Cold Morning
Through an accidental crack in the curtain
I can see the eight o'clock light change from
charcoal to a faint gassy blue, inventing things
in the morning that has a thick skin of ice on it
as the water tank has, so nothing flows, all is bone,
telling its tale of how hard the night had to be
for any heart caught out in it, just flesh and blood
no match for the mindless chill that's settled in,
a great stone bird, its wings stretched stiff
from the tip of Letter Hill to the cobbled bay, its gaze
glacial, its hook-and-scrabble claws fast clamped
on every window, its petrifying breath a cage
in which all the warmth we were is shivering.
poem by Eamon Grennan
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Heart Of Stone
A broken wing, and a broken bone
Of a bird, that met a stone
Lied helpless And was bit despair
Looked above If god was there.
Short of food And short of breath
Was silently waiting For his death
Asked his wings If they could fly.
Yes they said why don't you try
He gathered his strength and wiped his tears.
And soon he stood Without his fears
His eyes stared at the Dark blue sky
But just then when he was about to fly
they grabbed his neck they grabbed it hard
with all his strength he could move a yard
and yes those hands did hurt his bone
he had met a heart of stone
some ugly hands and a beautiful bird.
He cried for help But no one heard.
His wings were flawed And his muscles were stiff.
He begged them to throw him off a cliff
oh dumb bird, don't you get,
look at you, it's a stone you met.
To this, the half dead bird replied
So what, if I die
Just for once I ll meet the air.
And also see if god was there.
Stories of wisdom, that were once told
But now this world had been so cold.
He wished if those blind eyes could see.
The bird was dead though his soul was free.
poem by Kanav Justa
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Charcoal Night
On a charcoal night the owl calls.
On a charcoal night wolves sharpen their claws.
On a charcoal night children shake with fear.
The charcoal night is growing near.
On a charcoal night the demon dogs sing.
On a charcoal night the little stars gleam.
On a charcoal night the air goes cold.
The nightmares and stories are always told.
On a charcoal night wolves wet their fangs.
On a charcoal night the owls call rang.
On a charcoal night the beasts are out.
On a charcoal night this is their town.
On a charcoal night lock up the doors.
On a charcoal night don't sleep on the floors.
On a charcaol night say good bye to those dear.
Because the charcaol night is finally hear.
poem by Okami Kamikaze
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Unable To Fly
I was once like a little bird
Caught by your hidden trap
Surrender unto you like a prey
Bleeding weakly with fright
Brought me to your home with pride
All day and night you cared
Healed those wounds beneath my wings
Built me a cage made of gold
Awaken me with the pat of love
Taught me how to sing of thanks
Many days have passed
I’ve been a joy in your life
And so you forgot who I was
Who I am and what I long outside
Forgotten that I’m prisoner of love
Though you treated me so kind
I want to be free, a bird of flight
I am eager to try if I can fly
Use my wings under the golden light
Soar into the blue sky, I will arise
And from my cage you let me free
But with claws so weak to grip
With wings unrehearsed to fly
I fainted in this frightful flight
So I find way back to your arms
I don’t know if I’ll be mad at you
Cease to sing to make you blue
‘Cause you deprived my right to fly
All my life I will be a parasite
For without you I cannot survive
poem by Rose de Ramar
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What You Are Saying
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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358
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Bird In Your Cage
we have this bird
we both own it and love it and care for it
our bird
and you have this cage
that you only own
golden, new and strong and as you say it
so reliable
that when our bird is in that cage
it will be safe
and cannot escape
we feed this bird together
and give it water and birdseeds
and a place of twigs and swing
where the bird can play
and perch upon
like it is on a tree
days and years
we keep this bird in your cage
and we see it is dying
and wanting to be free
yet you say, this sickness is just temporary
time heals what has wounded it
and shall forget the power of its wings
days and more years
we keep this bird in your cage
and i have not listened at all
to the sad song of that bird
her waning chirps
her weakened wings
her way of losing hold to the dreams of its wings
today we see this bird is dead
but you have no sadness at all
you say, you will buy another bird
again to be kept in your cage
i could have told you
i am the bird in your cage and i too have forgotten the power of
my wings
i could have told you, i have long died
and have forgotten what freedom is, what love is, what i am
in the first place. How can i ever tell you?
you are my cage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Quite Dawn
Not quite dawn, night seeping out of the blue,
troubled sleep, no stars, and you, a week gone,
the whole universe applying its laws to your absence
which is the silence everything returns to like water.
I have never touched you, so my fingertips
can still play you into existence on a keyboard,
though the loss of your voice is a dead bird,
and I am a loose thread of blood in a labyrinth
of motherboards and micro-chips like me
who can’t find a way out of themselves without
turning away like a planet from its own stars.
How quickly the light comes, and the darkness
bleeds away like a love-letter under the door.
No eyes. No hands. No skin. No hair. I am
not even the ashes of a cleft witching wand
that went looking for water and caught fire instead,
and we have shared only the light of the mind
that paints a world with the shadows of a ghost,
and might only be the last habit of an amputee to leave,
a mere mime of the way our eyes make us see.
And yet the heart hurts as if you once were flesh,
and I am awake as if another bed denied me my own,
and I am angry and sad, scared and alone as if
the universe were shy one comet, one bead,
one firefly among billions who shone for me
and that light was brighter somehow than a galaxy.
The day grows a new skin over your absence,
and I am as out of place, out of time, as a streetlamp
still shining down on its feet in the morning.
And there could be a thousand and one reasons
you don’t write back, why the black crow caws,
the sky is a concrete rose, the blood of the poppy
runs along the gypsy blade of its undulant smile.
From the heights, I can see a small, blue egg
smashed on the rocks below, a gesture of ruin;
from the depths, the remnants of a shattered star,
and all I can do is stare into the relentless images,
a word without a mouth, like the new moon
shucked from my tongue like a black pearl.
poem by Patrick White
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There’s a dragon fly
hanging at the mirror image of the window
catching the eye of a shrike
and the bird flashes past with stretched out claws
and for a moment the insect vibrates scared
and are swept away
by the bird that later twitters on the barbed wire
where it pierces the insect with a nail
and I am caught in the scene
and see the spreading its black wings
preparing for the next victim
and every insect that it spots
it catches.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Window
She looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world
she leans out of the window
and this is what she sees
a wet rose singing to the sun
with a chorus of red bees
she leans out of the window
and laughs for the window is high
she is in it like a bird on a perch
and they scoop the blue sky
she and the window scooping
the morning as if it were air
scooping a green wave of leaves
above a stone stair
and an urn hung with leaden garlands
and girls holding hands in a ring
and raindrops on an iron railing
shining like a harp string
an old man draws with his ferrule
in wet sand a map of Spain
the marble soldier on his pedestal
draws a stiff diagram of pain
but the walls around her tremble
with the speed of the earth the floor
curves to the terrestrial center
and behind her the door
opens darkly down to the beginning
far down to the first simple cry
and the animal waking in water
and the opening of the eye
she looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The gliding death angel
Only a dot is caught
in the early morning air
of the eagle
in its morning flight
where almost invisible small
it hangs storeys high
in radial winds
in a little dot against the blue
before with stretched out claws
lightning fast
as a shadow
it falls from heaven
with death
striking in precision.
[Reference: Arend speel doodsengel by Jan Lourens.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Magdalen
All things I can endure, save one.
The bare, blank room where is no sun;
The parcelled hours; the pallet hard;
The dreary faces here within;
The outer women's cold regard;
The Pastor's iterated "sin";--
These things could I endure, and count
No overstrain'd, unjust amount;
No undue payment for such bliss--
Yea, all things bear, save only this:
That you, who knew what thing would be,
Have wrought this evil unto me.
It is so strange to think on still--
That you, that you should do me ill!
Not as one ignorant or blind,
But seeing clearly in your mind
How this must be which now has been,
Nothing aghast at what was seen.
Now that the tale is told and done,
It is so strange to think upon.
You were so tender with me, too!
One summer's night a cold blast blew,
Closer about my throat you drew
That half-slipt shawl of dusky blue.
And once my hand, on summer's morn,
I stretched to pluck a rose; a thorn
Struck through the flesh and made it bleed
(A little drop of blood indeed!)
Pale grew your cheek you stoopt and bound
Your handkerchief about the wound;
Your voice came with a broken sound;
With the deep breath your breast was riven;
I wonder, did God laugh in Heaven?
How strange, that you should work my woe!
How strange! I wonder, do you know
How gladly, gladly I had died
(And life was very sweet that tide)
To save you from the least, light ill?
How gladly I had borne your pain.
With one great pulse we seem'd to thrill,--
Nay, but we thrill'd with pulses twain.
Even if one had told me this,
"A poison lurks within your kiss,
Gall that shall turn to night his day:"
Thereon I straight had turned away--
Ay, tho' my heart had crack'd with pain--
And never kiss'd your lips again.
At night, or when the daylight nears,
I hear the other women weep;
My own heart's anguish lies too deep
For the soft rain and pain of tears.
I think my heart has turn'd to stone,
A dull, dead weight that hurts my breast;
Here, on my pallet-bed alone,
I keep apart from all the rest.
Wide-eyed I lie upon my bed,
I often cannot sleep all night;
The future and the past are dead,
There is no thought can bring delight.
All night I lie and think and think;
If my heart were not made of stone,
But flesh and blood, it needs must shrink
Before such thoughts. Was ever known
A woman with a heart of stone?
The doctor says that I shall die.
It may be so, yet what care I?
Endless reposing from the strife?
Death do I trust no more than life.
For one thing is like one arrayed,
And there is neither false nor true;
But in a hideous masquerade
All things dance on, the ages through.
And good is evil, evil good;
Nothing is known or understood
Save only Pain. I have no faith
In God, or Devil, Life or Death.
The doctor says that I shall die.
You, that I knew in days gone by,
I fain would see your face once more,
Con well its features o'er and o'er;
And touch your hand and feel your kiss,
Look in your eyes and tell you this:
That all is done, that I am free;
That you, through all eternity,
Have neither part nor lot in me.
Lovers In Arms
Passion explores
New avenues of the soul
Bringing with it fire
Burning lips kiss
Hot breath embracing
Each sensual touch
Lovers in arms
Moving in the night
A dance of desire
A serenade of passion
Eyes hold firm
Another’s longing gaze
Teeth bite against lips
A faint taste of blood
A racing heart
Telling its own tale
Where lovers in arms
Lay in the night
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Ritual in the Dark
How I crave
Your fierce and tender love,
Claws digging deep enough
To draw my human blood,
To pierce my skin,
Little creature of the night
I've let you in
To feast upon my flesh,
Your heart on fire
As you claim my spirit as your own
In wild, untamed desire,
My flesh and bone
Are given you,
A human sacrifice,
My body on the pyre
Of your burning lust,
I give it all to you
When you abuse my trust,
It's what your savage gods require,
I have to now! I must!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Blood From A Stone
Well Ive been walkin
Down a one way dirty street
Tryin to find the answers
And Ive been hopin
For a chance to meet
The rat that spread the cancer
And the lies theyve been spinnin
And the smiles theyve been grinnin
There sure has been some sinnin
But nobodys winnin
When the walls start to crumblin
You feel like youre stumblin
And nobody wants you when youre down
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
Well Im a rollin
But my trains gone off the tracks
And my wheels are spinnin
And Im a walkin
Down a one way dirty street
But my hearts not sinkin
From the love theyve been buyin
And the blues theyve been cryin
Now the time keeps a flyin
But nobodys tryin
Cause the love of the money
Didnt turn out so sunny
When the wells dry
No one comes around
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You can try
But I still got the fight in my eyes
Suck it dry
Cause Ive had about enough of your lies
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get blood from a stone
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone, no
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
song performed by by Cinderella
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angel Boy
(danny orton)
My mother said theres only one way
A sweet angel boy, narrow and straight
Timing his past, teachings they fade
Now their angel boy has gone astray
Ive felt the hand of the devil, felt his breath on my skin
Dip me into the water, wash me again
Can I still be forgiven for all of these things
Or have I gone too far now
Have I lost my wings
I found a priest, I spoke my mind
Asked if Id sinned one too many times
He said my son, youre only a man
Then I said, sir, you dont understand
Ive felt the hand of the devil, felt his breath on my skin
Dip me into the water, wash me again
Can I still be forgiven for all of these things
Or have I gone too far now
Have I lost my wings
God help us all for what we have done
Weve lost our way, we cant find the son
We make our beds, we seal our fate
Is there still time, or is it too late
Weve felt the hand of the devil, felt his breath our my skin
Dip us into the water, wash us again
Can we still be forgiven for all of these things
Or have we gone too far now
Have we lost our wings
Weve felt the hand of the devil, felt his breath our my skin
Dip us into the water, wash us again
Can we still be forgiven for all of these things
Or have we gone too far now
Have we lost our wings
Have we lost our wings
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tale Of A Blue Butterfly
Long, long ago,
There was a tale of a blue butterfly,
That live in a silvery cage,
Up at the cold attic,
Silhouetted against the wall,
Surrounded by eerie silent,
Lost in the unknown time.
It flapped its wings hopelessly,
Around the dusty cage,
Its magnificent colour getting paler and fader,
Under the screened window,
And its spirit slipped away,
Inch by inch into the thin air.
But I do not know,
The ending of this tale,
And only the blue butterfly,
And HE who know it to the very end.
An Unceasing Tick Tock
Call out to the morning,
Let it raise its curtain on your day.
Watch the golden dawning,
Paint the sky in glorious array.
Smile wide at the sunshine,
Let its warmth change the sky’s greys to blues.
Watch all yellows combine,
In such extraordinary views.
Lift eyes and scan the sky,
Let it wake up your sleepy head.
Watch the clouds floating by,
Where eagles proudly fly, their wings spread.
Pause and breath in the awe,
Let its wonder fill your mind with balm.
Watch all the magic pour,
Filling one with peacefulness and calm.
Move along the hours,
Let them advance by the changing clock.
Watch as times own powers,
Are heard by an unceasing tick-tock.
Wait then for the darkness,
Let it close its curtain on your day.
Watch the twilight progress,
As the night holds the world in its sway.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Wings
The wings of a butterflly
caught my gaze
then quickly went away.
To catch a fleeting
glimpse of it
started my beautiful day.
The wings of a hungry hawk
caught my gaze
as he circled in my sight.
To glimpse the soaring bird of prey
ended my sorrowful night.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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L'oiseau bleu
The lake lay blue below the hill.
O'er it, as I looked, there flew
Across the waters, cold and still,
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue.
A moment, ere the bird had passed,
It caught his image as he flew.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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My Blue Tears
Fly away from my window little blue bird
Fly as far as you can away from here
And let not your song fall upon my ear
Go spread you blue wings and Ill shed my blue tears
For the one that I have loved
He has left me and gone
An Im in no mood for to hear your sad song
Bring not your light into my dark room, yellow sunshine
Waste not your warmth on the cold glisten here
Oh, trouble me not
Go ye elsewhere
Go light your blue sky and Ill shed my blue tears
For the only one that I have ever loved has gone away
An Im in no mood for the sunshine today
Tag:
Go spread your blue wings
Go light your blue sky
An Ill shed my blue tears
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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