The rich have no heart, the lake never floats a pin.
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She Floats
[intro: whale sounds]
Watching puddles gather rain
Theres no better place to lay
Shes as fine as dandelions blowing in the wind
Shes not thinkin' about anything...
She floats
Floats...
Wearing black patent mary janes
She steps out in to the rain
She's as dry as clear blue skies
Swallowing you whole
Got not secrets though I'm told
She floats
Ahhh... ahhh...
She's as fine as dandelions blowing in the wind
Shes not thinkin she's listening
She floats... She floats... Floats...
Floats...
She floats... She floats... Floats...
Floats...
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Across The Lake Unto The Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across the Lake Unto the Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hope Floats
Even as things go downhill
And life becomes hell
Hope floats
Even as the world deserts you
And friends are few
Hope floats
Even as the only thing you have
Is a loneliness that is scary
Hope floats
Even as all seems lost and
Time remains a few grains of sand
Hope floats
Even as life seems beyond complaint
And strains of joy become faint
Hope floats
There may be nothing else to do
Than survive
And yet…as the self becomes distant
From the soul
There’s a voice that says
Hope floats...
poem by Akshaya Shah
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The moon so round floats
On the lake, flat and still with
Silver smiles reflecting
haiku by Ken e Hall
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Price Of Water
The little lake, not far from the houses, has been
dry for years and is full of thistles and rubbish.
By, what was its shore, the sad rest of a rowboat
I remember it was blue, and someone had nicked
its oars; for firewood I take it. I used to row in
this lake in the evening catching trout.
When the moon made the lake into shimmering
silver my heart got quite wobbly by the beauty.
Last week I crossed the lake on my scooter, it was
not easy I lost my balance and was badly stung,
gasped for air, felt as drowning in a dry lagoon.
In the future the new commodity will be water.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Are you rich?
Because parents are rich
I am not rich.
Because brothers or sisters
Or in-laws are rich,
Because own children are rich
I am no richer.
Unless I myself am rich
I cannot be rich.
Too late to understand
And hence poor I went.
Agartala
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mud On My Hands
Green eyes in the crevices of rocks
will not let the fossil weep
for innocent sun.
A mayfly floats like
a dry leaf on water, in the circuit
of sharks.
I offer not my robotic arm, insulting
the jaws in the crumpled solitude
of night. I will walk
with new moon to understand
the wetting of a bleeder,
heart and soul.
The umbilical pain again catches. I cry
in my own silence. This was not the
end I wished. Hearing aid
to feel the sting of a scream,
which rises from the depth of a blue
lake wounded by pride.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Everlasting Snow
Everlasting, the snow is
As the dry crystals
gently twirl and float to the ground
Amid the cracking timbers of winter
A single, beautiful snowflake,
like a crystal tear falling from Heaven,
floats and dances to the ground,
mesmerizingly
....it floats
and floats,
and floats,
....all the way to the ground,
making a dainty footfall in the snow
Like confetti of the gods,
as if someone had recklessly thrown
handfulls of it into the air
We sit and wait,
in heavenly awe,
as it silently descends to the ground,
like shredded chunks of paper
Although it melts and wilts in the warm spring,
The snow will always remain in my mind, everlasting
Godblessamen
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Fifty Frogs
Bullfrogs singing melodies to the stars
The fog floats through the few lights of the lake
And the sky stretches over the ocean with diamonds in it
While the woods and the world
Croak and cry
With the calls of the wild
The beach is the most comfortable place tonight
The stars shoot through the fog like daggers
Lighting up
And dying
In just a glimpse
poem by Justin Kopp
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The lake of metaphor
and perhaps I came to poetry too late
to dive, a slimmish youth,
innocent as youth was or is
into the rich waters of the lake of metaphor
fed distantly by mountain springs,
welcoming in its wateriness,
chilling too like a demand for respect,
welcoming and chilling as a life;
a few strokes and already the green bank
and pile of crumpled clothes discarded
quickly distant, and here
in the middle of the lake, the sky
has opened out as if it were
some rival to a mountain-top
and the hands press against
the resistances of language, the palms
flat as between praise and surrender,
cleaving a passage to the depth
and then the shore of metaphor; and
emerging, the sunlight
catching the sparkling water droplets,
the skin shivering but invigorated,
the mind full of life
like a poem rich in metaphor.
Older now,
waiting as in the paintings of Saint Jerome
at his desk walled in by books,
pen poised, eyes uplifted,
spirit, rich, yet
mind not full, but waiting
for the grace of metaphor
like the brushing of a white dove's wing
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Wine Story
An Abridged Story of Wine
The bottom of the nave used to be a lake's bed, but one night,
when moon was white as search light and the sky maroon,
the lake vanished. Dead fish and toenail clippings at the bottom,
but the soil was rich, and the people who used to fish for a living,
planted vine which bore healthy grapes, but grapes fermented
and wine was discovered. A drink that made them merry, they
sang, slapped flat stones together and made music.
But if drinking too much they ended fighting and used stones as
missiles, and given to arguing about the quality of snow that fell
the year before. In clay pots they sold red wine and became rich,
till Moslems came, forbad the making of wine, they planted pale
yellow orange trees instead. But the juice of sweet blue grapes
has an unstoppable allure it fills heart with music, the production
was moved to hidden dells in Alentejo. When Arabs, defeated by
Christian hordes, fled; Iberia had abundance of red wine but also
sugary orange juice.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Sonnet 37: My Mouth Doth Water
My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell,
My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labor be:
Listen then, lordings, with good ear to me,
For of my life I must a riddle tell.
Toward Aurora's court a nymph doth dwell,
Rich in all beauties which man's eye can see:
Beauties so far from reach of words, that we
Abase her praise, saying she doth excel:
Rich in the treasure of deserv'd renown,
Rich in the riches of a royal heart,
Rich in those gifts which give th'eternal crown;
Who though most rich in these and every part,
Which make the patents of true worldly bliss,
Hath no misfortune, but that Rich she is.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Make Me Rich
Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy.
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
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Make me rich
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Make me rich
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Make me rich
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'Horns and tambourines'
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
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Make me rich
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'Congas'
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
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Make me rich
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Make me rich
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' And to the bridge'
Purchase purchase buy buy
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Purchase purchase buy buy.
'Lead/background singers and violins,
With bass! And give it...'
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
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Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
'Gimme Gimme Gimme'
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
'YES...'
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Blue Boat
The Blue Boat
When winter rain falls
The lake in the vale fills up
Clear as a child’s tear
Where a blue rowing boat floats
Whishing it were a schooner
When the wind blows
You can if you try see masts
And its boastful sails
As it crosses vast expanses
Of dreams and secret longings
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Qinghai Lake
Qinghai, Qinghai Lake,
Largest salt lake in China
Blue colour water
Blue clear skies.
Birds fly near the Birds island
During spring times.
Stand high and tall at 3,600 m
Weather according to season
Sunrise at dawn
Sunset at dusk near Qinghai Lake
beautiful colourful lake
seen from hill top
Many cattle of yaks and sheep at the hills top
with the nomadic Tibetans and their tent
The lake full of beauty and colour
beyond compare
Qinghai Hu,
Many fishes and plants.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Promise Made And Kept.
She stood looking out
Across the small lake
With the late afternoon
Sun reflected in the water
And you beside her your
Hand in hers the sound of
Rooks from the high trees
A slight breeze touching
Tall branches and she said
Softly this is our lake this
Is ours to view and sit beside
And be together and promise
Me you’ll not come here with
Another she said looking from
The water into your hazel eyes
Promise me that and cross your
Heart and hope to die and you
Saw the two vivid reflections of
Yourself there in her bright blue
Eyes and you said yes I promise
I’ll never come here with another
And cross my heart and hope to die
And you never did even after she
Died of cancer and the lake you
Think has her there standing now
Gazing ghostly across the water’s
Skin thinking maybe of you both
And those days of love and youth
And both of you sitting and kissing
Beneath the vast sky’s blue roof.
poem by Terry Collett
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a Thought....
There is a lady by the lake
She plays the Piano
At night sadly
The moon listens and remembers
Just like any abandoned lover
A song
Learned by the Heart
and Until
Now is never forgotten
The notes from the Piano
Swim in the Lake like some fishes
Wishing to be stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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