When you're speaking about the trolls, they're standing in the entrance hall listening.
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The War
It roams far away where there is no one but the trolls,
There is much inconvenience in the land of trolls.
We are tired of the telling of tales by the people against them,
Then our commands are not obeyed and they are not with them.
Who? The Trolls. They are not with the Trolls, who are hard.
They, the Orcs, are not with them, fighting instead who are hard.
The ogres are grotesque compared to the Trolls,
And the orcs are no match in strength to the Trolls
Or the Ogres, for they are in combat with each other -
They, the ogres and trolls and orcs fight each other
Until one of them has defeated and conquered-
Triumphant Trolls.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Romance of the souls
She
Kept on speaking
Telling me
How to deal with
Life’s intricacies
How to remain calm
In difficulties
And keep smiling
I kept on listening
So involved and
Mesmerized I was
I didn’t know
When she had
Stopped speaking
She reacted pleasantly
Asked me
Were you not listening?
I came out of
My deep thoughts
No, No
I was enjoying your
Wonderful discourse
I remember
Each and every word
You said
Was my reply
Now it was my turn
To tell her
About contentment
Confidence and attitude
She closed her eyes
Listened to what I said
With full sincerity
I finished speaking
But she did not
Open her eyes
Were you listening?
I asked
Yes, yes
Was her reply
Each and every word
You said
Is embossed in my mind
So involved we were
In each other’s discourse
That we did not realize
When each of us
Finished speaking
Kept our eyes closed
Wanting to listen
More and more
I asked her
How it is possible?
It was her turn to
Explain it to me
Dear friend
All what happened
Is called
Romance of the souls
My soul
Was romancing
With yours
24-01-2012
78-78-01-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Huldra
In the green valley
Near lake blue and pink salmon
Lived a huldra
Beautiful in human eyes
But trolls had rejected her
Ugly in their eyes
I heard her desolate song
Saw her shimmering
Blond as Iberian sea straw
Made gold-leaved by the sun
I saw her tail too
And before she charmed me
Sprinted for my life
Since folklore has made it clear
Human and trolls may not mix
Because if they do
The offspring will be rejected
By trolls and human
And for perpetuity be lost
Walking the strand of loneliness
poem by Oskar Hansen
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So now is the time, more than ever, for those who truly value all the principles of democracy, especially including dissent, to be the most forceful in speaking up, standing up and speaking out.
quote by Jim Hightower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You Listening
Are you listening to my words
When I say them
Do you hear me when I need you most
Sometimes I feel like you not listening
Are you deaf?
Am i not speaking clear?
If I clear my throat and speak louder
Are you listening to me
Do you hear the words from my mouth
Is my voice to low?
Maybe if I speak louder maybe even scream it
Are you listening
poem by Raesheka Antwine
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Black Bruises II
I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?
poem by Norman Santos
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S.O.S.
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now
Need some help
Is anybody listening?
Can you hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening?
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Belligerent Acts!
speaking the truth,
and standing up for
individual rights,
standing up for collective
rights, and for equality...
are not, are not
belligerent acts!
we're not buying the lie!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Let It Be
When I find myself in times of trouble, mother mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
Wisper words of wisdom, let if be
And when the broken hearted people, living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
There will be answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
There will be answer, let it be
[solo]
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
Wisper words of wisdom, let it be
And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me
Shine until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, mother mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be , let it be
Wisper words of wisdom, let it be
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From listening comes wisdom, and from speaking repentance.
From listening comes wisdom and from speaking, repentance.
If speaking is silver, then listening is gold.
Felt Inside, Known And Not Hiding
Wholesome expressions delivered,
May be great to hear from podiums raised...
By those speaking from prepared speeches.
To have those listening needing a boost,
With a lifting done coming from roaring cheers.
There is a truth that is lived,
And inescapable it is.
For those who know it is not in disguise,
To eliminate or compromise...
What is felt inside, known and not hiding.
A truth that is lived,
Isn't waiting for the next speech heard.
Or standing in line,
To select from a multitude of choices offered.
A truth lived and once picked becomes one's commitment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Listening Week
This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.
On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.
In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.
To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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I Only Am Escaped Alone to Tell Thee
I tell you that I see her still
At the dark entrance of the hall.
One gas lamp burning near her shoulder
Shone also from her other side
Where hung the long inaccurate glass
Whose pictures were as troubled water.
An immense shadow had its hand
Between us on the floor, and seemed
To hump the knuckles nervously,
A giant crab readying to walk,
Or a blanket moving in its sleep.
You will remember, with a smile
Instructed by movies to reminisce,
How strict her corsets must have been,
How the huge arrangements of her hair
Would certainly betray the least
Impassionate displacement there.
It was no rig for dallying,
And maybe only marriage could
Derange that queenly scaffolding -
As when a great ship, coming home,
Coasts in the harbor, dropping sail
And loosing all the tackle that had laced
Her in the long lanes...
I know
We need not draw this figure out
But all that whalebone came for whales
And all the whales lived in the sea,
In calm beneath the troubled glass,
Until the needle drew their blood.
I see her standing in the hall,
Where the mirror's lashed to blood and foam,
And the black flukes of agony
Beat at the air till the light blows out.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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Listening
Listening.
And being there for someone loved...
To do just that!
With a mind willing,
To be receptive and clear...
Of opinions sitting,
On the tip of one's tongue.
With a giving of attention,
And staying mum.
Listening to someone.
Listening is not easily done.
For those who have experienced...
A life in which peace of mind has come.
When a listening ear,
Had not been volunteered by no one.
And some who know this...
Do their best to sit with patience.
Listening with no other reason...
But to be there as is wished.
For someone who has selected you,
Just for this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hypothetically Speaking
How can experiences lived,
Be shared positively.
In conversations,
That are openly expressed...
As being constructive.
And direct and honest,
As a one on one can be.
A restless figeting begins.
When the listener is young...
And filled with deluded apprehensions,
Mentioned.
And an impatience that sits,
Begins to reveal less tolerance with this.
How can any experience lived,
In certain circumstances...
Cause one's mind to drift,
With a secret wish...
To leave not a single fingerprint?
When applying methods of strangulation,
~Are you listening to me?
No one cares or listens to me.~
*Oh I'm listening to you, darling.
With unequivocal intent! *
Or...
Should one consider,
Being convicted of premeditated murder?
Hypothetically speaking,
Of course.
'Wouldn't it be cheaper,
Just to seek a divorce?
Instead of repeatedly beating a dead horse? '
What if it's a son,
Or a thick headed daughter?
'What if it's a sentence,
Of twenty years or more...
For perpetrating manslaughter? '
What if it's a one way trip to the Bahamas?
To never again feel guilt.
Or be visited by remorse.
'You said 'hypothetically speaking' this is? '
Huh?
Oh...
Yes!
Of course.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Standing There In The Rain
Standing there in the rain
crying through the pain
Standing there in the rain
its so dark no one thought
Standing there in the rain
i watch how all disappears
Standing there in the rain
i dropped to my knees
Standing there in the rain
no strenght to believe again
Standing there in the rain
i wish i can breath again
Standing there in the rain
Im no longer there
Standing there in the rain
wish i knew what to do
Standing there in the rain
the dark is waiting for me
Standing there in the rain
im getting stronger
No longer screaming
no longer believing
Standing there in the rain
i see someone staring
Standing there in the rain
its when the war began....
poem by Priscilla Colon
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X5
there is a moment
for standing still and
just be here
listening, there is more
to what listening
gives, it is the emptying
of all gas,
it is the shhhhh
of this
existence, it the flat
tire and then
the filling up of all
that is flat and
empty, and then
it goes back
on page one which
has the theme of
moving and
bouncing and
flying and
be lost again to the
greatness of finally
finding the self that is
not actually inside
you....
the wind, the sea and
the width
and the length and
the unending and the
unedited...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Stage
Insidious, harlequin jewel.
the melodrama waits among it's peers,
listening for it's entrance onto the stage.
But alas,
a thin mustached buffoon spit's out
in deep exaltation
'not all the world hides behind a mask! '
poem by Josh Hathcock
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