The great rickshaw rider
he carries his newborn child
passengers on the backseat
a widower just cycles
no choice but his bike
father and rickshaw rider
sad thoughts of his dead wife
lovingly holding his child
he rides with his fate
a girl feels her fathers love
happy passengers arrived
a widower and newborn
on their bike for life
@ Ellie Daphne van Stralen
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Inner delight
thoughts leaving harbors
warmest memories descend
slow waving pictures
recognizing soul
recovering saddest heart
mending inner light
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow-heat
my heart sets on fire
first snow-crystal on my skin
a heartfelt meltdown
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 11/24/2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Take a break..................
sharing a moment
the serenity of space
the light of a flame
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Autumn leaves
november gale force
cold air all over the place
naked trees message
paths in front of me
tapestries of whirling leaves
carpets of small twigs
everything blown off
premature delivering
that wintery blues
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Intuition
listen
or be deaf for
the sound inside
you'll hear the message loud
you'll see everything
you need
warning
or a clear sign
intimate deep
surprisingly well known
a little light shines on you
inside
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crys
Crys are various and many-to list, it would go like this: -
The cry of a newborn just come from Heaven
The cry of the mother's joy knowing her child is born well
She holds her child to her breast to let it know that she loves the child
The cry of the father's joy holding the child in his arms
The father kissing the child on its forehead so the child can feel its father
The cry of the wolf in the woods gathering the pack together
The bleat of a mother sheep after giving birth to her child
The cry of a young boy who fell on the ice while ice skating
He had hurt himself quite badly
The cry of a little girl who fell and scraped her knee
Of all the crys in the world these are just a few
April 25,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
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The bike must go - a song
Got to keep the engine running - My soul's on fire
Like to see my baby - my one desire
Can't help this feeling it's hard to explain
It hurts my heart it gives me pain
She says
The bike must go
No no no no no
The bike must go
Riding through the city streets, with my leathers on
Looking cool in black as the day is long
I can't quite understand it but my baby's wrong
Plugged into her Ipod and listening to her song
She says
The bike must go
No no no no no
The bike must go.
She's driving me crazy with her stance
And I'm sure she's taking me for a dance
When she says I hate it - it's like doing time
Then she looks at me and says
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go.
There's no way around it, can't persuade her n-o more,
it'll be a pity but what can I do?
Sooner or later she's got to see
The bike's for cruising with her and me
And she says:
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go
How can she be so cruel when I love her so
I tried ever thing to please her that I know
Got to keep my baby on the wild side
And she looks into my eyes and says
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go
I love my baby like a dog chewing a bone
I called her this morning on the telephone,
There's no way around it
I tried my best
There's nothing more to say except
The bike must go
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go.
*I turned this poem into a song which you can listen to on Youtube or google. Just type 'the bike must go' Enjoy.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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A Bike Is Just A Bike
A bike is just a bike
It can take you for a riding hike
A bike is just a bike
With a motorcycle it is a look alike
A bike is just a bike
When you ride it you feel childlike
But there is something I dislike
It is hard to impress and make a good strike
Two wheels and one seat available for hitchhike
Your charming words will have a declined spike
Therefore it is best to leave the bike for the dikes
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Richness of the spirit
the emptiness of the silence
the limitation the space
the infinity of the dark
the length of the awaiting
the helplessness of paralysis
hooked in herself
seated on her chair
wandering
where this will end
the continuing of the times
that will be changing
she shares
her essentials
coming out her of nutshell
her eyes show off
her words depict
her warmth conquers
who tells more
who knows more
who shares more
who is more herself
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Hooked
the emptiness of the silence
the limitation the space
the infinity of the dark
the length of the awaiting
the helplessness of paralysis
hooked in herself
seated on her chair
wandering
where this will end
the continuing of the times
that will be changing
she shares
her essentials
coming out her of nutshell
her eyes show off
her words depict
her warmth conquers
who tells more
who knows more
who shares more
who is more herself
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Learning
a little brown boy
perhaps aged three
is learning
how to ride his
bike
the father bought
a bike
taller than the boy
but the boy
has passion
breaks his bones
suffers the bruises
just to learn
this new skill
he rides on top of the
bike unable to reach
the brake
and he laughs at all this
not seeking
any help.
there he falls again
on the ground.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dirt Bike
Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two in a tower
Viviette, Lady Constantine, tender
Even at her thirty, was a splendour.
Her husband had no time to engage her
As with other women he was merrier.
The tender vine lady, stake less, wandered
And, on a lad in a tower, stumbled.
She endeared the lad to explore her
While he was there to explore stars elsewhere.
Her age and dignity held Swithin.
His age and purity held Viviette.
Death of her husband rescued her from guilt;
Warmth of her lover was free to travel.
The Bishop, a widower, was enchanted
With the company of Lady Constantine,
And was desperate to secure her hand,
Her young widowhood taken for granted.
Viviette had loved Swithin for her shake
And more for his shake; she subjected her
.Self-love to his benevolence, and made
Her motherly love shade her sexual love.
.
She coerced him to set out for his future
And forced herself to desert his gesture.
She made herself marry the widower
To be father for her expecting child.
Viviette again became a widow
And for Swithis’ return, she stood in glow.
The joy of reunion took her life;
The child got him, the bona fide father.
Her first husband deserted her
Her lover could not marry her.
Her second one is not her choice.
She thanked her lover with a child.
“‘tis in the mercy of her eye
If poor love shall live or die;
A silver line is her child,
In her life, full of cloud.”
29.08.2000, Pmdi
[ a novel by Thomas Hardy]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Just A Moment
at the busy crossroad
the traffic jam
is complete
all roads crowded
all kinds of vehicles
have to stop
while their futile waiting time
disappears in stress
a cacophony of people
just talking about
them selves
complaining
about their situation
overpowering the impatient honking
of other drivers
still in their cars
in the queue
what should I do
secure the door
wait and watch the scenery
from my point of view
the intimacy
of the space
I feel is my own
or
open the window
and become a part
of the cram
hearing different sounds
creating
another way
homeward bound
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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The Babbling Brook
clearest water flows gently
along and over my naked feet
the touch of its almost tacit sound
deafening beauty for a calming mind
thousands of tiny goosebumps
showing the numerous surprising shivers
trying to make sense
the softest sofa of fresh leaves and little twigs
spread a narcotic palette of autumn perfumes
coloring the signals of my soul
a generous friendly fire of chestnuts and acorns
compose a beat and feel of rhythm of the forests
tapping on my shoulder and head
changing every breath that I take
while softly knocking
at future's door
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father whispers to the child
As the child continues to ignore his spoken words
As if his owner was almost invisible from the corner of his eye
The child shouts – silence” the father then trembles disfigured to heart
He stands crying tears of fury with the spark of love of his child’s naivety.
The child carries on his missions, his father watches him do his thing”
When finally one day the child realizes his insane character, the father then
Ignores his presence..
Appreciate what you have here, now, but not always.
because 'you never know'.
poem by Noorie Ali
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Hurt
painful bug
all day all around
unbeaten
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Having My Back
hard hit by a car
quite vigorously shaken
I have my own back
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Our child once grown
What if my wife revealed that she was pregnant by me?
However, what if our child one day chose simply not to believe?
In nine months and eighteen years, I need to answer this question.
Nine months for God and my wife to give birth to the little one.
Eighteen year for us to train them in the way that they should go.
But, it is our child choice in whom to believe once grown and outside our front door.
At home, our child shall be instructed about the consequences of their sin.
Our child will understand the punishment of God for sin in the end.
I will train our child up in the Godly way that they should always go.
I will show them the love of the wonderful God I personally know.
Once grown, by us, our child shall be shown how to live life righteously.
Regardless in whom they believe, they will always be our child to me.
How would I feel if in spite of everything I taught and showed our child?
Our child decided, once grown, to take another way in life for a while.
Although taught while young not to steal; once grown they stole any way.
Although taught while young not to lie; once grown they lied every day.
Would I abandon them as quickly as the rest of the world?
Would they still be the prized apple of your heart and still be daddy’s little boy or girl?
Still, there is always a chance our child might choose in God not to believe.
If our child does, it is not because of the lack of the right instructions from me.
I will love our child even if by their life they chose not to follow God.
Because no matter what our child is an important part of my heart.
In who to continue to believe that major choice of life shall be their own.
But, they are still our child though they choose not to believe or act right once grown.
poem by Reginald Walker
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Silence
not a sound around
a huge content of silence
for real listeners
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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