O
Old women look intently at Nothing when the doctor
announces a cancer, dark fruit, under the
shrunk left breast.
Girls' hands hold Nothing when the train sucks their
men from the platform and scoops them down the
slipway of rail.
Nothing beats in deafened ears on the empty and
godless altars of mountain tops.
Nothing is the final strength of the strong: the
last poison on the crumpling lips of the weak.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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Music
This shape without space,
This pattern without stuff,
This stream without dimension
Surrounds us, flows through us,
But leaves no mark.
This message without meaning,
These tears without eyes
This laughter without lips
Speaks to us but does not
Disclose its clue.
These waves without sea
Surge over us, smooth us.
These hands without fingers
Close-hold us, caress us.
These wings without birds
Strong-lift us, would carry us
If only the one thread broke.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls vs. Women
Girls are insecure; Women are confident.
Girls dress trashy; Women dress classy.
Girls are students; Women are teachers.
Girls are listeners; Women are preachers.
Girls makes babies; Women raise babies.
Girls have sex; Women make love.
Girls are weak; Women are strong.
Girls fight; Women walk away.
Girls argue; Women speak.
Girls give in; Women compromise.
Girls envy. Women appreciate.
Girls give up. Women strive.
Girls look. Women see.
Girls take. Women give.
Girls follow; Women influence.
poem by Christina E. Brown
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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
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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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Tube Station
The tube lift mounts,
sap in a stem,
And blossoms its load,
a black, untidy rose.
The fountain of the escalator
curls at the crest,
breaks and scatters
A winnow of men,
a sickle of dark spray.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It takes a stronger Man
It takes a stronger man
To value a woman’s strength
To encourage her strength
Not to be threatened by it
But see it as a sign of his own strength
In a world where some men need weak women to feel strong
Where some men get validation from physical dominance
Where dependent, submissive and needy women are celebrated
A Media that commercialised self-disrespecting and confused girls
Yes, I stand my ground!
It takes a stronger man to love a strong woman
Not to be wavered by societies misrepresentation of masculinity
Not to conform to the patterns of this world
To understand and recognise that in a woman’s strength lies hidden vulnerability
To know that it takes a strong woman to show vulnerability
poem by Wanelisa Albert
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Ears in the Turrets Hear
Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see
The fingers at the locks.
Shall I unbolt or stay
Alone till the day I die
Unseen by stranger-eyes
In this white house?
Hands, hold you poison or grapes?
Beyond this island bound
By a thin sea of flesh
And a bone coast,
The land lies out of sound
And the hills out of mind.
No birds or flying fish
Disturbs this island’s rest.
Ears in this island hear
The wind pass like a fire,
Eyes in this island see
Ships anchor off the bay.
Shall I run to the ships
With the wind in my hair,
Or stay till the day I die
And welcome no sailor?
Ships, hold you poison or grapes?
Hands grumble on the door,
Ships anchor off the bay,
Rain beats the sand and slates.
Shall I let in the stranger,
Shall I welcome the sailor,
Or stay till the day I die?
Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships,
Hold you poison or grapes?
poem by Dylan Thomas
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To You I Am Just A Voice
to you i am just a voice
there are no hands to rejoice
no lips to press
yours to mine
on such a distance
yet even if distance dissolves
and what you see is this empty glass
still your hand cannot hold it
to a mere touch
the glass breaks
i will just a voice in distance
i will still be a voice in your head in this presence
for i am a slave of air
and to the iron rail i am but a train that is passing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Strength in weakness
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
A typical Pauline sophism?
A typical Pauline syllogism?
A typical Pauline casuistry?
A typical Pauline homily.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul was disabled, you see
Was he blind? You ask
Was he lame? You ask
Was it a speech impediment?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Oh! He was strong in spirit
But weak in appearance
He can’t be our leader, they said
He’s an embarrassment
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul said: “Yes, I am weak
But God’s strength is made perfect
In my weakness not in my strength
So up the weak and down the strong! (my words!)
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
We are all weak in some way
Weak in our words
Weak in our walk
Weak in our talk
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
But for God, weak means strong
Kingdom values, Kingdom virtues
Jesus’ values, Jesus’ virtues
My values? my virtues?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
So the lamb not the lion
The humble not the haughty
The lowly not the lofty
The penitent not the proud.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s value then the weak
And remember they are strong.
If I am proud, then I am wrong
If I am conceited, then I am wrong
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s fill the Church then with the weak
Push in the wheelchairs
Roll in the scooters
Help the handicapped walk in.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
“At even, ere the sun was set
The sick oh Lord, around thee lay
Oh, in what divers pains they met
Oh with what joy they went away
And none oh Lord, have perfect rest
For none are wholly free from sin;
For they who fain would serve thee best
Are conscious most of sin within.
Thy touch has still its ancient power
No word from thee can fruitless fall
Hear in this solemn hour we pray
And in thy mercy heal us all.”
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
For when I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness.
poem by James Hart
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Cancer
We don't know
How strong we are
Til being strong
Is the only choice
We have.
Why is it
That we have to be
Strong for others
When we have to be
Strong for ourselves?
Someone once said
'Wining isn't everything'
Well, he obviously
Never had
Cancer.
To lose your fight
Against cancer
Is to give in
To cancer
And die.
Though many are scared
Of this dreaded cell
Cancer is only a word
Not a whole
Sentence.
Just remember
You are not
Dying from cancer
You are living
With it.
poem by Tiana Webb
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Polyphony In A Cathedral
Music curls
In the stone shells
Of the arches, and rings
Their stone bells.
Music lips
Each cold groove
Of parabolas' laced
Warp and woof,
And lingers round nodes
Of the ribbed roof
Chords open
Their flowers among
The stone flowers; blossom;
Stalkless hang.
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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Good Girls Go To Heaven
Some girls do some girls don't
Don't mean type don't mean smoke
Lay me down can't seem to sleep
My mind's been thinkin' real deep
(bridge 1)
All my thoughts are runnin wild out of control-outta my mind
(chorus)
'cause good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women
I'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven
All bad girls go everywhere they like
Late at night when she comes out
The lady moves prowls the town
A perfect match of looks and charm
Where she goes it's light and dark
She's so hot i burn my tongue when i kiss her lips she turns me on
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women
I'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven
All bad girls go everywhere they like
(solo)
Made my choice made it well had my pick of heaven or
Good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women i'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven all bad girls go everywhere they like
Good girls they've got manners bad girls got what matters
Good girls leave at home bad girls come with the singer
Good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere that they like
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Get Weak
When Im with you
I shake inside
My hearts all tangled up
My tongue is tied its crazy
Cant walk, cant talk, cant eat, cant sleep
Oh, Im in love, oh Im in deep cuz baby
With a kiss you can strip me defenseless
With a touch I completely lose control
til all thats left of my strength is a memory, wo...
I get weak when I look at you
Weak when we touch
I cant speak when I look in your eyes
I get weak when youre next to me
Weak from this love
I cant speak when I look in your eyes
I get weak
Convincing eyes, persuasive lips
The helpless heart just cant resist their power
You know youve got a hold over me
You know youve got me where I want to be cuz lover
Like a wave you keep pulling me under
How Ill ever get out of this I dont know
I just know theres just no way to fight it, wo...
I get weak when I look at you
Weak when we touch
I cant speak when I look in your eyes
I get weak when youre next to me
Weak from this love
Im in deep when I look in your eyes
I get weak I get weak I get weak
Just a kiss you can strip me defenseless
Just a touch I completely lose control
til all thats left of my strength is a memory, wo...
I get weak when I look at you
Weak when we touch
I cant speak when I look in your eyes
I get weak when youre next to me
Weak from this love
I cant speak when I look in your eyes
I get weak I get weak I get weak
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The British
We are a people living in shells and moving
Crablike; reticent, awkward, deeply suspicious;
Watching the world from a corner of half-closed eyelids,
Afraid lest someone show that he hates or loves us,
Afraid lest someone weep in the railway train.
We are coiled and clenched like a foetus clad in armour.
We hold our hearts for fear they fly like eagles.
We grasp our tongues for fear they cry like trumpets.
We listen to our own footsteps. We look both ways
Before we cross the silent empty road.
We are a people easily made uneasy,
Especially wary of praise, of passion, of scarlet
Cloaks, of gesturing hands, of the smiling stranger
In the alien hat who talks to all or the other
In the unfamiliar coat who talks to none.
We are afraid of too-cold thought or too-hot
Blood, of the opening of long-shut shafts or cupboards,
Of light in caves, of X-rays, probes, unclothing
Of emotion, intolerable revelation
Of lust in the light, of love in the palm of the hand.
We are afraid of, one day on a sunny morning,
Meeting ourselves or another without the usual
Outer sheath, the comfortable conversation,
And saying all, all, all we did not mean to,
All, all, all we did not know we meant.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moorgate
The smell of smoked bacon,
clinging to clothes,
and the sight of a rat
or a huge black moth
as I waited on the platform.
Men, scrawny, some scruffy,
some seedy, some smart
would stand too near the edge.
I'd watch nervously,
trying not to stare.
Lone women, late at night,
would slide up to other women,
scared perhaps, of being left,
in an empty carriage,
with just one foul creep.
Some nights I'd fall asleep,
with the jogging of the train,
it's meandering,
through tunnels of dark, unholy
blackness, deep underground.
Moorgate still haunts me,
bodies crushed in a buckled train.
Ghosts ever present
in my head,
These days I hurry past.
They pierce my memories,
I feel their fear, their pain,
the smoke, the heat, the cries,
my pretty world decimated
into shreds.
Show me the light,
let the blue sky shine on me.
Bring me sunshine, fresh air, tall trees,
for I dread the dark __
that dank, stale stench of the underground.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Bar-Maid Sent
she spins the glass
knows that guns blazing
he'll come soon
at the ante-room
to the crematorium and bar
the pale rider
for no-one special
just another regular
who'll exit
lit-up by the fruit-machine
to the hitching-rail outside
where
hooves ascrape in the parking-lot
awaits his final ride
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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So Weak, Yet Strong
1. Who says I am weak
Who says I am feeble
Who says my bones are tender
Who says my teeth cannot chew bones
Let the weak say I am strong, yes the strength of the
Lord is made perfect in my weakness, so who says I am weak.
2. Have you not heard?
Have you not seen?
Have you not noticed that the Lord gives strength to the weak,
and makes their feet strong.
Yes, in faith is my strength
In his name I am fortified
In his blood I am shielded, so who says I am weak
3. Have you not heard that I can do
All things through him who gives me strength
Have you not seen that those who wait on him shall always renew their strength.
Are you weak?
Do you feel feeble?
Do you feel tender and fragile?
Then wait on God for strength, wait on him for his counsel
Wait on him for his laughter for the joy of the Lord is always your strength
Keep, Keep and K E E P his joy alive forevermore
poem by Cute Faces International
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Last Word To Childhood
Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased
As my bones have grown, my height increased.
Though I shiver in snow of dreams, I shall never
Freeze again in a noonday terror.
I shall never break, my sinews crumble
As God-the-headmaster's fingers fumble
At the other side of unopening doors
Which I watch for a hundred thousand years.
I shall never feel my thin blood leak
While darkness stretches a paw to strike
Or Nothing beats an approaching drum
Behind my back in a silent room.
I shall never, alone, meet the end of my world
At the bend of a path, the turn of a wall:
Never, or once more only, and
That will be once and an end of end.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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June Sick Room
The birds' shrill fluting
Beats on the pink blind,
Pierces the pink blind
At whose edge fumble the sun's
Fingers till one obtrudes
And stirs the thick motes.
The room is a close box of pink warmth.
The minutes click.
A man picks across the street
With a metal-pointed stick.
Three clocks drop each twelve pennies
On the drom of noon.
The birds end.
A child's cry pricks the hush.
The wind plucks at a leaf.
The birds rebegin.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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