There is no bush so small but casts its shadow.
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Even the smallest little bush casts some shadow.
The ordinary man casts a shadow in a way we do not quite understand. The man of genius casts light.
quote by George Steiner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wise Giver....
this is your rice cake
i am handing this to you
this is all yours
on these conditions:
you will not eat it
you have to guard it against
the flies and ants
take care of it
do not eat it for i do not allow it
it gets consumed and
then be gone
and that is bad for you
& me
at night
guard it still from mosquitoes
for they bring diseases
see to it that you heat it
in the oven
lest it gets moldy and
become spoiled
against the light
by that oil lamp
the rice cake casts a shadow
on the table
that is what you can eat
that alone
now partake
of my kindness
satisfy your hunger
on that shadow
slice it with a knife
and on small chunks
feed your mouth
nourish your body
till that rice cake is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolate and Wine
The arch of greed
Casts a shadow over my gentle mind
That transpires my drift full need
Into an uncontrollable find
The persuasion of the heretic
Shapes your decisive pleasure
That product, that thing you will find
You will happily find in your leisure
But the arch of greed
Casts a shadow over my indecisive mind
That transpires my begging need
Into an indescribable find
This is my cherished addiction of chocolate and wine...
From this I never wish to decline!
Copyright of Sara Tehrani
poem by Sara Tehrani
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That Beating Of The Bush
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I have this 'thing' about honest and truth.
And those who become offended,
By declaring them too harsh to accept!
There has not been an experience I received,
I regretted with a wish to forget!
And those attempting to live their lives,
In pretense to deceive believing this is not deception...
Will always escape with excuses and alibis to make.
Charading as if...
No one recognizes,
Who is in masquerade.
And who amongst them fakes!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
An honesty and truth spoken,
From deceivers is rare.
Those who deceive perceive...
Those who are direct and honest,
Are insensitive and do not care!
With a sharing of this mentality...
To those empathetic,
In a keeping of delusions...
Spared from despair!
But I know I'm not the only one...
Who elects to see,
Dishonesty from all people get up and leave.
I can't be!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rip
It can't be the passing of time that casts
That white shadow across the waters
Just offshore.
I shiver a little, with the evening.
I turn down the steep path to find
What's left of the river gold.
I whistle a dog lazily, and lazily
A bird whistles me.
Close by a big river, I am alive in my own country,
I am home again.
Yes: I lived here, and here, and my name,
That I carved young, with a girl's, is healed over, now,
And lies sleeping beneath the inward sky
Of a tree's skin, close to the quick.
It's best to keep still.
But:
There goes that bird that whistled me down here
To the river a moment ago.
Who is he? A little white barn owl from Hudson's Bay,
Flown out of his range here, and, if he wants to,
He can be the body that casts
That white shadow across the waters
Just offshore.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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His Shadow
When I was young
the shadow he cast was long.
When I was afraid.
In his shadow I could be brave.
Walking together
watching his shadow by mine.
I yearned for the time
like his my shadow would be long.
As the fledgling finally
flies alone from the nest.
To step away from his shadow
my time came.
One day long after
my child at my side.
Two shadows I saw.
One long joined one small.
In my thoughts
I reflected to when
the longer shadow.
My father cast.
I realized
the time had come.
The father's shadow
now my shadow.
(04SEP97)
poem by Kurt Hearth
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There was an Old Man who said, 'Hush!
I perceive a young bird in this bush!'
When they said, 'Is it small?'
He replied, 'Not at all!
It is four times as big as the bush!'
quote by by Edward Lear
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When the sun is highest it casts the least shadow.
The tree casts its shadow on everything, even upon the woodcutter.
Every tree casts shadow on its own bottom.
Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
quote by Samuel Smiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Me And My Shadow
Sometimes, my shadow appears really short and small;
Whilst, at others, it stretches ahead of me, thin and tall.
Sometimes, my shadow is behind me; sometimes it’s in front.
Quite often, for my shadow, I find myself having to hunt.
Depending on how the street lamps shine their light,
My shadow may be hidden, or may be within my sight.
Sometimes, I have two shadows, plus me;
Then I appear in triplicate: one, two, three.
Sometimes, when I take my time, my shadow seems to rush;
My shadow dances round me, amid the dark night’s hush.
When I wander through an unlit patch, my shadow disappears;
Although I cannot see it for a moment, I know that it is still near.
As I emerge back into the light, I’m rejoined by my shadow.
My best buddy and I are very firmly attached, down at the toe.
My shadow is featureless; of me, it’s just a darkened outline.
During my night-time journey, it’s an ever changing design.
To my shadowy friend, I do feel really very attached.
We are two of a kind, and, I think, very well matched.
My shadow and I, travel everywhere together;
From each other, we will never ever be severed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Shadow
THERE is a shadow on the sunny wall,
Dark and forbidding, like a bode of ill;
Go, drive it thence. Alas, such shadows fall
From real things, nor may be moved at will.
There is a shadow on my heart to-day,
A cloudy grief condensing to a tear:
Alas, I cannot drive its gloom away—
Some sin or sorrow casts the shapeless fear.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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