Do We Sleep....
do we sleep in the stillness,
the moment after the guns are laid down.
the day the war on terror
becomes the war on poverty.
the day different colors means rainbows,
when fists are retired, and ears are opened.
the day when the distance to god
becomes two hands open in dialogue.
the day we see ourselves naked,
and are not ashamed!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rainbow of my Life
You put rainbow into my life
Different colors, so bright
Rainbows that full of life
That gives colors to the lonely skies
Rainbows end is a pot of gold they say
A treasure to keep as long you stay
Rainbow is like a man or a woman in our lives
It shines, gives us colors, gives us life
That would shine through the rest of our lives
But sometimes rainbows are gone
Not shining nor not giving colors in the clouds
Nor not giving life to the lonely skies
When its so hot and dry
Rainbows is like a life
Giving us water when everything is drought
Giving us colors when everything turns out dark
Making us smile for the different colors they had
You are like my rainbow
You give colors to my life
You give meaning to my lonely nights
But as like rainbows
Sometimes they are gone
Sometimes they don't show
Sometimes not giving us life
You are my rainbow
For a moment in my life
But now, my rainbow is gone
The shines, the colors, the bright
For my rainbow will never shine again
To my lonely life
(09/05/09)
poem by Gil Caguiat
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A Call For Revolution!
a call for revolution...
rivers rise, and overflow their banks!
branches bud with leaves in the autumn,
butterflies arrive to bring the snow!
every window opened, every lock is broken,
every pot is filled, every table shared.
the language of ears sees no colors,
and dignity wears no chains.
prophets return to being carpenters,
and poets till the earth.
soldiers lay down their guns to become fathers,
nations give way to family.
the faces of god all become one,
the hands of god become many!
freedom becomes a verb not a dream,
hunger is buried by compassionate hands.
forgiveness a way of living,
respect the bridge all must cross.
truth is applauded for asking questions,
as the young and old exchange gifts.
every moment sacred and shared,
the earth revered and protected.
a call for revolution....
just as far away as near!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Accustomed To Ignoring Their Own Treasures
When I came to give,
Hands were closed.
And fists were clenched.
Prepared what seemed to me to be,
Arguments conflicting with my interests.
Then when it became discovered,
What I came to give...
Would be of benefit.
Hands surrounded me opened like cups.
And those with clenched fists,
Were prepared to pat me on the back.
As if a lost relative had for them been missed.
When I CAME to give,
Hands were closed.
And fists were clenched.
An impression made,
I have not forgotten since.
When I CAME to offer,
I was immediately dismissed.
And NOW...
Today?
I've learned my worth is too valuable.
Too genuine to just give away.
Especially to those,
Accustomed to ignoring their own treasures.
And suspicious of those,
Who have chosen them to give.
Prehaps my approached for them was too sincere.
Since from them 'then'...
I HAD asked for nothing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Epitaph In Dust
hands that were open,
never grasping.
eyes that saw and knew,
without judging.
ears that heard what was said,
felt what was unsaid.
heart that wrapped around darkness
without needing light.
a soul that preferred to be nameless,
life remembered for its living.
a moment in time, eternal...
a spark of flame, then stillness.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A New Day!
lay down your guns,
your knives, your flags.
get out of your tanks,
your planes, get off
of your carriers.
stop the bombs,
the rhetoric, the patriotic march....
unball your fists, open your hands.
proclaim this a new day....
the first day of forever...
when humanity decided
to become human again!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Peace or Poverty
Their skin soaks up the heat
Leaving it as black as the midnight sky,
Their eyes wide, white, pleading
Begging to the passersby.
They litter the street
Half naked bodies,
Red and colouring their feet
Searching for a entrance
A door out of the circle of poverty.
Poverty means destruction
Destruction means fear
Behind locked doors we sit in early evening
Too scared to see a black face
Terrified of black feet crossing the threshold.
But why be fearful of your slaves,
Those you whip and beat
Treating like the dirt from the doormat
Where you wipe your feet.
Role diversity causes poverty
Poverty destroys peace
But peace minus poverty
Means Equality should increase.
poem by Sonali Shah
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An Old Man's Prayer
i pray for the sounds
of leaves falling in timeless glory;
for the bark of the dog,
and the paw of the cat.
for the laughter of children playing,
who have a home and food to eat.
for the tired smiles of working parents,
for the ears and stories of grandparents.
for the kiss and the touch of lovers,
for the dreams of the young that know not bounds.
for the gurgle of creeks and the sighs of mountains,
for the crow, the turtle, and the squirrel.
for the plow, the shovel, and the axe, ...
and hands that know each.
for eyes that see beneath color and nationality,
for the spiritual who dare not name god.
for the silence of guns at last laid down,
for bridges built by caring hands.
for shoulders that take on responsibility,
for feet bound by determination.
for the face of justice drawn by the hands of compassion,
for the way equality feels!
for sundown, darkness, and dawn...
for stars that do not need names.
for the wisdom of trees, and the taste of dew,
for the howl of moonlight that shakes the night.
for the nearness of companions when life seems far,
for the stillness that makes the heart dance.
for passion, simplicity, and understanding,
for the gift of every moment....
i pray....
giving thanks with a pilgrim's feet!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Meaning Of War
Meaning of war
War means bombing
War means explosions
War means fire
War means destruction
War means hating
War means mutilation
War means killing
War means tears
War means guns
War means loss
War means not of who is right
War means not of who is wrong
War means only of whom is left
poem by Oscar Montano
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Colors Of Life
See the colors of life
The colors of dreams
The colors of life
Wherever you go
Wherever you may go
Trust in hope, trust in your real friends
Planet colors alive, you hold it in your hands
Realize you have to open your eyes
And Ive learned everything has always two sides
You're not alone
The world is one family
You're not alone
Find your way to be free
You're not alone
Love is the hope to survive
You're not alone
See the colors of life
See the colors of life
See the colors of life
See the colors of dreams
They are wild and free
See the colors around
See the colors around
The colors you have found
See the colors of life
See the colors of life
The colors of dreams
The colors of life
The colors of life
The colors of dreams
The colors of life
There's a land, there's a place in your heart
Tolerance is the key to make a better start
I've been waiting for my lessons of life
And I've learned everything has always two sides
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Romancing The Poverty Of Other People
you look at the poverty of other people
romancing it like a metaphor in your poetry
the color of a man's unwashed shirt with mud
and blood, dried sweat,
the sound of a hungry baby like the sound
of thunder coming from the breasts of mountains
the ignorant woman like a beautiful native naked
and bathing in the river and rising like a famous nude painting
their poverty to the rhythm of some blues
the colors in brown, and black and violet and scarlet
the trembling hands and biting lips and blank stares
the blackest background ever
to a future as bleak as ember
to a poverty hopeless as ever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Hands
my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,
my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open
they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon
you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea
'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '
i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.
let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
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The Distance Of These Other Worlds
THE DISTANCE OF THESE OTHER WORLDS
The distance of these other worlds
Means you and I
Will never know them in our lifetimes-
The distance of these other worlds
Means you and I
Are in space and time
So small-
The distance of these other worlds
Means there is a great emptiness in- between
Vaster than our own spaces and worlds-
The distance of these other worlds
Means we in our own
Are more alone-
And if and when we meet others
Will not meet
In arrogant pride
But in fearful humility
The distance of these other worlds
Whether they are real or not
Means we are less great
Than we thought
And never will be
As singularly real
As we once dreamed-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Sleeper
As Ann came in one summer's day,
She felt that she must creep,
So silent was the clear cool house,
It seemed a house of sleep.
And sure, when she pushed open the door,
Rapt in the stillness there,
Her mother sat, with stooping head,
Asleep upon a chair;
Fast -- fast asleep; her two hands laid
Loose-folded on her knee,
So that her small unconscious face
Looked half unreal to be:
So calmly lit with sleep's pale light
Each feature was; so fair
Her forehead -- every trouble was
Smooth'd out beneath her hair.
But though her mind in dream now moved,
Still seemed her gaze to rest
From out beneath her fast-sealed lids,
Above her moving breast,
On Ann, as quite, quite still she stood;
Yet slumber lay so deep
Even her hands upon her lap
Seemed saturate with sleep.
And as Ann peeped, a cloudlike dread
Stole over her, and then,
On stealthy, mouselike feet she trod,
And tiptoed out again.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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One More Parade
Hup, two, three, four, marching down the street
Rollin of the drums and the tramping of the feet
General salutes and the mothers wave and weep
Here comes the big parade
Dont be afraid, prices paid
One more parade
So young, so strong, so ready for the war
So willing to go and die upon a foreign shore
All march together, everybody looks the same
So there is no one you can blame
Dont be ashamed, light the flame
One more parade
Listen for the sound and listen for the noise
Listen for the thunder of the marching boys
A few years ago their guns were only toys
Here comes the big parade
Dont be afraid, prices paid
One more parade
So young, so strong, so ready for the war
So willing to go and die upon a foreign shore
All march together, everybody looks the same
So there is no one you can blame
Dont be ashamed, light the flame
One more parade
Medals on their coats and guns in their hands
Trained to kill as theyre trained to stand
Ten thousand ears need only one command
Here comes the big parade
Dont be afraid, prices paid
Dont be ashamed, wars a game
Worlds in flames, so start the parade
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Simple...
follow that star...
to forlorn manger bare
'neath skies of poverty's making...
the simple, the common,
the calloused hands,
the baby's cry in cold night's grasp....
the light so few could see...
no temple, no righteous robes,
only a carpenter and wife...
no kings, no prophets,
no blaze of fury....
a child born in stillness,
that stillness formed....
abused, misunderstood,
his memory used and twisted
into something else and less....
never knowing, never seeing,
the simple truth....
the hands, fully human,
that dared to touch...
changing the darkness
with compassion's forms...
as if a leaf turning,
and no one heard!
therein lies the beauty,
and the stillness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Look into your Eyes
If you see me
Dancing naked
It means you
Lust me.
If you see me
Lullabying you
To sleep
It means you
Love me.
If you see me
Doing both
It means
You must be
Crazy ;)
LOL: D
(Theme: Imagination)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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What Silence Can Offer
when everything seems to be crowded
when everyone speaks
in such a chatter
gibberish
and this room becomes
a narrow space
filled with nothing but
noise
i will be silent
this silence that offers me
refuge
a blankness of the mind
where i can rest and start all over
again where i can think
of nothing
but stillness
where i become a closed mouth
a blocked heart
where i clench my fists
and say nothing
then they all look at me
and begin
to open
this silence demands
that it is now my turn
to speak
and they will listen
but it is too late
something has began to tick
and so i must
leave at once
they must know
what suffering
in the noise means
soonest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Guns and their shadows
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
life spirit lessens,
innocence suffers,
dream dies,
expectation extincts.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
hopes become horrors,
desires become despairs,
trust becomes tenions,
smiles become sighs.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
word means whispers,
home means house,
homeland means ex land,
freedom means fantasy.
Under guns and their shadows
amidst men and women and children
life still goes on,
some where a force moves on,
binding and blending every one
for guns can spit only fires and not lives.
poem by Manju Shree
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