It Happens All The Time
It is strange how sometimes
we can recognise someone instantly
after a distance of years,
yet others we do not recognise at all.
This has happened a number of times to me.
The one I thought I would recognise
I could easily passed them on the street,
yet the ones who are strangers
I recognise instantly.
There is no logic in this,
but it happens all the time.
31 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Date
Wait for me in the Street of Aged Lovers
At nine by our sign
You will recognise me easily
I will be wearing a sun ray coloured shirt
That is the colour of your shine
If I come first
I will recognise you even more easily
When you arrive, reality
Turns into a fairy tale
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Feeling At Home
There are times when we take journeys
and are hesitant at what we might find.
In the back of our mind,
we fear rejection of any kind.
We step down from the plane
nervous of our surroundings
not sure what awaits us here.
We are about to leave the terminal
when from across the room
we see a face we recognise
and like an old time movie
we run and hug one another
and instantly we feel at home.
27 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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0014 A Hindu Temple Speaks
How can I, a temple, persuade you
that the boundless,
the limitless,
the eternal,
the One,
exist?
I could tell you that
only those who are bound
recognise the boundless,
only those who are limited
recognise the limitless,
only those who are mortal
recognise the eternal
only those who feel themselves many
recognise the One
or I could tell you that
only boundlessness tells you you are bound;
only limitlessness shows you your limits,
only the eternal shows you your mortality;
only the One shows you multiplicity
or, if you're still not convinced,
see my sculptured couples;
kiss, and find
what love tells us
poem by Michael Shepherd
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When I choose a role it's either because I recognise the man, or that I'm very curious to know him. If I neither recognise nor know him, then it is better that I don't play him.
quote by Ben Kingsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0429 Who Doesn't Love Greatness?
It's one of the world's
greatest secrets
that shoudn't be:
if you recognise
an artist's greatness -
in any art -
it's because you have
greatness in yourself
otherwise
you'd never recognise it
OK?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Two Strangers
In 1958, I last saw someone
whom would disappear from my life
until December 2006.
Our meeting was not face to face,
but across the internet.
Three cheers for technology.
She recognised me from an old school photo
it was not until I saw the class photo
after she pointed out herself
that I did recognise who she was.
For countless years you see,
I thought of her under a different name
which why I did not recognise her straight away.
The New Year came and we talked
about how our lives in the intervening years.
She introduced me to a friend
whom did the same thing as me - write.
At first, I was confused
and within our correspondence,
my confusion did show.
I gave out so many mixed signals
that I shudder to think at what she thought.
Slowly as time passed,
I grew more admiration for these two strangers
who suddenly entered into my life
and they became firm friends.
Years before I had given up on writing,
the one thing that I did best.
Like two earth angels,
they lifted me and carried me though
to a new chapter in my life.
The names of these two angels
are Suzanne Gaddess and Melvina Germain.
Between them both,
they gave me friendship
and much, much more.
They dragged me from the pit of despair
and showed me the right road to take.
I have never looked back since,
well only occasionally
to make sure my two loving friends are still there.
In 2009, I plan to meet them
and give each some great big hugs
to these two wonderful strangers
I met across the internet.
14 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Why Is It
Why is it when someone tells you something
it keeps repeating itself over in your mind?
It is a question I have no answer for,
but it does it all the time with me.
A very dear friend told me something
that happened in their earlier years
and ever since then it keeps
repeating itself over in my mind.
I keep wishing I had been there at that time
to help them through their ordeal,
but I wasn’t and I didn’t even know them then.
Therefore, why is it now
what happened to them
bothering me so much now?
Could it be I recognise something similar
that happened within my family
and I was unable to help
all the torment that they went through?
Why is it that it bothers me
when I know happiness they found.
The question bothers me for an answer
and that answer I cannot find.
If someone knows the answer,
could they please tell me
and put me out of my misery,
letting my poor heart rest for a time.
30 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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It's also strange when people recognise you in the street and they know you but you don't know them. It's a little weird, but nothing to complain about.
quote by Keira Knightley
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Set In The Ways
Set in the ways we recognise,
The ways of men are not condemned;
Do not harry me intentionally or frustratingly,
Harry me never in this world.
Set the standards of health and live beyond,
Beyond this life is another death,
Death shall appear and recognise you.
Harassing me is like giving a death to me,
So please understand the ways of slaughter
Before you harry my body and mind
For your very benefit.
Men are smoothly appearing before us
With women on their shoulders,
Children are hanging not harrying
So please do not condemn their appearance,
It is another death.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Daddy, Put Down The Bottle
Through the looking glass
of my bottle of wine,
I see the world in hazy colours
within this oblivion of mine.
A voice rings out from somewhere,
one I barely recognise.
“Daddy, put down the bottle
and become again a friend of mine.”
I look around at muddled faces
with eyes half awake
and my befuddled brain
fails to record where I am.
I raise an awkward smile
to someone I cannot recognise.
“Daddy, put down the bottle
and become again a friend of mine.”
I steady myself at the table
my balance has lost its touch.
Eyes look down hauntingly
as I reach out for touch.
The voice rings out again,
the one I barely recognise.
“Daddy, put down the bottle
and become again a friend of mine.”
The coloured haze before my eyes
become darker in a cloud.
My world is spinning around me
in a befuddled mess.
Limbs become useless
as I crumple to somewhere.
The voice is fading now.
“Daddy, put the bottle down, ”
and ends with a crying sound.
4 June 2011
poem by David Harris
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People are so busy anyway they don't see you or recognise you in the street.
quote by Andrea Corr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beginnings
He who dares talk with you in your silence,
Listening even as he speaks your name;
Whose pulse is mingling with your stirring heart;
Who walks at once beside you without qualms:
Who can sense what you feel, and is there all along
When something goes wrong and when you're most alone;
Who understands your fears, tries to find the answers
When you face the unknown, when questions fill your head.
The weariness of your heart banished for he is there.
His words may not impress, physique unadmirable;
His tongue and his hands often misunderstood.
He is true to all, though he may not be strong.
You seek what seems to shatter former views;
Ask yourself if as one your paths will fuse,
You recognise that there is something there;
You both will never be again the same.
You follow him within you when he leaves,
Beg him to tarry longer when he stays;
Before he finally goes on his way,
Spends his time with you while he is around.
From that single moment there on after,
The aching void in you dissipated;
Biding time as friends, no longer strangers;
You are lifted up, your empty days filled.
Your gates fly open, yearnings departed,
And yesterday is yesterday for good.
You recognise something there that had changed;
Suddenly knowing what you saw was true.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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1000 Times
Nightfall follows the day
You fight with me
Fill me with patience
I was so brave once
You rescued me
Got in my way
A thousand times
Dumbfounded lies
In tidy lines
Let blood flood the town
Thoughts that dwell
On how we fell
That time will tell
A bedside story of
We've heard it before
Unsettled sleep
When will it all stop?
I hear a pin drop
You've answered me
Loud and clear
So know your fate
The time and date
We escalate
We fall on holy ground
Thoughts that dwell
On how we fell
That time will tell
A bedside story of
I'm here
Leave me to wait near
You recognise me
Get in my way, dear
The price to pay, dear
You'll recognise me
I'll be laying
Where your golden light
Where your golden light
A thousand times
In tidy lines
Let blood flood the town
Thoughts that dwell
On how we fell
That time will tell
A bedside story of
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You go down some street - no doubt it's there, and we have to do something about it, and our programmes are designed to do that - but if that's a picture of Newcastle, it's not the one I recognise and I bet none in the North East do either.
quote by John Prescott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Might Be Wrong
Uncouth ill educated lout.
You make your mind up instantly,
you are quite sure you have no doubt.
He is what he appears to be
You later find to you surprise
he is in fact a gentleman.
Regarded by the world as wise.
Not as you thought an also ran.
Because he does not look the part.
You thought him worthy of disdain.
But now you have a change of heart
you have been forced to think again.
Clothes do not make a gentleman.
Quite often they disguise a thief
who’s out to steal all that he can
He’s confident of your belief
That you can quickly recognise
the calibre of those you meet.
Forgetting that appearances lies
when other men are out to cheat.
The cover does not tell the tale
of what is written in the book.
If you are wise you will not fail
to take a second searching look.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I've been on the road for four years. I won't recognise the place again, until I walk out on stage.
quote by Louise Jameson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fugitive
A fugitive is someone,
who runs away from things.
There are many fugitives,
which live in our society.
Some you would never recognise,
because they look a lot like us.
In fact, they could be us.
As all of us runaway from something,
at sometime or other in our lives.
We are afraid to face reality,
but most of the time,
we just runaway from ourselves.
3 October 2007
poem by David Harris
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The Ordinary Man In The Street
Who is this strange creation -
'The ordinary man in the street'
How best can we describe him,
What say us if we meet?
He is but pure invention,
A meaningless disguise,
A bafflement, a camouflage
I do not recognise.
You can't reduce a person
Of any sex or race
To such a mundane sentence,
A being, without face;
We can't be averaged out so
It simply doesn't hold,
We'll not be departmentalised
Or do as we are told.
So listen to our heartbeats,
Remove us from your plan,
We're not that strange creation...
'The ordinary man'!
poem by John Carter Brown
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And Where Is She Now
How often do you wonder
what happened to your first love.
Sometimes I do it all the time.
I wonder what she is doing,
what kind of life she’s lead,
has she had any children and how many.
Did she ever marry the man of her dream,
or is she still waiting
for him to come along?
The questions are without answers,
as I really don’t know.
My first love was Gillian Reid.
I met her at a dance hall
where she worked.
I caught a glimpse of her
the first night I went there
from the corner of my eye.
It was enough for me
to fall madly in love with her.
I slowly got to know as time passed by.
We never went out together though I did try.
However, I had fallen madly in love with her.
Sadly, that love was never returned.
She did however become
a source of inspiration
for many years to come.
I wrote songs by the score,
even my first novel
was written for her.
As the years passed,
she still did inspire me
with short stories and a radio play
and of course
a poem or two.
The last I heard about her
was way back in the late sixties
when someone had told me
she went all hippie.
Still I never saw her again
and I often wonder
would I recognise her
if by chance we passed on the street.
One thing I do remember well.
I wrote her a letter,
the longest letter that I’ve ever written.
It took five envelops to sent it,
so I must have been smitten.
And where is she now
your guess is as good as mine.
All I can tell you is this,
somewhere in this heart of mine
a small fire for her still burns
for the first love of mine.
Time has never dampened
all the embers in there.
However, my wife
has nothing to worry about.
The past is the past
and that is just where it is staying.
poem by David Harris
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I like the way that different people recognise me for the roles I done.
quote by Casper Van Dien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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