One is and is not in the centre of the maelstrom of it all.
quote by Harold Pinter
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Maelstrom Of Memories
Walking down a street
where we lived many years ago,
the faces behind the doors
are not the same anymore.
As we walk, we look back
at a time that inherited our name.
Remembering the times there
in the maelstrom of memories
that come flooding back
to haunt us with faces
of that long ago.
Our head spins as we walk
stepping back into our yesterdays
with its happiness, sadness
and grief that came our way.
We stumble over things
we had forgotten long ago
as we are overtaken
in a maelstrom of memories.
13 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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Centre Stage
There were times when I was young
I wanted to be centre stage,
the one everyone screamed to for more
whenever I sang my song.
As the years progressed
and I could see it wasn’t going to happen,
I grew content to sit in the stalls
and watch someone else take the applause.
I realized that centre stage
wasn’t where I wanted to be
and that I could entertain
just by being me.
I did not need a spotlight
to show the sparkle in my eyes.
I did not need to dress up
to be someone I wasn’t,
I didn’t need a centre stage,
I only need to be me.
I didn’t need glitz and glamour,
just an opportunity to give others pleasure
from any talent that I had.
I didn’t need the centre stage,
but just a means of escape
and just be ordinary me.
20 March 2010
poem by David Harris
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Forever
THERE'S NO PRESENT THERE'S NO FUTURE
I DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE PAST
IT'S ALL TIMELESS AND NEVER ENDING
TO TAKE IT IN IT'S ALL TOO VAST
IT GOES - FOREVER AND EVER
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW BUT YOU NEVER
THERE GOES
TOMMOROW
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
THE TIME IS COMING BUT ALSO GOING
AND IT'S LEAVING NEVER TO RETURN
MAYBE FOREVER IT COULD BE HEAVEN
BUT IF IT'S HELL THEN YOU CAN WATCH ME BURN
IT GOES - FOREVER AND EVER
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW BUT YOU NEVER
THERE GOES
TOMMOROW
I GOT TO TRAVEL FOREVER
IT'S ALL WITHIN MY MIND
AN ENDLESS PATH TO ENDEAVOUR
BUT FOREVER IS A LONG LONG TIME
THERE'S NO SECRETS AND NO CORRUPTION
IN THE CENTRE OF INFINITY
THERE'S NO LIMITS IN NON-EXISTENCE
AND NO BEGINING TO MY DESTINY
IT GOES - FOREVER AND EVER
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW BUT YOU NEVER
THERE GOES
TOMMOROW
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF ETERNITY
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think that New York is not the cultural centre of America, but the business and administrative centre of American culture.
quote by Saul Bellow
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A playful destiny
Helplessness,
Sheer helplessness,
Those moments of great disappointment,
Empty pocket,
Stuffed mind,
Stuffed with various desires,
The more they strike, the less they are met,
It turns bad when we are the centre of every hope,
God is also the centre of all hopes,
But there is a difference,
He is nothing to do with our joy and sorrow,
He rewards them whom he wishes,
His treasure is great,
It never reduces,
But we have trifle given by Him,
And still we are the centre of many hopes,
We are clasped in the cruel jaws of destiny
Whom He controls with all His might,
Come what may, We will get only what we are destined to,
Whether we live or not.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Time, which runs through the world like an endless tinsel thread, seemed to pass through the centre of this room and through the centre of these people and suddenly to pause and petrify, stiff, still and glittering... and the objects in the room drew a little closer together.
quote by Robert Musil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wheelwright. For David
The wheelwright worked, as carefully,
yet so fast, as a wheel spins.
One day, someone said to him,
the centre of the wheel never moves.
Infuriated, the wheelwright worked night and day
neglecting his other work,
to prove this was not true;
he invented a wheel which was all rim;
but it still needed a hub, an axle;
but he had invented the flywheel;
his business flourished despite him.
He invented a wheel with a hollow at its centre;
but had to devise a radiating hub;
yet he had invented machinery;
his business thrived.
After many years, he sank back,
beaten by philosophy; reduced to stillness.
Around him, a huge business enterprise;
he, the hub, the axle,
the still centre.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A spiral scratched into an ancient Irish gravestone
A centre and an expansion
a life centred expanding
the force of the centre whirls
a life without limit but it says
a centred life what gods the centre
does not tell but a centre
and from there a spiral
which has a beginning but no end
the life shaping the death the death
shaping the life it seems this life
that life could not be told
need not be told
every life drawn here
drawn because it could not be spoken
even in a lilting Irish voice
speaking a spiral sentence for
Irish sentences are like spirals
the centre expands without limit
the life was lived in the circle of the year
that comes round again sowing harvest
yet never back to the same place
as the mind the vision the experience expands whirls out
like a wild dance celebrating birth marriage death
yet passes the familiar place each season
and love love for the world
expands into a holy love
spiralling without limit yet never forgetting the centre
like a child on a gate swinging
knowing it’s safe because of the hinge
it knows but does not know
for others made the hinge
and now we read the spiral on a gravestone
tracing back from infinity to the source
everything that has an outward
everything that has an inward
and so there is no need for words
the spiral like a poem about life
read it forwards read it backwards
read it with thanks see it as grace
the thick green grass curls over it
the lichen yellow orange green
placed like a lizard
blesses this the most eloquent
gravestone in all the world
in a green field the clouds white
the sky blue this is the centre
of the spiral here now and
there is no ending to the spiral
the gravestone says
but a starting yes
poem by Michael Shepherd
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You are the world to me
The astronaut
is a privileged man
for he sees the world
from the height of its vantage point
above the circle of it's crystal globe
above and beyond the reach of any cloud
where the cold silence is ever so loud
he holds its blue magnificence.
In the centre of his eye
he sees the world the way it is
that is the world to an astronaut
The God of heaven
is the greatest of the universe,
he sees the world
from the pinnacle of it's stature
the world is his foot stool
inhabited by the common fool
and from higher than anyone else
he gazes upon its quiet grandeur.
In the centre of his eye
he sees the world the way it is
that is the world to God
I am a simple man
yet i consider myself the most privileged of all
for when i see you
i see the world
and i see it the way it is
simply amazing!
i see into the depth of your eyes
and behold the greatest magnificence
the most unprecedented grandeur
...you.
In the centre of my eye
...its you i see.
You are the world to me!
poem by Allen Steble
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Winter
Winter, a maelstrom of a season,
has proved to be without treason.
Snowflakes fly away like a seagull,
yet remind me my life has not been dull.
Winter; most see it as a blight,
but it is not so for Creation's Acolyte.
poem by Soren Valentine
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The Freedom Of Words
A dreamer
Trying to catch
The gold dust
As the sun
Bursts overhead
Illusive
As the cart wheeling seeds
Of the dandelion
Caught in a whirlwind
A maelstrom
All the better
For dispersil
Free from those
Who would eradicate them
As weeds.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Singing
If the words are good and true,
it’s as if the centre of all things
fires and fills; informs the heart;
the heart, the chest and lungs;
the lungs, the unhesitating throat;
space fills the head and voice:
and then, no longer pupil,
but the teacher of the world;
hearing from the centre of that sound
that sound itself may bring about all things.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I think that black Africa is extremely terrifying. Black Africa can become a maelstrom of warring tribes without the outside world needing to feel the need to do anything about it.
quote by John Keegan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Rumi - 66 - The dervish as a doorway turning
When the music calls to the soul’s hunger
the matzub begins to turn like a shy maiden;
then faster, faster; centrifugal force
will throw him out of kilter, off the dance floor,
if a single thought
takes the balance of his mind..
then, faster – faster – the centre grows stiller, stronger;
while the mind strengthens its own emptiness,
the emptiness that is so full of surrender;
into that great space enters
what the one at the centre of all things
wills;
the blessing,
not to know that, until one knows..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Bridge at Rio Vista
The bridge stands low
over the swollen
Sacramento,
black water,
rushing to
darker seas,
hypo-thermal,
sucking breath
from the fallen,
the overboard,
the suicide.
Its sturdy stanchions,
hold fast,
give refuge
from the maelstrom,
a way across
or a place
to jump.
poem by Steven Federle
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Bridge at Rio Vista
The bridge stands low
over the swollen
Sacramento,
black water,
rushing to
darker seas,
hypo-thermal,
sucking breath
from the fallen,
the overboard,
the suicide.
Its sturdy stanchions,
hold fast,
give refuge
from the maelstrom,
a way across
or a place
to jump.
poem by Steven Federle
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Swift Melody
Of course the melody was swift,
Calling itself a realm then,
My swift defiance of this maelstrom
Met with more disagreements.
For the sounds of grace met eternity
As this sound of the treading was forever.
A path mainly swept by the wind
Became my annoyance once more
As it meandered through the dark forest
As a bell of much importance.
poem by Naveed Akram
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At least—to pray—is left—is left
502
At least—to pray—is left—is left—
Oh Jesus—in the Air—
I know not which thy chamber is—
I'm knocking—everywhere—
Thou settest Earthquake in the South—
And Maelstrom, in the Sea—
Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth—
Hast thou no Arm for Me?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Centre Of Attention (Fun Poem 41)
You will find wherever you go
someone who wants to be
the centre of attention.
Personally, it is not a road
I want to go down.
Myself I would rather be the shrinking violet,
the one sat on the shelf.
Unfortunately, the more I try to hide,
the more obvious I become.
Therefore, I am marched down to centre stage,
so someone can have some fun,
but as I am a fun loving person,
I'll play along with them.
I don’t mind being the stooge,
whom they can poke fun at.
After all, I’m only a short six foot three inches tall.
Therefore, they have a little bit to poke fun at.
Then the people start laughing,
well let me tell you now.
Laughter is magic to my ears,
it mean people are happy,
and I like that sound,
even if they are laughing at me.
Laughter is good medicine;
it helps so many lose their blues.
Therefore, if I get called upon,
to a place I don’t want to be,
so long as someone gets a laugh,
that is all that matters to me.
poem by David Harris
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Solar System Sunset
Our solar system – our Sun-King and his planetary minions
happily enthroned in Orion, looking out towards Sagittarius
prancing like a horse, gyrating up and down
while orbiting around the Milky Way centre
part of a star-supercluster speeding towards
an unknown destination attracted by invisible power -
has already completed the course
twenty-one times
dipping and rising like a horse on a merry-go-round
Leaving us with this question:
Will the solar system one day
disentangle itself and ride off
into a celestial sunset
free from its spiralling orbit
around the Milky Way centre?
poem by Margaret Alice
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