En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Eyes Of Mr D (Part 4)

Entering the flat
the Constable found no one there.
He searched every room,
nothing, only the fired gun on a note
left on the table.
He had noticed the back window
was left slightly ajar.
He picked up the note
and quickly read it through,
then put it in his pocket
along with the gun.

He smiled to the neighbour
as he left the flat.
He told her to lock it;
Mr D would be coming back.
At the car he got in
saying that,
they had to go back
to the station.

He sat on a bench
near the waters edge.
The white walking stick
resting between his legs.
He could not look at his watch,
as that would give the game away.
A blind man is not supposed to see,
so he had no idea of the time.
All he could tell
that day was turning into night.

He stood up;
he had to stretch his legs.
He moved along to
the bench by the bridge.
The dark waters of the lake,
lapped against the shore.
Then he heard the footsteps
walking across the wooden bridge.
He knew by the sound
they were of a woman’s shoe.

He did not look up
to see who it was,
just listened, as they got closer,
until they were in front of him.
He could now see her face,
under the light of the moon.
Her hair was dark,
and danced on her shoulders.
He wanted to say something,
but though he better not.

The killer could be lurking,
in the bushes somewhere,
waiting for his chance,
when he thought
the coast was clear.
She stopped and stood,
near the waters edge;
she watched the moon’s silver finger
dance on the breeze-ruffled waves.
He sat unnoticed except
for his white walking stick.
The blind could see nothing
at least that is what he hoped
anyone passing would think.

Then from the darkness, he emerged.
A mask of death he wore.
He moved quietly up behind the woman,
extended his hands out to her neck.

To be concluded……

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 5)

Mr D took off his glasses,
and raised his white cane.
He struck the dark figure,
hard with the crook of the handle
in the middle of the back.
The dark figure bends backwards
revealing his mask of death.
Quickly he recovered and twisted around.
He went to strike out at Mr D,
who hooked the white cane
around one leg and pulled.
The dark figure with the mask of death
fell upon the ground.
He pulled a blade from his pocket
that glinted under the moonlight.
Mr D used the cane again
to knock the blade from his hand
into the dark waters of the lake.

The sound of sirens and blue lights filled the air.
The figure with the mask of death
tried his best to flee.
Mr D went after him.
He ran onto the wooden bridge.
Mr D caught him there.
They struggled with each other,
one getting the upper hand for a moment,
then the other.
Mr D finally hit him with his fist.
The figure spun and stumbled against the wooden guardrail.
The rail snapped under the sudden weight.
Into the dark waters,
the figure plunged and disappeared below.

Mr D came off the bridge
moments before the police arrived.
It was over now he said to himself.
The pretty woman waited there for him.
She looked, smiled, and held her hand out
to the man who saved her life.
“How did you know? ” she asked.
“My eyes told me it was going to happen.”
He then went on to explain.
When they were allowed to leave,
they left hand in hand.
“I don’t know your name.” She said,
“And here you save my life.”
He smiled. “Are you sure you want to know? ”
She nodded.
“My name is Henry De Ath,
but just call me Henry or Mr D.

On the far side of the lake,
a figure emerged
from the dark waters of the lake.
He crawled up onto the shore,
and then removed the mask of death that he wore.
He waited for a few moments
while he caught his breath,
and then hurried back to his black car.
He gave a quick glance at the blue lights,
on the far shore,
before disappearing
into the swirl of traffic for another day.

The End……………………..or is it?

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 3)

(The author recommends that you read Parts One and Two before reading this.)

For a week, he frantically looked
for her at the bus stop
and the surrounding area.
Unfortunately, he could not see her anywhere.
It was as if she had vanished into thin air.
He bought most every paper,
looking for her picture there somewhere,
but it never appeared.

At his ground floor flat, he paced about.
She was on his mind constantly.
He need to find her,
but was lost on what to do.
He could not go to the police;
they would take him as a crank,
or worst still,
accuse him of being a murderer.
He had to get them to listen.
The question was how?
The next day he drew out some money,
then went to the bad side of town,
and purchased himself an illegal gun.

He set out writing a note
saying everything he had to say.
He could not go any longer living this way.
He need to escape the torment
and helplessness he felt.
He could not go on with his feelings tide,
the only way out he could see was suicide.
Now he had a weapon to help him with his quest.
One single bullet
and fate would do the rest.

Sitting in the sunlight,
suddenly he could see
a time, a place and a date.
What did it all mean?
He would have to visit the place
before he performed his final act.
He had to know what was there.
Next morning he travelled to the place,
a park with a lake and wooden bridge.
Dotted around the side of the lake
were park benches and several people sitting there.
The wooden bridge spanned the lake at a narrow part.

He had seen enough,
and he knew what he had to do.
At his flat he passed a neighbour,
he put his gloomiest expression on.
He did not talk,
just nodded with a long engraved frown.
He past them in the hall.
Entering the flat,
he sat at the table just visible from the door.
He lifted the gun and pointed at his temple.
It had to end now and forever more…
Outside in the hall the neighbour
heard the shot and something heavy fall.
Rushing to their flat the emergency services called.

Within in minutes a police car arrived,
and pulled up outside the flat.
The anguished neighbour rushed out to them.
She explained what had happened
and everything that she had heard,
the shot and the loud thump.
One of the Constables rushed
to the front door of the flat.
He shouted out the name
the neighbour had told him.
However, no answer came back.
The neighbour then explained
she had a spare key
because he used to be blind.
She gave it to the Constable.
He inserted the key in the lock
and then gave it a twist.
The door swung open.

To be continued……

7 June 2007

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Westminster Bridge.

Fay looked down
at the River Thames
from Westminster Bridge

and you stood next to her
watching the boats
go under the bridge

and disappear from view
and she said
my dad said he'd take me

on one of those boats
and out to sea
but he never has

you looked sideways at her
taking in her blonde hair
and her blue eyes

and the way the wind
touched her hair
and made her dress

move about her legs
I've been on boats
on the river before

you said
making conversation
not seeking to impress

or boast
I like the chugging sound
of the boat

you added
Fay touched
the edge of the bridge

where she stood
and said
this bridge was built in 1862

I heard about it in class
Miss Ash told us about it
oh yes she

with her massive shoulders
and arms and big breasts
you said

and Fay laughed
and blushed slightly
God knows what my dad'd say

if he heard you say that
and me laughing
she said

looking at you
and shyly smiling
probably give me

what's for
she uttered quieter
ceasing to smile

her eyes taking on
a dark gaze
looking out

at the river again
you've got to have a laugh
now and then

haven't you
you said
wanting to put

an arm about her
but not doing so
just putting a hand

next to hers
on the bridge top
feeling the cold stone

wanting to feel her flesh
soft and warm
suppose so

she said softly
her fingers close to yours
almost touching

you moved your hand
closer across the stone
crablike and touched

her small finger with yours
she breathed in the air
and so did you

and she said
oh to be in London
and out of doors.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hollow

I sit alone at the edge
of a bench, watching the children
as they laugh
and play.
And they run past me
as I smile back and laugh
with their small voices
and wet hair in their eyes.
And they call me their friend,
as they see me often.
I often sit alone on that bench.
In the dust at the corner
of the sunlit park.
With a sagging tree
just over my head,
dappling my clothes
and shading my eyes
from the sun.
Until I stayed the night.
The sun was shooed
out of the sky
and the moon took
her shift.
The shadows grew longer
and the children left,
calling in the faeries.
They wanted me to dance.
I smiled and stood
in the center
of the pure Beauty.

poem by Zoe Guillory
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Fractured Moon

Fractured moon
In a silver spoon
Dissolved into the eyes
Of awakening tiger
Then moved away
In a vanishing light
With a lunar tone

Fractured moon
Swallowed
By a flying dragon
With all fire and no fire
The fractured moon
Collapsed in doom

While the souls
Of the dead
Still roam
Closer and closer
Near the moon
Around the moon
Within the moon
Or what have left
From a
Fractured moon

Or maybe
Another Moon

Like a photo of
A bright image
Held by aging fingers
Of a woman
Praying in her
Upstairs Room
For “long” dead
Human loved form

Near the bolted
Green back door
Stood a ghostly figure
Of an old man
Weeping
In the silence of
An astral night
Trying for an opening
To reach her
Over and over
But in vain
For the woman
in the
Upstairs room

Darkness born
In the second shadow
Of a fractured moon
And light moulded
In the old house
In a special corner
of
A very special room

Fractured moon
In a silver spoon
Dissolved into the eyes
Of awakening tiger
Then moved away
In a vanishing light
With a lunar tone

poem by Najib Altawell
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Night-Scented Stock

White, white in the milky night
The moon danced over a tree.
"Wouldn't it be lovely to swim in the lake!"
Someone whispered to me.

"Oh, do-do-do!" cooed someone else,
And clasped her hands to her chin.
"I should so love to see the white bodies--
All the white bodies jump in!"

The big dark house hid secretly
Behind the magnolia and the spreading pear-tree;
But there was a sound of music--music rippled and ran
Like a lady laughing behind her fan,
Laughing and mocking and running away...
"Come into the garden--it's as light as day!"

"I can't dance to that Hungarian stuff,
The rhythm in it is not passionate enough,"
Said somebody. "I absolutely refuse...."
But he took off his socks and his shoes
And round he spun. "It's like Hungarian fruit dishes
Hard and bright--a mechanical blue!"
His white feet flicked in the grass like fishes...
Someone cried: "I want to dance, too!"

But one with a queer Russian ballet head
Curled up on a blue wooden bench instead.
And another, shadowy--shadowy and tall--
Walked in the shadow of the dark house wall,
Someone beside her. It shone in the gloom,
His round grey hat, like a wet mushroom.

"Don't you think perhaps..." piped someone's flute.
"How sweet the flowers smell!" I heard the other say.
Somebody picked a wet, wet pink,
Smelled it and threw it away.
"Is the moon a virgin or is she a harlot?"
Asked somebody. Nobody would tell.
The faces and the hands moved in a pattern
As the music rose and fell,
In a dancing, mysterious, moon-bright pattern
Like flowers nodding under the sea...

The music stopped and there was nothing left of them
But the moon dancing over the tree.

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Snow Sweet

the woman was walking
perhaps she was a grand mother
very old and old old old and ancient
like a walking monument
there left a bit of her femininity
her breasts
like long flat oven loaves of bread
towards the gravity
she tries to be ottoman
as she could be
and the years
nestled in her whitening hair
very difficult to weave or plait
a rough walking stick in her hand
hatred tapping on the ground
was shr walking
or the walking stick
one of her eyes
covered with a white stain
seeing clearly is in vain
a present from her mother in law
jealous of her son
when weaving a carpet
she was remembering her days
on horse ride
told a love story
her grand daughters gigled and laughed
never understood
sometimes she us of the
hard and harsh days
during the liberation battle against the greeks
invading our country
and of my father asa a veteran officer
returning from a long war
arabs killing turks
evoked by lawrence of arabia
who reached every area
she said
the trains whistled strangely and prosperously
when greeks retreated and defeated in our country
who were swept to the mediterranean sea
ytes those were the harsh and hard days
she had ever seen
she was very old
was it a garment
or an old and torn cloth she wore
nobody could guess any more
eas she walking
or the walking stick nobody understood
years on her piled
she was at the edge of death
her only last wish
toı taste the snow sweet
she loved the best
but nobody bothered to mix the snow
and the teacle for her
she had also small jack knife
just to peel the apples
she liked the apples too
but her teeth cannot bite
one evening
on a cold very cold winter day
she left this world
in a cold and desolate room
swearing everthing to all
shivering and alone
with white snow in her hands
and mouth
near the window pane
and in vain
they told me that
what a pity she was my auntie
I could notf appreciate and knew value
unless she died
she used to call my mother
our bride
honest to say
our bride looked after her very well
sometimes jealousy covered my soul
what a pity
one day
our bride too fled to infinity
like a bridal falling on trees on a cold winter day
both of them are I think now in heaven really
our bride mother and my old auntie
where who knows
looking well after each other
I wish I were there
who will look after me when I die
I wonder
If there were snow sweet there
If there is
I tooo wonder
who will
mix the snow and the treacle
to make snow sweet there

poem by Metin Sahin
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Walking On The Moon

Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs don't break
Walking on the moon
We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could live together
Walking on, walking on the moon
Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon
Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon
Feet they hardly touch the ground
Walking on the moon
My feet don't hardly make no sound
Walking on, walking on the moon
Some may say
I'm wishing my days away
No way
And if it's the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrow's another day
You stay
I may as well play
Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs don't break
Walking on the moon
We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could be together
Walking on, walking on the moon
Some may say
I'm wishing my days away
No way
And if it's the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrow's another day
You stay
I may as well play
Keep it up, keep it up

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Girl and The Moon

once upon a time there was a little girl.
she liked to sit outside at night and talk to the moon.
everynight she kept the moon company.
one night she noticed the moon seemed tired, so
she climbed upon the roof, to tell the moon a secret.
the old moon smiled, so she reaches up
takes the moon in her hands and puts him in her pocket.
then she climbs down and goes into her house, up the stairs
to her room.there she takes the moon out and lets lay on
her bed.for hours they talked, told secrets and giggled.
then they heard people asking where the moon was.
outside was so dark, they couldnt find their ways.
the old moon says to the little girl
'maybe you should put me back into the sky,
so the people can find their way home at night'.
the little girl agreed.so she picks up the moon,
puts him back into her pocket.
she walks downstairs and goes outside.
it was very dark, but she wasnt afraid,
she had her friend the moon to help
show her the way.
she climbs back upon the roof, takes the moon out
of her pocket. holding him with both hands
she tells the moon'i love you,
we will still talk every night, but you must go back
give people light at nightime'.
she leans over kisses the moon goodnight.
then reaches back and tosses the moon
hard as she could back into the
nightime sky.
then the little girl and the moon hear, all the people
shouting and laughing.
after everything quietened down
the stars who were so happy the moon returned
all gave the moon kisses.
the little girl climbed down
with the moon lighting her way
went inside up to her room
took 1 last peek out
blowing the moon a big kiss goodnight.

poem by Sandy Nobody
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Lalani

I swore, when my wife took off one night
That I'd never love again,
She'd left a note by the candlelight:
'I've been seeing other men! '
I stood in shock, I couldn't move,
Stood rooted to the floor,
And after I'd pulled the blinds, I cried,
Then locked the cottage door.

The love that she'd sworn, just shadows;
The plans that we'd made, just sand,
My life had become a darker place
By the scrawl from a woman's hand.
The cottage was wreathed in silence, it
Was still, like a living tomb,
The only sounds were my echoing steps
As I paced there, in the gloom.

I spent, God! How many weeks? I sat
Just stared at a blank, white wall,
I didn't dare venture out, but drank,
I tried to forget it all,
But then I'd walk at the lonely beach
Where we'd skipped to a lovers tune,
The light of love had been in my eyes
As she'd danced to a harvest moon.

The autumn passed in a drunken haze
The nights were becoming chill,
I warmed myself in the comforting blaze
Of a wood fire on the hill,
But then one night as the breakers crashed
And spent themselves on the reef,
I heard the sounds of a woman's moans
Rise up from the lonely beach.

The storm was whipping the rising crests,
The wind soughed through the trees,
I made my way to the beach, and there
She crawled on her hands and knees,
I picked her up, and carried her back
To the cottage, and there I saw
The sea had savaged her body there,
Dragged over the rocky shore.

There was no clothing of any sort,
Her skin was a pearly white,
But scraped and marred, she was loveliness
As she even bled in the night,
I washed and tended her every cut
And I held my breath in the gloom,
I couldn't believe my fortune there
As she lay in my own front room.

I wrapped her up in a robe, to save
Embarrassment for us both,
She slept content for an hour or two
While I watched, and prayed and hoped,
Then just at dawn, she opened her eyes
Took one brief glance at me,
Then muttered a word, she said, 'La-la...'
Again, said: 'La-lani.'

For days she lay in a fever, and
I fed her on fish and bread,
I tried to get her to talk to me
But she only shook her head,
She'd had a cut on the side of her neck
That had healed, some time before,
But opened up as I stared at it,
So she hid it under her hair.

Within a week she was up and out,
Was dancing along the beach,
She'd smile, and tease me to chase her there,
I laughed, first time for weeks;
She peeled the robe off as she danced,
Came naked into my arms,
Then kissed and smothered me way out there
With all of her womanly charms.

I thought that she might be deaf and dumb,
She never attempted a word,
But showed affection by patting my arm,
By nodding and shaking her head.
The slit on her neck stayed open, and
I looked at the other side,
Where one of the same had marred her skin,
She dropped her eyes, and sighed.

I'd said I never would fall in love
Again, and that was true,
But that was before Lalani,
I was smitten, and that she knew.
I told her then that I wanted her,
Said I loved her more than life,
I didn't care that she couldn't speak,
I'd take her for my wife.

She smiled, but then looked troubled,
Dropped her head down onto her chin,
I found her down at the water's edge
Where the tide was coming in,
She opened her mouth and sang a note
As mournful as the grave,
Like the tone of a bell in a waterspout,
Or an underwater cave.

And there in the shallows rose a man
With skin like a silver fish,
With eyes like a giant halibut,
And teeth for tearing flesh,
He leapt right out of the water,
Seized her arm and dragged her in,
I shouted her name, 'Lalani...'
But they'd gone, and the sea was calm.

In terror, I launched my boat, and revved
The engine out in the bay,
I circled the shallow waters,
Then I headed on out to sea,
I stopped at last, and stared straight down
To the weed on the ocean floor,
It was then that I saw Lalani
Swimming under the surface there.

She floated, feet below me,
Looking up, and she waved goodbye,
The fish man waited down below
As she turned - I thought I'd die!
She sank to the depths, and out of sight,
I knew that she'd gone for good...
I'll burn the cottage one moonless night,
Love's not in my neighborhood!

22 July 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 3)

As the door opened, he could see
the room was filled with people.
They looked at him as he entered
everyone smiled saying good evening.
He was ushered to the top of the table
and seated beside a beautiful young woman.
Her smile radiated the room
with light and warmth.
“Hello, you must be Lord Charles
my husband to be.
I am Princess Juliet.”
Her voice flowed through him
like a river of tranquillity.

At first, he was not sure
just what to say to her.
He stumbled over his words
and it made her laugh.
Suddenly he was at ease
and it seemed they were
the only two in the room
and when he looked around,
they were the only two
everyone else had disappeared.
As they chatted he felt at home,
a home he could only have wished for.

They ate and talked
and when they had finished
the food and the dishes disappeared.
Suddenly as if by magic,
an orchestra began playing.
They got up and danced
and danced and danced
into the late evening.
They then took a stroll
into the garden in the moonlight,
walking arm in arm.
They stopped briefly,
where he stole a kiss.

As he awoke the next morning,
he could not remember much
of the night before
only that he had met his princess
and had a wonderful time.
“I am your clothes for today.”
He looked around as the clothes
suddenly threw themselves at him
and suddenly he was dressed.
“I see you are ready M’ Lord.”
“Ready for what? ”
“Your wedding M’ Lord.”

He followed the tall man
down the stairs
and out into the courtyard
where a carriage pulled by six white horses
stood waited for him.
He stopped and looked around
apart from the crowds of people
white doves danced
pirouettes in the sky.
They looked golden
as the sun painted them
with its warming rays.
Flags and pennants of different colours
hung out from everywhere.

From the Cathedral, church bells filled the air
as the carriage moved slowly
along the cobble stone streets
lined with people either side.
He sat and waved at them
through the window of the carriage
as the procession passed.
Within a few minutes,
they arrived at the great city Cathedral.
As he stepped from the carriage,
there seemed a party atmosphere everywhere.

Entering the Cathedral
the serine voices of the choir
rose up to the rafters
as the Cathedral bells
could be heard across the hamlets.
The pews were filled
from front to back.
He stood at the alter
waiting for his bride to be.
He felt that this must be all a dream
and in a moment, he would awake
back to the harsh realities of his life.
Then the organ announced of the brides arrival.

To be concluded

18-19 April 2011

poem by David Harris
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Angry Young Woman

Angry young woman on sunrise strip,
Walking away to the new world.
She left her man, she left her children,
cause she knows she has only one life to live.
Angry young woman with her background on her forehead,
Three children and two abortions.
Played a little piano ten years ago.
And some typing from the college where she met her husband.
Angry young woman in the dark of the night,
Hears her children crying for dinner,
Hears her man shouting for his shirt
And thinks of the first sundays they spent in the park.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
(angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket)
(angry young woman, angry young woman)

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angry Young Woman

Angry young woman on sunrise strip,
Walking away to the new world.
She left her man, she left her children,
cause she knows she has only one life to live.
Angry young woman with her background on her forehead,
Three children and two abortions.
Played a little piano ten years ago.
And some typing from the college where she met her husband.
Angry young woman in the dark of the night,
Hears her children crying for dinner,
Hears her man shouting for his shirt
And thinks of the first sundays they spent in the park.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
(angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket)
(angry young woman, angry young woman)

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking On The Moon

Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs dont break
Walking on the moon
We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could live together
Walking on, walking on the moon
Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon
Walking back from your house
Walking on the moon
Feet they hardly touch the ground
Walking on the moon
My feet dont hardly make no sound
Walking on, walking on the moon
Some may say
Im wishing my days away
No way
And if its the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrows another day
You stay
I may as well play
Giant steps are what you take
Walking on the moon
I hope my legs dont break
Walking on the moon
We could walk forever
Walking on the moon
We could be together
Walking on, walking on the moon
Some may say
Im wishing my days away
No way
And if its the price I pay
Some say
Tomorrows another day
You stay
I may as well play
Keep it up, keep it up

song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chivalry

I saw you across the room
and my heart stopped.

You noticed
and I looked away.

I saw you across the room
this time you didn't see
me looking at you.

I moved my eyes
across the all of you
moved my lips
feeling my breath stop.

'Beautiful' I thought
'just a beautiful man'

Not supposed to notice
all the pretty men,
not if you're a bit older:
but pretty I still am
and I want to know
if younger men know;

If I can still attract
a look
still get noticed;
even admired.

Or am I now invisible
to any young man
under 25?

A critical point
in every woman's life
where the line between
younger and older lies.

I move
to catch your line of sight
just to see if your eye
would linger long enough
to make me understand
you wanted a second look.

You glanced
but then glanced away.

I decided for another try
and stood behind
so that if you moved
you encounter me
and I'd dropp my notepad.

Why pass 35
do I
still need to be admired
by younger men?

You moved and my pad dropped.

And with little or no eye-contact,

you picked it up
with a smile
and gave it back.

I bobbed my head
moved on
felled by
indifferent
chivalry
and passage
into
the Older Woman Category.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking On The Edge

Keep on, keep on, whispering in the night
Theres no problem if its not in sight
In the face of annihilation
We still plan futures for the children
Keep on whispering in the night
People talk its just cocktail chatter
What we say, anyway, doesnt really matter
Everybody, time is tight
Were walking on the edge
Of the long black night
From the left and from the right
Theyre walking on the edge
Of the long black night
And waiting on the big bang
Wake up, wake up, yes this is your life too
The light of spirit also burns in you
In the face of extermination
We still plan futures for the children
Get up, yes this is your life too
We talk and talk and shake our heads in wonder
Nothing that we can do
Can stop us from going under
Everybody, time is tight
Were walking on the edge
Of the long black night
From the left and from the right
Theyre walking on the edge
Of the long black night
And waiting on the big bang
I sit here and contemplate my future
And all the songs that we all sing
Dont really do a thing
Everybody, time is tight
Were walking on the edge
Of the long black night
From the left and from the right
Theyre walking on the edge
Of the long black night
And waiting on the big bang...

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Tried To Open The Wide Book Of Night

I tried to open wide the book of night
To look into its eyes - like a lover
That pretended of his love confession as of right
And so to Hastings Gardens went I in the night.
Wide, wide before the long night stood
No corner stopped my glance no space
Its boundary showed and manifested
To my glance long tall continous lay the night
In its mischievous slumbering
Wherein it dreamt dreams I know not
Nor thereof heard the silent trees bespeak.
How many nights before me came
How many, many nights
And they were certes here like this night
As I look from the bastions to the sea
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light to-night:
So gleamed the light on the sea-waves
When the French besieged and held
Our noble city: how many a lover
Stood looking on the sea and at his love
As mid-night in his satined robes tiptoed:
Rippling stood the waves and waters wild
And fancy its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light:
For years and years the welcome Briton stood
Perhaps here where stay I and his foot
Could be heard pace all sentinel
Into the dark glooms of silent night
From casements near opening on the seas
And houses nearby in dreaming bent
Through the long night, the long and weary night
That was of many nights that were
And will be of many nights that will
And when I stay not on the bastions and
Feel not the sea-breeze my face cool
Night after night will come and children small
Few years born will come and go:
And after children small will come again
Night after night will come and speak
Unto the rocks that front the sea
And playing with lapping sea-waves all the night
Unheard, unseen, unnoticed in the times
And in the flight of years and centuries full lost
And when night comes and still the sea
Will shine – its silver bosom dance and gleam
In the moon’s amorous light.

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking In My Footsteps

You're walking in my footsteps
From the tracks
That I have left.
You're walking in my footsteps
For now you see
My regrets.
For now you walk
With a limp
From your burdens
Your back is bent.
And you're walking in my footsteps
For now I see
That you're upset
You're walking the road
That I've walked before
The one I swore
I'd walk no more.

And you're walking in my footsteps
For now you see
The tracks I left
You're walking it so fast
Just like a run
Leaving the mud prints
Under the sun
That dries up
and turns to dirt
Which blows away
But stays the hurt.

And you're walking in my footsteps
From your burdens
That I have kept
I see the blood
That I have shed
Mixed with yours
Though it still is red.

And you're walking in my footsteps
For the footsteps now, are the same
With the same depth
From the same tears
From the same old troubles
From the same old fears.
And you're walking in your footsteps
For mine are gone
And yours are here.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taking Off The Edge

(larry cordle/larry shell)
I been down on my luck
I been down on my knees
Well I been downtown
And I been down on the farm
I cant be satisfied
But Im gonna have to find
A way to kick back and
Take off the edge
Now theres a little gal I know
Just south of tupelo
Her hair is dark and her legs are long and tan
She rubs my back just right
Till way up in the night
She knows how to
Take off the edge
Ive been laid up with the flu
Laid off a time or two
Ive been uptight
And Ive been up a creek
Im gonna take my bamboo pole
And head out to the fishing hole
Dont you know it helps to
Take off the edge
Now theres a little gal I know
Just south of tupelo
Her hair is dark and her legs are long and tan
She rubs my back just right
Till way up in the night
She knows how to
Take off the edge
Now its morning once again
Oh, lord I just punched in
And I cant hardly wait till quitting time
Gonna get that big brown jug
All I need is a little slug
Just another way to
Takin off the edge
Now theres a little gal I know
Just south of tupelo
Her hair is dark and her legs are long and tan
She rubs my back just right
Till way up in the night
Well she knows how to
Take off the edge
Oh she sure knows how to
Take off the edge

song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Song

The moon stretched a long finger
across the calm waters
as they rolled to the shore.
The stars danced on each wave
filling the night with romance.
Couples walked hand in hand
along the sandy shore.
Love twinkled in their eyes
as they left their footprints in the sand.
The nocturnal calls created a rhythm in the air
once the sun had bid its goodbye.
The footprints stopped occasionally
as the lovers arms curled around one another
to capture a nights kiss of bliss
as they stood on the sandy shore,
then moved along enjoying
the romantic night song.

20-21 January 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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