Frame
FRAME
Bleached white and black ash,
slight, multi-stemmed skeletons.
Stark, sere symmetry.
Cradled between burnt hills
the sea is a silver chalice.
PULL
The passing moon leaves a single dropp of water sleeping,
but awakens and animates an ocean of linked drops.
The waves claw for purchase and their wet shadows cling to clinging grains.
CONCENTRATE
Eighteen holes of golf,
menfolk give much good advice.
Focussed attention.
Fades. I collect some red leaves
and there's an odd saw-shaped cloud.
poem by Diane Hine
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And So Am I To You
drought is here
river beds are drying
plants are wilting
trees are shedding off all leaves
they all look like
skeletons and skulls
there are dusts everywhere
roaming clinging leaving
blown by the strong winds
from the desert
please make the rain
bursting
water the earth
cracking
fill in the gaps
and the holes
shower this thirst
fill this hunger
give back life....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Silence
Go, my sun go.
Collect all your golden leaves
and leave me with pink wounds.
Go, my son go.
Collect all your lies
and leave me with bare bones.
Lying in bed with saddened eyes
I count the mistakes, eternities
and chew the years.
It had been a long journey
from cloud to cloud,
time to dropp on dew again.
I return to silence
feed it my body.
poem by Satish Verma
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Swan, Lake, Leaf, Moon....
Your hands are leaves
Leaves that float on the water
The water is the body
I am the body
Where your dead leaves
Float
I cannot in this
Be the sun
And you cannot be the green
Comforting Grass
of the Hills
Those lonely hills that stay awake
at Night
The moon shines on the lake
Waiting for the Swan
She is the Swan
and He is the Moon
You are a dead Leaf
and I am the Body of Water
We are somehow
Nothing but
Spectators to the Swan
Moon Affair
But sad is this game of Irony
Again some love
more Love have remained
Unrequited....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dark Crescent Moon Waves
Walking on the beach,
Staring at the sea of eternity
on how it is so serene at night,
watching the dark water is lit up by the crescent moon that is sunken
into the sea of life
Hearing the water crashing to the beach,
and seeing the swirling twilight sky is reflected on the dark water,
like it's the mirror to my soul
The push and pull of the waves,
is cursed by the black magic that moons hold
a curse that is so beautiful and so powerful
Like a picture in a sky
that is burn to my mind,
The dark mist of cloud covering the moon and sky like a blanket,
but sailing in the dark sea sky
Soon the sky of twilight fades away
as the phoenix's sun rise breaking through the clouds of dusk
and now the sea becomes in rage
as tides come down like god's hammer
and the sun's lights the sea in emerald green
The ocean is like another realm of life
where can it be beautiful and dangerous
poem by RyuOh Kenshin
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Under The Mysterious Cover
Wa la poetry
Under the mysterious cover
This bank of the river
Breaks to build that
Making and breaking
A song of despair in the air
By that distant river
Leaves the dream in the middle
In the heart forms a cloud dark
Under water fishes cut jokes
Searing sun often comes in life
To give a much sought relief
After the storm
Under the cover mysterious
One grey deep dark mist
Carries a sob, unheard fainted cry
Sung with a muffled sigh
Unable to sustain the boat man
Drowning grief and sorrow
Making a silver line along with a returning crane white
Fisher man spreads nets with robust hope
Along with tears in a dropp the yellow leaves fall
To give much sought relief after the storm
Combination of two poems ……..
This bank of the river……under the cover mysterious
Breaks to build that ……..one, grey deep dark mist
Making and breaking … ..carries a unheard fainted cry
A song of despair in the air….sung with a muffled sigh
By that distant river ……… ….unable to sustain the boat man
Leaves the dream in the middle....drowning grief and sorrow
In the heart forms a cloud dark....making a silver line with a returning crane white
Under water fishes cut jokes … .fisher man spreads nets with robust hope
Searing sun often comes in life …along with tears in drops the yellow leaves fall
To give much shot relief after the storm.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Supreme Transformation
A dropp of water cannot include the ocean
but the ocean includes a dropp of water.
But if this dropp of water
drops into the ocean,
and loses itself, loses its identity,
then that dropp has become the ocean.
I cannot include God,
but God surely includes me.
But if.........
poem by Nazmul Haque
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Modern Love XXXII (Okie the zen golden retreiver)
Evening star gives eternal kisses of fireflies
to the dark face of the moon
the joyful moon cracks an ocher grin
and falls in love with a reflection
on the green river
the red tails of dancing fireflies
escape from the moon's mouth
into the adoration
Racoons take off their masks
preparing for bed
the river politely refuses
to carry the lunar mirror
leaves it at the waterfall's door
who returns it to the evening star
during the moon's void
a mocking bird awakens the meditating trees
the rocks hidden under the falls miss the sun
the sun's lover lives an hour of light years away
the lunar grin, reflection, evening star
seek hiding places from the dawn
the sudden stillness gives birth
to thousand of mohican souls
who dance in concentric circles
while running down whitmore falls
the evening star ashamed of history
fades into the blue
the moon finds great happiness
in disappearing
the unseen ocean opens arms
and awaits the moon's image
arias of water sing
eternal mantras
where mind's heart dances
joyous silence of a single note
a breath whispering by
between the longing of the ocean
and the moon's love of infinite reflections
and the adoring evening star
an open window creates a wall
of antigue white and mauve moths
as a golden retreiver leaps from a black rock
chasing a teasing blue heron who flies
up over black trees into the bend of the river
creating dawn, as the golden bellyflops laughing
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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The Tree And The Butterfly
what i love to see in you
is when you become a huge tree
rooted upon a
muted grass hill
above you is a black cloud
making rain
your leaves are all wet
and your roots are drinking so much water
your bark is thick and your
trunk so hard and strong
and she is there the frail butterfly
clinging softly
beneath the big leaf
fragile and steady
what i love next is when the rain stops
and then the butterfly leaves you
helpless and sad and so poetic.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Colorful Autumn
The fountain sings, the clouds stand
In clear blueness, white, delicate;
Silent people wander thoughtfully
Down there in the evening-blue garden.
The ancestors' marble has turned grey.
A line of birds streaks into the distance
A faun with dead eyes gazes
On shadows that glide into darkness.
Leaves fall red from the old tree,
Rotate inside through the open window.
The room glows in dark fires,
In it shadows, like ghosts.
Opal smoke weaves over the grass,
A cloud of wilted, bleached scents,
In the fountain the sickle moon shines
Like a green glass in freezing air.
poem by Georg Trakl
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In My Wild Flights Of Fancy The Ocean I Can See
The blueness of the saltwater the white waves rolling free
In my wild flights of fancy the ocean i can see
The silver gulls and black backed gulls above the white beach cry
And the sun is shining brightly in the clear and sunny sky,
The children in the shallows they laugh and splash and run
In the coolness of sea water their way of having fun
On a pleasant day in Summer of 25 degrees
And there is a soothing freshness in the freshening ocean breeze,
The distinctive smell of the seaweed washed in by the last tide
A refuge from beach predators for tiny sea things to breed in and hide
Coastal people love the ocean and near the ocean they choose to stay
And in the coastal cemeteries their last remains do lay
The rumble of the ocean the white waves running free
And in my flights of fancy the sea is calling me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Moon's Splendor
Look at the moon
Tell me, what do you see?
A portal to a world
where your dreams can be?
A magical theme park
where your attention is fee?
Or in this cosmic golf-game of life
the golf ball on a tee?
I see an orb filled with hope
parading through the night
Before the dark clouds of reason
cover its sweet light
Maybe a circus mirror
distorting whats wrong and right
Till the point you don't know
if you're still fighting the good fight
But if you trudge on through the night
and upon the moon you cling
And when the sun begins to shine
the new day heralding
Remember to thank your guide
The moonlight, the night's king
bid it good will, you'll see it again
once the night renews its coming.
poem by Krantol Northic
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Nature
The sight of the hills is a beauty
The bright moon is the sign of purity
The flow of the river is a murmuring music
The act of the sun is so philanthropic.
The rain of the clouds is very refreshing
The blowing of the wind is so soothing
The roaring of the ocean has its own reason
How charming is the changing of the season!
The wide blue sky above and high
Gives us space to dream and to fly
How nice the dew drops on the leaves to see!
Everything has its own beauty, fly or a flea
The trees tells us how to give food, shadow and shelter
How sweet to quench our thirst with fresh cool water!
Does life thrive without the mercy of the great nature?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Next To Collect
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
You could be the next on the list...
To get it and quick.
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
Tomorrow no one knows,
Just what to expect.
You may be next to collect it!
An overwhelming love received.
You may be next to collect,
A joy that never leaves.
You may be next to collect it!
A one of a kind peace...
On your mind.
You may be next to collect it!
An overwhelming love received.
You may be next to collect,
A joy that never leaves.
You may be next to collect it!
A one of a kind peace...
On your mind.
You may be next to collect,
Just accept you are blessed.
You could be the next to collect...
RESPECT.
You could be the next on the list...
To get it and quick.
You may be the next to collect it...
An abundance of happiness.
The next to collect.
The next to collect.
You may be the next to collect it...
An abundance of happiness.
The next to collect.
The next to collect.
You may be the next to collect it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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It's the Tattered End of Autumn
It’s the tattered end of autumn,
when the beech tree’s yellow dress
has rusted
and a thick carpet
of mustard
lies rotting underfoot.
It’s the tattered end of autumn,
when the white bones of the birch
are exposed
and its last leaves
cling
like baby koalas.
It’s the tattered end of autumn
when single leaves
dance solos
and next door’s blower
disturbs
the stillness of mid afternoon.
It’s the tattered end of autumn
when bed beckons
and the moon is bright,
and you and I touch toes
tenderly
under the doona.
poem by Alison Cassidy
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Crime leaves a trail like a water beetle; like a snail, it leaves its silver track; like a horse-mango, it leaves its smell.
I went into the wide world
I went into the wide world
and everywhere
where I could
stood on snow white beaches
reconnoitred the blue ocean,
hillocks and hills,
saw plains
and in the desert
white skeletons
of animals that disappeared,
encountered and learned to know people
said farewell to others
and experienced every thing
that I wanted
and still tried to keep
to that which is good,
held different banknotes
in my hand
and paid a price for a living
and took pieces out of my humanity,
when I realized
that yesterday, today and tomorrow
really are the same
with a sun that appears
and disappears at its time,
stars shining on the heavenly dome
and fleeing for the blue,
that there always are people
that cares for each other
and likes you
and that some dislikes you
who leaves pain and discomfort,
that we are sometimes happy,
exuberant, mournful
or sad
and try too hard
to buy every minute
of life before it passes
and that the course of life
is tied to its own time
and farewells
sometimes lies just around the corner,
that people are human
and stand
at the feet of God
for whom a thousand years
passes like a single day.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Love Song To The Coming Morning
I'm like night in the sunset
Feeling red clouds in the sky
Wind in the trees full of breeze
Swirling up leaves so they fly
Meadows and hills shades in blue
Flowers in silver and gold
Darkness comes so untrue
Fairies in the moonlight hard to hold
Magical moments in twilight
Breaking off silences with a song
Leaving the day coming to night
Shadows are still though young
I'm like night in the sunset
Touching the moments that go
Into umbrage of absurdities
That lived in the day a while ago
Lilies and fields are in darkness
Moon is behind a blue cloud
Day shall wake up in dawn fresh
When dusky shadows are disallowed
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The soldiers did go away and their towns were torn down; and in the Moon of Falling Leaves (November), they made a treaty with Red Cloud that said our country would be ours as long as grass should grow and water flow.