En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sniper

Moves in the rocks with inching fingers.
We among the feathery banana trees
Imagine for him his aim: the steel helmet
And English face filling the backsight's V.
Again as it was last time, that spurting noise,
Thud, and the writhing figure in long grass.
until we match precision with precision:
We move ten men to one and have him then.

I saw the sniper in the afternoon. The rifle
Lay there beside him neatly like his shooting,
The grass twined all about his cap.
He had killed neatly but we had set
Ten men about him to write death in jags
Cutting and spoiling on his face and broken body.

poem by Bernard Gutteridge
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Before You

Supposing Death
to be a woman

what then?
She asked

would you embrace it
as willingly as you do me?

The afternoon sun
seemed to hang

in the sky
like a child's balloon

as you lay that day
in the tall grass

maybe
you said

if it had eyes
and a smile like yours

and she pulled
a stem of grass

and placed between lips
and stared above

as birds flew
to and fro

and would you go
willingly into the dark

as you do with me
into this tall grass?

You turned to face her
taking in

her blue eyes
and cheeks

maybe
if it allowed me

to kiss as good
as you do

and as long
and she turned over

took out
the stem of grass

and kissed your lips
welcome to Miss Death

she said
and you both laughed

and lay back
gazing at the summer sky

a deep blue
not knowing then

death would come for her
long before

it would ever
come for you.

poem by Terry Collett
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Broken Rosalyn

Rosalyn is in misery, her heart is broken
writhing and wailing on her garden floor
watering the grasses with her pouring tears
crying mild and muttering wild - 'why me'
smacking and skelping the faultless grass
sniveling and cheering the harlequin-ed flowers

oh! this glory that shone before
is become the gloom of mourn
her flustered heart now cries tears of blood
her blissful life - woe betide
ever smiling face, wrung by hurting love
her days of leer are gone for good
and now she'll live ever in loving gloom

Rosalyn that glistered with the shining sun
is now married to the moonless night

her cry on the grass
it lingered a while
and there came a time
and up she sat
smacked the grass and groused aloud - 'why me'
and then she rose
and stamps her feet - on the watered blameless grass
oh! the poor broken lass
her wet face bowed
by frown's heavy boulder
and hair shelves from sore weary shoulder
as fragments of littered grass drops from pale-brown gown
she whimpered with hateful brusque
in sorry sniffles and glare of pain
saying - 'i'll never love again'

poem by Mbanaso Samuel
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The expelled farmer (parody)

(with apologies to fanie olivier)

At five to eleven there is thunder slamming down outside,
the winter chill is already cutting through his body.

Now in the folds of the bed he draws the blanket tightly
and look somewhat clinical at how it is flashing outside.

From above everything is washed neatly clean,
there is darkness covering the blue,
while like last night, he does not trust the peace,
being alone in his double bed.

He remembers how it had been
at the farm near to Pongola,
now with stripped grass, overgrazed, used far too much,
with shabby pineapples and he is fed-up,
has had too much of broken houses and poles,
of the joblessness with which the government
is trampling over white people.
The rain flows while he smells new life,
his county is being run into the ground.

[Reference: “retoer” “return trip” by fanie olivier.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Burdens Eased

Carrying the broad shoulders of the world---
This afternoon reveals the tirades of rain...
In absolute wonder of the mysteries borne...
In awe of the unknowns and its cutting pain;

Raging 'tis the thunder and lightening spurned...
Circling in eternal winds that will not pass...
Even insects run for cover-removed from continual hover--
Hidden neatly 'neath the green blades O' grass;

These shoulders are oft' overwhelmingly heavy-
But as sisters of this Mother Earthed clan--
We are able to find enough grace-in this weighted place--
Mended with haloes of love we forever stand! ;

poem by Theodora Onken
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This Is Mumbling This Is Rambling

do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.

this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,

or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.

someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.

or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.

this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face. That is the best way to speak.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Silent Conversation With Myself

do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.

this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,

or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.

someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.

or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.

this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face.

That is the best way to speak.
This is what is life is all about.
Speechless. Alone always.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time To Move On

Its time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
Its time to move on, it s time to get going
Broken skyline, movin through the airport
Shes an honest defector
Conscientious objector
Now her own protector
Broken skyline, which way to love land
Which way to something better
Which way to fo rgiveness
Which way do, I go
Its time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
Its time to move on, its time to get going
Sometime later, getting the words wrong
Wasting the meaning, and losing the rhyme
Nauseous adrenaline
Like breakin up a dog fight
Like a deer in the headlights
Frozen in real time
Im losing my mind
Its time to move on, time to get going
Wh at lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
Its time to move on, its time to get going

song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fingers Of Love

Can you imagine this
An itch to sensitive to scratch
The light that falls through the cracks
An insect to delicate to catch
I hear the endless murmur
Every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze
And the sound that comes to carry me
Across the land and over the sea
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I can't look back
Fingers of love move down
Colour is its own reward
Colour is its own reward
The chiming of a perfect chord
Let's go jumping overboard
Into waves of joy and clarity
Your hands come out to rescue me
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
Fall by the way
From the cradle to the grave
From a palace to the gutter
From beneath the dying waves
To the sun like fingers of love
Through waves of joy and clarity
A fallen angel walked on the sea
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps
And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere
There is time yet
For you to find me
And all I want
Fingers of love move down

song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You, Crocheted With Love

each thread is chosen carefully
you,
desire,
passion and love
bound neatly together
deftly intertwined into one.
Within the stitch
I reside
within the row
is my desire
from the precision knots
exudes my passion...
imbued with love
it is tenderly created from my heart
so you can gracefully wear it
on your sleeve.

poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul
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Under The Tree Beside The School Building

on a certain break
one sits alone under a shady tree
on an afternoon of
Saturday

they left for a certain purpose
filling up too
a certain emptiness of their
minds (& bodies)

somehow
the wind provides a joy to cool a face
calming a mind in chaos

the leaves fall
too gently on the grass
and they are too graceful
too simple
for any deeper analysis

the grass speak for themselves
always a busy day
spreading
expanding its territory

the pebbles as usual mute
but always with a desire to speak
to move away

there are cars
waiting as the rain begins to fall
some have to run
and escape being wet

these are everyday occurrences
and because i am too sheltered
inside the four corners of my study room
they have become too unfamiliar
and too new

there is a longing to belong again
to a world without thinking too much
something just
to occupy a place, the feet to walk
the hands to touch

it 's been a long time now
i have not seen the world to its practicability
like an axe to a firewood

mud to my shoes
rain on my shoulders
some birds over my head
a butterfly stopping on my hand

to rest is also an ability
i think, i have forgotten.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grass

Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass

Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experimentation

do not pick the words
let the word pick you

do not think let thinking
think for you

do not move
let the movement move in you

do not even think of the logic
in metaphors
there is no logic in them

they are the geese coming one spring
lots of noise moving in one direction

landing in your backyard
staring at the window looking for you

you see the world has a life of its own
do not ever think do not ever signify

the world moves, twirls, spins, collides
in you and you are shocked surprise at this

kind of phenomenon
the world hands you what you have been dreaming

you are its only child
and she introduces herself as your only mother

her grass is your cradle
her trees your friends her rocks your company

her clouds your travel and transition
her sun her moon her stars

they are all yours now
resting in the lines of your palms

be glad then
now you are so complete.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Write About Life....and Love...

i will write about life,
upon those eggs that cracked
when the chicks start popping up
like mushrooms sprouting beside
the banana shrubs after a night's
heavy rain,
there will be sounds of hatch-lings
and fledgelings inside the nests of
seagulls and hawks,
i can hear the cries of baby whales
under the sea,
spawns of corals spurting from their
new trunks and protrusions,
there will be bulbs of onions,
buds of roses slowly starting to bloom
to give to the world the
transformation of reddish to
deep red,
a sunrise, green grass groping for a hold
on the sand,
vines extending tendrils,
a new born baby's first cry to the world,
ah, i feel life like blood rushing in my veins
once more filling my heart
with the abundance of love.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice

I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.

I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.

Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.

I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.

Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.

poem by Cristina Teodor
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Knuckled Down

Fearing the haze of ending
this body does not behave now.
Puppet show was over.

Punch – drunk we move
amidst the psychopaths, who were
foraging the aroma from armpits.

Loincloths hanging on the strings to strangle
the pigeons.
Everything moves with precision.

Sex on the mind.
The master wants the untouched flesh,
quietly without any sound.

poem by Satish Verma
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The Tulip Bed

The May sun--whom
all things imitate--
that glues small leaves to
the wooden trees
shone from the sky
through bluegauze clouds
upon the ground.
Under the leafy trees
where the suburban streets
lay crossed,
with houses on each corner,
tangled shadows had begun
to join
the roadway and the lawns.
With excellent precision
the tulip bed
inside the iron fence
upreared its gaudy
yellow, white and red,
rimmed round with grass,
reposedly.

poem by William Carlos Williams
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The Nelson Highrise Sector Two

This is a national anthem
From the flip-side of the empire
Hand on my heart,
Heart on the sleeve of the constitution
Sinking right into a mirror,
Leaving reflections on its surface
Caught in a kind of radio-beacon
That's sending out signals
Transmitting them backwards
Hey, tell me it's true,
Is this the other side of u.
Worlds gonna change
With a move in your face,
Do i still walk on the same structure?
Hey, what do we know,
Re(a)leasing arrows over cosmic meadows?
Nothing is real,
Even iron or steel
Melting gently in the cold structure
Watching your face thru' a peephole
As i lean against the door
Can't understand what you say but i think that you're calling my name
Leaving the ones i loved is like leaving the one they want me to be
Making decisions
In real-time-precision
As millions of sailors
In parallelworlds
Hey, tell me it's true,
Is this the other side of u.
Worlds gonna change
With a move in your face,
Do i still walk on the samestructure?
Hey, what do we know,
Re(a)leasing arrows over cosmic meadows?
Nothing is real,
Even iron or steel
Melting gently in the cold structure
Everybody walks this side of the run-way
Everybody hopes to get off the trap
All we really like is to groove with emotion
Waiting for the airline to lift us up...

song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imagine That

Imagine That
Close your eyes...
Now relax your mind...
Now I want you to picture yourself
Far, far away
(You know your thoughts inside, girl we're 'bout to take a ride)
I don't want you to have a care in the world right now
(Let it go, let it go, let it go, aw yeah)
It's just you... and me
In this moment
Quiet... listen...
Baby take your mind into a zone
Imagine that we're all alone
2-way's off and our friends are gone
Now picture you and me gettin' it on
Take my hand and come with me
Let's indulge in fantasies
Cast your cares and worries
And slowly fall into this ecstasy
I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (all night long)
Imagine that
Me strokin' your body, imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
Whipped cream and strawberries, know what I mean?
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ohh)
Imagine that
Candles and oils surrounding the bed
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
And me kissin' your body from feet to head
Imagine that
We don't have to talk
Ohh lay your body here, and watch my fingers walk
Take a second... and imagine the opportunity
You and me sharin' sexual energy
Now girl just meditate on you bein' in this chair
Now close your eyes and act like we're not even here
Girl I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine...
Ima

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steel Of Dreams

I write to forge thought
to timelessness..
as night gives way to light of day
morning rays transform
gray-scale vision
with magical, gradient, immaculate precision.

I write forging images
cold-rolled dialect
hammered for description
angles I select..
pulled red from the coals
these dreams are annealed
when shape is set,
feelings are revealed.

My anvil and hammer
transform wrought iron vision
with artistic, splendid, immaculate precision!

poem by Robert Scott Cohn
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