He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
quote by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Regrets of toils
Robust growth and poor harvest are waste;
The farmers would be unhappy for his toils.
Robust sons and poor helps are of no use;
Parents would be unhappy for their toils.
20.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without Regret
Saddened memories,
I once held as property.
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
I now reflect,
Without regret.
I know now
Defeats I've met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Those times
Stayed on my mind
For days at a time.
I used that to feed,
My own desperate needing.
I lived with anger and deceit!
I felt those feelings deep,
Within me!
Defeats I have met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
But...
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Who knew,
Like I do now...
When they grew,
Somehow
They would go...
From inside of me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Grew My Hair Out
I finally grew my hair out.
I had tried before, but it frightened me.
It grew large, thick, black and wavy,
The hair my ancestors gave me.
They wore it long and free.
I finally grew my hair out,
And a friend said 'You look like a Greek god.'
And I said 'Which one? '
And he said 'I don't know. The chubby one that drank wine.'
And I thought about red wine
And the delighted laughter of women
About the hooves and horns
That I'd hidden inside my head
And had forgotten about, before I ever knew them.
But they were there all along, waiting.
Then I grew my hair out.
poem by Edward Allen
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After I Knew
When I knew, I came to Him, led by God, not by my whim,
Led by The Spirit of God, and now by His Staff and Rod;
It is God’s Spirit, guiding me, on my path towards eternity,
Entering into my frame of dust, when in Him I put my trust.
I lived my life as I always had, believing I was far from bad,
Living on life’s straight path, never mindful of God’s Wrath,
And that I was basically good, as this is what I understood,
Until I met God’s Living Word, hearing Truth I’d never heard.
God had opened up my eyes, not a world, said to be wise,
Following the beliefs of men, I knew not, I was condemned,
And from God I was separated, not because me, He hated,
It was sin, passed on to me, from Adam’s fall, to humanity.
But, God didn’t leave us there, sending man, love and care,
To save this corrupted earth, providing man a spiritual birth;
God’s Sacrifice paid the cost, in redeeming all who are lost,
So although we’re sinful men, in His Son we are Born Again.
Seeing this, I then would know, to Christ’s Cross, I must go,
To accept what God did for me, to have New Life, Eternally,
This, religion taught me not, as pious words, leave out a lot,
Omitting much needed Truth, leading souls to face Reproof.
(Copyright ©04/2010)
The Street Only Knew Your Name
Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grew To Believe
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
Especially when I thought that I had,
Something I should not want to have.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
An acceptance of their gifts.
I grew up in the projects.
And those who were 'different' were made to feel it.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
A happiness with talents they possessed.
With a gladness from others...
Who did not address an envy with a jealousness.
But a showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew!
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
But...
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Epitaph for Maria Wentworth
And here the precious dust is laid;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the guest betray'd.
Else the soul grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sin,
And so was hatch'd a cherubin.
In height, it soar'd to God above;
In depth, it did to knowledge move,
And spread in breadth to general love.
Before, a pious duty shin'd
To parents, courtesy behind;
On either side an equal mind.
Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To servants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself severe.
So, though a virgin, yet a bride
To ev'ry grace, she justified
A chaste polygamy, and died.
Learn from hence, reader, what small trust
We owe this world, where virtue must,
Frail as our flesh, crumble to dust.
poem by Thomas Carew
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A Little Old Maid
She grew, like other girls and flowers,
Sheltered and tended daintily;
And told her dolls, through sunny hours,
A prince would come her love to be.
And none denied her as she grew
The kingdom where her prince was lord.
For him she bloomed, and drank the dew
Of youth, and wore the virgin's sword.
From her strong tower of maidenhood
She saw brave men ride east and west;
And dreamed of peace in love's deep wood,
With babies nestling on her breast.
And when no knight her banner bore,
Nor hailed her with love's accolade,
Silent beside her open door
She wondered first, then grew afraid:
Afraid of quickened dust whereof
Life made but phantoms for a show;
Afraid of laughter and of love,
Of God and his unchanging No.
And things the world calls wise and good
She did to bid her fear be still;
Gave largess of her brains and blood,
Chastened her bold, far-wandering will.
But, withering ever at the heart,
She felt her spirit die unborn.
A ghost, she moved on earth apart,
And feared to face the angels' scorn.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Simple Words
Simple words are precious pearls.
When spoken true they mean the world.
They tell me that I'm speacial,
and that you really care.
They really are so meaningful,
a feeling that is rare.
When they come from one as you.
It makes me feel as precious few.
It's something so little have tried to do.
Such simple words with greatness spewed.
In my heart a loving burn.
It means so much for you to share.
The love you hold and have spared.
I always knew you truly cared.
I thank you now for all you do.
These simple words are sweet and smooth.
From my doubts I am romoved.
You told me I'm a speacial dude.
These simple words give my soul such needed food.
poem by Michael McParland
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The Book
Eternal God! Maker of all
That have lived here since the man's fall:
The Rock of Ages! in whose shade
They live unseen, when here they fade;
Thou knew'st this paper when it was
Mere seed, and after that but grass;
Before 'twas dressed or spun, and when
Made linen, who did wear it then:
What were their lives, their thoughts, and deeds,
Whether good corn or fruitless weeds.
Thou knew'st this tree when a green shade
Covered it, since a cover made,
And where it flourished, grew, and spread,
As if it never should be dead.
Thou knew'st this harmless beast when he
Did live and feed by Thy decree
On each green thing; then slept - well fed -
Clothed with this skin which now lies spread
A covering o'er this aged book;
Which makes me wisely weep, and look
On my own dust; mere dust it is,
But not so dry and clean as this.
Thou knew'st and saw'st them all, and though
Now scattered thus, dost know them so.
O knowing, glorious Spirit! when
Thou shalt restore trees, beasts, and men,
When Thou shalt make all new again,
Destroying only death and pain,
Give him amongst Thy works a place
Who in them loved and sought Thy face!
poem by Henry Vaughan
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I sung sometimes
I sung sometimes my thoughts’ and fancy's pleasure,
Where then I list, or time serv’d best and leisure,
While Daphne did invite me
To supper once, and drank to me to spite me.
I smil’d, yet still did doubt her,
And drank where she had drank before, to flout her.
But oh while I did eye her,
My eyes drank love, my lips drank burning fire.
poem by John Wilbye
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Frame
Frame
I could frame my
mind to what my
thoughts become,
"words spoken"
or I could frame the
night to think my
agony is gone.
I can frame almost
anything I quess,
from a heart in grief
looking for some relief,
the mailman,
the milkman,
and everything
that passes by,
A kitten at my doorstep,
is funny isn't it?
you can frame your
way through a
dragons throat.
Anything you want,
even your heart,
your truth your lies and
even the clear skies.
The hymns I sing,
my eyelids to fall asleep,
an ability not yet control.
Everything I long for
has not yet pass through,
so I keep framing
the truth the lies and all
I can think of.
But framing is not my
escape is just a lie
I keep telling myself,
and I can keep doing
it for eons.
But not yet complete,
for I can't frame my
eyes of what I see.
©ElenaToledo2009
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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If you knew
If you knew how much I love you!
If you knew how much I need you!
If you knew how dear you are to me!
If you knew how much I miss you!
If you knew how many times I think of you!
If you knew how painful it is to live without you!
If you knew when I feel hell lot of jealous for you!
If you knew why so many words for you!
If you knew why so many music for you!
If you knew how much I wish your best!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Sonnet: A Pot of Special Clay
The Potter chose to make a pot of clay,
And used some special earth to mould its frame,
That turned to be a vessel, which one day,
Became so holy, bringing Him, great name!
God filled the vessel with His divine grace,
And placed it on His sacred altar, when
The vessel glowed with beauty, worth much praise:
And quenched were souls, who drank from it often!
And when the pot had done its job on earth,
It cracked one day when old, and turned to dust:
But looked much finer than ev’n gold, at birth;
For, it had held the blood of Jesus Christ!
By fulfilling His Maker’s ardent aim,
The pot had turned to dust, from whence it came!
Fondly dedicated to a deceased ‘Man of God’,
Brother Dr. DGS Dhinakaran,
JESUS CALLS MINISTRY, TN, India
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-22-2008
poem by John Celes
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When the Wind Returns
a soft strong voice called me,
a voice i'd heard before
but couldnt quite remember...
and my spirit rose from my body,
and left through the bedroom window
without looking back...
there is a space beyond the stars
in the darkest sky... a place
beyond the mind's understanding...
when light returns to darkness
and is reborn.... in tiny particles
of dust that gather and are formed....
a song that has no human words...
but is known and knowing... and
can only be played by human hands...
i do not know... dont have to!
but i know beyond knowing...
and have drank water from that brook...
when the wind returns, so will i...
i need no name, no familiar face...
you'll know i'm there when you breathe!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eulogy of a Blues Master
No music,
not reggae, not punk and certainly not rap,
is more hip, more with it,
than the blues
And no blues musician
was more profound
than John Lee Hooker
Born long, long ago
way down in the state
of Mississippi
He grew up poor
on the Big Muddy
on the delta
amongst other poor negros
amongst poor white folks
amongst segregation, amongst racism
amongst hatred
But he and his guitar
would rise above
to play the rhythm
of an oppressed people
And brother, could he jam!
He dug
Big Legs, Tight Skirts
He drank
One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer
He'd
Boom Boom, Greg Corso music
all night long
And as for his
guitar pickin', huh
He was the Hendrix of the blues
Ain't nobody better'n Johnny Lee!
The King of the Blues!
And even though maybe
you can't hear it,
Somewhere,
Somewhere,
John Lee is still playin' that boogie
poem by Paul the Lion
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Stewball
(yellin / rinzler / herald)
Old stewball was a racehorse
And I wished he were mine
He never drank water
He always drank wine
His bridle was silver
And his mane it was gold
But worth of his saddle
Has never been told
The fairgrounds was crowded
And old stewball was there
But the betting was heavy
On the bay and the mare
Oh, way up yonder
Ahead of them all
Came prancing and dancing
My noble stewball
If I bet on the grey mare
And I bet on the bay
And if Id bet on old stewball
Id be a free man today
Oh, the hoot owl she hollers
And the turtle dove moans
Im a poor boy in trouble
Im a long way from home
Old stewball was a racehorse
And I wished he was mine
He never drank water
He always drank wine
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miss So Fat (For My Next Door Neighbour)
Coming now of age
And growing in a form so strange
The beautiless girl next door
Only eats junks and fatty foods the more
Though everyone know her as Pat
I call her miss so fat
She's so robust, you'd fear she would burst
And day by day she grew worse
Her feature doubtlessly I hate
She could not even go through the small gate----
She then grows so weak
And before long she grew sick,
That she had to the clinic be admitted
But her health, it got dilapidated-----
And the doctors, they say, so much tried
But it wasn't enough to save my neighbour for after long she died.
poem by Olajide Ajibola
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On that dear Frame the Years had worn
940
On that dear Frame the Years had worn
Yet precious as the House
In which We first experienced Light
The Witnessing, to Us—
Precious! It was conceiveless fair
As Hands the Grave had grimed
Should softly place within our own
Denying that they died.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ooh La La
(original by Faces)
Poor old granddad I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women's ways
They'll trap you then they use you & before you even know
For love is blind and you're far too kind
Don't ever let it show
I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was stronger
The can-can such a pretty show
will steal your heart away
But backstage back on earth again
The dressing rooms are grey
They come on strong and it ain't too long
For they make you feel a man
But love is blind and you soon will find
you're just a boy again
When you want her lips, you get her cheek
Makes you wonder where you are
if you want some more then she's fast asleep
Leaves you twinkling with the stars
Poor young grandson there's nothing I can say
You'll have to learn, just like me
And that's the hardest way, ooh la la
I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was stronger
song performed by by Counting Crows
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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