It is difficult sharing and capturing so many years of memories and the people behind the words-and even though that guest book can speak volumes, in between, the pages remain so silent.
quote by Eugenie Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Memory Place
Shelves tower over me; crowed with bound pages
of events, people, places, ideas.
Of memories.
Of captured feelings pressed like flowers between the pages;
for people to be inspired by someone else's words.
My eyes caress the titles printed on bright spines
as I run my fingers across
what holds the memories together.
I pick up a book, turning yellowed pages,
the scent of gentle time traveling to my nose.
I close my eyes and smile:
it brings back memories of my own,
but these pages are not for me.
I put back the soft bundle of pages
and continued to search in the Memory Place
until I find my own belonging among the words.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Book Mark
I remain
Where she left me
After she had finished reading.
No one leafed through the book of love
Time has coursed its way
Aeons have passed
But I remain entangled
In the inconclusive tale of love
Waiting for her to come back
And once again turn its pages
Get the story going again.
She was keen to progress in life
Desirous of
Glamour, fame, a bright career
How could she find time to read?
Accustomed to decorating shelves
With bric-a-brac and books
She knew
Nothing could be gained from old volumes
Except dried-up flower petals
Dead butterflies
Words, moth-eaten
Letters, hidden as mementoes
Names of some friends.
I remain
Where she left me
After she had finished reading
For I'm a memento too
A forgotten tale of past friendship
A symbol of memories, old and worn out
Sacred remorse of one-sided love
I remain
A peacock feather in a holy book
I do not have the luxury of tears.....!
(1988, Translated from the original Urdu by Satyapal Anand)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Forlorn
Blank
No words or wisdom
to hold us
Empty pages
Speak volumes
of world
in limitless despair
unspoken
and feeble hope
chokes
amidst ashes
Forgive us
poem by Jeff Larson
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This Journal Of Mine
I have written a book of memories,
It is stored inside my mind,
And recorded on its pages,
Are many stories all entwined.
Journeys through my childhood,
And on into my teenage years,
Then reaching full maturity,
Sampling a variety of careers.
It only takes a few seconds,
This journal of mine to access,
Encountering joy and sorrow,
Tears of pain and happiness.
Experiences and adventures,
Lots of hellos and goodbyes,
People all intermingled,
In my conscience, which personifies.
These memories are forever,
Full documents of all my days,
Filed away for my future reference,
Enabling entry by the use of replays.
I have written a book of memories,
Into which I just love to delve,
And wander back to times gone by.
Let me recall when I was twelve!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Life Is Difficult
Life is difficult-
Surprises are not always what we hoped they would be-
People misunderstand us-
We imagine we are kind
And they understand us differently-
Some problems never get solved
Some remain lingering for years-
There are cruel people in the world
Stupid ones also-
The fair do not always get the prize
The pushers push push push the good guys aside-
We see the Evil grinning and we cannot touch them-
All kinds of Hopes we have are disappointed-
Rejection is the Fate of everyone at one time or another
One has to try and try and try
And often that is not enough-
Life is difficult
And after a certain age is more difficult
And when young is also difficult-
Life is difficult in some time or some way for all of us
It just is-
Life is difficult
And even when it seems not to be
There is another time coming-
Life is difficult
And so long as we live
It will be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Are Those Who Irritate
in the same manner
there are those who are not irritated
they know how to maintain
poise
despite the storm
to be sensible despite
the plagiarism
they become more of themselves
as others
go beyond their nature
they are silent when you speak
they remain silent
even if you are silent too
oh, they are just themselves
despite the
volcanic eruptions
oh, they remain calm
even if
all are screaming
running
even if the world is dead
they remain
growing like moss
like lichens
like cockroaches like flies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cousins Forever
It's funny what happens when death Arrives.
It's funny what happens when you say Good-byes.
Memories go rushing through your Head.
Words remembered that were Said.
Some words happy, Some words sad,
Some words funny, Some words mad.
When they told me you went Away,
I realized your memories would always Stay.
We grew up together, We grew apart.
The childhood memories will remain in my
Heart.
Cousins FOREVER we will always be!
You'll ALWAYS remain a part of me!
I'll always remember. I'll always Love You!
poem by Kymberly Berson
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The Book Of My Life
Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
(words & music by bill strange - scott davis)
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories
Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Between
in between the monotonous pages
of this book of life
some dog ears are inserted
the red tassels protruding like a tongue
saying nothing
not even some slips of the memories
within are the serious
delicate matters such as incessant wars
of mankind and the impulses of greed
i scan the pages till the end
i have not seen such chapters as giving in
to humanity
that innate goodness, i hurry to find it
not even in the appendix
someone inserted in this book
a letter
it says, love has long been gone
and no one knows where it is going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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English Language
The English language it contains thousands of words
Which includes nouns, adjectives, constants and verbs
Structuring them together to create novels or speeches
So we can speak or read or listen while a teacher teaches
And of those thousands words that we have at our command
Some are the few words that decent people have banned
Sadly those few words most people use to swear and to curse
They are crude, coarse and obscene which are used alone or in a verse.
The English language contains thousands of words
Which equals to the stars in the sky or the multitude of birds
They are used in conversation and to define who we are
Words are the building blocks from a vast reservoir
But then we have those few words that are very crude
People use them to hurt or to insult and also to be lewd
Judge a book by its cover and the people by the words they use
When we speak, speak with caution and ponder and then be a muse.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Your Silence
I have spoken long enough
I have spoken well enough
Now let me be silent
And see how Silence speaks
Hear the words unspoken
For you could never speak
And whenever I asked you
All I could ever hear, was:
Your Silence…
Yes, that very Silence of yours
Which sucked all my life out
making me feel miserable
day in and day out
Still I kept holding on,
hoping on and hanging on…
If you could ever speak
Yet you never spoke up
Instead, offered me a challenge
A challenge to a broken heart?
A challenge to a defeated soul?
Oh! How Ruthless you could be…
And still you ever want me
To keep hearing your silence
And make some meaning of it all
I told you long before
Silence never works for me
I am a woman of words…
It might work well for you
So be it, my love…
If that is what you call ‘friendship’
Let you be silent
And me be too
And we can still remain ‘friends’
For if you speak
And I speak too
Who knows, One day
We might become foes…
And I would rather die
A Friend of yours
Than choose to be a Foe.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Books On The Table
I was awaken
But it were silent
When the noises come
Sitting in side
Change the rhythm
Spitted signs
Spray the rays of wisdom
It does not matter
Loneliness bitter
Friends and guest flatter
Pages turned better
Widen and push
Into the dream
Sinking in the see
Turning pages
Live with me
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The Philosopher
“Those who speak know nothing;
Those who know are silent.”
These words, as I am told,
Were spoken by Lao Tzu.
If we are to believe that Lao Ttzu
Was himself one who knew,
How comes it that he wrote a book
Of five thousand words?
What Is Written In Red
I am written in red,
I am sliding across the page of life.
I am racing across the lines of language.
I am red.
I write words,
I create lines and sentences,
I am kept in solitude
I am red.
I create paragraphs.
I create signatures.
I know what you're thinking before you speak,
I am red.
I cannot breath because I am enclosed in a capsule.
A capsule that covers the knowledge inside.
All I do is stare at pages,
All I know is pages,
I become apart of the pages,
And the pages become apart of me.
I become apart of english,
I become apart of words,
I am RED.
BY: Takisha Fields
poem by Kiesha fields
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An enemies demise
An enemies demise
~
I no longer fight the usual fight
I stand back and watch on
Disinterested at the plays for power
Drawing my attention elsewhere
There are better things, better people
To occupy my thoughts, my time
Words once bitter now relent
My lips silent when questioned
And silence speaks volumes
Without the fight what’s an enemy
But a soul in demise becoming forgotten
Stripped of attention their strength
Its better to speak no ills
Its better to turn the other cheek
The words of peace have taught me
To stand back and simply breathe
My words now dedicated
To understanding a worlds unease
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Lessons Like These Don't Stay Learned
When someone begins to set standards...
And lifestyle requirements.
With rudiments of how a quality of life is to be lived...
They themselves find difficult to maintain,
Throughout the years.
A flushing down the drain results.
And a pain is felt.
With restrictions dealt.
But lessons like these don't stay learned.
They only remain for as long as the suffering lasts.
Be it two, three, four or five years...
Greed returns to raise its ugly head bigger than ever!
Right after the period of sharing and caring ends.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Words say so much
Words are everywhere you look
in the paper and in the book
we all use them when we speak
in languages like French and Greek.
A baby uses them to speak to it's Mum
that's why she knows it wants talc on it's bum
but teenagers say words we don't understand
and singers sing them like Elvis and Streisand.
People lose their temper and shout and cuss
like when they stub a toe or miss a bus
that's when swear words can be heard
words you won't find in the Times crossword.
Someone who's drunk will talk in a strange way
these words can be heard in pubs on a Saturday
there's short words, and some which are long,
and some words that are nearly always spelt wong.
But that's enough words for now I'll put down my pen,
it's the end, over, ceased, finished, stopped, AMEN.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Separate bedrooms
speak volumes in silent grief
over old loves' tombs.
haiku by Jonathan Robin
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