Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at it destination full of hope.
quote by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Monotony Of A Vicious Circle
when you run in a circle
you arrive at nowhere
you pass by the same
lane over and over again
so to kill this monotony
you build your own set of
fences and walls with the
end that even if you pass
on the same lane over and
over again somehow the
walls may create the
illusion of a border the fence
an illusion of height so
that you may then claim
that you have hurdled an
obstruction passed a
hard test survived a
certain difficult trial
which you have
freely created yourself
you think you can
deceive the circle?
sorry but
this circle will always
remain as a circle even
if the walls reach the heavens
even if the fences shut you
away from the neighbors
who live on the same
lane with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dog In The Box
I have a cousin who has a small dog.
He keeps a large box in his kitchen,
which the dog jumps in to.
The dog then starts his antic
whenever visitors arrive which
to watch is quite hilarious.
He jumps up and down
like a jack in the box.
However, in this case
it is a dog in a box.
He shrinks down
then up and down he springs;
He never tries to get out
this dog in a box.
9 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Only hope of survival
My only hope of survival.
My only hope to live and fight on.
I only have one way to stay another day.
To cut and burn each day.
To built my walls higher.
So my barriers will protect me from evil.
My only hope of survival is to selfharm.
Sad as it is but true it is.
The only way that I can survive.
And mabey One day I will win the fight.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Be not mad of targets.
A target is given; you are in tension.
It seems a hard one; anxiety sets in.
You put extra efforts; you’re in stress.
Hurdles crop; you are in strain.
Hope fades; you are in pain.
Hope revives; you recover.
The target achieved; full of joy.
The target aborted; full of sorrow.
Take light the target and enjoy.
03.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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We are moving to places where our hands still touch
What you did was make this yard of cement
Some hard posts and high fences and barbwires
You call it safety; you call it clean to see
There will be no shrubs, no trees, just this
Big house and empty rooms, a garage full
Of cars, some phones and TV walls
We move to other places then since we disagree
We leave this place of cement and fences and walls
We move to the hills where we still have our trees
Our long winding rivers, the rocks and grass
The winds and skies, we move to places where
The birds are not caged, where they sing the sweetest songs
Where we and the rest of us are free
Where on mountaintops and cliffs and drifting clouds
Our hands still touch & shake the Hands of God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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But, yeah, as far as Asian Americans go, I hope they know they can look at me and see that they can do music on their own, within a band or just on their own, and not feel like there's any barriers. I've never felt any particular barriers myself, being who I am.
You March On
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
Look back, never, even by mistake
forget, never, the hardships you bore
guide, will be your past deeds of life,
full of pangs on the bed of stake
What holds destiny?
Not to worry?
............Just march on, march on, march on.
Adversities make you a fast learner
Desires are snakes, so be a shirker
search the deep sea to find a pearl
get to the shore, while facing the whirl
Think never to be feeble & meek
deliver everyone from the misdeeds
while truth you seek
clear all hurdles regaining your strength
you will reach the destination
march on...march on....march on.
Carve out your name on the horizon
as your stars are on the ascendant
work towards the goal night and day
be illuminated in such a way
sluggish should appear the milky way
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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He Knows The Cadena De Amor
i now know
that he loves
flowers
he likes
most the
cadena de
amor
climbing
from one
tree
to another
pink flowers
on fences
and pillars
and walls
and windows
and doors
creeping
living
to its name
the chain
of love
a life
full of creepy
sex
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Roses Growing In Our Own Prison Walls
this is the situation,
soon you will find
you live in prison walls,
and those who see you
tell you
you have no God.
perhaps they say that
since they see no
icons on our walls
we bow not
to sunsets
we make no wooden
crosses
oh, let us tell them
we've grown roses in our prison walls
on the fertile grounds
of our heart
we speak to God
in our poetry
with all the silence and
gentleness
and patience of the
snail
we have gone beyond
wood, and stone,
and images,
we have passed through
all these walls
man-made as they are,
we have jumped over the
fences of
the flesh, and they who use
their eyes
in the middle of their own
human light
do not see
we, have, only,
hearts.
we, are, pure,
hearts.
we, are, love,
solitude,
in privacy with
our God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Intelligence recognizes what has happened. Genius recognizes what will happen.
quote by John Ciardi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mazes Of My Life, Of Our Lives
we are mazes,
and some people who take us as
important, follow us in that maze, every turn, every
quizzical path, scheming mind, and at those corners where
there are celebrations, they scrutinize, the reasons,
and in the loopholes of our disappointments, they begin to smile,
embrace the comfort that they are not alone in all these
miseries, that we are all one race, one experience
of leaps and bounds, of manholes and mounds, of hills and trenches,
sometimes, i look at this maze, and i say with all confidence,
i have mastered these secret passages, i have no fear,
i always arrive at what i desire
i don't jump for pains, neither joys,
this is just a path that i have to walk on
and go through, and finish, and when i arrive there,
another maze opens itself, like some kind of doors
which lock and close themselves the moment i enter
for what life is exactly? it is personal, it is i who must
wade through its water flow to its river fall from its cliffs,
rise to its skies, explode to its jubilation,
rain to its drought, fill in the cracks, conceal its cancers,
survive its hurdles, drink its poisons, and
then die with all my colors
flowers on my sides, sunset at my back, their tears on my palms
their whispers passing through my ears
end to end like a wind gushing through
my windows......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Dream Destination
When we sleep in the night,
we get wonderful dreams.
Hundreds of miles away,
ther's a place of happines and gay,
'DREAMLAND', so it is called
it is not a room or a hall
it is a paradise like place
without any barriers or walls.
With greenery all around,
with breeze and chirping sound,
all is fresh and liked by heart
from sorrows and worries,
it is far apart.
Parties go on where whole night,
without liquor, cigarettes and fight.
The place where there is no corruption,
everyone lives happily, without discrimination.
The place which is like heaven,
IS MY DREAM DESTINATION.
poem by Ziesha Paul
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For Three Whose Reflex was Yes
Nobody I know is a god. A mother and son
fall into the river's million hands, the river's
smash and grab. They go under, climb the ropeless
water up, wave, open their mouths and scream
wet silences as they slide back under.
A man jumps in to save them, leaves the edge
as a needle into the river's muddy sinews, a woman
jumps in to save his vanishing and the mother
and son and is stripped by the flood, her pants
drowning right beside her, another man jumps in
to save them all and a woman jumps in after him
to save them all plus one, cars arrive and people
get out and leap into the river, the river's being filled
with whatever's in their pockets and their hands
and their eyes, with nickels and dollar bills
and bibles and sunsets, the beautiful brush strokes
of this beautifully dying day, people pile
like a river inside the river, they keep coming
and diving in, they keep feeding their breath
to the water, which is less, which is thinned,
until the mother and son rise on a mound
of strangers and dead, the sun warming them, blessing
their faces slowly dry.
My destination
My destination is life at the end of the line
My destination is graduation when it’s time
My destination is my diploma I bet I get mine
My destination is to stop with the lay back being cool
My destination is to reach to top of the school
When you reach the top I want you to look over and have in your hand a four leaf clover
As you step on the edge and start to look down turn around fall back make no sound
So the next destination you reach is the ground
poem by Jacob Valentine
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Katie: The Cocker Spaniel
With her caramel fur, and long, floppy ears,
Seeing Katie go for her walk, brings me cheer.
Away from her mistress, she excitedly bolts;
Over neighbour’s fences, she effortlessly vaults.
Sniffing around, here and there, she loves to explore;
Despite having travelled this path, many times before.
Whether she’s out on a sunny day, or in a force ten gale,
She’s guaranteed to be happy, and have a very waggy tail.
Still only a few years old, she appears to have endless energy.
There are so many things in life, for her curious eyes to see.
Full of the joys of spring, she rushes around all over the place;
If dogs could smile, then she’d definitely have one on her face!
Let off of her lead, she darts off, and is, very soon, gone,
But she returns to her strolling mistress, to beckon her on.
She really loves to go for her twice daily walks;
To other dog owners, her mistress often talks.
At some people, she jumps up, as them, she loves to greet,
But, by doing so, she leaves an impression of her muddy feet!
That she lives her life to the full, there isn’t a single doubt;
Barking joyously, she runs and jumps and dances about.
Of a snarling, butch, muscular looking dog, I am really scared,
But, the presence of a playful, Cocker Spaniel, I will happily bear.
They pass my house, each and every day, whatever the weather.
Over the coming years, they will share many great times together.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Exile House
EXILE HOUSE
Our tiled roof dripped
and the four walls threatened to fall apart
but we were to go home soon,
We grew papayas
in front of our house
chillies in our garden
and changmas for our fences,
then pumpkins rolled down the cowshed thatch
calves trotted out of the manger,
grass on the roof,
beans sprouted and
climbed the vines,
money plants crept in through the window,
our house seems to have grown roots.
The fences have grown into a jungle,
now how can I tell my children
where we came from?
Changmas – a tree usually planted for fences; flexible and flourishing
poem by Tenzin Tsundue
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Fences
Fences not to mend
Fences not to build
Fences be demolish
But
Only with caution.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Destination Unknown
Im getting outta here cause theres too many complications
Yeah Im getting outta here dont get driven any information
And if they ask you for a number to call just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
If anybody wants me just say you dont know the address
Cause Ive had enough of the confusion and the madness
And should anybody ever try to stall, just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love does not see the end
Not bad is the mango from the lower branch
A few jumps and a stick might do.
But all the leaps I did for a high, shy fruit
That slipped off my grips.
Hard to earn is sweet to get.
04.02.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Sun Bird
The sun bird flew high and high
for its destination was sun
but as it drew near its wings did burn
from the heat of the sun but it did not die
it fell down on the earth
and waited till its wings took rebirth
it again flew only to burn its wings and fall
towards the earth but its hope stood atall
for mythology says its divine love for sun
has given it power not to die from burn
so with patience infinite again it flew
with hopes full and wings anew
towards the sun only to burn
but it got up again and flew
towards the sun
towards its destination
poem by Anjesh shekhar
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