The Smallest Things
the small print
of a cat's paw on
your trembling lips,
stopped the tears,
and the roar of hunger
in the tiny bud opening.
the tongue that gropes
for a dropp of rain...
seed wrapped in dirt,
that sunlight,
and turning set free.
the smallest things,
bring form to shadow.
it is in the smallest things
that we find the immortal!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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From Severe Sorrow He Almost Went Mad
(after Robert Ranke Graves)
From severe sorrow he almost went mad
when he suddenly saw some strange things
in nature and the universe
and maybe it came from to much sorrow;
he noticed small things like falling leaves,
the smallest white flower slowly opening,
the first tiny whistle of a small bird,
thunder hitting far in the distance
even rocks glistening with black metal,
he even saw wings of birds fluttering,
the movement of every small snake,
but between life and death he could not reach
and he could not look at his buried wife
or living go to that other kingdom.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Strange Attraction
it started with a dedication
'lost in admiration - happy birthday -
i'm forever yours - BLOSSOM'
fared red inside a tiny book of butterflies
i smiled surprised at how when flickered through
the wings flew by spelled out my name
six months went by the summer lost
obsessively the letters dropped into my life
the same soft blood smooth flowing hand
'please try to understand - I have to see you - have to feel you -
tell you all the ways I need you - yours forever in love...'
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
the year grew old incessantly she wrote to me
she'd started smoking poetry!
i laughed in recognition of a favorite phrase
she'd pulled me in...
i answered her
a christmas card in sepia
arranging when and where
and how the two of us should meet...
her opening so well prepared
a nervous smile
i couldn't take my eyes from her
she whispered
'can I use some of your lipstick?'
it was perfect so believable
i couldn't help but feel that it was real
and kissing crimson fell into her waiting arms
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
so alone into the cold new year without another wo
i wrote to ask if we could maybe meet again before
but weeks went by with no reply untill once more m
and with it my surprise but this time nothing was
'i'm sorry - blame infatuation - blame imagination
i was sure you'd be the one but I was wrong -
it seems reality destroys our dreams - I won't for
fared red inside a tiny book of all goodbyes...
strange attraction spreads its wings
it varies but the smallest things
you never know how anything will change
strange attraction spreads its wings
and alters but the smallest things
you never know how anything will fade
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perhaps Especially In Old Age/How Happiness Comes Suddenly From Such Small Things
PERHAPS ESPECIALLY IN OLD AGE/HOW HAPPINESS COMES SUDDENLY FROM SUCH SMALL THINGS
Perhaps especially in old age,
How happiness comes suddenly from such small things-
The surprising sight of glistening leaves,
A shaft of sunlight on a cold morning,
The sky opening up after the rain-
Small perceptions and deep feelings
Happiness from such small things
even in old age.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Rain (That Never Comes)
revolution,
sexual desire,
holy anger,
the sparrow carved
from a dead tree.
tongue burnt,
the fist and the open hand...
touching the sky
with fingers in the dirt.
kissing, brown leaves,
smoke, an open window.
death, and hunger,
the glass broken,
trembling hands....
raw need, lips bleeding,
hearts wrapped in wheels.
thunder, the taste of lightning,
and rain that never comes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Karma
I drop a stone into the ocean
Every choice another turn of the screw
Another wheel set in motion
With every single thing I do
Its there in the air that I breathe
Its in my whisper and scream
Inside everything I believe
And its all gonna come around someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
There is no absolution whether Im the garden or the rose
If I aint part of the solution, yeah you know how that goes
You can always leave but you bring it all back home someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
Every single thing I say, everyone that I betray
Any love that I take when I do not make it in return
Every thing I do and every time Ive been unfaithful too
All the things that I believe are lessons I must learn
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ants
A frantic line
Some go up
Some go down
On their rickety
Tiny string legs
Tick tat tick tat
Each a nurse
Running along
With that
Inherent eagerness
To serve
So admirable
This nature's
Inborn intelligence
Wrapped in so small
A brain
All in royal service
To the world's
Smallest monarchy
Some with big heads
Some with small
Such mind-boggling
Uniformity in so small
A world
That rivals even
The courtesans of
Elizabeth II
All serving the big
Round one
Laying egg after egg
Day after day
Her world bound
Around her abodmen
Up and down
Down and Up
The loyal
Servants run
A microcosm of the
World in our eyes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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In my youth nature was very intense (cavatina)
In my youth nature was very intense,
I could then find
the smallest insect, the tiniest bird;
in my own mind,
all things were great and quite beautiful
but left behind
that world has long gone into some decay;
if in another life, another day.
Now summer is just extremely hot
some weavers a pest,
the grass far too long after the last rain,
a fallen nest
now unnoticed is trodden upon
and at its best
the year bring some new opportunities
in some assets and liabilities.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Even the smallest wild flower (in answer to Bonaventure Hinwood)
Even the smallest wild flower
that grows untended from the bare earth
catches Your eye, carries Your care
of sun and rain
and in the growth of it
You bless it with Your loving care.
The smallest bird that sit in a nest
somewhere in branches
and make the first twittering sounds
You know about and have got meaning for You
and God You who is everywhere and knows all things
see the urge in my heart
and in this dark night
I also ask for a bit of light,
and pray that Your blessings
will fall on my people and me as well.
[Reference: Variase op ‘n tema uit “Alles” van Sheila Cussons (Variation on a theme about “all” of Sheila Cussons) by Bonaventure Hinwood.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer Rain
When you stop seeing beauty
You start growing old
The lines on your face
are a map to your soul
When you stop taking chances
You'll stay where you sit
You won't live any longer
But it'll feel like it
I lost myself in the summer rain
I lost myself
I lost myself in the summer rain
In the summer rain
Tequila and Orange
Jamaica and rum
At the Morella
Honey on my tongue
In a small boat on a generous sea
You let me be your enemy
Tiny hand
With a grip on the world
Holding our breath now
Diving for pearls
I lost myself in the summer rain
I lost myself
I lost myself in the summer rain
Just as you find me
Always I will be
A little bit too free
With myself
Just as you find me
Always I will be
A little bit too free
With myself
I lost myself in the summer rain
I lost myself
Now there's no one else
In the summer rain
Raining down
Raining down
Rain
Raining now
Raining now
Just as you find me
Always I will be
A little bit too free
With myself
Just as you find me
Always I will be
A little bit too free
With myself
It's not why you're running
It's where you're going
It's not what you're dreaming
But what you're gonna do
It's not where you're born
It's where you belong
It's not how weak
But what will make you strong
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can It Be Stopped
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can it be dropped.
Can it be stopped.
Hoodwinkers on the loose.
Hoodwinkers out to dupe too!
And...
Can they be stooped.
Crooked people after loot,
Proving they can low stoop.
But...
Can they can they dropp it.
Can they be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can they be stopped.
Hoodwinkers on the loose,
Stooping low as they choose.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
Can they can they dropp it.
Can it,
Be stopped.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We are told that the first part of the process is to select the very smallest seeds from the smallest plants, which is not at all unlikely, but I cannot speak to the fact from my own observation.
quote by Robert Fortune
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have more artistic control in a smaller show. But it doesn't really matter. Sometimes you can have the smallest role in the smallest production and still make a big impact.
quote by Neil Patrick Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miniature
Small talk
Little work
Nano smile
Feeble leaf
Tiny insects
And Things
In Miniature
With immense power
Can cure
The hills of ills
Dispelling
Despair
Can create conducive atmosphere
Joy and pleasure
Worth to live
In small
Rather than
In huge
And big
The waters
Of The oceans
Can not
But a little
Drop of tears
Can wash
The dirt
Of your heart.
Million of dollars
Can not
But the face
Of a little baby
Can fill
Your life ….
Where
Huge and large
Fail
There succeeds
A nano smile
The whole universe
Can not
But a little affection and care
A tiny wish and prayer
Can bring you
The meaning
Of life
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Close your bodily eye, so that you may see your picture first with the spiritual eye. Then bring to the light of day that which you have seen in the darkness so that it may react upon others from the outside inwards. A picture must not be invented but felt. Observe the form exactly, both the smallest and the large and do not separate the small from the large, but rather the trivial from the important.
quote by Caspar David Friedrich
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Absolute proof.
Absolute proof
Blood, sweat and tears don’t disappear
But always leave some trace behind.
Forensic science makes it clear
there’s always something we can find
A fibre here or just a hair.
A finger print that you have missed.
All tend to prove that you were there.
The smallest clue can still persist.
You’re sure; you’ll get away Scott free
The evidence says otherwise.
It will prove quite definitely.
Your alibi’s a pack of lies.
The final proof your DNA.
Will prove to you crime does not pay.
Wednesday,22 September 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What if a hummingbird could emerge from a cocoon?
What if a hummingbird could emerge from a cocoon
fully formed
and clingling
to a vanilla plant
its wet body slowly opening
in the heat of the flower garden?
And has anyone noticed
that birds as they depart
their flapping sounds
almost like a paper bag being opened?
The hummingbird clearly, though,
sounds like a hum
whose tiny wings
pressed together at 25 beats per second
is blessed by being the only bird to be able to fly backwards
and one that could be
the smallest fan in the world
The humidity of the weather
evaporates the head notes of her perfume
leaving the heart note to open next
she considers all this
including the world's smallest fan
and believes that if it hovered around her neckline
close to her
the strange bird would have wings
cooling to her
and misty to the bird
as it paddled the air
and was covered so slightly
in the scent of Japanese Eau de Parfum
not to mention
vanilla
poem by Eli Spivakovsky
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Small Things
it's so easy to miss
the things that really matter.
the small child looking up
at you, wanting to be
picked up.
the way sunlight dances
on rain wet leaves.
the person you bump into,
that smiles with that look
of something they want to say,
and you're in too big of a hurry
to listen.
the old man in his rocking chair,
waiting on you to call.
the dog that rolls over,
waiting on a belly rub.
the woman staring out the window
while you rattle on about work.
the ants going to and from their hill,
doing life's work.
the rose that opens and closes
without you taking the time
to smell, and to touch.
the hawk flying overhead
in the limitless sky.
the hand that brushes yours,
and you dont notice.
the voice on the phone
that wants to say 'come home'.
but doesnt because you're busy.
small things that come and go.
tiny universes, tiny miracles.
lost in the rush to.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When I Make A Decision I Try To See The Universe And The Ant
when i make a decision about your life
your liberty or your property
i always try to see the universe, the paths of the planets,
the way they orbit around the sun
near and far, bright or dull,
the whole
of this universe in motion like a fluid of fire
i look up
for a sign a symbol of what ought to be
and given the situation how the planets would behave
then
i look down the smallest of the ant
its tiny feet its capacity to bite and eat and swallow
the universe
into its mouth and belly,
the smallest
of all shall be considered, the details of its possibilities
the intricacies of its
wishes and dreams
tiny
and its relation to the universal, to the great view of the
giants,
the forest and the trees, the shadows and the shapes,
light and darkness,
and then liberty may be taken away, property may be forfeited,
and life may even be shut out
because the law has become the god
on that black and white
the booking sheet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet 25
Under magic dark sky
A breeze of air rushed through
There I wiped my eye
And seen fairy dust in view
I Walked along the way
I heard a small giggle behind me
Much to my dismay
The smallest fairy flying free
She waved her wand at last
As I stood so amazed at she
She left out this tiny laugh
Magic! Magic! she said
I was gone with just a wink
There I awoke in my bed
It was just a dream I think
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Million Thanks Even For The Tiniest Shadows!
I will croon million 'thanks' on my journey
For even the tiniest shadow
That the smallest plant spreads underneath!
Gain I will a thousand wings of 'hopes'
Out of the joyous smile of a cute little flower
From atop the swaying tufts of grass!
I will lovingly scatter many a poem on my way
In honour of even the smallest puddle on wayside
That perfectly mirrors the nature's beauty in its heart!
With all my heart will I shower my blessings
Whenever, on my way, see a small bud laughing in glee
Just after the silent unfastening of the knot on its petals!
If I have to meet a weeping bud
Disfigured by the trampling of a heartless mind
I will hug it close to my heart in my surging pain!
Whenever I meet a dot like star
In funful prattle high up in heavens
I will entreat the secrets of the puzzling universe!
I will glorify the soul of the fountainhead of joy
Whenever I come across the frolicsome eyes
Of a tiny lightning signing a message in rainy skies!
Yes, I proudly declare that I could name
The weakest warble of the smallest bird
Amidst the grandest symphony of the early dawn!
Whenever I ponder over the unseen roots
That toil and sweat deep inside the soil
I will pray in the direction of my parents dear!
I will tighten up my wearied strings of nerves
On seeing a tiny ant, full of intent, hurrying alone
Contemplating on the greatness of effort!
The Sun of immeasurable size and might
Rushing past the mind-boggling distance
Voluntarily shrinks its mammoth frame into a tiny dot
But with the same undimmed blinding brilliance
Sits in unobtrusive calm within the dots of dews
Meditating at the pointed tips of every blade of grass!
Oh at the sight of this graceful act
I will light up my lamps of humility in my heart!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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