Let Go, And Dance!
the burnt branch,
has a name and a prayer.
the small child understands
the language of sparrows.
tiny snowflakes shout,
even the snail leaves a trace.
the rough touch of the cat's tongue,
speaks of history and hope.
yet we go mourning,
unable to see or to hear.
we rinse our mouths,
to get rid of the taste.
we crucify flowers,
in the name of beauty.
but the blood on our hands,
has the scent of our souls!
let go, and dance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Manuka Tea Tree Kiwi Nectar
tiny miracle flowers
scent tuned appease
distempered souls
mānuka honey
kiwi wild flavour
wind clover
earthy oily
herbaceous
damp earth
heather
aromatic
flavour
mānuka flowers
dense branch small leaves
evergreen sirens
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Self Spent
got this small self
small as a snail
slow
pacing like that old snail
that you know
something that you did not
touch
because of pity
got this tiny conscience
like a speck of dust
it is too small and perhaps
of lesser value
than any other self
in this lonely nook
i do not think anymore
how to spend it well
i got a day
or just a second
and i am spending it all
till i am no more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White... Quiet
The day of her funeral
they came in their thousands
to bless her final rest
snowflake upon snowflake
falling into the empty endless grave
as if prayer
upon prayer
until all was white...quiet.
No people ever came
then...& now.
As a child
she held the treasure
of the first snowflakes falling
one by one
resting on her eyelids
(her mind blossoming
into awe & wonder)
tasting them upon her tongue
as if the sky was shedding itself
the snowflakes came
in their thousands
erasing the language
of the landscape
like a child's drawing
all things dressed in white
all things held in silence.
The day of her funeral
they came in their thousands
snowflake upon snowflake
untill all
was white
...quiet.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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I hear the Lark.
I hear the lark, said Alice,
it sings in my ear like an
angel's voice, brings me
pleasure in my darkest
hour, plays in my mind
like an echoing dream.
I see the morning sun,
its beams dance at my
feet, swirl around like a
child at play, my eyes
rejoice at the sight I see,
dread the thought of
blindness in some new
day's gift, push away the
ideas as if they were flies,
push all away like one fulfilled.
I smell the lily's scent, its
aroma brings me out in a
rash of joy, its smell invades
my nose like a vanquishing
army, opens me up to the
pleasures of smell, makes
me want to sniff forever,
drink in until my head swims,
my sleep recalls the aroma's kiss.
I feel my lover's fingers along
my flesh, sense his skin smooth
along mine like a skater on ice,
like one sliding across a polished
floor, the fingers caressing like
a butterfly's touch, tickling to
laughter, fondling until my voice
says, ah, don't stop, fill me up,
squeeze all on until the final drop.
I breathe the wind's breath,
inhale the morning's freshness,
the air of angel's exhalation,
my lungs take in like a greedy
girl, sup in each particle as I
dance along, remembering now
the air of summer, the filling
of my lungs like a fish the water,
opening my lips in a happy song,
my voice singing across an open sea.
I taste my lover's tongue touch
mine, feel the tongue and mine
in dance, lick and lick until the
pleasures erupt, the places engorge
and swell, I taste the saltiness
of my lover's sex, the sweetness
of the heavenly hive, the tongue
swimming along my lover's thigh
and arm and on and on, my taste
buds explode into a rainbow of
colours, my tongue feeling like
a snail's flesh, moving and sensing
until my mind says, No more, no
more and I hear the waves of dark
depression surge in on my shore.
poem by Terry Collett
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Little Child
when you have learned how to climb
the ylang-ylang tree
you finally find the nest of the brown sparrow
and you come to me
bringing four tiny eggs
do you not see two sparrows perched
on a branch?
do you not hear them singing their own
funeral hymn?
sorry, i am out of touch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds
the tree in the garden
has died
what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves
below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting
we have become like them
hopeless for sometime
dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud
empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days
dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed
one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs
and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life
upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment
until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear
you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself
borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
imaginary trees
you must tell me
about the will to live
for i too must leave
and be a part of somewhere else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Yes, My God Is Everywhere
My Lord is everywhere
every petal of flower has been touched by his hand
every blow of wind has been softened by his heartbeats
every my tear has been moistened by his drops
every my heartbeat has been pleasured by his love
The beauty of flowers the kiss of God's lips
the beauty of grass the touch of God's hands
the beauty of sea the rain of God's tears
the beauty of mountain the power of God'mystery
Every my suffer has been cuddled by his blood
every my pain has been taken by his veins
every my cold night has been drowned into his warmth
every my lost has been straightened by his paths
The beauty of sunrise the purity of God's light
the beauty of sunset the red of God's blood
the beauty of hope the green of God's buds
the beauty of trust the God's belief in me
Yes, my God is everyhwere
poem by Ata Augustyn
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To have a feel of my food
To have the feel of my food not just the taste of it in my tongue
I use my bare hands, the rice I fold between my palms the fish
I touch with my fingers, and then my mouth opens to swallow and savor
Just like you tonight, I feel you with my bare hands I taste you
With my tongue because you are the food of my soul and my soul
Feeds on you as you also feed on mine
We are bare all over, not just our bare hands
We touch we feel we lick we breath with our noses
On our skins, we feed on our flesh, we go deeper
Into our souls, our eyes feast on the food we lay in front of us
The lights of our eyes open in our room the festivity to a beginning
We feed on ourselves we are hungry & greedy & we are never full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snowflakes
Snowflakes falling from the sky
Heading towards the Earth
Knowing not what they will become
Upon their destination and then rebirth.
Maybe they will become decorations
Upon the bushes and on the trees
Or maybe they will become dancers
While being moved by the breeze.
Perhaps they will become a snowball
As being formed in a child's tiny hand
Or maybe they will be a form of a snow angel
Or perhaps they will become a snowman.
Snowflakes as they are falling
From the heavens unto the ground
Quietly as they move and as they turn
And not once do they utter a sound.
Snowflakes as many as they will fall
And as they say not any two are the same
So they hurry to drift upon the ground
And maybe hoping not to turn into rain.
They too are mine and a child's happiness
As though to a child it seems that they do call
But I too am excited about their coming
I love the snowflakes as they do fall.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Definition Of Hope
Hope is the sweet scent
Of flowers in the morning.
Hope is the cool gentle breeze
On a warm summer's day.
Hope is the knowledge of stability
From a man in mourning.
Hope is the bright shining light
Keeping darkness at bay.
Hope is the calming warmth
During a cold winter.
Hope is the determination
Of an athelete on the track.
Hope is the potential
Of a newborn baby.
Hope is the love
Between you and me!
{28/07/2007}
poem by Istiqur Rahman
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I Am Human, I Am Love!
i am the stranger,
the drifter, the hobo...
the rebel, and the lost one....
my voice is a small whisper,
my body a twig.
i am the gift left
on the doorstep of the unwanted.
i am the prayer
that even god does not hear!
i am the child no one wants,
the woman no one loves.
i am blood on the hands,
i am guilt, and forgiveness.
i am the old man's touch,
that no one wants.
i am the child and the dog,
that love the old man.
i am the stray cat,
curled against the step.
i am Judas weeping,
and Magdelene made a whore.
i am the young gay boy
condemned for loving.
i am the soldier who cant
bring himself to kill.
i am the pregnant young girl
who cant tell her parents.
the old man with cancer,
who sits with a revolver.
i am the parent who failed,
and the child who walked away.
i am the broken, and wounded,
i am human, i am love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance, Dance Everywhere!
Dance, Dance Dance
everywhere,
When I look at the sky,
I see the clouds dance
Into steps of winds
My heart dance when I watch clouds dance!
How it can make me dance?
Without any tune or beats,
Its own beats me my heart dance.
Some strange tune it sings in silence and dance!
When I see at shore of ocean waves that dance,
Some birds in sky fly and dance,
On the waves boats that to the tune of waves, dance,
My mind sing lyricless
music to which it dance!
When I walk along the beach,
The headless crown of palm trees with wide open hands dance,
Watching them dance trees start their dance!
When I on countryside, green paddy fields dance,
Looking at them, the bird on the branch dance!
When walk along, trees with fruits dance,
And to its own rustling music, leaves dance!
When I walk in the park,
Plants with flowers dance!
Looking at the graceful dance flowerless dance,
When I move on street, hope and hap dance,
Seeing at them even hopeless an hapless to dance!
Smile on faces with hope dance,
Wrinkles on the forehead of hapless dance!
When I look at people in them mind dance,
In some happiness dance,
In some sorrowfulness dance,
Some I found with desperation dance
In some their laziness dance,
In some saintliness dance,
Most of the time wickedness dance,
And in some other dreams that dance!
Success that dance with some,
Distress that in unsuccessful dance,
In some hearts mercy that dance
Together with love and kindness dance!
Some where cookedness dance,
And some where innocence dance,
In every nation either hunger dance,
Or in people's mind anger that dance,
Either corruption in corrupt mind dance,
Or those systems on the heart of people dance!
Dance, dance, dance everywhere,
It is time for my soulful dance,
If you see somewhere some other type of dance
Just sing it dance
and let no other see the pain in your heart dance
Hide it with that unfailable lips on which smile may dance
Dance, Dance, dance,
Tune your steps with eternal dance!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Execution Day
I stare in the mirror, my eyes refuse to blink
Sympathy for me, hell I cant even think
Send for the iceman, my temperature is startin to rise
Ive heard it before n I know the truth from the lies
Chorus:
Is it any wonder heavens racked with thunder
And all of my dreams go under like the fallin rain
Execution day, execution day (execution day, execution day) - execution day
Execution day
Voices like locusts keep smothering me
Twisting and turning my senses like a cyclone at sea
Dont touch me now, wont let you crucify me
You aint no damn jury, you cant pass no sentence on me
(chorus)
Whose blood on whose hands, wheres the promises they preached for this land
Standin there with bibles clutched in their hand
Whose blood on whose hands, whose blood on whose hands
(whose blood, whose hands)
Execution day, execution day
Father my hands are shakin, I see the light, its breakin
Show me the way to set my soul free, I hope it rains on me
Let it rain on me
Execution day, execution day
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope.
Hope is the sweet, sweet scent
of flowers in the morning
Hope is the cool gentle breeze
on a warm summer's day
Hope is the knowledge of stability
from a son in mourning
Hope is the bright shining light
keeping darkness at bay
Hope is the calming warmth
during a cold winter
Hope is the determination
of an athelete on the track
Hope is the potential
of a newborn baby
Hope is the love
between you and me
Hope springs eternal
poem by Krantol Northic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell Me Child
Little one
Sweet child
Play me a song
Let it fill me up
Let it bring me joy
Tell me how to sing along
Tell me how to dance
Tiny one
Lovely child
Give me a game
Let it make me laugh
Let it give me hope
Tell me how to be young
Tell me how to live
Small one
Good child
Give me a day
Let me have a life like yours
Let me follow in your ways
Tell me how to dream
Tell me how to love
Because dear child
In this big bad world
It’s so easy to forget
poem by Fae Sebastian
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We Hear the Time
We hear the time-beautiful time-
In the year when the truth is unveiled.
We see the time-beautiful time-
In the year when the light shines upon us.
We smell the time-beautiful time-
In the year when the earth is awakened.
We taste the time-beautiful time-
In the year when the false collapses.
We touch the time with the hands sublime
And the hearts like the sacred lotus.
We feel the time with the light divine
Bursting forth from the depths of despair.
We shout the time when the planets align
Like the sun with its sparkling hair.
We dance the time when the music rhymes
And we set forth where no one dared.
We breathe the time with our bodies supine,
Breathing in the transcendent air.
We speak the time with the language enshrined
In the nebulae debonair.
While the voices scream and the mystics dream
To the minds that are unaware
Of the time that in now, of the beauty within
That the surface things have concealed.
Yes, the time has arrived-beautiful time-
That the prophecies have revealed.
June 22,2012
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Traces
Each day is filled with tiny traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
And crab holes when the tide is low
Each breath exhaled and new step taken
Leaves markings not to be erased
Small cherished patterns fain forsaken
In nature’s cunning woven lace
The crumbs that fall from modest tables
Are soon retrieved by little ants
A spider’s web the stuff of fables
Embraces woodland’s lushest plants
We make a difference as we wander
Among the throng and rush of day
Our every movement filled with wonder
Touched by a gentle force at play
When pride and prejudice surround us
And things are quite beyond control
Just look at lowly trusting creatures
Their humble ways refresh the soul
No need to faint when your tracks wither
In heat of sun and loss of hope
That pearly snail keeps creeping hither
While deer and crabs still run and grope
Each day we live we leave small traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
Or crab holes when the tide is low.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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How to Name Your Familiar
When the devil brings him,
like a Christmas puppy,
examine his downy fur & smell
his small paws for the scent
of sulphur.
Is he a child of hell?
O clearly those soft brown eyes
speak volumes
of deviltry.
O surely those small pink teats
could suckle witches.
O those floppy ears
hear only the devil's hissing.
O that small pink tongue
will lick & lick at your heart
until only Satan may
slip in.
A fuzzy white dog?
Name him Catch.
A little black kitten?
She is Jamara.
A tiny brown rabbit?
Call her Pyewackett.
Beware, beware-
the soft, the innocent,
the kingdom of cuddly ones-
All these
expose you to the jealous tongues
of neighbors' flames,
all these
are the devil's snares!
Familiars familiars-
there is hellfire lurking
in the softest fur,
brimstone in the pinkest tongue,
damnation everlasting
in a purr.
poem by Erica Jong
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The Common Skins
the common skins
of history's want...
in pages forgotten,
on shelves forbidden.
beauty disrobes,
her long hair sketches,
the contours of longing,
as the tongue pants.
but tis only rain,
they deny with religious furor.
her breasts mere mountains,
her lips dormant volcanoes.
hell, even the stones know,
and tremble!
trees dance the mating dance,
and wild geese fly...
following the scent of the storm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Paint The Moment!
the silent ones come walking,
wearing faces that turned with autumn...
barefoot, and drunk with grace,
their hands tremble, but their eyes are sure.
almost as if unexpected snow,
gigantic flakes clinging to the porch rail.
swallowing all trace of living,
in a vast sea of stillness that hints of hope.
the candle by the window flickers,
shadows stop to give an ear.
the strong scent of the heart lingers,
in things unspoken and undefined.
we shout from corners hidden,
while the tiny carcasses of ants simmer.
and the broom waits with hat pulled low,
for infinity to paint the moment!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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