En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Actions, And Inaction!

there is no blood
...runs deeper than
....the greening of the earth,

nothing as bitter as
..the taste of rust
....in your mouth,

as you sit by helpless,
.....and watch it die!

your father's gift,
...and your mother's breasts,
.....no epitaph but greed!

and if God lives the fatal blow
...of actions, and inaction!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Boy In The Water

a boy
wades in the sea
on the shallower part
he dips his feet
and feels the rocks
beneath

the deep waits
danger lurks

the mother is complacent
and busy
with the weaving of her dreams

the boy goes deeper
and the mouth of the
sea waits
in hunger

the mother sings
to the clouds
as the father pounds the
earth for
his corn ears

the boy goes deeper and deeper
wading through the
water

the sea opens its mouths
and breathes
and becomes so silent

the mother weaves her dreams
the father pounds the earth for corn

the winds pass by
the clouds become heavy and gray
the tears of the sky
arrive

the waters of the river rise
the mother screams
the father stabs the earth
with the sharpness of his bolo

regrets and mourning
reign
the complacent village

the boy is now at peace
in the belly of the sea.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not less struggle

It can be felt only by mother
No creature on earth or any other
She has direct blood relation
Joy and happiness is felt with elation

Mother will weep
Take care and keep
Always to her chest
And deliver the best

Even if child has come for short stay
It was only means for her to find way
Motherhood to perfection with joy
She has only to express and enjoy

All babies are god's gift
We can feel bitter or have shift
We are helpless for untimely death
Only must have some belief and faith

Babies are like flower in garden
We call them dearly as children
Unhappiness disappear in moment
As they are gift and heavenly sent

Love and enjoy even if they stay
For less period and go away
Take as much care as possible
To attain parenthood is not less than any struggle

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Mother Once Said...

My mother once said
'Don`t open your mouth before
Elders and those with white hairs'.
My mother also said
'Don`t speak unless asked'.

My mouth asked me once,
'What is my role in your life? '
I said, 'My mother has said nothing about it'.
I added, 'You swallow and eat'.
My mouth has been quiet since.

My friends said, 'Your mother is wise'.
My father said, 'She is my strength'.
I wondered how she could be so great!
Then was born my kid brother with a big mouth.

My mother said to my kid brother too
Not to do those old things
But his mouth spoke everything
Everything that I never dared.
And his mouth swallowed, ate and spoke.

Today my mother is no more
And my father is is weak and worn out.
I still remember my mother`s words.
While my kid brother speaks out his mind
My mouth refuses to speak out its regrets....

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Gathering Mushrooms

As he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
the taste of dill, or tarragon-
he could barely tell one from the other-

filled his mouth. It seemed as if he might smother.
Why should he be stricken
with grief, not for his mother and father,

but a woman slinking from the fur of a sea-otter
In Portland, Maine, or, yes, Portland, Oregon-
he could barely tell one from the other-

and why should he now savour
the tang of her, her little pickled gherkin,
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father?

*

He looked about. He remembered her palaver
on how both earth and sky would darken-
'You could barely tell one from the other'-

while the Monarch butterflies passed over
in their milkweed-hunger: 'A wing-beat, some reckon,
may trigger off the mother and father

of all storms, striking your Irish Cliffs of Moher
with the force of a hurricane.'
Then: 'Milkweed and Monarch 'invented' each other.'

*

He looked about. Cow's-parsley in a samovar.
He'd mistaken his mother's name, 'Regan, ' for Anger';
as he knelt by the grave of his mother and father
he could barely tell one from the other.

poem by Paul Muldoon
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I Will Not....

i will not be a part
of your wars!
keep your oil wet,
blood stained fingers
off of my throat!
i will not, by actions,
or inaction, be a part,
of that which furthers hunger
and suffering to pad
the pockets of greed.
i will not kill for profit,
will not march to the drum!
i will not believe in your lie,
nor wave your flag!
i will not cast judgements
with prejudicial blows,
i will not take from the poor,
nor dig the graves...
to bury the children
that you never named!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreaming The Breasts

Mother,
strange goddess face
above my milk home,
that delicate asylum,
I ate you up.
All my need took
you down like a meal.

What you gave
I remember in a dream:
the freckled arms binding me,
the laugh somewhere over my woolly hat,
the blood fingers tying my shoe,
the breasts hanging like two bats
and then darting at me,
bending me down.

The breasts I knew at midnight
beat like the sea in me now.
Mother, I put bees in my mouth
to keep from eating
yet it did no good.
In the end they cut off your breasts
and milk poured from them
into the surgeon's hand
and he embraced them.
I took them from him
and planted them.

I have put a padlock
on you, Mother, dear dead human,
so that your great bells,
those dear white ponies,
can go galloping, galloping,
wherever you are.

poem by Anne Sexton
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The Last Revelation (The Final Prophecy)

There were none at His left hand
No man amongst His army
The Earth has ripped herself open
And birthed from her wounds
Thick black clouds, which covered the Earth
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven
An all-consuming cancer
An all-consuming cancer
An all-consuming cancer
An all-consuming cancer
Reaching to repent
We will taste it in its purest form
Reaching out for nothing
Suffocation on our words
While we hold our children
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven
No cradle
No Son
A mother of none
No cradle
No Son
A mother of none
No cradle
No Son
A mother of none
No cradle
No Son
A mother of none
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven
It tears
I see blood in the air
I taste the blood in the air
Dissected from the heaven
Cut and stripped of her skin
We let it begin
Descending from heaven

song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Case Of You

A case of you
Just before our love got lost you said
I am as constant as a northern star
And I said, constant in the darkness
Wheres that at?
If you want me Ill be in the bar
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue tv screen light
I drew a map of canada
Oh canada
And your face sketched on it twice
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh Id still be on my feet
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
Im frightened by the devil
And Im drawn to those ones that aint afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
And you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still Id be on my feet
And still be on my feet
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Color go to him, stay with him if you can
Oh but be prepared to bleed
Oh but you are in my blood youre my holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still Id be on my feet
Id still be on my feet
Mmmmmmm

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitter

MOTHER MOTHER CAN YOU HEAR ME
I KEEP TRYING JUST TO FIND ME
ALL I KNOW NOW
ALL YOU SHOW ME
ENDLESS QUESTIONS
HOPELESS ENDING
THIS BITTER PILL IS PUSHING ME AWAY
AND NOW I FEEL LIKE THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO SAY
AND I PRETEND TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY
BUT IN THE END WILL I BE OKAY
FATHER FATHER WILL YOU BET THERE AS I CRY OUT SILENT AGAIN
TURNING COLDER, FROZEN DEEPER
NUMB TO THIS DREAM SLEEPING WITHIN
THIS BITTER PILL IS PUSHING ME AWAY
AND NOW I FEEL LIKE THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO SAY
AND I PRETEND TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY
BUT IN THE END WILL I BE OKAY
BEFORE I FACE ANOTHER DAY, WON'T YOU LET ASLEEP
LOST AMONG THE DREAMS THAT ALWAYS COMFORT ME
AND BEFORE I FIND MY FEET
WON'T YOU SHOW ME WHAT I NEED
WHAT I NEED TO WALK AGAIN
THIS BITTER PILL IS PUSHING ME AWAY
AND NOW I FEEL LIKE THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO SAY
AND I PRETEND TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY
BUT IN THE END WILL I BE OKAY
WILL I BE OKAY

song performed by by 12 Stones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Random things about my Mother

My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue

My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake

My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane

My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine

My mother who knew
No contentment in living

My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two

My mother who it is true
Stopped living long before she died

My mother from whose mouth flew
Words of disappointment and fury

My mother whose lips
Tasted bitter tears

My mother sat impatiently
In sorrow through her years

My mother who like Kunta Kinte
Was tamed by Diabets

My mother who was tamed
By my father

My mother who was captured by my father

My mother who fought with my father
The two them struggling false teeth piercing each others flesh

My mother who my father told to go and cook the mint

My mother who would beat us and cause wounds and bruises to our skin

My mother who love to walk about

My mother who gave a toe
A day away

My mother who kiked with her stump of a leg after she lost her foot

My mother who was a great dresser

My mother who could sing
Sang on the church choir

My mother who would be at the front of the church earliest every Saturday
My mother who insisted I be baptized and save by the holy ghost

My mother had beautiful handwriting
My mother who had nine children for five different men

My mother who tried to settle down with my father

My mother who could never swim

My mother who loved to sing

My mother who would tie us up on leashes and take us for long walks through the town

My mother who sought out hand me-downs – for our clothing

My mother who was active in the Welfare Society at church so she could cream the crop for her family

My mother who instigated many a conflicts with her numerous friend was left with only a few in the end.

My mother whom I so wanted to help evolve

My mother who I helped to live

My mother who I had to let die

My mother who lives in me

poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Well

My father cinched the rope,
a noose around my waist,
and lowered me into
the darkness. I could taste

my fear. It tasted first
of dark, then earth, then rot.
I swung and struck my head
and at that moment got

another then: then blood,
which spiked my mouth with iron.
Hand over hand, my father
dropped me from then to then:

then water. Then wet fur,
which I hugged to my chest.
I shouted. Daddy hauled
the wet rope. I gagged, and pressed

my neighbor's missing dog
against me. I held its death
and rose up to my father.
Then light. Then hands. Then breath.

poem by Andrew Hudgins
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I Believe So...

does the wind choose to blow?
do rivers choose to run?
does your heart choose to beat?
i believe so...

does the earth choose to turn,
in perfect rhythm, year by year?
do the tides choose to come and go,
in cadence with the moon?
i believe so...

does society choose to be oppressed,
if only by apathy's inaction?
do we choose to let people starve
when we turn the other head?
i believe so...

do we choose war over peace,
to feed the need of greed?
do we choose to destroy nature
by our very lifestyles?
i believe so....

but can we change destiny,
and avert the final blow?
can we open our minds and hearts,
and reclaim life for the living?
i believe so...

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Goal Of Poetry

it is simply to reach
out to people
with our verbal hands
these mental arms
and make them
look

deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
d eeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeperdeeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper

too, within
themselves

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bitter Blow of Love

Love! you dealt a bitter blow –
You lay me cross the mortal plains,
Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a show
Of tearful clouds: eternal rains
To weep at my enduring foe

Of harsh reality – searing pains of
Destiny: dependable propensity
To fool myself repeatedly
That I could ever triumph over love!

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow of love, oh love
Love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Blow Me A Kiss

Take one in the leg [Think about your baby]
Take one in the side [Think about your girl]
Take one in the head [Think about your mother]
Take one in the heart [It's the end of the world]

So blow me a kiss cuz I'm black
Blow me a kiss cuz I'm gay
Blow me a kiss cuz I'm shakin'
Say goodnight then blow me away
Blow me away
Blow me away
Tell me what you're thinkin' tell me why
Blow me a kiss then blow me away

Take one in the face [Think about your life]
Take one in the eye [Think about your soul]
Take one in the mouth [Think about your savior]
Take one in the thigh [Are you ready to go]

So blow me a kiss cuz I'm lonely
Blow me a kiss cuz I'm afraid
Blow me a kiss cuz you don't know me
Say goodnight then blow me away
Blow me away
Blow me away
Tell me what you're thinkin' tell me why

I'm in my room I'm Dr. Doom
Cuz I'm not me I'm someone else
Why should you die don't ask me why
You know it you know it you know it
Blow me away

I turn the page I am the rage
I'm coming from a darker place
A much darker place
So blow me away
Blow me away

Yeah blow me away
Tell me what you're thinkin' tell me why
Blow me a kiss then blow me away
Yeah blow me away
C'mon and blow me away
Tell me what you're thinkin' tell me why
Blow me a kiss then blow me away

song performed by by Alice Cooper from Brutal Planet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutting

I love seeing the blood
Feeling the pain
Watch it all fall away
no one around
but me and the blade
the red blood warms my soul
I go deeper and deeper
Untill I am no more

poem by Marissa Ford
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Kar

I am a teacher but,
Who said that i have no father? !
For my mother is her and,
I can tell you who my father is.

The jungle out there is so thick but,
I know where my father stays;
And i need to walk through versy slowly to meet his home,
For my father lives there and he is ready to meet me as well.

Kar is my name and i met you last night,
And i told you the story of my father who lives in the thick forest;
So come to my classroom and i will teach you wisdom,
For the unborn will still come out to learn from the mother.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sweet And Bitter..

The taste of cakes, sweets and chocolate,
The sugar in them makes us to be happy and glad,
The feeling is great and contagious,
When the sweetness of something is around us,
The bitter taste of anything may make us to be sad,
As it does not tickle the tongue and the taste buds,
When the bitterness runs to the throat,
When the bad memories resurface to haunt,
The emotions get bitter and torture the soul,
The sweetness rekindles all good emotions,
And this is related with all good memories,
What makes the bitter to be bitterer,
And the sweet to be sweeter,
When it is felt by the heart and the mind?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Death Of Goddesses

It used to be hard
for women,
snowed in their white lives,
white lies,
to write books
with that fine frenzy
which commends genius
to posterity,
yet estranges it
from its closest
friends.

Women were friends to all,
& being too friendly
they could not command
the unfriendly prerogatives
of genius,
though some were
geniuses still,
destroying
only themselves
with the torment
of the unfriendly ghost
trapped in a friendly
form.

Oh the women who died
dissembling friendship
for the world!
Oh the women who turned
the dagger inward
when it wished
to go out,
who impaled themselves
on Womanhood itself!

No vampire
could be
as greedy for blood,
no father or husband
as bullying.
A woman punishing herself
with her own pain
is a fierce opponent indeed.

It is self against self,
dagger to dagger,
blood of her blood,
blood of her daughter,
blood of her mother,
her menses, her moon,
all pooled together,
one crimson sea.

It is the awful auto da fé,
the sublime seppuku,
Sante Sebastiana
as archer
& victim too.

The arrow flies from her bow.
She runs, fleet as Diana,
& stops it
with her breast.

Enough!
cried the Women-Who-Cared.
Henceforth we will turn
our anger where it belongs.
We will banish the whitest lies.
We will speak the black truth as it is.
Our father- we spit back their sperm.
Our husbands- we spit back their names.
Our brothers- we suck back our love.

The self-righteous inherit the earth,
& anger speaks louder that love.
Love is a softness
the weak cannot afford,
& sex a Darwinian bribe.

But who wants the earth as a gift
when it is empty as space,
when women grow hard
as bronze madonnas
& Diana loves only her stag?

When Persephone stays in hell
the entire year,
then how can spring
begin?

poem by Erica Jong
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Unseen

something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings

until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs

someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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