War Grave
Staffs flehen cross arms
Writing zagt pale unknown
Flowers impudent
Dust shyly.
Flare
Water
Glast
Forgotten.
poem by August Stramm
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Related quotes
Behold a Pale Stranger
Behold a pale stranger
with white skeletal arms.
A blood red dance
in a mask of death.
Behold a pale stranger
with a cross of misgiving,
a staff of virginal white,
and arms crossed on his chest.
Behold a pale stranger
with a message of pending doom.
A white stallion
with headless rider.
Behold a pale stranger,
an empty shell of life.
7 January 1982
poem by David Harris
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Blue Mountains
The lesson
of sudden fall
and forgotten kiss.
Everytime I was afraid of me
unforgiving the gorge
of blue mountains.
When I usher you in sun
you flare up in color violet-green
I stay in ebony's arms -
with eye spaces
and everything turns water,
water of a lake.
I will not remember the shooting
stars when you are beside me.
Drifting curves had left behind
the seeds, planted under the moon.
Now they are exploding
one by one in the conch.
•
Tending to my pain
when you were unborn
O my poem
how you lay on me
asking for the whole truth
which would undo the helix
in eye long vision.
If the loneliness smiles
I will call you.
I will call you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Looking for Hermit Hu
Cross water again cross water
See flower again see flower
Spring wind river on go
Not aware arrive your home
I pass over water, and pass over water again,
I look at the flowers, and look at the flowers again.
Travelling the river, there's a spring breeze,
Before I am aware, I reach your home.
From Dust To Dust
This body will perish must
From air to air, from dust to dust
Or Water to water...
Yet we fight!
For our right to win the Flesh, The Buck, the Power..
But Nothing will remain.
Neighbor will laugh at my folly,
In my absence,
Because I was silly
Committing the same mistake.
Knowing nothing remains....
Everybody will go from ash to ashes,
From dust to dust...
From fire we come,
Remain in Water,
Stay in Fire and go to Dust!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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At Katibawasan
It is not true
that all things
are born
in warmth.
A strong stem
of white water
plunges into
a corner of
the emerald pool.
My arms are
outstretched
pale greeen
beneath
the water.
Swallows crush
their wings
against
the water's surface.
And I am in the
grip
of some
nameless ecstasy,
emerging from
water
cold
as ice.
poem by Justine Camacho Tajonera
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The cross pollination
Siblings’ rivalry, kens’ jealousy,
Peers’ hatred and neighbours’ enmity
All thrives within in the whorls of flowers.
Love across the sexes, lust across the age,
Passion for the farther, and the devotion
For the unknown happen outside the flowers.
The cross pollination is the Nature’s design.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The World I Lived In Is No More
THE WORLD I LIVED IN IS NO MORE
The world I lived in is no more
The world I live in now is less and less my own
I try to hold on to my small part in it
I do not know how long this will last.
The world will continue after me
It will go on and on and on
I will be forgotten
All I have done will be forgotten
I will be lost forever
It will be as if I never was
Dust is the beginning
And dust is the end
And I will be dust
Though I have a voice now.
Unless God decides otherwise.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Paper Flowers
You seem like a girl who likes to tell her bed is made
You seem like a girl who likes to wear her pearls
Well Im not the type who likes to dwell,
Save my money or kiss and tell, yeah
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
This girl walks up so graciously,
Slips something in my pocket so secretly,
I said: honey, whats this you gave to me?
Oh nothing, water, wait and see
I said: paper flowers, they cant grow!
Just giveem water and let me know,
Giveem water and let me know, giveem water
And let me know
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Shes dressed in black as you can see,
She tries so damn hard to be the enemy,
Shes got big black boots, get outta her way,
She wants to kick tomorrow, punch yesterday,
Kick tomorrow, punch yesterday
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now!
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Attic
The door from the attic, with its darkness handle.
Eco's hand clutching his open
Breathing dust and cobwebs, tickle the face.
Of dark place of bricks and mortar
Those stairs incomplete, greyish, without any importance
Climb into the unknown, where the past is set apart, confined.
With the roof barely, resting on wall closets
That my head bends.
Days' ancestors, forgotten by the light
Of the window roof,
where the dust, like magic flying in the wind,
It mixes with reflections of glass.
And those sheets of bed, piled.
They have been sleeping for years, without bodies to keep them warm.
Only dust and spiders dreams
And just around the corner where light barely penetrates.
Boxes sealed with tape, expect to be open.
Ready to flee from their exile
Memories illuminate, that mute room.
Rich, locked to themselves.
Fled forgotten, until now, abandoned.
poem by Luca Menin
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The Temptation of St. Anthony
-After a design by Félicien Rops-
The Cross, the Cross is tainted! O most Just,
Be merciful, and save me from this snare.
The Tempter lures me as I bend in prayer
Before the sacred symbol of our trust.
Yea, that most Holy of Holies feeds my lust,
The body of thy Christ; for, unaware,
Even as I kneel and pray, lo, She is there,
The temptress, she the wanton; and she hath thrust
The bruisèd body off, and all her own,
Shameless, she stretches on the cross, arms wide,
Limbs pendent, in libidinous mockery.
She draws mine eyes to her--Ah, sin unknown!
She smiles, she triumphs; but the Crucified
Falls off into the darkness with a cry.
poem by Arthur Symons
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So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.
quote by Gaston Bachelard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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Funeral Of A Child
Three years ago, I passed a little church
While I walked on my way
Sorrow rang out from the steeple bells
As in the cemetery a group of people gathered
I stopped to watch for a moment
A small coffin being carried to the graveside
Where soon it would be laid
The priest stood beside it and slowly said
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away
We commit this child into the arms of the Lord
For his safe keeping for ever and ever
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
At the graveside I could see in the scene
A young girl about nineteen and young man about twenty one
Both were heartbroken because it was their child
Their one any only son
Being laid to rest, but never to be forgotten
I turned to go on my way, when I saw from the grave
A stairway to the sky appear
On each step an angel stood all looking young and fair
I stood astonished for a while
As up the stairs walked a child
From that day to this I wonder all the time
What was the meaning of this sign
(Date written unknown)
poem by David Harris
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From The Love To The Love!
Dust is full of mites, microbes and earth,
When we smell it we may sneeze and get flu,
When we blow it, we may spread it near and afar,
What vertebrate could have come out of it?
Dust is the dust that can hold water and minerals,
To feed and nourish the plants, thus the animals,
Man retrieves all goodness from these two,
And proclaim himself as the savior of the universe.
Constant changes in our bodies define us as living, getting old,
We are vulnerable to various threats, but we are protected to be safe,
We are what the dust can hold, the water and minerals,
But we are not from the dust, as the myth and missionaries told.
From the womb to the dust, we progress day by day,
From the clean slate to the scribbled souls, we get stained,
The story of dust should be dusted out and rewritten,
Evolution of human from the love to the love, be ascertained.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Mahler on Black Friday
Among the fools of commerce
Tempers flare;
Little or nothing makes sense:
Buyer beware.
There are carts loaded with angels,
Spraypainted with silvery dust,
Fictitious scenes of mangers
Down the throats of children thrust.
Somewhere in a forgotten corner
Lies a copy of Mahler's Sixth:
The tragedy of being human,
The suffering of existence,
No one buys the recordiing
As grubby hands envelop candy canes,
No end to all the mindless hoarding,
Stocking up for next year again.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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A Sheaf Of Snakes Used Heretofore To Be My Seal, The Crest Of Our Poor Family
ADOPTED in God's family and so
Our old coat lost, unto new arms I go.
The Cross—my seal at baptism—spread below
Does, by that form, into an Anchor grow.
Crosses grow Anchors ; bear, as thou shouldest do
Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too.
But He that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,
Is Christ, who there is crucified for us.
Yet may I, with this, my first serpents hold ;
God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old.
The serpent may, as wise, my pattern be ;
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.
And, as he rounds the earth to murder sure,
My death he is, but on the Cross, my cure.
Crucify nature then, and then implore
All grace from Him, crucified there before ;
Then all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown ;
This seal's a catechism, not a seal alone.
Under that little seal great gifts I send,
Works, and prayers, pawns, and fruits of a friend.
And may that saint which rides in our great seal,
To you who bear his name,* great bounties deal !
poem by John Donne
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Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Flash before my eyes of curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now
Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forgotten Time
bumming around
the country...
sleeping under bridges,
or just under...
the night sky...
working when i
could find it.
selling blood
when i couldnt!
gather a little change,
stop in a diner
for a cup of
black coffee...
writing poems
on napkins
with pencils...
leaving them for
my tip...
unsigned, forgotten
prayers, a forgotten
man, a forgotten
time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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