A Bedbug On My Palm
now the bedbug
finally finds
its place
in one of the lines
of the palm of my hand
its life
depends on the nail of my thumb
its weapon now
is simply being a ball
all its feet
hidden under its spherical wings
it is not praying
it is simply waiting for its death
within a palm
there is no choice
except my own
indecision
poem by Antonio Liao
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In The Palm Of Your Hand
In the palm of your hand
you hold my heart.
Cradle it gently, my love
so it will never fall apart.
In the palm of your hand
you hold my love.
Carress it tenderly forever
and always place it above
everything that you touch.
Hold my hand
in the palm of your hand
so that I may always feel
that the sifting grains of sand
in the hourglass of time
will never be able to steal
these precious moments away.
Let them be able to stay
always in the palm of your hand.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Palm
Finger vis-a-vis palm and hand
depict many aspect.
See thumb symbol of
Will and intuition.
See headline of the child
That reveal attitude towards
life and indicate creativity.
Our Lord has no finger no palm
No hand and possibility of
Study God is not there.
Research failed.
We can only feel
While within Him always.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Change the world with turning the palm
Change the world with turning the palm
Turning upside
Turning downside
Changing the world is not as hard as you think
Turning outside
Turning inside
Changing the world could be as easy as turning palm
Palm is opened
Palm is closed
Clap! Clap! Clap! The astonishing sound heard
Palm is hailed
Palm is hugged
When all people do it together
Yes, we can make a different
Change the world with turning the palm
Hide away smile
Erase away tears
Changing the world with a slight change of mind
The fate is cast
The fate unknown
Changing the world by turning others opinion
Palm is embracing
Palm is praying
Crack! Crack! Crack! A flicker of hope seen
Palm is waved
Palm is offered
When all people do it sincerely
Yes, we can change the world
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Pigeon
I've picked up your name from the floor
and held it for long on the palm of my hand
watching it gently peck its lines
until there remained nothing not a single crumb
and your name well fed slept for a while
in lines of death in lines of life
in lines of the head and lines of the heart
in intricate patterns that sealed me for too long
there was a lullaby I wanted to sing
but I was not able to open my mouth
for fear you'll wake up and disappear
and I promised myself I would never dropp you again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Microcosm
inside your room
you grow something dark and dry
every day you water it with your sighs
you do not want to make yourself
a part of the other worlds outside you
they lurk and they had always harmed you
for once
they have taken all that you have
and it is enough
there is a new lock and it is safe you tell yourself
there is a leak and light finds itself in your hand
it stays there for a while and it looks at you
you look at it again
it is telling you something
that outside there is so much light that you have not seen yet
there is a world more beautiful than yours
that it is waiting
that all these simply depends on the decision of your
ten fingers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet LXXVII: Soul's Beauty
Under the arch of Life, where love and death,
Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,
I drew it in as simply as my breath.
Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath,
The sky and sea bend on thee,—which can draw,
By sea or sky or woman, to one law,
The allotted bondman of her palm and wreath.
This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still,—long known to thee
By flying hair and fluttering hem,—the beat
Following her daily of thy heart and feet,
How passionately and irretrievably,
In what fond flight, how many ways and days!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Soul's Beauty
Under the arch of Life, where love and death,
Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,
I drew it in as simply as my breath.
Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath,
The sky and sea bend on thee,—which can draw,
By sea or sky or woman, to one law,
The allotted bondman of her palm and wreath.
This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still,—long known to thee
By flying hair and fluttering hem,—the beat
Following her daily of thy heart and feet,
How passionately and irretrievably,
In what fond flight, how many ways and days!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The Way To Create Meaning
there is nothing
wrong with
believing that when we
die
we simply return
to our
original nature
atomic particles
reduced neurons
roving neutrons
simply
untangled from
a body
it can be harsh
it can be truthfully harsh
but i am given
a choice
whether to be
literal or
figurative
whether to see
a landscape
or simply an
array of
random particles
floating in
air in silence
meaninglessly
what makes me distinct
is my imagination
as of now i am
a body
with all my senses
on
when i die
i can still be
a flying spirit
unseen
and still as
beautiful as
i think myself
to be
even if death
reduces me into
atomic particles
i can still
dance in the
mystery of
my own
fantasy
i refuse to be
simply
a meaningless set
of dust
beneath the
feet of
this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waiting For The Time That I Have No More To Say
i am simply waiting
for the time when i have nothing anymore
to say and
then i will just sit there
in the corner looking at the sun
that will no longer rise or set,
not
really static,
it simply passes,
as though nothing happens.
and
when i have nothing more to say
it simply means,
goodbye,
i have freed myself
at last,
from the bondage
of speech from
the opression
of words,
from the anxiety
of the syllable,
from the demands
of certain
letters to finally form
a word,
from the
mandate of a blank slate
searching for
its own meaning
in whatever i speak.
and write
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dont Let Go
Words and music: mike reno, brian macleod
Does anybody out there
Ever want to stand up
And shout it out
Tired of going nowhere fast
Gotta turn your world about
You know you have to keep on tryin
Cause sooner or later
You get what you want
Show em what youre made of
Ohh, its just a matter of time
So tell me can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Aint it funny how the gross looks greener
On the other side of town
Dont you ever get tired of feelin
Like the whole world is bringing you down
Nows the time to get things movin
Follow what youre feelin
Prove that you can do it
Show what you believe in
Ohh, its just a matter of time
Tell me, can you feel if
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Tell me, can you feel if
Con you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
I know where you con get it
If anybody wants if
I know if made you feel so right
All you gotta do is stand up and be counted
Show me that youre out there tonight
Can you feel it
Can you touch if
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Come on
Can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Dont let go
Tell me, can you feel it
Can you touch it
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
Baby, dont let go
Dont let go
Dont let go
Dont let go
If you feel it in the palm of your hand
song performed by by Loverboy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Are Left Alone
it was in macau
when we were finally left on our own
waiting till three o'clock
with instruction to proceed
to gate 11
no one was there
except the two of us
waiting on cold seats
and i was figuring out
where to go
while you simply
hold my hand
lay your head
on my shoulder
and then
you start to whistle
a love song
it was a little dark when the
boat finally came
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Untold Dark To Conceive Light
very close to death
the man who waits for dawn
ringing the bell midnight burns
who knows how far the daybreak
perplexed the clock
would it run with habit
which deserves to be dictator
death dawn time
three limits unlimited
waiting and beyond
wisdom simply the confusion
someone rules by catching low merit
someone bowing obedience
the circus unlimited
man nearing to death
dawn waiting to touch the feet
and poet observes silently
can't speak
can't communicate
simply writes
some senseless words
wish to feed it up by senses
Pranab k c
Edited on 13/10/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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041811N next time
i feel bad hitting branch
with my errant golf ball
it broke it off and fall
i pick up, large as thumb
there's lot of power behind
that flying ball, i imagine
it could be weight of cones
that contributes to breaking
then i thought; gardener who
died who got hit by errant ball
i have lethal weapon at hand
i must be, must be very careful
poem by Manonton Dalan
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A homeless whisper
Teeth stammering an outstreched hand
It’s the hand of the night the palm so lineless blue
A discourse patterned upon the hooks
Form sky to sky stretching
Remember the time when the night simply pushed me away
Fell down in a homeless whisper amberless flame burning
Verse dived I plunged no pebble no water
Could contain the drop
Endlessly down depths vacuum called
‘The stars are down here’
They shine equally proud of their sky mirrored friends
Shattered in a moon reflection
Knew I went too far
Merely a miracle taken performed
That I ever managed to come back
But here I am to sing
The palm of the hand and the lineless night
The fears burned down within the urns of the past
The plunge the pebble and the water
Sing them all and much much more
To be a dreamed of heaven to a cloud
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Kiss
i try lifting his head
he would simply resist
pulling my dupatta fringe
i would move my leg
he would hold on to my bossom
never allowing me to stir
i palyfully kissed the back of his palm
he broke into a divine smile
and would demand more
each time the hand reached my lips
i had no choice but to plant a kiss
and see him break into endless smiles
o, a wonderful six month old
he taught me the language of kiss
what wonderful rapport we hit at!
09oct2010
14.00 hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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From Zero
from zero i have to
go again to some
one like you.
for i am nothing
and will always be
nothing
without you.
and then you come
very simply
as a smile
a pat on my back
and then
a hold
on my hand
my heart begins
to beat
like i am some
one
for you
and then we are
here
from ground
zero
a leaf falls
a little wind blows
a lock of hair
on my palm
the first step
to a kiss
i sit here
remembering
things again
three women
are carried
up
on an elevator
as i watch
with a bottle
of mineral water
beside my hand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Palm trees
There’s palm trees that grows in a row
down Nelson Mandela drive
and I wonder how they survive
and are full of life and vibrance,
while the one or other pest
destroys the rest of the palm trees
and eats them from the inside
and my neighbour’s palm
is yellow brown and dead.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Guilty Father! !
Hope no son ever-
Has a father like me,
As my tears flow like a river-
My son yet prays for me.
Once with a nail was scratching my car-
My anger went too far,
Taking my bunch of nails-
On his hand did I nail,
And that ended our lives-
Even though we were alive,
My son lay bleeding-
My head started reeling,
On doctors bed lay-
My child covered with blanket of blood,
And my tears flowing like flood-
Ashamed of my angers height,
Praying all to be right-
Doctors words gave me a shock,
And my life, stood like a rock-
Now my son lost his hand,
Thats where my anger made him land,
He asked Dad-when will my hand grow-
And that was my life's biggest blow,
I now had a fear-
He will never want me near,
But, as I took him in my arms-
I could feel the warmth,
As I saw him lonely on the bed-
I felt so dead,
As i came out-
Saw some words on the car,
My tears rolled out-
And my heart was at par,
As i went near-
My heart began to tear,
The words became clear-
And they were so dear,
It simply said-
Dad- I Love You.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Simply Alone
Simply alone as an angel cries
Becoming empty as all her
Hope hides
Simply alone she sits by a window
Bearing wishes of death to Un-fold
Hope lies
Simply alone with out her own home
Beside a story of healing worry
Simply alone and simply Un-known
Hope cries
Simply because she is simply alone
Hope hides hope lies hope cries does hope die?
Or does hope again try?
poem by Susan Covington
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The Palm-Tree
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
A ship whose keel is of palm beneath,
Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath,
And a rudder of palm it steereth with.
Branches of palm are its spars and rails,
Fibres of palm are its woven sails,
And the rope is of palm that idly trails!
What does the good ship bear so well?
The cocoa-nut with its stony shell,
And the milky sap of its inner cell.
What are its jars, so smooth and fine,
But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine,
And the cabbage that ripens under the Line?
Who smokes his nargileh, cool and calm?
The master, whose cunning and skill could charm
Cargo and ship from the bounteous palm.
In the cabin he sits on a palm-mat soft,
From a beaker of palm his drink is quaffed,
And a palm-thatch shields from the sun aloft!
His dress is woven of palmy strands,
And he holds a palm-leaf scroll in his hands,
Traced with the Prophet's wise commands!
The turban folded about his head
Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid,
And the fan that cools him of palm was made.
Of threads of palm was the carpet spun
Whereon he kneels when the day is done,
And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one!
To him the palm is a gift divine,
Wherein all uses of man combine,--
House, and raiment, and food, and wine!
And, in the hour of his great release,
His need of the palm shall only cease
With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace.
'Allah il Allah!' he sings his psalm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm;
'Thanks to Allah who gives the palm!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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