roadside puddle
a street dog
licks the winter moon
haiku by Chenou Liu
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The Winter Moon
Its the sweet sultry taste of winter on my lips,
the shadow of the pale moonlight on my eyes,
and behind the thin drapes of midnight clouds,
amidst the stars shining bright and clear,
smiles the radiance of the winter moon.
If I had seen heaven,
I would admit I had seen it,
hiding shyly behind the curtains of the night,
the winter moon at zenith, smiles down at me.
Its this breeze blowing gently,
mixing the scent of the winter with the moon,
and I stay awake,
my heart filled to the brim with love,
appreciating the splendour of the winter moon!
poem by Amatulla Mohammadi
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Winter Moon, Misty Moon
winter moon, misty moon
playful behind the trees
over the hidden Brisbane river
that makes the air thick with mist;
winter moon, full-moon
luminous and rolling
behind brooding giant trees;
winter moon, misty moon
that makes its area luminous and clean
and cares not if everything else is indistinct
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Awed by her splendor
the sun is to me
as the dog is
a delight
the moon is to me
as the cat is
an intellectual challenge
the first light of sun
blazing through copper sky
it's so comforting
refreshing
to mind, heart and soul
harbinger of hope
the unrestrainable
friendliness of the dog
- it oozes with licks
and unstoppable wagging of tail -
first thing at morn
take the worries of the day away
he moon, the moon
its subtle lumininous light
of spiritual and intellecutal bearing
is like the cat
that orchestrates its every movement
in calculated steps
eyes dilating in half, crescent and full crystals
see how it prances like a ninja
when attacking its target
how it gently licks its paws and
legs after its hearty meal
to raise a clever child
get her to admire the moon
as it signs in and out of the sky
each day of the month
in crescent, half and full
inspired by
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
Sappho
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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But These Things Also
But these things also are Spring's -
On banks by the roadside the grass
Long-dead that is greyer now
Than all the Winter it was;
The shell of a little snail bleached
In the grass; chip of flint, and mite
Of chalk; and the small birds' dung
In splashes of purest white:
All the white things a man mistakes
For earliest violets
Who seeks through Winter's ruins
Something to pay Winter's debts,
While the North blows, and starling flocks
By chattering on and on
Keep their spirits up in the mist,
And Spring's here, Winter's not gone.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Ironical
Sky drank the moon
when night was cool.
A lone tree on roadside
waits for the prowling wolf
to steal the electric skin
like the veins on the breast.
River was flowing
nudging, cleaving the rising frenzy.
Still the thirst does not sink
like the torpedoed sub.
A dropp contains million faces of a moon.
A moon does not have a drop.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Heavy Fog
The fog silently crawls across the sky and on the ground
And cloaks the countryside for miles around
And motorists drive with their headlights on though the clock has struck mid-day
And visibility down to twenty metres and everywhere looking gray.
A chilly day in Winter on the last week of July
The silent fog crawls on the ground and creeps across the sky
And motorists and truckies on the road to and from the town are driving rather slow
They even do drive faster in the frost and in the snow.
It cloaks the roadside paddocks and the houses of the town
And cars and trucks with headlights on the main street crawl up and down
On days in Winter now and then you do get days like these
Quite chilly days with heavy fog with scarce a puff of breeze.
The fog it creeps across the sky and covers everywhere
And the day is damp and gloomy and a chill is in the air
And children laughing at their play in the school yard nearby
Despite the heavy Winter fog their lunch hour they enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Looking Down At My Reflection
Looking down at my reflection
In the puddle at my feet
Things don't seem so real down there
Or maybe I don't see
I see no satrvation
I don't see any pain
I see myself not helping
Just a lonner in the rain
Looking down at my reflection
In the puddle in the ground
Things are getting clearer now
I can see a thunder cloud
I see gross injustice
I see evil men
I see myself repeating
The same old words again
Looking down at my reflection
In the puddle lying there
Now I decide to change my mind
And show the world I care
I care about my fellow man
Being taken for a ride
I care that things start changing
But there's no one on my side
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winter Pendant
The Winter Pendant
Silver lining that shines in light,
(an attribute to her delight)
which rims a figure of the night,
this alluring Winter Pendant.
Forged with essence of the stars,
delivered by the war-god Mars.
It mirrors distant, dying pulsars,
this mysterious Winter Pendant.
Mars delivers this before,
the moon who, quite frankly, adores,
this change within the god of war,
by this elegant Winter Pendant.
But she is still only a mortal.
She can't traverse beyond the portal,
while he can since he is immortal.
So, she'll keep this Winter Pendant.
The flaw is that she'll eventually die.
Her corpse will rot and blood run dry.
This fact could make the war god cry,
but what of the Winter Pendant.
This item's more than just a charm.
It's magic will not bring her harm,
but may come to be alarmed,
for she'll be the Winter Pendant!
Her soul is sucked into the stone,
to travel with Ares back to his throne.
An act the moon did not condone!
His love was the Winter Pendant
Now a jewel forever more,
so says the mythological lore.
The priceless gem for the God of War,
the living Winter Pendant.
poem by Wesley Mincin
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On The Street
On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
[Everybody dance]
[Watch for the difference]
On the street
{Breaking on broadway]
O, O, On the street
[Shaking on sunset strip]
On the street
[Like nobody booming supporting that]
Da, da, da, da, da ...
On the street
On the street
Dancing
On the street
On the street
Dancing
Dancing
On the street
On the street
[Twisting on the turnpipe]
Dancing
On the street
On the street
On the street ...
Da, da, da, da, ...
Dance on the street ...
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I thought what I was good at doing was playing real simple guitar licks, since I'd cut my teeth on what Duane Eddy was doing; licks that were simple but had staying power.
quote by John Fogerty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tanya
Cold and dreary, dark and alone
Wind wailing thru the icy night
Dragging on and on
So reluctant to leave
Mad and angry to be forced to go
One last storm, one last night
Winter steals her away
Winter likes to go alone
Goodbye winter
Now all seems calm
But it's just the silence of the ones
Left struggling in your wake
Trying to put to rest
Winter
And carry her memory through spring
Goodbye
Winter
Your price was too high.
Kirtles Drapped
In their kirtles drapped in times,
When a boodle carried was kept disguised.
Those of prim and proper grace,
Kept their business away...
From other's faces.
Today,
It is in our eyes.
On display and to no one's surprise.
Like crumbs on fingertips one licks,
From a bag of potato chips one grips.
And when they're finished with that bag,
In the street they toss it quick.
But in their kirtles they would murmur,
Without announcing it one bit.
And today folks like to brag,
About what they have in their grasp.
Few kirtle blurters from the past,
Would never show their valuables or cash.
But times like these have slipped from us fast!
Like crumbs on fingertips one licks,
From a bag of potato chips one grips.
And when they're finished with that bag,
In the street they toss it quick.
And those in kirtles may not show,
What they keep bestowed...
At all!
*Kirtle:
A tunic or coat worn by men,
In the Middle Ages.
Also known as a long gown,
Or dress worn by women.
Perhaps...
To 'protect' their 'treasures'.
Source of info:
Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary.
10th edition.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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SUICIDE is not a WANT but a NEED
Suicide is what I want
Suicide is what I need
To live without these feelings
growing within me.
You said I cut for attention
You were right on some level.
In the beginning that is what it was for
Attention.
But even though you found out
you left me alone without care or doubt
you thought that after seeing a counsler
I would be just fine
but I want what is supposed to be mine
the attention of others
and no lonliness for thee
its what I want
not these feelings within me.
Pain and suffering
is what I feel now
Pain and suffering
there is no hope now.
If you wished to help me
give up your hope
for now I am
eternally broke.
The puddle is bigger
The puddle is black
The puddle is swelling
and cannot come back.
My blood rushes forth
in a river of red
till it congrigates
and Im dead.
poem by Michelle Dickson
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A street sleeper with smoker's cough
It's windy and cold in winter
Hard to sleep on the roadside
When stars give endearing twinkles
Among his horrible cough.
And he covers the whole body
But through the rat holes of his linen
He sees the vast sky and Moon hides
Stars alert in the the night.
He begs a sound sleep at least,
As the old King passes this way to the Harem tomorrow.
And he has to wake up early in the morning and clear his citadel!
The poor chap dreams the runaway horses and the broken coach one of his childhood movies?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Winter's Tale
As the winter's moon appears in front of me
I feel the wind rushing through my hair
The bright shiny sky glistens in my eyes.
I feel the waves reaching out to me
It feels like the thrill of electricity
Spreading through my body
Winter is coming
I can not wait any longer
The old grandfather clock
Gets louder and louder
Tick tock Tick tock
My heart is getting faster and faster
Winter hears my whisper
As the bluish moon light calls today
Please catch my wishing star
The winter's moon is fading
From my mist
My heart speed is slowing down
The old grandfather clock
Get fainter and fainter
Tick tock Tick tock
Winter is coming
I can not wait any longer
I feel in beat with the winter's frost.
poem by Imogen Brand
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Moon Over Bourbon Street
Theres a moon over bourbon street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
Ive no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can only show my face at noon
And youll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
Ive the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
She walks everyday through the streets of new orleans
Shes innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Exhortation About A Dog
i
the dog that licks my
feet
every morning after
i wake up
does not appeal to my
senses anymore
ii
the dog that licks my feet every morning after i wake up does not appeal to my senses anymore
iii
the dog
that
licks my
feet
every
morning
after
i wake
up
does
not
appeal to
my
senses
anymore
iv
but i must
allow it
still
because it is the law
between
the dog and me
and this
dogged
society
v
and so the dog still
licks my feet
every morning
and at night
i do not ponder about it
anymore
i do not ask
i have no questions
for asking
vi
the dog sleeps with me
at night
in my bed
and spreads her legs like
a spoiled
prostitute
and she is confident
that i cannot kill her
because that is the
law between us
and dogs
vii
and society keeps guard
on this
and if i continue
having this dog's tongue lick
all over my body
and feed her well
and make her a part of my
life
till death do us part
then society
shall have a thousand hands
clapping
for my obedience
and fidelity
viii
my honest neighbor
(who does not want to be mentioned here says
that actually)
she's one kind of a typical
bitch
(and i will neither confirm nor deny
it, but please do not tell
anyone about it)
that is the law.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Puddle
I am a puddle
picturing the moon
pretty little
pretty shallow
richer by a pebble-
Splashed, I recover myself.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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De Snowbird
O leetle bird dat's come to us w'en stormy win' she's blowin',
An' ev'ry fiel' an' mountain top is cover wit' de snow,
How far from home you're flyin', noboddy's never knowin'
For spen' wit' us de winter tam, mon cher petit oiseau!
We alway know you're comin', w'en we hear de firs' beeg storm,
A sweepin' from de sky above, an' screamin' as she go--
Can tell you're safe inside it, w'ere you're keepin' nice an' warm,
But no wan's never see you dere, mon cher petit oiseau!
Was it 'way behin' de mountain, dat de nort' win' ketch you sleepin'
Mebbe on your leetle nes' too, an' before de wing she grow,
Lif' you up an' bring you dat way, till some morning fin' you peepin'
Out of new nes' on de snow dreef, mon pauv' petit oiseau!
All de wood is full on summer, wit' de many bird is sing dere,
Dey mus' offen know each oder, mebbe mak' de frien' also,
But w'en you was come on winter, never seein' wan strange wing dere
Was it mak' you feelin' lonesome, mon pauv' petit oiseau?
Plaintee bird is alway hidin' on some place no wan can fin' dem,
But ma leetle bird of winter, dat was not de way you go--
For de chil'ren on de roadside, you don't seem to care for min' dem
W'en dey pass on way to schoolhouse, mon cher petit oiseau!
No wan say you sing lak robin, but you got no tam for singin'
So busy it was keepin' you get breakfas' on de snow,
But de small note you was geev us, w'en it join de sleigh bell ringin'
Mak' de true Canadian music, mon cher petit oiseau!
O de long an' lonesome winter, if you're never comin' near us,
If we miss you on de roadside, an' on all de place below!
But le bon Dieu he will sen' you troo de storm again for cheer us,
W'en we mos' was need you here too, mon cher petit oiseau!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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