Betrayal
If a man says half himself in the light, adroit
Way a tune shakes into equilibrium,
Or approximates to a note that never comes:
Says half himself in the way two pencil-lines
Flow to each other and softly separate,
In the resolute way plane lifts and leaps from plane:
Who knows what intimacies our eyes may shout,
What evident secrets daily foreheads flaunt,
What panes of glass conceal our beating hearts?
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday
You cannot see the walls that divide your hand
From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it.
You cannot see the walls because they are glass,
And glass is nothing until you try to pass it.
Beat on it if you like, but not too hard,
For glass will break you even while you break it.
Shout, and the sound will be broken and driven backwards,
For glass, though clear as water, is deaf as granite.
This fraudulent inhibition is cunning: wise men
Content themselves with breathing patterns on it.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea
1
(Windless Summer)
Between the glass panes of the sea are pressed
Patterns of fronds, and the bronze tracks of fishes.
2
(Winter)
Foam-ropes lasso the seal-black shiny rocks,
Noosing, slipping and noosing again for ever.
3
(Windy Summer)
Over-sea going, under returning, meet
And make a wheel, a shell, to hold the sun.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cinema Screen
Light's patterns freeze:
Frost on our faces.
Light's pollen sifts
Through the lids of our eyes ...
Light sinks and rusts
In water; is broken
By glass ... rests
On deserted dust.
Light lies like torn
Paper in corners:
A rock-pool's pledge
Of the sea's return.
Light, wrenched at the edges
By wind, looks down
At itself in wrinkled
Mirrors from bridges.
Light thinly unweaves
Itself through darkness
Like foam's unknotting
Strings in waves ...
Now light is again
Accumulated
Swords against us ...
Now it is gone.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
What is the use of reading the common news of the day, the tragic deaths and abuses of daily living, when for over half a lifetime we have known that they must have occurred just as they have occurred given the conditions that cause them? There is no light in it. It is trivial fill-gap. We know the plane will crash, the train be derailed. And we know why. No one cares, no one can care. We get the news and discount it, we are quite right in doing so. It is trivial. But the haunted news I get from some obscure patient's eyes is not trivial. It is profound.
quote by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don Juan
Under the lips and limbs, the embraces, faces,
Under the sharp circumference, the brightness,
Under the fence of shadows,
Is something I am seeking;
Under the faces a face,
Under the new an old or a not-yet-come-to;
Under the voices a peace.
Am I a darkness all your flames must light?
A mirror all your eyes must look into -
That dares not yet reflect the neutral sky,
The empty eye of the sky?
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Train and Plane
I take the train
I board the plane
I ride the train
I fly the plane
I go by train
I come by plane
I go by plane
I come by train
I land the plane
I board the train
I take the plane
I ride the train
I come by train
I go by plane
I come by plane
I ride in rain
I fly the plane
I board the train
And again
I ride the train
Oh the train
Oh the train
That wished to be
An airplane
poem by Paul Hartal
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Empty Room
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax.
The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats.
The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating,
Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone.
But time flows through the room, light flows through the room
Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling
Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire,
Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Next Plane To London
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Told her I was gonna be a star
But to do it I would have to go far away
But Ill come back someday
And take her away
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Said that over here I wasnt in
Down in hollywood I couldnt find a friend
Who would help me get in
Or listen to me
Im on the next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Maybe over there Ill get a start
Only hope by leaving I dont break her heart
The more important part
Than any record on the chart
Next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
That baby of mine
Next plane to london
Leaving on runway number five
Next plane to london and Im missing her
Whoa-whoa
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope Hanging On At Heathrow
Like the last lonely leaf on the London plane,
I drive down, lonesome, up the long airport track,
Still hanging on, through the wind and the rain.
Will you still forgive me, if I just explain?
Will you come home to me? Will you fly back,
Like the last lonely leaf, on the London plane?
I never meant to cause you all that pain
That tears through your heart, bruising it black,
Still hanging on through the wind and the rain.
Do you believe, since my efforts are vain,
It is “THE END”, as in books, at the back
Like the last lonely leaf, on the London plane?
Though you ignore me, with haughty disdain,
You’ll find me waiting, despite your attack,
Still hanging on through the wind and the rain.
Half-hopes cling on; trust’s faint traces remain.
Determined, I stay, since I shall not crack,
Like the last lonely leaf on the London plane
Still hanging on through the wind and the rain.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Cocoon For A Skeleton
Clothes: to compose
The furtive, lone
Pillar of bone
To some repose.
To let hands shirk
Utterance behind
A pocket's blind
Deceptive smirk.
To mask, belie
The undue haste
Of breast for breast
Or thigh for thigh.
To screen, conserve
The pose, when death
Half strips the sheath
And leaves the nerve.
To edit, glose
Lyric desire
And slake its fire
In polished prose.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Almost Might
Wouldn't you say,
Wouldn't you say: one day,
With a little more time or a little more patience, one might
Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delight
One of the moment's hundred strands, unfray
Beginnings from endings, this from that, survey
Say a square inch of the ground one stands on, touch
Part of oneself or a leaf or a sound (not clutch
Or cuff or bruise but touch with finger-tip, ear-
Tip, eyetip, creeping near yet not too near);
Might take up life and lay it on one's palm
And, encircling it in closeness, warmth and calm,
Let it lie still, then stir smooth-softly, and
Tendril by tendril unfold, there on one's hand ...
One might examine eternity's cross-section
For a second, with slightly more patience, more time for reflection?
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Nigthmare
i take the plane
at 2 a.m.
cebu bound, and
i dream that
the plane crashed
and that
we are all dead
our souls look
down upon our
torn flesh
some are burnt
unidentifiable
we are so silent
like stones without
winds
x x x x x x
the plane touches down
perfectly well
at the airport
silently we line up
to step out
from a nightmare that
i only know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hearts A Lonely Hunter
Theres a fog upon the skyline
Clouds my view
And the citys cold and lonely
Without you
And so I set out upon the highway
Bound to leave your memory behind
And the praire wind it chills me to my bone
And the hearts a lonely hunter all alone
And the fields are rollin softly
Across the plane
And my eyes can see forever
Through the pourin rain
I could have sworn I heard your sweet voice callin
Bout a mile past the county line
It was only just an echo, in my soul
And the hearts a lonely hunter all alone
Drivin past the state line
Change my state of mind
Suddenly a free born man
Headin for a small town turn
Turn my life around
No one has to understand
Without a past, to tie me
To my shadow
And to the last, Ill run my life
Alone, alone
Now the sun is beatin softly
On my skin
And at last I feel emotion
Beating deep within
And for the first time I know for certain
I can leave that girl behind
And I cast a giant shadow as I roam
And the hearts a lonely hunter,
Hearts a lonely hunter
The hearts a lonely hunter
All alone
All alone
When youre all alone
All alone
When youre all alone
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Travelling
a travel is a metaphor of a journey
and a journey is always
what life is all about
arrivals and departures and i see it well
at airports
and well, so well, at pre-departures
then we move inside the plane and
the doors close and we are lifted to the skies
for hours you are beside the clouds
but you never have the courage to open the window
and touch each fine cotton beside you
crazy but sometimes i think that way
opening closed windows and think not of the
prohibitions and the consequencies,
there is so much silence up there and it is the mind
that does much of the talking and you listen
always for the reminders of the stewardess
and the captain telling you that
we are 30,000 feet above sea level and out there
you see Panay Island
we will be flying for one hour and a half
it is a fine day
and then the seat belt sign is on for the
turbulence but you do not mind
you look forward to an arrival and the another
opening of a door to a destination
touchdown, the plane lands perfectly as always
no plane crash, no headlines for the daily news
but i do not really think about these matters anymore
i am thinking of the silence. I am thinking about the mind that
keeps on talking. Data. Ideas. Sad memories.
Dead parents. Sick sibling. Flowers. Trees.
The sun brightly shining behind a
Thick Cumulus cloud.
the stewardess announces an arrival, fifteen minutes
earlier than scheduled. Fast plane. My thoughts unconsumed.
we step down. we take our bags. this journey never stops.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wet City Night
Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.
Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.
The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Last Minute That You Boarded The Plane
on the last minute that you boarded
the plane
and you think
it is the one owned by God,
sorry, so sorry, that plane left
a minute ago,
and you were not
on its manifest
you boarded the wrong plane
and that is the truth
enjoy your ride,
and pray
who knows
you may catch up on the next flight
to purgatory.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flying back from New York, the flight attendant said 'God, I wished you were here yesterday, we had a stroke on the plane. I said, if I have a stroke on a plane, I hope the pretend doctor isn't the one on the plane. I want a real doctor.
quote by Anthony Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faces
I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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