I think the art world... is a very small pond, and it's a very inbred pond. They rely on information from an elect elite sect of galleries, primarily in New York.
quote by Thomas Kinkade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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Living Waters
All drink from the same pond,
Pride is out of place
(there is no owner)
Humility is out of place
(it is inverted Pride)
Enough that drinkers drink freely
and do not erect fences facing.
Set out to fence in a small pond,
you end up in a small cage
(which has no owner)
Wet
poem by Brian Taylor
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Fish of a Different Color
Big fish and small fish
Swimming here in this pond
Fast fish and slow fish
And now one is gone
Poor, foolish fishes
Just make a few stronger
And watch how these fishes
Devour each other
To be the small fish
I'm sure none would bother
But oh, don't you wish
You could make the pond smaller?
I've found my own niche
To live my life fuller
For I am a fish
Of a different color
I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At the Pond
As I looked around the pond
I see people playing in the snow
Laughing and throwing snowballs at each other
Making snow angles with great pride
Children sledding down the hill as if flying
As I look on the pond
I see people skating
Skating like soaring eagles
Twirling like tornadoes
But graceful as a ballerina dance
As I look around the pond
I see a people having fun
Enjoying themselves
Helping each other as if they were their little sister
I see a peaceful and fun world
But I
I am having no fun
No fun at all
For I am sitting on the bench
Sitting on the bench like a lost dog
For I am cripple
poem by Cassy Taberna
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In England, David and I are big fish in a small pond. But in L.A., we are tiny, tiny, tiny fish in a big pond.
quote by Victoria Beckham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle
Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone
Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond
Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone
So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond
She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone
They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone
poem by Sara Fielder
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The Fishes' Message, Poet: Sohrab Sepehri
I went to the pond
Hoping to see the reflection of my loneliness in the water
There was no water in the pond.
The fishes were saying:
'"It is not the trees' fault at all.
It was a sultry summer noon,
The bright son of water, sat by the pond's edge
And the eagle of the sun dived down and lifted him up & up in the air.
To hell with our not reaching any oxygen from water.
And the glitter has left our scales all together.
Instead, that big light,
The reflection of that red carnation in the water
Whose heart, if the wind was blowing, would beat behind the layers of neglect,
was our eyes.
It was a window to the confession of paradise.
If you see God in the palpitations of the garden,
Make an effort and tell him that the fishes'' pond is dry.'"
The wind was going to visit the plane tree,
I was going to visit God.
poem by Mehraneh Hosseini
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Your Catfish Friend
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond?It seems like
a perfect place for them."
poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Bulbul
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows
where happily it splashes in the pond
washing out good its own feathered suit,
while looking great eyed at the small pool
before it goes deeper into the water,
it rolls letting water-drops splash,
pressing down, its feathers, is dripping wet,
when happily it walks up and down, slapping wings
and then sedately starts to drink,
calling dozens of birds nearer;
twittering arrogantly, scuttling past the porch
and its raiment of feathers is shining from the water.
The bulbul creates its own small rainbows,
while looking great eyed at the small pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Duck Pond
There's a pond at the centre of the village green,
Where ducks, moorhen and coot can be seen.
It's a feature which adds to the character and charm.
When sat by the pond, you feel a real sense of calm.
Pond-skaters and other small insects on the water skate:
The surface tension supporting their miniscule weight.
Waving their heads, the long, lush, green reeds,
Provide partial shelter for a fish as it feeds.
A frog pops its head up and looks around,
Then slips back under the water with a plopping sound.
Darting this way and that, are beautiful blue dragonflies:
Their motion so quick, they're gone in the blink of an eye.
There's sweet gallingale, marsh marigold and watercress,
But, for me, the pretty pink water lilies are by far the best.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Kingfisher On A Dead Tree
on a glass pond
a dead tree stands
perched is a kingfisher
on one of its weak twigs
i sit alone on a
rock thinking about nothing
i must have been lost
this day
blue wings and some
white feathers on the neck
black sharp beak
the kingfisher looks at me
a leaf falls on the glass pond
the eyes of the kingfisher
and my eyes ride on the ripple
like small paper boats
going nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Read It When You Are Tired
Like jazz
Tension note with a perfect harmony.
It unleashed my tension for the day.
Throwing a stone to a quiet pond, something like that.
Sunset is melting onto the pond.
I Keep A Place Where Everything Is Neither Sacred Nor Mundane
it is a place where
what i touch i can touch
where what i smell i can smell
with all freedom
where i can undress and look at my body
and see for myself the innermost chamber of my heart
where my soul sings for me the real songs of my life
there is a pond there
where i lay myself down where i can stare at myself
through the eyes of my being
at peace
the pond is a mirror where i can view the whole of my world
its face without any wrinkle its body without any ripple
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At a koi pond in a nursery
When her fingers
lightly ripple the water,
a row of fishes
dart to come to investigate.
Fins cut through the water
and big eyes,
come to look
near to the surface.
Big and small bright coloured koi’s
dash past through the water,
while dark fresh water crayfish
crawl on the bottom of the pond.
The ripple on the water
rings out wider and wider,
till where it disappears in to eternity.
.
In my hart the sound
of the beautiful day resounds,
while I stand fascinated
at the fish pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Chemin De Fer
Alone on the railroad track
I walked with pounding heart.
The ties were too close together
or maybe too far apart.
The scenery was impoverished:
scrub-pine and oak; beyond
its mingled gray-green foliage
I saw the little pond
where the dirty old hermit lives,
lie like an old tear
holding onto its injuries
lucidly year after year.
The hermit shot off his shot-gun
and the tree by his cabin shook.
Over the pond went a ripple
The pet hen went chook-chook.
"Love should be put into action!"
screamed the old hermit.
Across the pond an echo
tried and tried to confirm it.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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The Pond
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together. Our ponies
grazed on the hill, they were gray
with white markings. Now they graze
with the dead who wait
like children under their granite breastplates,
lucid and helpless:
The hills are far away. They rise up
blacker than childhood.
What do you think of, lying so quietly
by the water? When you look that way I want
to touch you, but do not, seeing
as in another life we were of the same blood.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Our 1st Anniversary
A marriage is a special
And a rare bond
That brings two people
Very close in the pond
In the pond of joy
Love, care and smile
That goes a long way
Very far away miles
And today I'm happy
And proud to tell its true
That on our 1st anniversary
I'm thinking about you
And all other nice times
And things that we have shared
that always showed me
How much you really cared.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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