Final Preparation....
leaves, just beginning to turn,
and the silent shout of rust
deafens the empty room.
bare feet leave no tracks in gravel,
yet the birds' wings scar the sky
as they begin their journey.
the plow sits motionless weeping,
the skillet whistles to the fire.
a squirrel sits atop the woodpile,
the mountains' breathing become labored.
and the wind packs its few belongings,
tips a hat to my shadowed soul.
as we begin the long journey,
the final preparation for beginning!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Thunderous Snow!
thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,
the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,
the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,
the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.
cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!
the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,
dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!
stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,
love, and cosmos!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Journey
At man's beginning and throughout his journey
he doesn't know where he's going until he gets there.
It can take him along many winding paths and cul-de-sacs.
Often he feels that he has reached his journey's end,
and for a while he achieves contentment,
but then questions the purpose of life's task.
In reality man's journey is ended by his last breath,
but during the time between his first and last,
he has been controlled by a solitary dictator.
Not the Omnipotent Almighty, or even mother nature,
but pure and simple circumstance,
this is man's master and navigator.
Some believe that the final breath signifies the end,
but others believe that it's only the beginning.
Just another step along the corridor of time,
an eternal journey from the physical
where knowledge accompanies you
on your journey to the sublime.
poem by Tex T Sarnie
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In The Middle Of The Journey
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE JOURNEY
In the middle of the journey
Though closer to the end
With still perhaps some years to go
Old and yet not the oldest of the old
I try to begin again.
I know
If I have not done it yet
I probably never will.
I know all the years
I did not make effort enough
Are not mine
To make effort in
In the future.
I know I probably will never get there.
I know it is not ‘beginning’
I should be doing now.
I do not then ‘begin again’
I continue from where I am
Which is not very far
On the road
Which is longer than I can see.
Will I get there?
All the evidence says ‘no’.
Nonetheless
I write this
As another small step on the way
To where I probably will not go.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Just Walking
when i was a kid,
thirteen or fourteen,
i used to go out
at night and walk
the streets...
not going anywhere
in particular...
just walking....
a restless soul
beginning a journey,
and didnt even know.
on the good nights
it rained... and the wind
blowing water in my face
helped prepare me.
today i feel like walking....
beginning a journey,
or ending one?
doesnt really matter...
just walking!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The journey...
Death is not the end of lifes adventure
It is merely a confirmation of lifes innocence
In our youth death is one of our darkest fears
With each breath we outrun the spectre of death
But death stalks us at every turn of life
With age comes wisdom and the truth becomes clear
Death is not the end but is just a comma in our journey
It can bring an end to pain and mark a new beginning
For none can halt our return to this mortal coil
Death is merely a moment standing still for all eternity
When we say goodbye to those who share our journey
Just remember this is not the beginning of the end
It is merely the end of the beginning, the journey goes on...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Journey to Be
I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar,
Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star.
But rest assured that when my journey begs to take its cue,
Always know that when I go, this journey takes you too.
We'll start our journey out from here by horse and cart of old,
The seaside docks - and journey pauses - where we shall behold
A noble schooner for the journey primed to launch as planned:
To sail with dolphins cross the seas then journey back on land.
And so our journey goes by foot to conquer mountains tall:
A chapter hence the journey reached, with scenes that should enthral.
But when we tire, let's rest our journey, stretched in fields of flowers,
And bathe atop the mountain from the journey - autumn showers!
Refreshed, our journey takes a turn - we'll venture back for home,
But first we'll let the journey take a tangent just to roam.
And in the winding route, this journey's bound to bide content,
But most of all take heed - let's make our journey life's event.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Whatever Happens, Move On, Pursue That End
when we begin we already know what distance is
we see it in the stars we hear it from the Siberian winds
we were telling the trees that our beginning was the smile of the snails
that the moss have always been faithful to the stones
at the middle we learned the games of the waves and the seagulls
there is always the happy chase between respect and dignity
like the moon how it sits on the black horizon how it lightens the silence
you want to know the intimacy of the wind and the cliff
how they have become almost the same in sonorous sounds
sometimes you sense the semblance of surrender
not wanting to go on and be the roots of the trees and the grass
i have touched the tips of your hair, though short, but that is enough
my wings have fully grown and the winds are waiting
i am destined for something else beyond the touch of your hands
i do not know how my story shall end, but the voices are assuring
whatever happens, tell me, for once, that you too shall find yourself
do not turn back, pursue the end without the trembling, the remorse of pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A New Year Should Begin Again With New Hope
A New Year should begin with new hope-
Beginning again-
But after so many beginnings and so many years
And in Old Age?
I write these lines as if I had written them many times before
What if a new beginning is only a repetition of what one has already done before?
I try to begin again
I force myself forward
An old man tries too to walk faster
And sometimes he can
But slowness and sadness are his essence.
I will begin again
But more slowly than before.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Migratory Birds
Migratory birds deported back to the nest
After a long journey
Leaving behind memories and hoping to return
Pulled by longing for the motherland
Green pastures
Ripe fruits
Freshwater
Safety and warm cuddling
Days and nights, and the journey begin
Eternal journey
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Autumn's Hint....
the leaves on the tree are whispering...
squirrels panic, and fireflies disappear.
birds prepare their wings for journey,
i sharpen the axe, the woodpile grows.
the fields mourn with stomachs filled.
the chimney moans with an ache.
brandy waits on the shelf in silence.
mason jars filled with beans.
the air pregnant with chill and woodsmoke,
this body ripe with the taste of love.
unmarked graves wait for headstones,
pumpkins wait for the knife.
eyes turn, waiting for the fall...
autumn's hint, rust on my lips!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Wonder
When the pressure will not fade away
When the real things starts to become fake
When you cant recognize your own hands
Turn around and begin again
When the sky starts ripping and falling
And the horizon is no longer calling please
Dont try to make it on emptiness
Turn around and begin again
But I have wondered about what it is all for
But I can do no more than shout
And I am still standing unsure
If your eyes become glazed with indifference
If your screaming with lips that are silent
If you cant find light in the day
Turn around and begin again
But I have wondered about what it is all for
But I can do no more than shout
And I am still standing unsure
When you cannot find yourself anywhere
If your standing but feel your not really there
If your waiting for someone to catch you
Turn around and begin again
If you cant seem to find whats been to be found
In a heart that pumps rage as your only sound
If your waiting to be blown away
Turn around and begin again
But I have wondered about what it is all for
But I can do no more than shout
And I am still standing unsure
But now and then
Now and then
I wonder.
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning blue sky
Morning blue sky
~
Looking upon a pale blue sky
A plane cuts across my sight
That sharp white line climbs
Into a journey to begin the day
Off into a wandering fantasy
A stirring of birds fill the view
Like a thousand thoughts
All the world slowly waking
Still not a cloud to be seen
Last nights sleep rubbed from eyes
While watching the plane disappear
The fading white trail ebbs away
A journey somewhere beginning
Or perhaps another’s ending
The fantasy of a journey
Looking into a morning blue sky
Stirs the waking mind
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Pan Within
Come with me
On a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
We will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow well begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Swing your hips
Loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
Loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Put your face in my window
Breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
Sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
And nights like these
Were born to be
Sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
And all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
And we will look together
For the pan within
When to be with you
Is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
Is not a sin
We will look together
For the pan within
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pan Within
Come with me
On a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
We will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow well begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Swing your hips
Loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
Loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Put your face in my window
Breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
Sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
And nights like these
Were born to be
Sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
And all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
And we will look together
For the pan within
When to be with you
Is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
Is not a sin
We will look together
For the pan within
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And Then You Wanted To Go And Leave Me Here
you come like a shadow creeping beside the twilight of my life
i wake up at dusk and hear the faint sound of hope and there
you are dressed in morning light shining upon the drapes of
my room where the windows are tightly lipped in silence
we talk like the wind getting inside a leak of my wall and we
whisper what we know from the beginning, about love and how
some of it lay broken on the road of mishaps and how some
wounds begin to know how to heal themselves and pretend that
a scar is beautiful and shiny upon a skin that knows how to forget.
i smell the skin of freedom spreading on your bosom and i touch
the scent of your hair and i begin to know what life is all about until
you know the real hour for leaving, the sunset calls you and then you
hear the song of the sea, and then you wear upon your shoulder the
wings of the seagull. You leave me and i am like a window waiting
for the white sail from the ocean its shadow getting smaller from the
horizon. And then the moon rises up with the stars lighting the darkness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Road may wind.....
let the journey begin and the will finds
the righteous direction of wind propels the
future of thy soul, into the morning sky of
today
be the breezing wind gently flown to
the waiting dunes and back hurriedly to
the sweet home of wonderful beginning; a
riding wave of every fish of hook
show the prosperous journey, the clock
seems echo its waiting moment of time,
where the muddy road wishing to hold;
the suspended sky in your weary eyes, as
it say let me hold you in my tears
puzzled and troubled sweat laugh in the
trembling suite of your wonderful heart,
know not me; cause the pain but a laughter
hold me to gain your great victory in every
hand and dream we hold on
make me, believe that the sharp edge of
time leaves with me, until the bottom of the
sand of the sea capture the wisdom of being
free
i am lifting to stand by your blessed hand,
let me live for another day to stay.........
poem by Antonio Liao
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Spirtual Ethics
'To take the life of self or another'
Never again a journey with sister or brother.
'To be the instigator of physical or mental pain'
A journey as the receiver of the act; time and time again.
'Those who cheat, lie or steal'
A journey of darkness never to see or reveal.
'The abusers of the earthly phsycial form'
A journey when they wished they were never born.
'Those who do not share their earthly treasure'
A journey spent in waiting in a time they cannot measure.
'Those who do wrong and believe it is right'
A long, long journey to see a heavenly sight.
'Those who misuse the gift of power'
A journey that will include an eternal hour.
'Those who fail to give thanks for the gifts of each'
The jorney delayed until some one can teach.
'Failure to offer free expression to God of a love deep within'
The journey will not contain a door for a new life to begin
04-06-06 Aho Speaks
.
poem by AHO Speaks
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The Old Man alone in his room
He doesn't like to talk
just sits quietly
never smiles or laughs.
Won't join in any of the games,
eats his meals in his room
leaves his tray outside the door.
Next to his bed is a black and white
photograph of a man in uniform.
In a drawer lie medals covered by socks,
bravery hidden away.
He can hear laughter outside his room
as he stares out of his window at a dark cold sky.
When the sun shines he likes to feed the birds,
a squirrel takes food from his outstretched hand.
One day his tray isn't outside the door,
outside a lone squirrel waits.
poem by Kevin Halls
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A Casualty
The old man sits
On top of a brown
Battered suitcase
This now contains
All his belongings
I remember him
He was the toymaker
In our village
He was always a happy man
Now I see him
As we flee
The light has gone
From his eyes
There is fear there
That stops me cold
What does he know?
What has he seen?
He sits there
Waiting for his family
People pass by
Asking him
If he needs help
He says no
He is waiting for
His daughter to come
She went into the fields
To pick some sugar canes
That's when the soldiers
Set the fields on fire
Burning sugar
Caramel
Now pungent
But the first whiff was sweet
That's when the village
Began to burn
The old man sits
And waits for her
I wonder how long
He's been sitting there?
He looks to every face
And says her name
Every girl he stops
And examines to see
If it might be her
The old man sits
All alone.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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