When the prior plays cards, what will the monks do?
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Prior To Whatever The Outcome
Who knows if those decisions we make,
Will achieve and please...
An expected result?
With a certainty known that is already felt.
The ones who take chances,
Eventually learned...
Something about deciding,
Upon which way to turn.
It is easy to reflect upon those experiences,
One gets.
And express whether or not,
A relief to them came with no grieving met.
But those who hesitate in a waiting done...
Are always heard to state they know what will occur,
Prior to whatever the outcome that is shunned...
Comes to ease or wreck havoc on their nerves.
Prior to whatever the outcome,
A shunning...
Prior to whatever the outcome,
Is done!
Prior to whatever the outcome,
A shunning...
Prior to whatever the outcome,
Is done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Play makes you a master.
The child plays with blocks.
The adults play with cards.
The poet plays with words.
They enjoy without profit.
Yes, play gives masterly feeling.
01.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Myanmar - Air of Freedom
shackled without chains
again the chants of monks
again the chants of monks
aung san looks over to the hazy horizon
for days when she would breathe the air of freedom
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A great social success is a pretty girl who plays her cards as carefully as if she were plain.
quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadows Of Wolves
we made an agreement
it was carved in stone to your mind
i agree there must be no changes
without prior notice
but you change it a bit
and so i am canceling the whole of it
that is what it is
carved in stone, put a change
the slightest one
can break the whole of that stone
a little change in temperature
or pressure as the case maybe
can make this world crack
without prior notice
now don't cry foul
for both of us prior to that
have assumed the shadows
of the wolves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Birthday Card Greetings!
1)
Some birthday cards are humurous
With jokes that make you smile,
Others are cute, with kittens on,
Or cherubs that beguile.
Some have flowery greetings,
Some, sentimental verse.
Some poke fun at someone's age,
While others - well, they're worse!
But my favourite kind of card is one
That comes straight from the heart.
No wit or soppy message. Just -
Happy birthday, you old f...! ! ! !
2)
Some cards are huge and colourful,
With greetings bright and cheerful.
Others are sweet or touching
And can make you feel quite tearful.
There are funny cards with jokes in,
Enough to make you titter.
Home-made cards, pricey cards
And ones all covered in glitter.
Some can be rather age-ist,
Making fun out of getting old.
While others contain messages
That are worth much more than gold.
Some cards are sentimental,
The rhymes inside quite corny,
But not this one - it simply reads:
Happy Birthday, love from Dawnie
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Be Proud
Be pride and poison for it,
Poor is the friar who took.
Pleasure is soon, sooner than ever,
When bones are picked by the vultures
Over our heads that speak of those ones that fly nearby.
Be proud and in the death of others be proud
Against a fountain of rifles and ammunition,
These are the guns we lift to our eyes and let vultures fly to die.
The monks are not in the vicinity, like hairy monks.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Stakes don’t alter the interest.
Children play cards with no stakes,
Street-men does with low stake and
Gamblers with high stake. The spirit
With which each group plays is same
06.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Epitaph Extempore
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave,
Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,
The son of Adam and of Eve;
Can Stuart or Nassau claim higher.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Epitaph - On Himself
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave!
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior;
A son of Adam and Eve:
Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Nothing to declare
we need passports id-s and an
unrepeatable unique crucial numbers of a citizen
we look at those photographs with weary visa faces
that reflect a tiresome long standing in a queue
why can't we sit
we need hands palms a pointer sealed in an
unrepeatable unique crucial print of a citizen
why can't we make a handshake
we need this for the sake of neat info organization
so as not to be lost so as to be easily found
why is no one looking for us
we need health cards credit cards phone cards
business cards membership cards
why can't we discard them
we need birth school pre post BA MA PHD certificates
why can't we really sign them
we need a luggage a lift a transport a life
why can't we travel
why do we have
nothing to declare
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The young man plays the flute, the middle aged man plays the harpsichord, the old man plays the organ.
Parallel Worlds
We’re contemporary lovers
from two different universes.
Entry into either must be
through imagination or dreams.
Once arrived, perception is real
and what was prior, impossible
to attain is now possible:
Our futile love becomes yielding;
Worldly differences disappear;
yet our conceptuality
always plays out differently
in these dreamy parallel worlds;
but one thing remains a constant
throughout these fantasies: Our love.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Cancelled Flights
The tourist that no longer dreams
Sees his destination prior to arrival
Or prior to the inception of his journey—
The sharp futility of steel structures
And glass shards, crystal rain
Tearing through the sapphire sky,
Leaving a tear,
A hole in his
Celestial tarpaulin.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Twelve Bar Lil
Sweet Lilly Larnie
plays the blues away
she plays a three quarter strat
like B.B King plays Lucille
She plays the twelve bar blues
like nobody else can
she plays a blues lick so fast and quick
it makes you sick
She's twelve bar Lil
the three quarter strat Queen
you wouldn't believe
she's only three
For my Daughter Lilly, who's now four.
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Somebody's game
the way
they play cards
flipping back
forward
our existence
a pack of cards
a queen,
a blackjack,
a spade,
between
the cards
a million
million years
we are tossed
up, down,
down, up
somebody's plan
anxiety to be winners
we live out
in a sea
tossed, thrown,
flipped,
nilly willyly
someone's
gamble
in blood and tears
in between
a bagful of suspense
puzzled
the beginning
the end
is there one?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Fortune Teller
If you ask me I will tell you
But you need not be upset
Your love has made other plans
And soon your heart will regret
The Fortune Teller
I see many things happening
Your heart is faithful and true
But these cards tell me it all
That person is not for you
The Fortune Teller
It's not in the cards I here see
You need to simply break away
It's best to move on you must
This all what my cards say
The Fortune Teller
poem by Suelynn Walters
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THE Cards
All cards are marked it's a game of chance
Fate collides leading us a merry dance
Slight of hand very quick
Nine or twenty one card trick
Luck never gives it only lends
Playing the cards always contends
Fate never looses it deals so svelte
It was always to be the hand that was dealt
So now all cards are marked
And all fates will collide
When at the table you next reside.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.