The door of conciliation and compromise is finally closed by our adversaries, and it remains only to us to meet the conflict with the dignity and firmness of men worthy of freedom.
quote by Robert Toombs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rather, it is through conciliation and compromise that we are building a fair Iraq, a just state for all its peoples.
quote by Jalal Talabani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conciliation is not capitulation, nor is compromise to be deemed equivalent to imbalanced concession.
quote by Jalal Talabani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All government - indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, every virtue and every prudent act - is founded on compromise and barter.
Edmund Burke in Speech on the Conciliation of America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dry Leaves Beside My Door
a door half-closed
the wind comes with some dry leaves
coming in
through it
and then
spread on the floor
under my bed
i watch it
feeling that i am junked
even the wind
has mistaken me as
another
garbage
and so i finally closed my
door
tight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hanging Fire
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his thumb
in secret
how come my knees
always tremble
what if I die
before the morning comes
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
I have to learn to dance
in time for the next party
my room is too small for me
suppose I die before graduation
they will sing sad melodies
but finally
tell the truth about me
There is nothing I want to do
and too much
that has to be done
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
Nobody even stops to think
about my side of it
I should have been on Math Team
my marks were better than his
why do I have to be
the one
wearing braces
I have nothing to wear tomorrow
will I live long enough
to grow up
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
poem by Gabriella Maben
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Hanging Fire
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his thumb
in secret
how come my knees are
always so ashy
what if I die
before morning
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
I have to learn how to dance
in time for the next party
my room is too small for me
suppose I die before graduation
they will sing sad melodies
but finally
tell the truth about me
There is nothing I want to do
and too much
that has to be done
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
Nobody even stops to think
about my side of it
I should have been on Math Team
my marks were better than his
why do I have to be
the one
wearing braces
I have nothing to wear tomorrow
will I live long enough
to grow up
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
poem by Audre Lorde
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Just When The Rain Stops
just when the rain stops
something within you stops too
the misery of being
confined in the small prison of
your thoughts
you find a window
and this wide door and you grope
for the key
to open something closed
days ago
you breathe the sea breeze
and take some salt of
life and you
release your sighs like
an earned ire
you take freedom finally
letting go your fingers and hands
your feet dance
go, go, go
your books on the table make the
cheering squad
out there
nature wants to be read
the books close finally
their pages like tongues
hide behind the thick glossy
hardbound cover
you are not a fool finally
touching the maps drawn
by the falling rain
welcome to the world
the trees tell you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Freedom's Finally Mine
I'm on a red dirt road winding up to a sky of blue
And I left the blacktop back about a mile or two
No more sittin' at home leave the T.V. and the telephone far behind
This life is killin' us all, back roads are lookin' mighty fine
Oh, and...
(Chorus)
Freedom's finally mine
I ain't takin' anymore
Yeah freedom's finally mine, It's finally mine
I ain't takin' anymore
Oh, freedom's finally mine
I'd like to throw out this cellular
And kick off these shop-shined shoes
Leave the kids at your mama's
And take off to Timbuktu
So give me two sets of mud-grip tracks
Leadin' off to way out back o' yonder
There's no mountain I can't climb
To satisfy this need of mine to wander
Oh, 'cause...
(Repeat Chorus)
There's no desert I can't cross
No river too wide
I can do what I want now
'Cause freedom's finally mine
(Repeat Chorus)
Oh freedom oh freedom It's finally mine, yeah it's mine
It's finally mine, yeah it's mine
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts Revealed
revolution demands evolution,
for it is only by evolving
that we can make positive change.
open mind, open heart.
closed mind, closed heart.
the door to life remains open.
the door of death remains closed!
religious people kill each other
over their differences...
spiritual people accept each other
for what and who they are,
and learn to work together for common goals.
god has as many faces as there
are living beings!
dont quote me scriptures, or holy sayings.
help me plow my garden!
there are scriptures in the fresh
turned earth we have yet to discover!
if you are a bigot, if you discriminate
because of skin color, religious beliefs,
sexual orientation, or political agenda...
you cannot know the presence of god...
it is within the diversity of life
that we find the common bond of unity...
and this bond is the presence of god!
if you must hate anything, hate ignorance!
manifest this hate by searching for
the truth!
unconditional compassion is the key...
but your own feet must walk through
the door!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A new freedom
Everybody wants to fly as a bird,
Nobody wants to remain in chains,
Because everyone has a new freedom to live merrily,
But some cruel take our freedom away
And make us their slave.
Freedom is a god gifted gift
Which nobody can destroy from this earth.
Freedom is not made for rich
But for innocent poor dwelling in slums.
Freedom means peace and love
Not fear around us.
Freedom is what brings a nice smile
On everybody’s face.
Freedom knows no boundary
Of happiness and sprinkles its grace
On everyone wonderfully.
Freedom knocks at every door
And kisses everyone in the early morning
As a nightingale sings its lovely hymn for each person.
Freedom walks from door to door
To visit so that no one
Can be deprived of it.
poem by Tanya Naidoo
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The proletariat uses the State not in the interests of freedom but in order to hold down its adversaries, and as soon as it becomes possible to speak of freedom the State as such ceases to exist.
quote by Friedrich Engels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stateless Bird
The retarded Freedom fighter who realized one day
his bird in the cage should get her retirement soon.
He regrets that her confinement is not fair at all.
A starry night he opened the cage door to let her fly
and he waited till morning,
but the bird still remains in the cage and twittered,
'Dear comrade now only you realized the true freedom
and you opened the door at last,
but I am not familiar with this sky.
Who is going to teach me to fly? .
Please close the door and let me leave alone
at least to get my last breath'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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That Feeling Of Doubt
from her stern face
it seems that she only had certainty
her face is square like most windows
but hers is different since it is always closed
like the one for winter
during summer when the clouds are blue
and the skies are clear
and so beautiful to watch with the sun
and the greenness of the world out there
she is still stern
closed
i may believe her firmness
but i have never known what is inside here
for judging her is beyond the openness of my door
one day she fell in a hole
no one knows who dug it along the usual path where she takes her walk
and she broke a bone and despite the skill of her doctor
she never knew how to walk again
her eyes sank like a boat to the ocean
her cheeks shrank like a cake dough short of yeast
she fell short of faith
like a candle eating her own body
until it consumed its light
doubt mounted on her like the dust of her furniture
she became more stern
as ever
harsh and hard
and finally the her window was broken
the frame gave in
and fell and blown by this strong wind of change
when she met doubt her world shattered into pieces
unlike others
the rest of us even live in there
though uncomfortably
but without anger and denial
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unopened Doors
Many doors of opportunity
remain shut through passing time.
You stand at them,
but they never open to let you pass through.
You try and try, but with no avail.
The door remains shut to you,
but you see other pass through it
and your frustration grows.
You bang and shout
and never anyone answers you.
The years slip silently by
from your youth until your old.
Each time you try the door
it refuses to let you through.
Even with more wisdom
it refuses to let you in,
but you don’t give up
you just try and try again.
More time passes
and you’ve lost the will
to want to go through.
You reach that point when you feel the battle lost.
Turning your back you walk away
to let the sun set on your life.
You feel you have nothing now,
no more will to fight.
Someone suggests a different direction,
a different door to go through.
You are hesitant
in case the door remains shut to you.
Finally, you try it
and are amazed to find
the door opens easily
and you can walk through,
but you keep remembering
the door that wouldn’t open for you.
25 March 2009
poem by David Harris
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Door
Behind the door what happens
behind the door what's hidden
till you keep the door closed
you are not exposed
Elseone cannot peep in
Elseone cannot step in
other side of closed door
you live behind secured.
If you want door of others
to open for you
keep your door open for
who needs you.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Once More I Rise
Once more I rise
My eyes, my lungs filled with dust
From the arena floor
You are too strong, my worthy foe
The crowd clamors for my blood
Once more I rise
One last time before I fall, finally and forever
But I do not rise for you
Nor certainly for the pleasure of jeering voices
Fomenting hate, though they know not whom
They so despise
In a way, I die for them
I represent their dark souls
In my disgrace, I somehow give them hope
Hope that they too can vanquish
Their enemies
But I do not choose to rise for them
And I most certainly do not rise for you,
Though, you are worthy
Of this final stand
A chance to prove the full strength of your hand
No, I do not rise for you but
For myself
My pride mostly
It is all that remains of my miserable life
Pride in the one I had hoped to be:
Victor in this dark arena
And so, as I rise
It is only pride that rises
And only pride that will fall
The rest of who I am or ever was
Remains buried in the dust
Nevermore to rise
Decisions
DECISIONS
When choice, once clear, uncertain grows,
when confidence is in the throes
of conflict as the hands of fate
turn counter-clockwise, retrograde,
decisions must be made.
As lost hands may not be replayed
act, don’t delay, and fears may fade,
so plan ahead, anticipate
life’s pattern to its ebbs and flows
key in, diverting current woes.
When doubt, once abstract, shadows throws
to dim the spirit’s inner flows,
the mind must not procrastinate,
though expectations seem betrayed
where visibility has greyed.
Decisions must in time be made.
Tomorrowrs no safe barricade!
As rates of Change accelerate
Chance cannot, even if it chose,
avert Time’s arrows, flighty b[l]ows.
No door remains forever closed.
Internal or external foes
undermine the strongest state.
Initiative displayed
may turn the sharpest blade.
Decisions, if delayed,
beyond all reason Reason trade
for self destruction, - taken late
may compromise, harm, or foreclose
free choice, voice suffocate.
22 June 2005
robi03_1283_robi03_0000 XXX_EJX
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Behold a worthy sight, to which the God, turning his attention to his own work, may direct his gaze. Behold an equal thing, worthy of a God, a brave man matched in conflict with evil fortune.