ripped the claws and legs of the birds.
May God save the Queen and her subjects,
including these limping hungry birds.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Gray Music
You wrote your Yiddish signature in rain.
I could not match it in a thousand years.
Old words are classic to my memory.
Because of you, my feet have wings this day.
Gray music paints a picture of rare worth,
A Slavic image of an April mood,
Breaching the barrier of your last breath,
I should not wonder, Friend, you said it would.
'For a poet who was born in April and died in April'.
Copyright,2009, Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing, But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing, but Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Noise
From it there's no escape
it is everywhere
noise, noise, noise.
The moment you arise
till you go to sleep
it fills your head.
Cars and lorries drive by
bloody noisy Pigeons cooing
stereo's at full blast.
Drilling in the road
alarms going off
sirens wailing.
Kids screaming
Helicopter overhead
sound of breaking glass.
Noisy neighbours
doors slamming
dogs loud barking.
Even when asleep
noises in your head
you can't escape it.
Noise of wildlife
from tiny insects
to birds in the trees.
Noise can send you mad
it can get into the brain
noise is everywhere.
Silence is deafening
a whisper is like
a thunder clap.
Noise, noise, noise,
is everywhere
from it no escape.
Is it silent in the grave
does noise go with you
is noise eternal?
poem by Kevin Halls
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Beyond Eden
Green leaves tap at my window like lost souls.
I trace their signatures upon the glass.
Dawn is only a few quatrains away.
I memorize the fragrance of spring rain.
It takes me back beyond Eden, my friends
Where Adam brushed the first tear from Eve's eye.
Stripped of their innocence, how could they know?
The last grief would be soothed by God himself.
Somewhere deep in the hills, a lyric bird
Sings of the poignancy of humanness.
The ever freshness of that ancient sound
Brings back the sun that shone aeons ago.
Sandra Fowler, copyright,2010
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Appalachian Gray
I think the dusk has slipped beyond all words.
You speak spring with an accent never heard.
A poem on an Appalachian pane
Is bringing April back via the rain.
Pale trillium on the hill above the creek
Is delicate beyond the will to speak.
A gray coat of old feelings wraps my frame.
The landscape flickers like a candleflame.
Friend, frozen tears of trees mirror the sky
Within the confines of their inner cry.
The light fades us into its elegy.
Music is pictured though no sound need be.
2007, Copyright Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Nothing Catches Jesus By Surprise
Catching babe ruth catching roger marist
The way you caught my eye in paris, tennisee.
Fell in seduction; well Im seduced.
You sell a war then we sell the truth.
Its the truth.
So baby just close your eyes nothing catches jesus by surprise
Confusin love for heated passion,
Got what I want but no satisfaction.
Aint it funny how things can change.
Were amazed how they stay the same.
So baby just close your eyes nothing catches jesus by surprise
[musical interlude]
You look so pretty when you smile.
I havent seen that for a while.
Talk about trouble, weve had our share.
Its a wonder were still here.
I dont know why I make you cry
Its a part of me I dont like at all.
So baby just close your eyes nothing catches jesus by surprise
Baby just close your eyes nothing catches jesus by surprise
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Openings For New Occupancies
To dwell in sorrow,
Has to be a noisy experience.
Where there is little peace,
That exists.
Especially living in a place,
Where there is rarely a vacancy.
And leaving those to await patiently,
For a date announcing...
Openings for new occupancies.
It has to be noisy,
Living and sharing mindsets like these!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We worked on solving the problem of voice communications in a noisy military environment. We established military codes that are highly audible and invented selection tests for personnel who had a superior ability to recognize sound in a noisy background.
quote by M.H. Abrams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honors
When the column of light on the waters is glassed,
As blent in one glow seem the shine and the stream;
But wave after wave through the glory has passed,
Just catches, and flies as it catches, the beam
So honors but mirror on mortals their light;
Not the man but the place that he passes is bright.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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