A Tiny Spec
I look around at the world
and get frightened when I realise
I am but a tiny spec.
I am a mere mortal
in a world filled with millions
and millions more
each trying to stand above the rest
and have their name remembered
long after they have gone
for the great things they have done.
I look again at myself
and feel somewhat sad
for I doubt if I’ll be remembered
for anything good or bad.
31 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Love Has Remembered Me
Written by: myles goodwyn
Love wont remember me
Its been so long
And thats what Ive told myself
But you proved me wrong
You opened up my eyes
And helped me to see
That love has a way of finding
Those in need
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered, love has remembered me
I felt so all alone
And at times afraid
That love had foresaken me
It just seemed that way
Then you walked into my life
And you turned my whole world around
Ours is a true love
It cant be found
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered, love has remembered me
Love wont remember me
Its been so long
And thats what Ive told myself
But you proved me wrong
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered
Love has remembered
Love has remembered
(love has remembered)
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Long Rows
Millions and millions of crosses
standing in long rows.
Standing as a testament
of man’s inhumanity to man.
Their ages range low to high,
all casualties of a war
in which they answered
their counties call.
Their kin are long dead now,
but the crosses all bare a name
of someone who had they lived
might have gained fame
in another game.
However, here they lie
where the pretty flowers grow
after giving up their life
for their country.
Some are remembered
even to this day
for their acts of courage
others knew so well.
The others are just names
carved in memorials somewhere
as falling in a battle on a foreign soil.
All of them had a life
men, women and child alike.
A life they should have lived
and lived it to the full.
Now all they remain
is names on crosses
standing in long rows.
22 January 2008
This is for all those whose lives have been stolen in wars throughout the centuries.
poem by David Harris
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Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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That Millions Do Live In Poverty
That millions do live in poverty should never be seen as okay
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps getting bigger by the day
Everyone should have the chance to live happy a home to live in and enough for to eat
There never should be slums and ghettos and never a poverty street,
That millions are born to live in poverty and to end their hard lives in despair
Only tells us if there's a god that god favours the wealthy and that god is not very fair
To leave millions homeless and dying of malnutrition the people condemned to die poor and young
In the refugee camps of the World live the displaced, the poor and unsung,
In the age of celebrity worship the poor in millions multiply
Why millions are destined to be poor don't ask me I wouldn't know why
Even in the World's wealthiest Countries poor people are no longer rare
And millions and millions of have nots in the bigger World out there
And millions are dying of hunger and millions are doing it tough
And millions are displaced and homeless and as refugees living it rough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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She Remembered
(eric carmen)
I went back to my class reunion
I was wondering how my friends have changed
I was thinking bought a certain girl
I was hoping to find there
I walked in and she caught my eye
Though she was standing with another guy
All the years seemed to fade away
Could it be she still remembered
She remembered
It was so long ago
Could we ever feel that way again
She remembered
Making love neath the stars
Oh, the world was so much younger then
When we kissed and my heart stood still
I said I loved her and I always will
cause dreams are forever
And some things you never forget
She introduced me to the guy she was with
Then I asked her if shed like to dance
We hit the floor as the band began
Our favorite old slow song
I pulled her close and to my surprise
I heard her whisper as she closed her eyes,
God its just like it used to be
I wasnt sure if youd remember
I remember
It was so long ago
Could we ever feel that way again
I remember
Making love neath the stars
Oh the world was so much younger then
When we kissed and my heart stood still
I said I loved her and I always will
cause dreams are forever
And some things you never forget
Oh darlin, please dont try and understand it
Lets be fools for one moment in time
After all, this is not as if we planned it
Just hold me close and remember
When you used to be mine
I remember when
She remembered
It was so long ago
Could we ever feel that way again
She remembered
Making love neath the stars
Oh the world was so much younger then
When we kissed and my heart stood still
I said I loved her and I always will
cause dreams are forever
And some things you never forget
Well, dreams are forever
And some things you never forget
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zinnedine Zidane
One of the all time great players a head butt to an opponents chest caused him shame
And with such a cloud hanging over him he retires from the World game
A magician with the soccer ball his likes we may not see again
He will always be remembered as the great Zinnedine Zidane.
'Twas an alleged personal insult that got him all fired up
And with his dismissal went the great dream of France's second World cup
But he will be remembered and football fans will long recall
One of the all time masters of the World game of football.
For one moment of loss of self discipline he must wear a lifetime taint
But is there one amongst us who can claim to be a saint
You will not find many people despite what some might say
Who will turn the other cheek and from insult walk away.
For his skills a lasting impression on so many he did make
And his deeds on the football field from him one cannot take
He will always be remembered as an all time great
In the World game of football with the very best he rate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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There Have Been Millions And Millions Of Years
THERE HAVE BEEN MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF YEARS
There have been millions and millions of years
And there will be millions and millions more
And I have had only less than seventy-
There is so much to see and be and know
I could understand far more than I do now
I have so much beauty and hope and love in me
Why do I have to die?
It does not seem fair or wise
So much waste and loss in my dying
Worlds in me that will never be known.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Trust Without Doubt
Though in their views on life and on people not many do share
Those who trust without doubt have a gift that is rare
Doubting Thomases like me you will find everywhere
There are millions if not billions in the big World out there
To trust without Doubt is a wonderful thing
And the praises of those with such a gift I feel obliged to sing
Far too many cynical people like me
Who even doubt what their eyes tell them they do see
People who trust without doubt one does not meet every day
They are an endangered species as some like to say
The Human World is a beautiful World in their eyes
Though many do see them as gullible and unwise
Still their's is a great gift those who trust without doubt
Though one may say of them there's not many about.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A homage to martyrs
We pay homage to martyrs
Lay a wreath and offer prayers
The mortals don’t remain permanent
The heroes are remembered for their movements
The death may take over anybody
There is no escape or any remedy
We got to succumb to the cruel theory
Its thought itself saddens our memory
The life can be short and brief
Still we can provide some relief
It is our strongest and common belief
Though we may certainly be down with grief
Millions die every year with diseases
The life doesn’t come to an end or ceases
It strengthens the resolve and releases
New hope to survive with renewed lease
Only few can perform miracles
Some poets only can write good articles
The question is who can stand and endure the test?
How others can be benefited by trying the best?
On every special occasion you are remembered
Lots of good speeches and floral tribute delivered
This is one kind of richest tribute to the departed soul
The world is not ungrateful and sleeping like owl
Do something great even if it is ordinary
This is essential and necessary
There can’t be any balance sheet or summary
It is definitely stored in our memory
In normal life you will be lost in short span
You may have very ambitious and sure plans
It may not survive the treacherous tests
Everything will be wiped away as rest
To, lead noble life is not easy option
No one can put forward any suggestion
It is distinct possibility and out of question
You will never find its mention
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Compared To Most I Feel So Lucky
Compared to most I feel so lucky I never have known hunger pain
I've always had a warm bed to sleep in and I've never slept out in the rain
In a World where millions are homeless and millions live in poverty
I am one of the lucky people one of the privileged minority.
In a World where the poor are forgotten and where millions for success compete
Millions are slowly dying of malnutrition their dream is enough food to eat
The suburb of the wealthy and famous the breeding ground of self conceit
By motor car only a short drive from the squalor of Poverty Street.
Compared to most I am so lucky though I'll never be a millionaire
Lady Luck she has always been with me and by life I've been treated fair
The distribution of wealth is disgraceful the reason for inequality
Compared to most I am so lucky I do feel life's been good to me.
I may not have an abundance of money but I have enough of it for to get by
I do feel the tag of Mr Lucky to one like me has to apply
Compared to most I feel quite privileged I do not have any cause to complain
Lady Luck has always been with me and with me I hope she remain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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United We Stand
Do you want to change yourself,
But your shyness is a wall
'Cause you don't' really feel bad
But also not good at all
Are you still waiting
For the big crack?
Did they rip you off?
Do you want your money back?
You have so many dreams
But your thoughts are an abyss
And you think you are the only one
Who feels like this
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
And we stand like a stone
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are millions
And we are your backbone
Don't you think sometimes
What would be if?
Do you want to throw your your life
Down the highest cliff?
You think the others are happy
Cause you never see them cry
And that they threw you out of the paradise
And you don't get why
Do you want to show us
What's all in you?
Do you want to be perfect?
Do you want to be happy, too?
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
And we stand like a stone
You are not alone
And soon you will see
We are millions
And we allow you to be...
...Or not to be
Is the question that is the key
And the fear to loose the game
Is the nightmare that chases us all since 2000 BC
Would you like to be good looking?
Would you like to be rich?
But you need to do something for it
'Cause Life is a bitch
We don't want to wait any longer
And we are so sick of disgust
So where are all the nice thing
That the advertisements have promised
Ever single one of us
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are with you
and we stand like a stone
You are not alone
You are Not alone
We are millions
and we are your backbone
You are not alone
United we stand
You can try to stop us
But You can't
You are not alone
United we stand
and there will be death
everywhere we went
poem by Kai Neldner
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Good With The Bad
At work today in a quiet moment
I remembered where I used to work
over forty years ago.
I remembered the faces,
most of them have passed away
and the others are scattered
to the four winds of providence,
wherever that may be.
It was the silly and embarrassing things
that sprang to my memory,
then came, the upsets and defeats,
the shouts and arguments.
As with all memories,
you’re going to get the good with the bad
and the bad always seem
to outweigh the good.
22 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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She Remembered
She looked at the rolling hills
and valley below,
at a place she once called her home
as she waited at a bus stop
to take her away anywhere
and she remembered how it started
all those long years ago.
How loved had captured her heart
and would never let her go.
She remembered with a tear
how he had got down on one knee
and proposed to her,
and how she had accepted
so freely to share his life.
Then she remembered that wonderful day
in spring when the scent of apple blossom
drifted through the air.
The day she walked up the isle
a beautiful bride that day
and all the smiles
that everyone sent her way.
She remembered those first years,
all the struggles they had
and how alive and happy
both of them had been.
She remembered the first dark cloud
that circled overhead
and all the questions that swirled around her head.
How she had accused him
of being untrue to her.
He de-neighed every word,
said she had spoken out of haste
and never let him explain.
A dark cloud of suspicions
whether they were right or wrong
clouded her true vision of what was going on.
She became quick tempered,
snapping at everything he said.
The dark clouds grew ever more darker,
until she was blinded to the truth in front of her.
He was not doing anything
that was wrong,
only working long hours
to keep his family fed.
Then she got the call everyone dread to hear,
there had been an accident
in which he was involved.
They didn’t know how serious,
only she should get to the hospital quick.
The dark clouds evaporated
as she rushed to the hospital
only to find that he was dead.
She remembered all the things
she had accused him of
and how he had strongly de-neighed
and remembered all the hurtful things
she said to him each day.
How she hadn’t even said goodbye
on the day he died.
At the inquest it came out
it was a lack of concentration
that had lead to the accident.
She could never forgive herself
for what she had done to him.
She tried to stay in the house,
the house they called their home.
Every room held a memory
of how cruel she had been to him.
How the green-eyed monster
of jealousy had crossed her path.
Day after day, she tried to cope
with all the wrong she had done.
All the walls seem to point a finger of shame at her.
No longer could she stand it,
she had to get away.
She packed everything she needed,
locked the door and walked away.
She took a long last look across the valley
at what her anger and shame
was about to take away.
As she remembered all the good times,
more tears fell from her eyes.
She turned away as the bus
came to a halt at the stop.
She paused for a moment
as she climbed aboard
and wondered if one day
she might ever return.
21 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Where Spring, the lord of the seasons
Where Spring, the lord of the seasons, reigneth,
there the Unstruck Music sounds of itself,
There the streams of light flow in all directions;
Few are the men who can cross to that shore!
There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded,
Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads,
Where millions of Brahmas are reading the Vedas,
Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation,
Where millions of Indras dwell in the sky,
Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered,
Where millions of Saraswatis, Goddess of Music, play on the veena
There is my Lord self-revealed:
and the scent of sandal and flowers dwells in those deeps.
Not Everyone Can Be Famous
Not everyone can be famous though many yearn for fame
In a World where millions do die without a penny to their name
And that any hope of an egalatarian Human World cannot exist cannot be denied
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
Their dreams of great wealth and fame millions do pursue
But for many of course such dreams never come true
And many who have great dreams die in poverty
For dreams are just dreams that's how it seems to be
Around the World today in every village, city and town
People daydream of great things of wealth and renown
And though to live in poverty only the saintlike would choose
For one for to win many destined to lose
To achieve in a big way seems a human need
And though many strive for success only few do succeed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On My Worth As A Writer
On my worth as a writer I do cast great doubt
Though one could never run out of things to write about
And poetasters are many and poets they are rare
Yet so much to write on of the big World out there
One can say I've written a whole heap of stuff
Yet out of millions of writers few are good enough
To make a success out of the wordsmith trade
So many there are and so few make the grade
Not many writers the literary critics impress
And so few out of writing become a success
For every literary success of which we do read
So many are destined to never succeed
And only a tiny minority do make writing pay
But then such is life as some are known to say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rejection
Good deeds done,
Are seldom remembered...
By those who benefit from them.
But someone disliked for no reason at all,
Will be given attention for rest of their life.
For whatever they did or hadn't done...
Or just being who they are.
To never to know,
How indirectly but not admitted...
They have been 'despised' for so long,
That their name has been mentioned enough...
To bore those listening to tears.
'WHY?
Why...
Do you always bring them up in our conversation?
Why do you do this? '
They make me sick and get on my nerves.
They 'think' they are ALL THAT.
But they are not.
I can't stand them!
'Why don't you tell them how you feel?
Get it off your chest.
Get rid of it.'
And get rejected?
Are you kidding?
I may be into many things,
But rejection isn't one of them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Armistice Day
In fields long ago, they fought
millions and millions fell on both sides.
Men, women and boys robbed of a future
in the futility of a world war.
It decimated a generation
and scarred so many lives.
Now sadness hangs over
those battlefields far away
and each November the 11th
at the 11th hour, we remember
the lives that were stole away
and the sacrifice they made
so that we could enjoy our lives today.
Dedication.
This poem was written not only for those who fell in Two World Wars, but also for those who have sacrificed themselves in recent conflicts. May we never forget them.
David Harris
11 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Production Process Inefficiencies
millions die wanting
millions die starving
millions die hurting
in an inefficient world?
now it is raining
luxury fruits
cherries peaches
blemish on trees
never sold
never eaten
never saves lives
harvest
process
efficiency
serves
needy
hungry
populati ons
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Millions of unpublished poems
MILLIONS OF UNPUBLISHED POEMS
Millions of unpublished poems
Written by millions of would- be- poets
Wait for their never- to- be- had recognition
And the poets and the poems
Go on in all their unknownness and loneliness
Waiting for the day of discovery
Which will never come.
We are all lost
We are all alone
No one will ever be anything
This poem too goes on the pile
Of endless non-recognition and neglect
Which we feel and speak our way
Through and out of this world.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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