Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk.
quote by George MacDonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Enough...Enough...Enough!
childhood-
chipped pieces of wood
stoking
fires of youth
wild fire!
ash on every hand
and face
pounded
powdered
husk blows
on shores of life
legs move with difficulty
the husk obstructing...
crescendo?
de-crescendo?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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When You Left My Life
Far too quickly a plucked flower withers,
the bright lustre, colour and smell fades
when it’s removed from the ground where it grows
when it is cut off, torn from its own life.
When you left my life on your own
our love had been cut off,
when the door bashed close the last time
and that which had been between us did end.
The beautiful cups dry out, shrink and collapse
while the smell vanquishes, gets dull,
and I cry in vain about the decay,
becoming aware far too late that I had been used
like a plucked flower I only go to dust.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Another Dark Day
ANOTHER DARK DAY
From the arrays in the sky
eclipses another bright star
A curtain is drawn
A life, to an abrupt end
A flower once blossomed
now withers away.
Far away in Pakistan
A lone voice is cut in its prime
A life which stood against oppresion
A life which stood for justice
A life which stood for equality
A life which stood for democracy
Snuffed out in daylight
How bizzare
How cowardly
How cruel
This life now withers away
Adieu Benazir Bhutto
A life that counts
Better to die a hero
Than live an unsung life
The world mourns you
In our hearts, you live on
Till we meet again
Good night Mama
poem by Olumide Familusi
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Apples
One thing
we all have
in common is
we're ripening
for the harvest.
Donald Trump
and Pee-wee Herman,
Bill Gates
and Eliot Spitzer,
Warren Buffett
and Anthony Weiner
are different
in many respects
but like the rest of us,
they, too, are ripening
for the harvest.
They hang with us
from the same branch,
apples, big and small,
ripening in summer,
withering in fall,
waiting for winter
to conduct its harvest.
Some of us hang
from that branch
and wonder
what in the name
of God is next.
Others just hang.
They appear
not to care
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Comatose
Blank bubbles
conscious equations
equally reasonlessly
bouncing bursting burst
boundless crowds.
Mixing mingling
merging strata.
Sucking secluding
quicksand tendrils.
Swallowing thought
stillborn birthed.
Suffocating
seemingly seamless
sentientless.
Senile senseless sculpture.
Sluggishly slips sluggishly silently
croaks.
Being bursts.
Vital violent vibrant
venomous blood. Bursts.
Breaking bound bleak
vestige. Hemorrhage bursts
into damaged brain veins.
Lack
lustre lifeblood
languishes
droops despoiled
dreams dribble
shockingly short.
Devalued
dynamic destiny
deflected
wonder
withers worthless.
Blood bursting forth
pressuring surrounding
brain tissue killing
brain cells dead
cerebral hemorrhages
intracranial hemorrhages
or intracerebral hemorrhages
take your pick?
Cerebral edema
is not the most
common type
of swell head!
These are swell heads; of an
extremely different kind.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Book Of Suleika - These Tufted Branches
THESE tufted branches fair
Observe, my loved one, well!
And see the fruits they bear
In green and prickly shell!
They've hung roll'd up, till now,
Unconsciously and still;
A loosely-waving bough
Doth rock them at its will.
Yet, ripening from within.
The kernel brown swells fast;
It seeks the air to win,
It seeks the sun at last.
With joy it bursts its thrall,
The shell must needs give way.
'Tis thus my numbers fall
Before thy feet, each day.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Love shifts by the successor
Flower that blooms at sunrise
Stays and withers at sunset.
Next day, another one does.
Love that blooms every time
Withers soon for the next one.
06.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Syrian Military Attacking Killing Civilians
Syrian military
tanks aircraft are attacking
are killing civilians
with Russian
political military...
aid civilian Arab
blood flows
blood red black rose withers
those Russians
those Russians
living before frost
ice thaw
say how can you expect...
dictators
to leave
blood red black rose withers
without sowing
killing fields
with thousands
millions of rebels
exterminated
are not model...
civilians
not citizens
blood red black rose withers
plus misfits
did not conform
to official
party policy
insanity insanity...
there can be
only party
blood red black rose withers
Russian tradition slay civilians
put in ice box grave Gulag...
have they not heard
Stalin is dead...
dictatorship is dead...
martyr minds
beyond the wire noose...
blood red black rose withers
beyond the wire noose...
are already free
blood red black rose withers
do not blame Arab
dictator
for civilian deaths
in Aleppo? ? ?
without Russian Chinese
political muscle flexing
merciless
backing blood would not flow
backing blood would not flow
in black rose freedom
blood red black rose withers
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Evening of the Year
Wan mists enwrap the still-born day;
The harebell withers on the heath;
And all the moorland seems to breathe
The hectic beauty of decay.
Within the open grave of May
Dishevelled trees drop wreath on wreath;
Wind-wrung and ravelled underneath
Waste leaves choke up the woodland way.
The grief of many partings near
Wails like an echo in the wind:
The days of love lie far behind,
The days of loss lie shuddering near.
Life's morning-glory who shall bind?
It is the evening of the year.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Patience won’t kill
The success of love is in the
Maintenance of its secrecy.
A little puncture, it bursts.
With no patience, man pricks.
With no confidence, woman bursts.
29.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadows Of Darkness
Shadows of darkness fall over thee,
and a shroud of pristine white covers you.
Death is forming soul, and his raptures be.
I can no longer comfort you,
in this hour of your need.
Death has taken you too far from me.
A stone husk is all that’s left.
No warmth there within your breast,
no heart beating to keep you warm.
Nothing but a cold piece of flesh.
Stiff you become, as the hours grow long.
Your gone forever from this mortal life be,
no longer to touch or smell the fresh air,
‘cause death is your partner now, not me.
poem by David Harris
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Many Voices
romantics sing of justice
cynic cry it's only a tool
for rulers and designers
the tree of justice has many branches
grows and bloooms if watered by tolerance
in days of social drought is stunted
withers falling into decay
the lady in marble dressed in a toga
holding the scales of justice
is a harlot in disquise
prostrating herself
before each new ruler
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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638. Be a sea! 070211
Oh mind!
Become a swelling vast ocean
On shore all dead are thrown
Out all garbage are flung
No dirt is kept for a long
Oh mind!
Become a swelling deep ocean
Though giant whales jump and leap
Though great waves frighten to sweep
Limitless water remains inside its coast
Oh mind!
Become a swelling blue ocean
Though gigantic titanics tear its surface
There is no scar in its marvelous face
Its merry waves dance in mystic bliss
Oh mind!
Become a swelling profound ocean
Though volcanoes burst inside
It never burns out eternal water
No pain is displayed outside
Oh mind!
Be a sea! Don’t be perturbed
By trivial words from persons petty
Be a sea! Don’t be disturbed
By daily episodes of this life dreamy! -- 070211
poem by Raman Savithiri
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In after Time
NO, my own love of other years!
No, it must never be.
Much rests with you that yet endears,
Alas! but what with me?
Could those bright years o’er me revolve
So gay, o’er you so fair,
The pearl of life we would dissolve
And each the cup might share.
You show that truth can ne’er decay,
Whatever fate befalls;
I, that the myrtle and the bay
Shoot fresh on ruin’d walls.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Fiat
Dawn will set candles guttering.
It will light up and loose the swifts.
With this reminder I'll burst in:
Let life be just as fresh as this!
Dawn's like a gunshot in the dark.
A bang-and flying burning bits
Of wadding go out, spark by spark.
Let life be just as fresh as this.
Another guest outside's the wind.
At night, it huddled close to us.
It's shivering-at dawn, it rained.
Let life be just as fresh as this.
It's so ridiculous and vain!
Why did it want to guard this place?
It saw the 'No admittance' sign.
Let life be just as fresh as this.
I'll do your bidding at a sign-
A wave of kerchief-now,
While in the darkness you still reign
And while the fire's not out.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Ten Thousand Feet from Home
Whatever else will come of this (and I'm convinced that nothing will) ,
The rums and Cokes have set my eyes to dancing as I stand out here,
With cigarette, beneath a moon which casts those peaks in ghostly
Light. It's Leadville once again, July, and I have come to see my
Cousins. I have come to peel away the puffy husk of life lived in
The suburbs, atmospheres below, and be as they prefer to see me:
Savage, as they are, and drunk, and, in a room upstairs is she,
Who rashly said she's make this journey. Her husk hasn't peeled
Away, and her face, face down on a pillow, drunk as mine, remains
So pretty, warmer, though, than all these peaks. I put my butt into
A can and haul myself, unsteady, upwards, to the room and to the
Woman who has come, but isn't conscious, and the bed beneath
The moon and these, most lovely, frigid peaks, to lay, a-swirl, at
Her side. Not much will come of this.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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Reign Anger
Anger bursts when interest suffers.
Anger bursts when ego gets bruised.
To show it where you can’t, will spoil.
To show it where you can, is an evil.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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SONNET. When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear
When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear,
Or else my suit arriving at thy ear
Cools and dies there. A strange extremitie
To freeze ith' Sun, and in the shade to frie.
Whil'st all my blasted hopes decline so soon,
Tis Evening with me, though at high Noon.
For pity to thy self, if not to me
Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee.
If my scorcht heart wither through thy delay,
Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay
Arrests thy Youth. So thou whil'st I am slighted
Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted.
poem by Henry King
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On Suspicion
A dormant volcanic eruption,
When bursts, bursts with quakes,
Vomits havoic fiery substance,
Burns mind, body and soul.
A blurring cataract in the eyes,
Darkens the vision, mists the realities.
A fatal poison with no remedy;
More relentless when works among
The life partners and loyal companions.
One’s own blood and flesh seem alien,
Sets homes on fire where from,
Nothing emits but smoke from ashes.
Fortunate are those who ward off,
The vehement attacks defending well,
And keep themselves moderately poised.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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