Illustrious Ancestors
The Rav
of Northern White Russia declined,
in his youth, to learn the
language of birds, because
the extraneous did not interest him; nevertheless
when he grew old it was found
he understood them anyway, having
listened well, and as it is said, 'prayed
with the bench and the floor.' He used
what was at hand--as did
Angel Jones of Mold, whose meditations
were sewn into coats and britches.
Well, I would like to make,
thinking some line still taut between me and them,
poems direct as what the birds said,
hard as a floor, sound as a bench,
mysterious as the silence when the tailor
would pause with his needle in the air.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Going Home On The Northern Pacific
The way home for me was eastbound
on the Northern Pacific from California
riding coach (pillow furnished for a fee)
and reading paperback books -
everything from Robinson Jeffers
'...stones have stood for a thousand years,
and pained thoughts found the honey
of peace in old poems.'
to Denise Levertov's Illustrious Ancestors
'...poems direct as what the birds said,
hard as a floor, sound as a bench,
mysterious as the silence when the tailor
would pause with his needle in the air.'
even the obscure Ray Durem
'...I cannot find those mild and gracious words
to clothe the carnage.'
I got off when the train reached Chicago
a soldier home from the war
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Going Home On The Train
The way home for me was eastbound
on the Northern Pacific from California
riding coach (pillow furnished for a fee)
and reading paperback books -
everything from Robinson Jeffers-
'...stones have stood for a thousand years,
and pained thoughts found the honey
of peace in old poems.'
to Denise Levertov's ILLUSTRATED ANCESTORS
'...poems direct as what the birds said,
hard as a floor, sound as a bench,
mysterious as the silence when the tailor
would pause with the needle in the air.'
including the obscure Ray Durem -
'...I cannot find those mild and gracious words
to clothe the carnage.'
I got off when the train reached Chicago-
an obscure soldier home from war.
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Sound As A Bench
Poetry should be mysterious as silence
and as sound as a bench
and as hard as a floor
so I read in poems
by Denise Levertov
Poets are like worms
building from their innards
castles of metaphor
She advises poets to relearn
the alphabet
from anguish and ardor
through somnolent grotto
to the flank of Pegasus
and home to the present
I learn more from one line
about the twelfth letter
of the alphabet
according to Levertov
than most of the stuff
other people have drilled
into me since puberty!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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Happening 1961
Greenfield said
where you from?
London you replied
I don’t like Londoners
he said as a bee
buzzed in the greenhouse
where the rural science teacher
Gable had sent you.
Greenfield pushed you
against the potting bench
and you pushed him
against begonia plants
which fell to the floor
and he punched
your arm
and you punched
his jaw
and he grabbed you
around the waist
and you both
fell to the floor.
You smelt his sweat
and saw blood
drip from his lips.
Get up you gits
another boy said
Old Gable’s coming
and so you pulled
Greenfield up
by the hand
and he brushed off
your school jacket
and you pushed
your fingers
through your hair
and he wiped blood
from his lips
and in came Gable
and said
what’s happening here?
And why are the begonias
on the floor?
My fault you said
I knocked them
with my elbow
and Greenfield
was going to
pick them up
when he banged his jaw
on the bench by accident.
Gable glared
at you both
and said
well bloody well
pick them up
and clean up the mess
and left.
Greenfield held
his handkerchief
to his lip.
You picked up
the begonias
one by one
and put them
on the bench.
Greenfield put them
tidy and neat
and kicked
the spilt earth
under the bench
with his feet.
Gable’s a toss
Greenfield said
and put out
his hand for
you to shake.
You shook his hand
and smiled
and he laughed
and said
I guess Londoners
aren’t all bad
and the bee buzzed
out the open window
and you watched it go
and was glad.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Lonely
There was an old man
sat on a park bench,
his trousers were baggy,
his hair was unkempt.
It flowed long and white
right down to his shoes
and children would pass by
looking bemused.
A glint in his eye
and a glow on his cheek
he sat all day long
not a word did he speak,
but should you have asked him
why he was there
he'd had given you reasons, I'm sure
with a stare.
He sat on the park bench
eating some berries,
he didn't look sad
and he didn't look merry,
then just when the church clock
struck quarter to four
the old man got up
and he fell to the floor
Nobody noticed him tumble
nobody even passed by
and as sunshine hid behind a cloud
that lonely old man, he did die.
But sometimes as I pass that bench
I have a strange feeling inside
that someone is eating a berry or two
and watching the people go by
poem by Ruth Walters
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A Mother's Sacrifies
Curled up in warm blanket
sewn from the tears and
love of a mother
no worries in the world
face ached with a smile
he sleeps in serenity
Perched on a bench she sit
with the wonders of the world
on her mind
tears held back
and hidden by a smile
she clenches her baby to her
Birds chippings up a head
provides the softening hymn
as he rocks back and forth
exhausted by the day
a mother breaks down when her eyes
drops on the heir of her fortune
as tears slow grace her face
A decision of a king
left to be done
as the wind softly blows
perched under a box
wrapped in rags she cries
her self to sleep
But perched on a bench
he cries awoken from his sleep
neatly wrapped on a bench
without his mothers love
poem by Robert Roberts
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I Prayed For You An Angel
I prayed for you an Angel
It's there watching over you
To help to console you
At times you are feeling blue
I prayed for you an Angel
To help to keep you in line
To keep you from all trouble
On days your sun won't shine
I prayed for you an Angel
To come from Heaven above
To comfort you in sorrow
And surround you with Gods love
I prayed for you an Angel
To make sure you'd be alright
To follow you everywhere
And take care of you day and night
I prayed for you an Angel
I didn't know what else I could do
So I just prayed a simple prayer
Telling God how much I still need you
I prayed for you an Angel
To help your heart to mend
God must have granted this prayer
For I still have you as my friend
Wrote 8/22/2008 by Norman Hale Jr.
poem by Norman Hale
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I Simply Like The Word Roost
and its variations,
refer to the latest poem i wrote on the word
ensconce, it is roost that you use, which signifies
about chickens
but honestly i prefer the pegions
which we had
once in my youth
the boy who chased and hit birds
feeding on our rice
drying under the sun
and i did not know what i did
stoning birds and killing them
not really thinking
that they would be happier
and nicer to see
when they are alive
and flying and feeding
on the pavements where
rice is abundant and
it woudl have been more
memorable if i feed
them myself
with rice on my palms
which i never really did
because in my place
a boy is a boy and he must
hit the birds with stones
from his slingshot
until i have seen real birds
and real people shot
and killed on the fields
like birds but
with real ammunitions
from government armalites
and brothers
killing brothers
which really bothers
me a lot
until now
when finally i get tired of thinking
when i simply write
poems and poems, not judgments
not commands, just feelings
like hot and cold, fever and the coldness
of death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The language of love
The dialogues that love broke the silence with
Like the roses that grew on mountains
With the salt from the winter sky
The unabashed soliloquy, even in monologues
They grew noisy like bees,
The string of words tied to my tongue
They mutter an odd dialect of love,
The grammar of silence was hideous
How could you bear something like that?
the language of silence I understood not
It wrote in whispers and spoke in empty pages
Lulled to sleep by the barrage of lyrics
Even the poems looked liked slangs
Just then, at that very second
I remembered silence is just a figure of speech,
And dear when of love we speak
With tongues savoring every move
The eyes measuring, the ears leaning
The eternal night singing
The language of love is after all
The silence
That meanders within…………….
poem by Reshma Ramesh
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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My Angel
You'll always be my angel
Of happiness and love
You'll always be my angel
Looking at me from above.
I miss you a lot
And I wish you could have stayed,
But I thought
It's better for you, so I prayed.
And I keep praying
And thinking
But also crying
And leaking.
It was tearing me apart
Before I actualy knew
Through those golden gates
Those angel guards were you.
You were everything
That you could possibly be
And now that I think of it
Why was I only thinking about me?
You'll always be my angel
Of happiness and love
You'll always be my angel
Looking at me from above.
I see
You watching over me
And hear
You speaking to me
I won't
Give up and not care
I will
Move on and be fair.
As I think about you
I might be sad for a while
But as I think again My Angel
I see your happy smile
Smiling down at me
Through the clouds
And through the sky
I've left the ground
And just died.
I'm coming to be with you
And God, too.
You'll always be my angel
Of happiness and love
You'll always be my angel
Looking at me from above.
poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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Tear It Up
I got a black top road out in front of me
And I might just tear it up
I gotta rock'n'roll jones pumpin' in deep
Just might tear it up
Gimme a bar room floor a back beat band
Play the kinda music I can understand
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand just might tear it up.
Tear it up hey I just might tear it up
Tear it up Tear it up
Ya know I just might tear it up
I got a ticket from a cop on the way over here
Just might tear it up
I got the repossession notice for my car right here
Just might tear it up
Oh one of these nights I ain't lyin'
If the moon is right and I feel like flyin'
Sweet sixteen take me down the line just might tear it up
Chorus:
The way you rock and roll me you make it look so easy
And when you're out on the floor baby
You make it look so easy
Hey you really touch my soul baby
You make it You make it
Tear it up
The way you rock and roll me you make it look so easy
And when you're out on the floor baby
You make it You make it You make it
We got the rock'n'roll band pumpin' tear it up
We got the kids in the gym jumpin' tear it up
We got the chaperones hip hoppin' tear it up
We got sweet sixteen
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Secret Language Of Birds
This sparkling wine is all but empty.
Too late for trains and no taxis.
I know the feeling. seems all too contrived.
There was no master plan but the fact is:
You must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
A tentative dawn about to be breaking
On a rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding.
The truth of the matter, yet to be spoken
In words on which everything, everythings riding.
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
Circled by swallows
In a world for the weary.
Courted by warblers; wicked and eloquent trilling.
Lie in the stillness, window cracked open.
Extended moments, hours for the taking.
Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke.
Painted verse with a chorus in waiting.
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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U-turn
Yeah, ay yo
2000 its us
Yo, its time to u-turn
Ya heard me?
Youre either with us - or against us, yo
Its been some years now
Since we hit the floor to get down
We always had a step to go with the sound
Now everybody wanna sit around, drink and ball
Remember, the snake
And how the floor used to clear
And everybody would break
Whats crunk now used to be called getting to it
Were bringing it all back
This is how we do it, just
Put your hands up, bend your knees
Bounce around in a circle, get down with me
Oh come on, come on
Its not hard to learn
Come on, come on
Its called the u-turn
Put your hands up, bend your knees
Bounce around in a circle, get down with me
Oh come on, come on
Its not hard to learn
Come on, come on
Its called the u-turn
In the 80s, fresh was the talk
Mj had everybody doing the moonwalk
In the 90s, I had a high flat top
Doing the wop, pee wee to the reebok
I cant forget about my high school days
The sound was bobby brown
The dance was the running man
Now everybody wanna push bentleys
The year is 2 - everybody do the u-turn
Put your hands up, bend your knees
Bounce around in a circle, get down with me
Oh come on, come on
Its not hard to learn
Come on, come on
Its called the u-turn
Put your hands up, bend your knees
Bounce around in a circle, get down with me
Oh come on, come on
Its not hard to learn
Come on, come on
Its called the u-turn
All you need to do is let go
Let the tempo take over you
I came to have a good time
Let the rhythm deep iside your soul
Let it lead you to the floor, whoa
Put your hands up, bend your knees
Bounce around in a circle, get down with me
Oh come on, come on
Its not hard to learn
Come on, come on
Its called the u-turn
song performed by by Usher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angel Kisses
I don’t know what an angel looks like
I don’t even know if they have wings
But I know when I need a reminder
Something wraps around me and sings
It’s the wind in the trees
Makes me pause for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Invisible hand brushing my cheek
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
When I think about all I have to do
It’s hard to even know where to start
A day late and a dollar behind
But I try to play my music with heart
It’s the language of the birds in the trees
Floats me up for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Grabs my heart, takes my hand, close my eyes, I feel the..
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
I wish I could keep those
Gentle reminders
How do you stay peaceful?
Let me be kinder
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
poem by Patricia Genetos
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Return To Innocence
ANGEL OF DARKNESS
RETURN TO INNOCENCE
Open the door, go through the entrance
Behind the door, into the darkness
Right on the floor, the source of silence
With just a call makes every thing useless
That call is a single cry
A sound that can make you shy
Without a move you're tied
Confronted with your own desire
Just a doubt in your mind
A wall to hide behind
To take a break and remind
To stay noble, clean and kind
A call to a moment of reminiscence
A confrontation with my soul's absence
A direct touch to my heart, to my conscience
Is how my baby's smile returns me to innocence...
(to be continued...)
A.O.D.
poem by Angel Of Darkness7
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Dont Cry For Me
(l. stansfield/i. devaney/m.c. rooney/m. morales)
The birds dont sing the same any more
They always sounded happy before
But now theres something missing
cos they dont see me kissing you no more
My sky has fallen down through the floor
I go to sleep with no-one to hold
In bed when you were near me
I didnt really feel the cold at all
Chorus:
Im picking up the pieces now
Know Im gonna get through somehow so
Dont cry for me
Ive gotta make it on my own
Learn to be alone
Ooh baby
Dont cry for me
I feel like theres a hole in my heart
Ive gotta fill it up and make a new start
I cant sit here forever
Although it seems Ill never ever get that far
Im gonna get outside and make some new friends
And put me back together again
Its no use feeling lonely
When I know Im not the only one who feels like this
Chorus
Its hard baby its hard
But Im trying
Trying my best to make it through
I know deep in my heart when Im crying
Im trying to forgive you
The birds dont sing the same any more
They always sounded happy before
But now theres something missing
cos they dont see me kissing you no more
Chorus
Fade
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An angel was passing through the Sky
Hey! Anyone can answer me what's life.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is dream.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is fear.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.
Can anyone tell me what is mind.
All the hands in the class go down.
Time was passing, without a single sound.
Classroom was fulfilled by husky wind.
'Last bench corner '
'Last bench corner ', hey! you tell me.
The boy was looking far far away behind the window grills.
Stood up.
Placed his hand on his chest and closed his eyes.
An angel was passing through the Sky.
poem by Sougata Majumder
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