En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Unfulfilled Desire

He had greyed
Wrinkles on the face
Spectacles on the eyes
He saw her with probing
Eyes
Sitting on a bench in the
Garden
Reading a book near
The hotel
He was staying
He had come to the city
Four decades
After he completed
His studies
If not mistaken
It was she
Who filled his life?
With unfulfilled desire
She had also aged
Glow on the face
Had turned in to gloom
Slowly walked and
Stood in front of her
Seeing the light obstructed
She lifted her face
Her eyes remained
Wide open
She could not believe
It was he
She cleaned her eyes
To confirm
What she thought
Was right
Could not utter a
Single word
Tears started flowing
The man asked
How are you?
How is your family?
She replied
I did not marry
Slowly asked
In an anxious tone
Did you?
No
I also did not
Was the answer
Tell me
Why you did not?
The woman blushed
Said in a muffled tone
Because
You did not

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting For Him

With a look of hope
On the face
Eyes gleaming
Longing to see her desire
Fulfilled
She sat in the window
Looking at the street
Waiting for him to arrive
Arms of the clock
Kept moving
Her desire
Remained starving
Color of the face
Kept changing
Pink became yellow
In no time
Eyes moved
From street to the clock
Now and then
Afternoon went
And evening arrived
No sign of
Her love to be seen
Eyes became wet
Tears started flowing
One more day
Had left her crying
Waiting for him
Had become
Her only pastime

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man Walks The Streets

That old man near the traffic light
Was expelled from home at midnight.
He walked away steady on his feet.
And made his home on Delhi streets.

My driver whispered in a resigned tone.
I looked up putting down my mobile phone.
He carried on his shoulder a jute bag,
And in his hand a clean yellow rag.

As the traffic light blushed red,
The driver to stop compelled.
The old man near the traffic light,
Asked the driver –may I wipe?

He had a gentle voice and even stride,
Erect back and manner polite and mild.
Now this was his new means of livelihood,
He hoped to be paid to pay for some food.

Sahibs waved him away on their way
Down town, gearing for charades and play.
A little girl offered the man her lunch box.
Their eyes met, he looked flummoxed.

I lost my grandpa early last summer,
He went without having his supper.
You remind me somewhat of him.
Although a bit thin, she grinned.

They laughed, tears in their eyes
He took it with a bow she waved bye.
She turned and called back, Dadu
Will you be here tomorrow too?

The old man near the traffic light
Said, sure dear, I’ll be here all right.
Turned heavenwards, saw a bird alight
A rainbow walked the earth in day light?

He unabashedly cried, cried and cried,
‘I had thought my tear glands had dried’.
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve,
A rainbow on a dreary day, I sure do believe.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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To fulfill my heart’s desire

I was looking
From the window of my room
When I saw her in a beautiful costume
Walking slowly on the road below
She was full of grace and poise
I liked her in first sight
Her beauty struck me, deep in my heart
My eyes remained wide open
By the time I regained my senses
Found her missing from the scene
I stood on the road daily for hours
To meet her face to face
Wanting to tell
How I felt about her?
But she was never to be seen again
I Came to know after many days
She was a tourist
Who came for a day?
Throughout the country now I travel
To fulfill my heart’s desire

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mam Walks The Streets

That old man near the traffic light
Was expelled from home at midnight.
He walked away steady on his feet.
And made his home on Delhi streets.

My driver whispered in a resigned tone.
I looked up putting down my mobile phone.
He carried on his shoulder a jute bag,
And in his hand a clean yellow rag.

As the traffic light blushed red,
The driver to stop compelled.
The old man near the traffic light,
Asked the driver –may I wipe?

He had a gentle voice and even stride,
Erect back and manner polite and mild.
Now this was his new means of livelihood,
He hoped to be paid to pay for some food.

Sahibs waved him away on their way
Down town, gearing for charades and play.
A little girl offered the man her lunch box.
Their eyes met, he looked flummoxed.

I lost my grandpa early last summer,
He went without having his supper.
You remind me somewhat of him.
Although a bit thin, she grinned.

They laughed, tears in their eyes
He took it with a bow she waved bye.
She turned and called back, Dadu
Will you be here tomorrow too?

The old man near the traffic light
Said, sure dear, I’ll be here all right.
Turned heavenwards, saw a bird alight
A rainbow walked the earth in day light?

He unabashedly cried, cried and cried,
‘I had thought my tear glands had dried’.
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve,
A rainbow on a dreary day, I sure do believe.

.
.

A man walks the streets

That old man near the traffic light
Was expelled from home at midnight.
He walked away steady on his feet.
And made his home on Delhi streets.

My driver whispered in a resigned tone.
I looked up putting down my mobile phone.
He carried on his shoulder a jute bag,
And in his hand a clean yellow rag.

As the traffic light blushed red,
The driver to stop compelled.
The old man near the traffic light,
Asked the driver –may I wipe?

He had a gentle voice and even stride,
Erect back and manner polite and mild.
Now this was his new means of livelihood,
He hoped to be paid to pay for some food.

Sahibs waved him away on their way
Down town, gearing for charades and play.
A little girl offered the man her lunch box.
Their eyes met, he looked flummoxed.

I lost my grandpa early last summer,
He went without having his supper.
You remind me somewhat of him.
Although a bit thin, she grinned.

They laughed, tears in their eyes
He took it with a bow she waved bye.
She turned and called back, Dadu
Will you be here tomorrow too?

The old man near the traffic light
Said, sure dear, I’ll be here all right.
Turned heavenwards, saw a bird alight
A rainbow walked the earth in day light?

He unabashedly cried, cried and cried,
‘I had thought my tear glands had dried’.
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve,
A rainbow on a dreary day, I sure do believe.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunflowers After Sex.

After the sex she stood
In front of the Van Gogh
Painting and gazed. Never
Saw that last night, she said.
It was dark, Max replied.
She touched the painting
With her fingers. Why have
A painting of flowers when
You can go out and buy some?
She asked. They last longer this
Way, he replied. So did you
Paint this? She asked in a state
Of semi undress, her eyes sleepy,
Her hair in a mess. No, Van Gogh
Did, he replied. Is he a friend of
Yours? She asked rubbing her breasts.
He sighed and shook his head. No,
Van Gogh painted that many years
Ago, now he’s dead. It’s a bit yellow,
She said, looking at the painting
Closer, what are those yellow flowers
Supposed to be? Sunflowers, he said,
They’re big flowers; people grow them
For real. She raised her eyebrows and
Pulled a face. What about that drink?
She asked. Sure, Max replied pouring
Her gin in a tall glass. She took, sipped
And winked an eye. What about more
Sex? She sighed. Sure, Max, looking at
Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, boringly replied.

poem by Terry Collett
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In The Dusky Path Of A Dream

IN the dusky path of a dream I went to seek the love who was mine in a former life.

Her house stood at the end of a desolate street.
In the evening breeze her pet peacock sat drowsing on its perch, and the pigeons were silent in their corner.

She set her lamp down by the portal and stood before me.
She raised her large eyes to my face and mutely asked, 'Are you well, my friend?'
I tried to answer, but our language had been lost and forgotten.

I thought and thought; our names would not come to my mind.
Tears shone in her eyes. She held up her right hand to me. I took it and stood silent.

Our lamp had flickered in the evening breeze and died.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Sad Eyes

Roy orbison/ray rush/joe melson
Sad eyes, sad eyes, across the room
Sad eyes, crying in your gloom
Sad eyes, love has been untrue
Just look at me, oh just look at me
Just look at me, Im lonely too
Im like you, so like you, sad eyes
Oh sad eyes
Dont you know that tears can be erased?
Oh sad eyes tears wont help
But maybe I can replace that other face
Sad eyes, sad eyes, this aint just a line
Sad eyes, maybe we can find
Sad eyes, somewhere down the line
Happiness, oh happiness happiness together, you and i
Someday, some way, sad eyes

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 1)

They took the cotton gauze away
from his closed eyes.
“You can open them now Mr D.”
He opened his eyes to see hazy figures there,
black and grey images, and nothing more.

A gentle and kind voice, asked him what he saw.
“Hazy images>“He replied.
“It will be like that for a little while,
and then they will begin to clear.”
Each day his sight got better, the
haze began to clear.

Then the colour came,
and a rainbow spectrum appeared before his eyes,
of things he could never see.
A light shone through his life,
of things he had never known.
A new awakening
with images to fit the sounds.

His mind began to wonder
where his new eyes had come from.
They were not allowed to tell him,
who the donor was or anything about them.
Finally, he was released from hospital.

He went back to his flat
where he had to learn again,
where everything was now that he could see.
He smiled at the white walking stick.
He would keep it as a reminder
of how lucky he was.

Sitting in his chair in the sunshine,
as it came through the window.
Then it happened.
It was as if he were in a dream.
The images lost their colour.
He was in a place he had never seen before.

Hands reached out around the neck,
of a face he could not see.
It seemed as if
they were strangling the life out of someone there.
The body struggled and then went limp.
On the body, falling, the face was now revealed.
A young pretty face
distorted in the throes of death.

poem by David Harris
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Eyes Wide Open

Your eyes are wide open, but yet you don’t see
All the love I have inside of me.
Eyes wide open, but you don’t look around
You don’t open your ears, you don’t hear a sound.

Eyes wide open but the beauties that surround you
Do not seem to exist.
Is it that your eyes on you are playing tricks?

Eyes wide open and yet you have a blank stare.
Have you closed off your mind?
Or you just don’t care.

What can I do to remove that haze
So that on my face you can gaze.
If I hold you tenderly in my arms
And kiss those beautiful eyes.
Will they move? Will they cry?

What must I do so that you can see
That our love was meant to be.
They say that you went deep inside yourself
To hide the hurt and pain
But without your love “ I am the same”.

Eyes wide open. Did they just glance at me?
Is it because your heart is finally free?
I see a tear forming in your eyes
Emotions being let out that you tried to hide.

Eyes wide open- now they are mine
I can see your love for the very first time.

poem by Louis Rams
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Henry and Woman Servicing

You don't want to go
With that kind of woman,
Henry's mother said.
What kind of woman

is that? Henry asked.
The kind that offer
themselves to men
who are not their

husbands, his mother
replied, sitting back
in the soft chair by
the fireplace, joining

her fingers, forming
what she used to call
her church. Henry watched
her church form of finger

forming, his eyes sliding
over his mother's dyed
hair, the grey streaks,
the nose, the thin red

painted lips. But isn't
that kind of women
providing a service?
Henry asked, walking

to the window, watching
his father mowing the
lawn, sweat on the brow,
the eyes dead looking.

Service? His mother said,
her tone icy, Service?
She repeated, that's not
service, Henry that's sin.

S.I.N. Henry raised his
eyebrows, there was in
the pocket of his pants,
a pack of fives, unused

as yet. Oh, Henry said,
Duncan Smold had this
woman in the back of
his car, he called it hard

smooching or some such
word. Henry's mother
eyed him closely, her eyes
narrowing. Then he sinned,

Henry, he sinned, she said,
pushing a hand through
her hair, her features going
red. Oh, right, Henry said,

I'll tell Duncan next time
he's in his car with some
woman in the back, that
he's sinning, Henry turned

away, he didn't want his
mother to see him grinning.

poem by Terry Collett
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Days

Sad eyes, sad eyes, across the room
Sad eyes, crying in your gloom
Sad eyes, love has been untrue
Just look at me, oh just look at me
Just look at me, i'm lonely too
I'm like you, so like you, sad eyes
Oh sad eyes
Don't you know that tears can be erased?
Oh sad eyes Tears won't help
But maybe i can replace that other face
Sad eyes, sad eyes, this ain't just a line
Sad eyes, maybe we can find
Sad eyes, somewhere down the line
Happiness, oh happiness Happiness together, you and i
Someday, some way, sad eyes

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama

Chorus:
Mama when my dollies have babies
And i am a big lady
Mama will a prince come and take me away
When i said these things i believed in kings
Then i didn't know love could hurt me so
Slowly she replied, tears had filled her eyes
Baby not so fast let your young life last
Chorus
I sang to her in fun, my teens had just began
My age was not the same still we played the game
Her eyes were filled with pride and slowly she replied
Soon enough you'll be a very pretty bride
Chorus
Mama, will the hurt go away deep inside
When i sang this song
My poor world had gone along
All my early dreams has turned to crystal streams
My love it was last and more tears have past
And left me just one thing a tender voice i sing
Chorus

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For A Dancer

Sad little face
Sad wide eyes
the nymph of you
belies your womanhood.

Ah, that I could by magic means
flower that within you unfulfilled -

But I am just a poet
writing words
released to air
like fledgling birds.

The strong survive
The weaklings die
Sad little face
Sad wide eyes.

poem by Jerry Hughes
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Mama (When My Dollies Have Babies)

Chorus:
Mama when my dollies have babies
And I am a big lady
Mama will a prince come and take me away
When I said these things I believed in kings
Then I didnt know love could hurt me so
Slowly she replied, tears had filled her eyes
Baby not so fast let your young life last
Chorus
I sang to her in fun, my teens had just began
My age was not the same still we played the game
Her eyes were filled with pride and slowly she replied
Soon enough youll be a very pretty bride
Chorus
Mama, will the hurt go away deep inside
When I sang this song
My poor world had gone along
All my early dreams has turned to crystal streams
My love it was last and more tears have past
And left me just one thing a tender voice I sing
Chorus

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing's Perfect

I heard imagination goes beyond horizon
But will it till a day with no sun!
I heard thoughts ramble faster than light
But will they till about your life depart! !
I heard animals have the future to sense
But what’s the use if no reaction hence! ! !
I culminate thus there isn’t a single thing
That in the world is perfect and living.
One thing but smashed my stances to vain
It is my love I saw in the rain.
Escorting the charisma in the nature,
She passed by leaving a lovely lustre.
‘Love in this world is perfect my son’
I heard a voice somewhere unknown.
There was no reflex in me at all
I rather ratified my defeat after all.
Her picture still is in my heart
Until again I saw her and thought
She’s the one for me god made,
She’s my shadow even in the shade.
All the world around seemed at once
A wide garden with flowers at every glance.
Walking was she in the amidst,
And escorting her was I in the mist!
As the flowers smiled gently
And the winds moved bluntly,
She turned behind and slowly on her face,
I saw swaying smile build up
And my heart going away miles! !
Finally her eyes at last arrest me
This world was for first time pleasant!
Some force was constantly in me sent
Which is advancing my feet front.
Came she close to see her in my eyes
No words now exist in my book to portray
What feelings then ran through me!
Tears descended on her face
‘I adore you but I am pathetic’
I heard these words very sweet but thin.
Consequently I was jolted off to pieces
And my love turned eventually my death! ! !
What I heed in the onset is genuine
Nothing in world is perfect like the moonYet I love her for giving my death
A very fresh breath, a gangster never hath! ! ? ? ! !

poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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He had lost his pride

He thought
He was the strongest man
There was nobody
Stronger and powerful than him
His pride turned him
From human to a demon
He used to bully
Young and old equally
Asking for money
And goods of his choice
Nobody dared to defy
One day he got hit by a
Speeding car
Broke his leg
Started bleeding
Unable to get up
He cried in pain
Nobody came to
Help him recover
Kept lying on the road
Fainted after some time
When he woke up
Found himself in the hospital
A frail old man
Was sitting on his bedside
He remembered
He bullied him the most
Asked him
Why did he help him?
Old man replied
You did what you thought
Was right
I did, what I thought
Was right
The strong man
Held the old man's hand
Tears flowing from his eyes
He had lost his pride

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Life does not stop

Life does not stop
It goes on
Either in pain
Slowly
Or
Gallops happily
Either smiling
Or
Crying
Either in peace
Or
Turmoil
The only difference is
It either stops
Before time
With a Face
Writhing in pain
Gloom in the eyes
Or
In time
With contentment
On the face
Shine in the eyes
25-02-2012
245-156-02-12

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Boredom is in the mind, throw it in the gutter

The day seemed boring
Dull and dreary
I tried reading
Kept the book on the side
After a while
I tried gardening
That wasn’t enjoying
I kept cursing
That didn’t help
Passing time
Became challenging
Irritability increasing
Decided to visit the river nearby
Sat on a bench
To view the flowing water
Sitting on the bench next to mine
Sat an elderly couple
Throwing pebbles in the water
Laughing and giggling
Comparing who threw farthest
After some time
They got up from there
I could see they could hardly walk
Very slowly they inched forward
I ran to help them
Sit in the car parked nearby
They thanked me for my help
Asked, why I was there?
At the time
When I was supposed to work
I replied,
I was getting bored
To pass the time
I came to the riverside
Before departing the old man said
Young man goes and enjoy
Every minute of your life
Never feel bored
Always be on the move
Like the flowing water
Boredom is in the mind
Throw it in the gutter

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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A Single Candle/Death Herself

A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death

Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead

Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death

Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death

Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?

Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see

Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead

A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death

A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials

A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself

A single candle

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Secret of Light

I am sitting contented and alone in a little park near the Palazzo Scaligere in Verona, glimpsing the mists of early autumn as they shift and fade among the pines and city battlements on the hills above the river Adige.

The river has recovered from this morning's rainfall. It is now restoring to its shapely body its own secret light, a color of faintly cloudy green and pearl.

Directly in front of my bench, perhaps thirty yards away from me, there is a startling woman. Her hair is black as the inmost secret of light in a perfectly cut diamond, a perilous black, a secret light that must have been studied for many years before the anxious and disciplined craftsman could achieve the necessary balance between courage and skill to stroke the strange stone and take the one chance he would ever have to bring that secret to light.

While I was trying to compose the preceding sentence, the woman rose from her park bench and walked away. I am afraid her secret might never come to light in my lifetime. But my lifetime is not the only one. I will never see her again. I hope she brings some other man's secret face to light, as somebody brought mine. I am startled to discover that I am not afraid. I am free to give a blessing out of my silence into that woman's black hair. I trust her to go on living. I believe in her black hair, her diamond that is still asleep. I would close my eyes to daydream about her. But those silent companions who watch over me from the insides of my eyelids are too brilliant for me to meet face to face.

The very emptiness of the park bench in front of mine is what makes me happy. Somewhere else in Verona at just this moment, a woman is sitting or walking or standing still upright. Surely two careful and accurate hands, total strangers to me, measure the invisible idea of the secret vein in her hair. They are waiting patiently until they know what they alone can ever know: that time when her life will pause in mid-flight for a split second. The hands will touch her black hair very gently. A wind off the river Adige will flutter past her. She will turn around, smile a welcome, and place a flawless and fully formed Italian daybreak into the hands.

I don't have any idea what his face will look like. The light still hidden inside his body is no business of mine. I am happy enough to sit in this park alone now. I turn my own face toward the river Adige. A little wind flutters off the water and brushes past me and returns.

It is all right with me to know that my life is only one life. I feel like the light of the river Adige.

By this time, we are both an open secret.

Verona

poem by James Arlington Wright
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