A little road not made man
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.
If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh,--no vehicle
Bears me along that way.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Shyness is a blessing
i am shy
so is god's land
stripe it bare
and in no time
you find it hard
to cross even a path
without some obstacles
grass, shrubs and growth
in a frenzy to cover up exposure
shyness is a human endowment
from there modesty grow
from there rises civilisations and culture
like land that trades each inch of its barendess
with rice, flowers and fruits
inspired by
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.
If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh, -no vehicle
Bears me along that way.
Emily Dickinson
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The - Roads - to God
so many paths to Him
yet as many - man-made - lead to the other way
from the bible,
you travel by Eden
crosses Adam's path
that still smells of the evil snake and his misgivings
from the darma
you travel by the bodhi tree
and cross the spot of enlightenment
that still vibrates with the
buddha grace, so bright
non would be lost on the way to the Most High
by the new testament
you pass by mount calvary
tear spotted, blood spotted soil and stones
a cross still in sight
pointing all the ways to god
Christ would be there to tell
'Love your enemy' way to God
and from the Koran
far away in desert lands
mohammad would sum
it all up for you;
'submit totally to god
and you will be saved'.
- so many paths to Him
each path spawns questions
about the right one
unschooled women
fight over an answer
to a simple math
squabbling,
killing, blasphemising all the way
- god at the end of each road
runs
inspired by
A little road not made man
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.
If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh, -no vehicle
Bears me along that way.
Emily Dickinson
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Apparition of a Butterfly
Upon a fuzzy vista – vision blurred –
I tried to focus; nothing ever solid
Came to view, but undeterred, I blinked
An eye to try again. Through the mist
A coloured hue; polychromatic flames
Had flickered at a whim; a rhythm bore
A thrumming too: a naturalistic hymn.
Behold! Were I to find a synonym to
Reproduce or recreate
The apparition of a butterfly,
Evolving through the waning vapour,
Drawing on a sigh from this romantic.
Glory be! The raging sun above
Had fired his furnace, flaming off
The hangers on. Now I saw the flare:
His time has come. He spread a tortoiseshell –
A scene of Mother Nature at her best.
I lay in peace in knowing I was blessed.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly
Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly fly
Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly Butterfly fly
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Odd musings of an impatient heart
A shopping cart sits alongside the road
Its taunts me as its stands there alone
Just a piece of metal to passers by
But I see that metal and swallow a sigh
And now I've had more than I can take
Its eating me up and I begin to wish
That I could leave this place for a while
Or maybe forever that would be even better
Maybe I could meet someone who is new
And his words would be only the truth
Not lies compared to the thoughts in his head
But I see this shopping cart stranded alone
Just waiting for someone to come take it home
And i wonder of all the things that could make me sad
How a lone shopping cart had the effect that it had
poem by Kamryn Chew
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Butterfly was certainly a vehicle for me, and if it died, it still would have served its purpose, in spades. We never expected it to give me the visibility it has given me. It was just a small thing as a vehicle, and suddenly the whole world knew about it.
quote by Pia Zadora
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly...
Butterfly...my all..my own, Butterfly
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
Keep Yourself Accessible
Did you dropp your smile?
Something is missing on your face.
And I know I haven't seen that in a while.
Did it hurt?
Have you deserted it,
To carry that frown?
Don't be down.
Keep yourself accessible.
Turn around.
Get rid of that frown.
Keep yourself accessible.
Don't dry up like a vegetable.
Or a grape reduced to a raisin juiced.
Showing you've been pruned,
From a plum someone had used!
Keep yourself accessible.
Turn around.
Get rid of that frown.
Invite more sun to come around.
Keep yourself accessible.
Become a fine wine...
That's been aged over time.
And decide in your mind...
The life you live welcomes Sunshine!
Keep yourself accessible.
With a spring in your step,
Bouncing in your prime.
Yes...
Keep yourself accessible.
Turn around.
Don't be down.
Keep yourself accessible.
And in your mind welcome Sunshine,
Today.
Hey...
And in your mind welcome Sunshine,
Today.
Hey...
And in your mind welcome Sunshine,
Today.
Hey...
Keep yourself accessible.
And in your mind welcome Sunshine,
Today.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Wing and Wind...
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
Butterfly, Butterfly
butterfly, butterfly
fly in the sky
butterfly, butterfly
flies so high
butterfly, butterfly
lands on my thigh
butterfly, butterfly
motionlessly lies
butterfly, butterfly
gracefully dies
poem by Adryan Bates
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I believe that it is a whole lifetime of work on Shakespeare's part that enabled him to do what he did. But the question is how you can explain this whole lifetime in such a way to make it accessible and available to us, to me.
quote by Stephen Greenblatt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly
Elusive as a butterfly
In your voice I hear you sigh
The beat of it's wings
Your voice to me it sings
Elusive as a butterfly
I listern for your cry
A lady like laugh
It comes from your heart
Elusive as a butterfly
It's time for you to fly
This time it's my mornful sigh
And to my eye, a tear to cry.
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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Yellow Butterfly.
Gently flapping it's thin wings,
A butterfly lands upon my fingers,
And upon a soft breeze it leaves,
Yet it's delicate presence lingers.
Sunny yellow rimmed it's wings.
With dark daffodil yellow rings,
Pure coal black traced it's veins,
It's image - in my mind - remains.
Such a soft and delicate brush,
Of a butterflies wings, so plush,
The softest touch of it's tiny legs,
Lifted my spirits - well, the dregs.
That butterfly, that passed me by,
The messenger between land and sky,
Has stayed lodged in my mind,
I'll never meet another of it's kind,
A single butterfly, while I was alone,
Came to me and my world was thrown,
But I'll never forget that yellow butterfly,
That left me when I let out a soft sigh,
A soft sigh that came from me,
Swept my butterfly, set it free,
This is my butterfly that I'll remember,
My butterfly from last September.
poem by Rayne Goddard
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Butterfly, Butterfly
Hoping to catch your eye
Circling around you, oh my
Butterfly, butterfly, come into the light
Oh, what a beautiful sight
Flying so gracefully
Into the sky, the butterfly
Trying to catch a butterfly
Fly, fly, fly, butterfly
There he sets upon the mums
I'm having so much fun
Here's another on the sill
Your standing so still
You go to touch him
There he goes, the butterfly
I hear a tapping on the window
It's the butterfly, fly, fly, fly
There he goes into the sky
Flying so high, the butterfly
I'll see you another day
Butterfly, butterfly, away
poem by Sharon Adamson
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Not Wheelchair Accessible
I have something to say but no one will hear it because I can’t get in.
The place to speak is not wheelchair accessible.
My whole life I have been on the outside looking in.
Because most business owners brains are not wheelchair accessible.
When I’m on the street corner just waiting for bus some one walks up and hands me a dollar because they think I’m begging another mind that is not wheelchair accessible.
I know most people have to look down to see me, but they don’t need to look down on me. A person who is unable to see past the physical is a person who will never see that I’m not the one with the disability they are. Do you hear me or are you not wheelchair accessible.
A bullock cart from Malacca
Long and winding road
with patches and holes
The holes which sometimes
turned into small ponds,
every time
after a heavy downpour
You can no longer smell the tar
on a hot burning day
The road was too old
even the town council named it
the road to cemetery
A rural town
occupied by
Malay farmers,
rubber tapers
and pensioners
living in kampong
An enormous green paddy field
spreaded in the middle,
next to the road
Sandwiched by villager’s
Meranti wooden Atap houses.
To get to the town
walk your way
cycling
don’t miss the bus
or you have to wait
for another hour to get one
(you can take a pirate taxis that operate in odd hours)
Small streams crossed
at the center of the rice fields
The streams that supplied enough
fresh water fishes
for the villagers to consume
Vegetables are grown
like mushrooms
covering most of front and backyards
Fruits farm aplenty and became
local delights
whenever the season comes
Every house had their well,
as deep as 10 meter
with cold fresh water
being channeled from the nearby hills
The vast green land
were also scattered
with cows, goats, sheeps and buffalos
owned by the villagers.
In the evening
images of small kids
riding on buffalo's back
on the way to their homes
is a typical scene,
which needs to be captured
on films
for nostalgic reasons.
In the misty morning
where dawn had just breakout
villagers throwing
dried corns,
rice to the grounds
hungry poultry
feeds their way through.
School going kids
walked 3 miles to school,
cutting through plantations,
paddy field
for the shorten route.
The sound of azan
(calls for prayers five times a day required by Muslims)
Echoed from the surau and mosque,
could be heard across the village.
To own a vehicle is luxury
Bullock cart (wagon pulled by cows)
Was used in redundant
ferrying firewood,
rice sacks,
for shipment
to the town
sometimes ferrying villagers
to attend weddings
in the neighborhood
or just a bunch of cheerful kids
who like to have a ride
around the kampong.
I remembered
I was having a great time
taking a ride on this bullock cart
owned by grandfather,
going to town
whenever I paid him a visit.
I was 8 years old
Riding the time of my life
Befriended the bulls
Bonded
And sacred
Well, no matter how far I traveled
Having to live in big cities
Like London and New York,
The reminiscent of being part of kampong’s folk
riding the Bullock Cart
will still and forever (which I hope)
stayed remains in my mind
Thanks folks
for the memories.
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Butterfly
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And you're made to emerge.
A little longing to love, lush,
Starving for affection.
Hidden by the size of my perfection,
With one exception...
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
How do I hide somebody from the great blue wide?
I'll come and sweep you up,
'Cause your time ain't up, be patient.
Now you see the sun is rising and your realizing,
Wise enough to know,
That you gotta let yourself grow.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
What goes around comes back around;
This is nature's way.
Be conscious of what you do,
Because you will be repaid.
If you put turnips in the ground,
You will not harvest grapes.
You are what you attracted,
And this is why I say;
Uhhhhhh...
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And be made to emerge.
Maybe...
Still a swoon in a cocoon (repeated MANY times!)
Uhhhhhh...
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Town And Country
Touched by a butterfly on my way home
Flying who knows where
Walking down that dusty road
Without a care
The sun was shining up in the country
And bells were ringing downtown
Clouds were moving slow and lazy
While I was kicking around
And feeling out the town and the country
Feeling out the town and the country
Up on the hill I got a better look
I watched the river run brown (watched the river run brown)
And then I heard those songbirds singing
The country sound
When I got home I sat in my kitchen
And turned the television on (turned the TV on)
The news wasn't good so I didn't listen
I started clicking around
Thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country
Thinking of the town and the country
In the morning everything will be the same
Open up your world (watch the children play)
In the sun or rain
Thinking of the town and the country
A thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country (fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Broken Butterfly
Butterfly, you flew away
And at first I didn't know
How each hard day was
Straining on you so
Little butterfly, so fragile
With a wingspan of compassion
You flew with swift emotion
While I was grounded by my ration
Small butterfly, I know that
You can do it, when you flew
Because I have seen that
Longing freedom deep down inside of you
My lonely butterfly, my dear
Can I call you my own?
Or were you meant only to
Be free to forever roam
Butterfly, will you come back
To this home I've made in my heart
If you should come, I feel that
Together, we can make our brand new start.
poem by Airda Jones
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Walke to Digress
In front of entrance
We berjejal queue up
Going to peron
Awaiting cart come
Each and everyone orderlyly
Awaiting cart come
Ushering to target town
Each
Us also that black waiting' train
Come from west
Going to east
When cart come
With the its black smokestack
voice of iron Wheel fiddle
By rel is steel sticking out length
Forwards we stand up
I develop; builded from long fantacy
When that smooth radius his arms
Sticking out handckerchief
Vanishing sweat in my face
We will immediately leave taking
When cart whistle sound boisterous
Parting sign immediately come
Ushered by a white smoke of in between the steel wheel
What start to rotate, moving
Bringing wagon to target town
Menggapai Expectation
My Hand wave from window
From wagon which start fast quickly
My heart is solid, as stuffed up
In this town is we have to leave taking
Going to land of promise
Chance determined
Especial
Prasetya,7.5.2008
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Ode to a Butterfly
Butterfly, oh butterfly, why do you hide in the shadows?
Spread wide your wings, let your heart sing
And come dance with me in the meadow
Butterfly, oh butterfly, why do you fear?
You'll never stray, I'll lead the way
Just follow the path, I'll be near
Butterfly, oh butterfly, have you no hope?
Drink of the sun, our life's just begun
Thro time's hills and valleys we'll lope
Butterfly, oh butterfly, dare you to dream?
On our hearts we depend, shall we follow the wind
And consign to the fates grander scheme?
poem by Sheri Hockman
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