Crystals grew inside rock like arithmetic flowers. They lengthened and spread, added plane to plane in an awed and perfect obedience to an absolute geometry that even stones - maybe only the stones - understood.
quote by Annie Dillard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nigthmare
i take the plane
at 2 a.m.
cebu bound, and
i dream that
the plane crashed
and that
we are all dead
our souls look
down upon our
torn flesh
some are burnt
unidentifiable
we are so silent
like stones without
winds
x x x x x x
the plane touches down
perfectly well
at the airport
silently we line up
to step out
from a nightmare that
i only know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The pendant
You admired one that somebody
had made
and bought a small pair of pliers,
some silver wire,
clasps, hooks, bits,
different kinds of crystals,
semi-precious stones,
even blue tanzanite stones,
sirkovsky crystals, some pearls
and I saw you bore small holes
and bit-by-bit strung it together.
I watched you with your eyes focused
while you worked
with the pleasure of making something
really beautiful
to hang on your slender neck
between magnificent breasts.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Train and Plane
I take the train
I board the plane
I ride the train
I fly the plane
I go by train
I come by plane
I go by plane
I come by train
I land the plane
I board the train
I take the plane
I ride the train
I come by train
I go by plane
I come by plane
I ride in rain
I fly the plane
I board the train
And again
I ride the train
Oh the train
Oh the train
That wished to be
An airplane
poem by Paul Hartal
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Next Plane To London
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Told her I was gonna be a star
But to do it I would have to go far away
But Ill come back someday
And take her away
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Said that over here I wasnt in
Down in hollywood I couldnt find a friend
Who would help me get in
Or listen to me
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Maybe over there Ill get a start
Only hope by leaving I dont break her heart
The more important part
Than any record on the chart
Next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
Whoa-whoa
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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10-10=0
If we could combine
the perfectly good and the perfectly evil,
we would obtain the imperfection.
If we could take
a piece of paradise
and a piece of hell
and we could gather them in us,
our souls would become less beautiful.
Because the truth of inside would swallow
the lie of inside and, indeed,
the absolute truth would be relative.
And if our love could swallow
our hatred,
than we would love less.
If me and you together,
we could form an amphora,
by trying to find the absolute truths
in a new and perfect love for Him,
we would need all our faith
to remove
all the lies and all our hatred from us.
If our lie and our hatred
could become two trenchant
weapons
and if we could choose Lucifer for hitting
our relative truths,
in terms of mathematics,
than they would fall, by becoming
downright uncertainties.
The wounded love would disappear in us
and we would turn into salt stones,
as Lot's wife, by seeing Sodom burning..
And if the truth of us
could rather be equal to the lie, inside,
as love and hate
could be equal,
we would become
absolutely nil,
by dying slowly and and by melting ourselves
in nothingness..
So, the reason for saving every second of us,
by looking for purity,
while the absolute truth and the absolute lie
are in no touching,
is that their arguments are always perfect....
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
Conceit and Deceit
what i have in my hands
are only stones
if you search for more
pebbles
my mind can give you
but first
you must entice me
with a flower in your hand
for you to have stones
that soon will grow you
some leaves of sand
that soon shall show you
how pebbles can be flowers
too
what you have are only
flowers
a little bit lighter than
the twigs of their source
what i have in my hands
are pebble that give us weight
yes, weight is wisdom
and they are all stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A London Plane-Tree
Green is the plane-tree in the square,
The other trees are brown;
They droop and pine for country air;
The plane-tree loves the town.
Here from my garret-pane, I mark
The plane-tree bud and blow,
Shed her recuperative bark,
And spread her shade below.
Among her branches, in and out,
The city breezes play;
The dun fog wraps her round about;
Above, the smoke curls grey.
Others the country take for choice,
And hold the town in scorn;
But she has listened to the voice
On city breezes borne.
Flying back from New York, the flight attendant said 'God, I wished you were here yesterday, we had a stroke on the plane. I said, if I have a stroke on a plane, I hope the pretend doctor isn't the one on the plane. I want a real doctor.
quote by Anthony Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Last Minute That You Boarded The Plane
on the last minute that you boarded
the plane
and you think
it is the one owned by God,
sorry, so sorry, that plane left
a minute ago,
and you were not
on its manifest
you boarded the wrong plane
and that is the truth
enjoy your ride,
and pray
who knows
you may catch up on the next flight
to purgatory.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little Soldier
For you, my little soldier,
I got you an army;
An army of little green men waiting,
Obeying every command.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a car;
One that raced, and
Flashed by the tree.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a plane;
A plane that flew, by
The ceiling fan.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a letter;
One that gave blessings, and
Kept you safe.
For you, my little soldier,
This year I got you flowers;
Flowers that shone against the snow, and
kept vigil at your stone.
poem by Valerie Pratt
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Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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3f
even if she flies away
inside that plane for
eighteen hours, the memory
of his love
still lingers like it is a woman
inside a plane for eighteen
hours and arriving on
that land of coldness he
still lingers like a scar on
her cheek
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want To Live On An Abstract Plain
Ive had it with this town
I never saw those shifting skies
I never saw the ground
Or the sunset rise
I want to live on an abstract plane
Im building a frame
A place to put my ten-yard stare
Thinking of that paint
Painted in plein-air
I want to live on an abstract plane
I need a new adress
I want some new terrain
Is it north or south?
I want to live on an abstract plain
I could sit on the roof
On top of that abstract house
See my abstract view
An abstract mouse
I want to live on an abstract plane
I need a new adress
Tell me Im not insane
Is it up or down?
I want to live on an abstract plane
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goophic Phantasm
Tho' I own I have no adequate proofs
Of this queer tale of the quaint old Goophs
The Goophs who dwelt in the land of Guph
Still, I think it's a credible tale enough
When applied to Goophs; tho' it's realised
That it couldn't occur to the civilised,
Sane men like us, for it's quite absurd,
And the silliest tale that ever you heard.
To us, 'tis a fantasy vain. But then,
Of course, we're superior, normal men.
Now a peaceful Gooph, when a-stroll one day,
Looked over a fence in a casual way;
And realised he was staring hard
At a pile of stones in a neighbor's yard.
'Now what,' thought he, 'are the stones there for?'
Then he suddenly shouted, 'My, this means war!
That pile in there is the very stuff
We use for war in the land of Guph!'
And from that day forth his strength was spent
In gathering stones for armament.
Now, the Goophs who heard him were sore afright,
And the news spread forth in a single night.
Wild rumors grew, till the land was rife
With tales of terror and coming strife;
And every Gooph hied forth in haste
To gather him stones from wood and waste,
From the hills afar and fields near by,
Till the price of stones went up sky high.
And they said, 'War's madness! It can't make sense.
But a Gooph must look to his self-defence.'
Commerce languished; production waned;
Goophish relations grew co1d and strained;
And there wasn't a stone in Guph at all
To build a house, or a church, or a wall.
Each sat on his pile in his own backyard
And talked and shouted and argued hard,
Of nations and factions in 'isms' and schools.
(There is never a doubt of it, Goophs were fools).
Then someone foolishly heaved a rock;
And their world blew up with a horrible shock.
Then their costly stones they flung to the air
With great abandon and little care -
These stones they valued, they cast them about
Till a number of Goophs were knocked right out.
And the land of Guph grew loud with groans;
And the end of it all was a litter of stones.
And nobody knew what they started it for,
And nobody profited. Still, 'twas war,
Mere Guphic insanity, Goophish fuss,
And, of course, it couldn't occur to us.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Silver Bird
This morning as I walked, I gazed out across my land
Lying there all still lying there upon the sand
A big silver bird had planted itself into the ground
And being the kind of person who isnt very easily alarmed
Decided to take a walk to see just what I could find
Walked around the walls, tapping to find me a door
Looking for a windows to see if I could find out more
Big silver bird let me inside your plane
Want to fly so high fly me high, away
All of a sudden the door slid back and someone was there
A strange kind of being spoke to me in my tongue
Step inside, well take you away in our plane
Well fly you so high, youll never have the chance to complain
To leave this earth, never even (? ? ? ) ...
Stepping inside I fixed myself into a seat
Holding on, lord, I heard them engines start to beat
Big silver bird let me inside your plane
Want to fly so high, fly me high away
(instrumental part)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She
She grew up without very much
She didn't know who her father was
She met a boy and her heart he stole
So she gave him all her body and soul
She's not ready to face
The outcome of their mistake
It's brought her nothing but pain
And she's too young for this fate
SHE'S ALONE
CAUGHT UP IN THE UNDERTOW
WHERE IT TAKES HER NO ONE KNOWS
THAT'S HOW IT GOES, THAT'S HOW IT GOES
WHEN WE THROW STONES
People denied and criticized
They sent her away isolated
Caught in a bad dream, her plea rejected
They left her alone and neglected
They put her out on display
Showcasing all her mistakes
She's worn out and she's afraid
Why does it always happen this way?
[refrain]
She went to them for help
But blindly they cast the first stone
They could have taken her in
Instead they left her on her own
All alone
[refrain]
When we throw stones at the wounded
We throw stones at the brokenhearted
That's how it goes when we throw stones
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We stayed jaded
Like perfect marble green stones of the mind
And perfect stones never cut their ribs
Life it is life it is you said
Like you said it was
And it would be
Lived and shared through the splinters of time
We stayed shaded
Time jewels focused within a moment
Like a definition proof painting
Colour resistant freedom
And perfect shades never seek the form
Except an oblique smile
Gliding down the final shift
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Yep, You Told Me
A plane crashed
Between Chicago and LA
It's all my fault
I didn't do the pre-check
I'm a bit shook-up
Oh Bea
You tried to warn me
You said, 'Young man,
This plane has got to crash
It don't have no pilot
It's running out of gas'
I said, 'Bea,
You just don't see
I'm flying this plane
And the gas will last'
But the engines started to putter
My mind began to flutter
As I held onto the wheel
If it had to smash
I'll die with it
That's the only thing I could see
Then I said,
'Wait a minute
what am I doing
I have to jump'
You know Bea
I'm an injured man
But I'm a living man
That's the way it should be
But the wounds will heal
Again I'll feel
And I don't know
Guess I'll have to see
poem by Roger Harkness
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