An Experience
I entered through an arched doorway,
and walked slowly down the nave,
my footsteps sounding hollow
on the worn stone floor.
With a feeling of awe, I looked upwards,
and beheld such wonders.
Multiple creations of architectural beauty,
in the meticulously carved vaulted ceiling,
built centuries ago,
with such exquisite care.
It took my breath away.
The dominance of the high altar,
resplendent in its ornamentation
and delicate tapestries.
Effigies of past Saints and knights,
ranged along the side aisles,
sculptured in stone,
standing or reclining on plinths,
regal and silent.
Frozen in time.
I felt alone in this vast structure,
even though people were drifting quietly past me.
Locating a chair I sat down,
breathing in the atmosphere,
and finding that I was held in a vacuum of power,
piety and purity,
which gave me the notion that this place,
was strangely mesmeric.
The vision of the Architect, the skills of the builders,
the dedication of the ecclesiastics,
all showing man's ability to achieve.
His Cathedral,
a towering commemoration to God,
and an amazing place to leave one's spiritual thoughts.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Garden Temple Of Paradise
Everything is beautiful at this time of day,
Following a quickening morning shower.
And the huge orange pearl that is the sun
Is just beginning to shepherd its endless power.
The spirit of divine blessings carries me,
In a vision, to the center of this sacred lush glade.
There lays a stone walkway crossing a footbridge
In a course toward stairs of rock on a rising grade.
Then immediately before me, a shrine-like temple,
With finely carved work exhibited on every side,
It appears to be the craft of the Eternal Builder himself,
To whom the fairest beauties of nature have replied.
It bestows its stately head of glittering spires to the sky,
Resting upon its noble structure of stone buttress and turrets.
The remaining stairs, I bound, and through the gilded doors,
Into the cedar and marble interior, a work of matchless merits.
The artifacts are carved to satisfy the eyes of God,
And, for amenity, a cruciform lamp high in the ceiling of the shrine.
Comprising the interior are two large and lavish units,
The nave consecrated to the body and the apse to the mind.
The golden glow of the lamp exalted the light in my eyes,
So I turned toward the door and gingerly stepped down the aisle.
With head bowed, I walked through the gilded doors,
Feeling the tender glow of the light on my back all the while.
poem by Albert Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Journey 1. To the Hollow Divine
I can not follow
I can not find
Of this hollow
Which is said to be divine
Through the maw of the Dragons Mouth
Past the high risen tress head south
Listen for water
Find the moss
Search for the statue embossed with an Albatross
Continue westward as directed
Find the stone where the sword was embedded
Bring light to this stone
and it will show you to the back bone
To the back bone of stone must go
Because this is where you find the hollow
When you see the door covered with vines
You must ask politely to enter in a rhyme
If done correctly you shall enter the hollow divine
Step carefully though, your life is hanging on twine
Reaching the stone, I say, ‘Stone anyone home’?
‘I have come a long way and without further delay.
would enjoy to go through and venture this hollow’
As the directions did spake, there came an earthquake
And cracked the stone in two
Timidly and cautiously and looking about
I tip toed silently through
A wondrous light and marvelous sight
Was beheld before my very eyes
Nothing was here that I detest or despise
Only the dreams I had the wishes I made
As if crafted by God and was gently laid
They were real, they were living
And in most cases breathing
I ran to them quick
I ran to them with glee
Although I sensed that I must flee
After three steps, my dreams turned on me
They became nightmares, evil ghosts and spirits
I must leave now I have forsaken my visit
I ran to the door
Which did not stretch evermore
Back to the forest through hole I see
I could feel the nightmares breath trailing behind me
With a jump I leapt
Through the whole where dreams are kept
I slid on the ground and quickly turned round
To see the stone with vines wrapped around
I looked to the stone and sank to the ground
Realizing the mistake that was bound to occur
I asked to come in, that was not obscure
But I did not thank the hollow for that I am sure
Thats why my dreams turned on me, with thoughts of murder
This quest is over, the next shall begin
But back to the inn, where tonight I shall din
I don’t know where after I shall go
Though definitely not here, back to the hollow
Written: October 13,2011
by Ryan Collins
poem by Ryan Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Action
I gotta regret right now
I'm feeling this
The air is so cold and null
I'm feeling this
Let me go in her room
I'm feeling this
I love all the things you do
I'm feeling this
Show me the way to bed
I'm feeling this
Show me the way you move
I'm feeling this
Now she just shows her blur
I'm feeling this
I love all the things you do
I'm feeling this
Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when i wanna
Were do we go from here
Turn all the light's down now
Smiling from ear to ear
I'm feeling this
My breathing is got to loud
I'm feeling this
Show me the bedroom floor
I'm feeling this
Show me the bathroom mirror
I'm feeling this
Were taking this way too slow
I'm feeling this
Take me away from here
I'm feeling this
Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when i wanna
Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when i wanna
This place is never the same again
After you came and went
How can you say you meant anything
Different to anyone standing alone on the street
With a cigarette on the first night we met
Look to the past and remember a smile
And mabye tonight i can breathe for a while
I'm not in the seat i think i'm falling a sleep
But then all that it means is i'll always be dreaming of you
Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when i wanna
song performed by by Blink 182
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Healing Part Ii
Where you are going
You cannot take your body
You are on a journey,
The baggage is too heavy
You can leave your legs behind you,
You will learn to fly
You can leave your arms behind you,
You will touch the sky
You can leave your head behind you,
You are thought itself
You can leave the rest behind you,
You are breath itself
Now you are naked,
Theres no one here to judge you
See the clear light
Shining high above you
Then youre floating in the silence,
You are not alone
For the power of your being
Keeps you flowing on
Look upon yourself
Only with compassion
Strip away the shell
Hiding your perfection
Though your past was full of darkness,
Now the past is gone
And your life is starting over
When its just begun
Now you are whole,
Dont you recognize it
Towering eternal
Behind the troubled thoughts that hide it
Though at times it seems so distant,
It is always there
When you need its peace and power,
You will know its here
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Walk Within A Dream
I saw a building old as days
With countless rooms laid within
Walls with cracks and ivy rose
From the earth before me
Slowly I entered that place
Air ran heavy, thick to my lungs
With each taken step
I walked the rooms and halls
Some bare stripped of life
Others as though never touched
Some like a memory kept
Where instruments of music
Lay dust covered, silent
Still brought a song to thought
I saw paintings and pictures
Rich in a veil of colour
Like all the seasons held at once
A beauty found, celebrated
Then a sadness felt
In the shadowed halls
Empty with a loneliness
Another room had windows
Where a wind whistled through
I heard a birdsong carried
It passed in a second step
I thought no more of it
I descended and climbed stairs
Became lost and yet found
I knew this place well
However strange it came to me
Yes I knew this place
I felt the walls, ageless
I smelt the air, familiar
The ground beat to a pulse
A rhythm only I knew
On this my first visit
To that building which once rose
I felt at home, comforted
I looked back became held
As though I had never moved
The entrance still behind me
In spite of all the rooms and halls
Which I had walked
In spite of every step I counted
Numberless, countless, endless
I remained unmoved
Yet moved still moved
My eyes closed I felt myself pulled
Away from that old building
The rooms and walls
The cracks and the climbing ivy
That whistling wind
The music and colour
I awoke and thought
Had I walked a dream
Built upon my heart, soul, mind
Had I just walked myself
No answers came
I lay awake lost in thought
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 02: The Fulfilled Dream
More towers must yet be built—more towers destroyed—
Great rocks hoisted in air;
And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight
With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes . . .
And so he did not mention his dream of falling
But drank his coffee in silence, and heard in his ears
That horrible whistle of wind, and felt his breath
Sucked out of him, and saw the tower flash by
And the small tree swell beneath him . . .
He patted his boy on the head, and kissed his wife,
Looked quickly around the room, to remember it,—
And so went out . . . For once, he forgot his pail.
Something had changed—but it was not the street—
The street was just the same—it was himself.
Puddles flashed in the sun. In the pawn-shop door
The same old black cat winked green amber eyes;
The butcher stood by his window tying his apron;
The same men walked beside him, smoking pipes,
Reading the morning paper . . .
He would not yield, he thought, and walk more slowly,
As if he knew for certain he walked to death:
But with his usual pace,—deliberate, firm,
Looking about him calmly, watching the world,
Taking his ease . . . Yet, when he thought again
Of the same dream, now dreamed three separate times,
Always the same, and heard that whistling wind,
And saw the windows flashing upward past him,—
He slowed his pace a little, and thought with horror
How monstrously that small tree thrust to meet him! . . .
He slowed his pace a little and remembered his wife.
Was forty, then, too old for work like this?
Why should it be? He'd never been afraid—
His eye was sure, his hand was steady . . .
But dreams had meanings.
He walked more slowly, and looked along the roofs,
All built by men, and saw the pale blue sky;
And suddenly he was dizzy with looking at it,
It seemed to whirl and swim,
It seemed the color of terror, of speed, of death . . .
He lowered his eyes to the stones, he walked more slowly;
His thoughts were blown and scattered like leaves;
He thought of the pail . . . Why, then, was it forgotten?
Because he would not need it?
Then, just as he was grouping his thoughts again
About that drug-store corner, under an arc-lamp,
Where first he met the girl whom he would marry,—
That blue-eyed innocent girl, in a soft blouse,—
He waved his hand for signal, and up he went
In the dusty chute that hugged the wall;
Above the tree; from girdered floor to floor;
Above the flattening roofs, until the sea
Lay wide and waved before him . . . And then he stepped
Giddily out, from that security,
To the red rib of iron against the sky,
And walked along it, feeling it sing and tremble;
And looking down one instant, saw the tree
Just as he dreamed it was; and looked away,
And up again, feeling his blood go wild.
He gave the signal; the long girder swung
Closer to him, dropped clanging into place,
Almost pushing him off. Pneumatic hammers
Began their madhouse clatter, the white-hot rivets
Were tossed from below and deftly caught in pails;
He signalled again, and wiped his mouth, and thought
A place so high in the air should be more quiet.
The tree, far down below, teased at his eyes,
Teased at the corners of them, until he looked,
And felt his body go suddenly small and light;
Felt his brain float off like a dwindling vapor;
And heard a whistle of wind, and saw a tree
Come plunging up to him, and thought to himself,
'By God—I'm done for now, the dream was right . . .'
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Architectural Dream
I delight in the spires of Churches,
Pointing upwards, to the sky.
Stretching towards the heavens,
With our praises rising high.
They dominate the landscape,
Calling everyone to prayer,
Grey lichen covered pinnacles,
Of stone, layer upon layer.
Built back in another era,
They've repelled strong winds and rain,
Standing stalwart in their dignity,
So steadfast they remain.
Some of them, plain and simple,
Others show carvings so fine,
Each turret carved by unknown hands,
Beauty reflected, in these eyes of mine.
To look at these marvellous steeples,
What talent created their guise,
I feel a profound companionship,
With those Masons, who climbed to the skies.
I delight in the spires of Churches,
Their elevation just stands so supreme,
A wonderful tribute to the faith of man,
And a designer's architectural dream.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Walking In Your Footsteps
Fifty million years ago
You walked upon the planet so,
Lord of all that you could see
Just a little bit like me
Walking in your footsteps
Hey mr. dinosaur
You really couldnt ask for more
You were gods favourite creature
But you didnt have a future
Walking in your footsteps
Hey mighty brontosaurus
Dont you have a lesson for us
You thought your rule would always last
There were no lessons in your past
You were built three stories high
They say you would not hurt a fly
If we explode the atom bomb
Would they say that we were dumb?
Walking in your footsteps
Fifty million years ago
They walked upon the planet so
They live in a museum
Its the only place youll see um.
Walking in your footsteps....
They say the meek shall inherit the earth....
Walking in your footsteps....
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Paris, Paradise And You!
I have to confess more or less,
The truth in all, which Paris has!
I want to give my bless, to the beauty of this place,
On these lines, in painting a part of its face!
I remember, the moments, we were along!
How nice we talked and dreamed a lot,
As we walked, on Rue St. Germain and St. Michel,
Looking at stores, at buildings. Feeling History, everywere?
And when, the Seine, we had passed,
We many of the events, had felt from the past?
Notre Dame, with it splendour, we looked for more and more,
And next to it, the great ornaments, that we all adore!
Lovers, were sitting in every corner, at every bar,
Even if, Jarden de Luxemburg, was not so far!
And YOU, were so amazing in French,
That I bought, all the books, that were in ranch!
Paris, and her Latin Paradise, were in our hand,
As beautiful as was said!
Napoleon, has put it, with much love, in his plans,
So we, can feel its marvelous bends!
We were in a small Paradise! Lutese in the past!
Today, Paris, we can feel it at last!
Long hours, in her atmosphere, near you in close,
Moments of love, holding you, as a red Rose!
poem by Yoseph Lupu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Book
Standing at the door, to your room, I lean against the frame,
I am frozen, I whisper your name.
The chair at the desk, where you always sat, to work
is in place, unmoved, in the dark.
I sigh, holding my breathe, I switch on the light
I say your name, adjust my eyes to the sight.
Everything is in its place, unmoved, just waiting
on your return, digital clock on desk blinking
in even rhythm, as time moves on,
unaware, uncaring that you are gone.
on the wall, family pictures of the past
moments in time, captured, held fast.
Afraid to break the silence, to enter the room, I wait
and for a moment I pretend you are just late,
that I will turn as I hear your footsteps on the stair
and see you standing, smiling, blue eyes full of care.
and then, that moment, that hope, has past
one heavy foot forward, I enter the room at last.
An inspiration, to me, to all of us, friends and family
you dealt with your illness, with strength and dignity,
I can still hear your laughter, your silly jokes,
remembering your love for books and gadgets.
reminiscing, I notice on your desk, a book
lying open, page marked, I move to have a look
As I read I start to smile, your last message,
the lyrics from Life of Brian, a circled passage
'Always look on the Bright side of Life'
for my children and my wife.
poem by Julie Duff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dead Can Never
Dead can never come alive
They got to be buried underneath to relive
They stay with peaceful time and in silence
So not to be disturbed by and stay with peace
Past is past and to be buried
Never to be remembered and opened
It has its bruise and sad side
Why we should bother about it and hide?
If you carry it further and bear at heart
It will be slow poison from the start
It may make you mentally sick and spread slowly
To whole body and kill you gradually
Past is to be forgotten
Wealth is to be donated if ill gotten
Life is for change and must move on
As river water moves for the purity of its own
Body may decay
Vision may go away
Hands may refuse to move
Only soul waits to be removed
One day you may be silent past
Life may move suddenly very fast
Death may knock and take you over
You need not find then any cover
You are gone forever
From the human memory with stop over
Few family members may remember on some occasion
Then slowly you will be put in 'question'
You were and now you are no more
Life size picture may be pushed in store
You will be taken out on anniversary
As it may then be felt necessary
Live in present as it is living thing
Past has no place for lively thing
If present is bestowed as blessings
Never afford to loose with other happenings
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Medieval English Cathedral
Once I had this fanciful idea of recording
the silence in each great cathedral
and marketing these...
As you pull open the worn and squeaky door
there's a strange moment of apprehension as if
you're not sure what will greet you - a fullness
or an emptiness; a football-stadium roar
or a silence; an earfull of praise or
a mindfull of questions...
but the first step inside, and a silent gasp -
it's bigger inside than outside...
and the sound of your steps soars to the high
indescribably glorious roof like a
small bird looking for an escape.
so that you'd like to sing a note or two
to hear them repeated by those
invisible angels of the echo, waiting poised
in the stoniness of the walls and roof
like the mountain cliffs and valleys
from whence the stone was dragged
by devotion.
and you feel an intruder into the space of history
waiting for you to find your place.
How wonderful if at this moment, history unreeled;
played itself backwards; and as the years rolled back,
the cathedral nave would fill with the quietly respectful
devout. Then back again, and the voices would be more raw,
rich with the earth they'd just been tending.
Would the praise, to our ears, sound more heartfelt?
we'll never know.
Reel back again to that almost
unimaginable scene - the walls rising, still part built;
the clambering masons, chisels singing on the stone,
lifted only a little lower than the angels
on wooden planks on slender wooden scaffold,
the squeal of pulleys, the sudden silence of tools
and the call for the master mason;
and up there where the roof is still blue-grey sky,
the occasional bird from an optimistic nest
built the year before in the part-built spire, fluttering,
searching for a crumb or two from
the mason's heady meal
as birds may wheel again over half-there walls
when please God no the roof falls in and
respectful visitors walk down the tidy gravelled path
where once the aisle was walked, bowed head and singing,
but now so neatly grassed where pews and praise once stood,
remarking out aloud or in their heart
how the silence is, still, living, there.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking For Love
looking for love, looking at faces
looking for love in all the wrong places
thinking that i could find love in a bar
the worst place by far.
gathering all my thoughts on what i could do
that is when i saw you.
the walk you walked was a walk of pride
with a big smile, and your head held high.
you walked past me and i smelled your perfume
it was a smell which would not leave you to soon
i became attracted to you as a bee to a flower
i knew right then that you had the power
to make me give up the search of mine
to find in you a love devine
i ran in back of you and asked for your name
you looked at me as if i was insane.
you looked at me from head to toe
and then told me where i could go.
i apoligized to you for my boldness.
and that the sight of you caught my eye
and that i would continue to try
and if i had to climb the highest mountain
or swim the deepest sea
then thats the way it would have to be.
but i would not stop trying to get to know you
and if a fool i had to be, until the
day that you would look at me.
i would do anything that you want to get to
make you smile and hear the laughter
this is all that i am after.
with my crazyiness you started to laugh
and told me you did not want to relive the past.
of being hurt and shedding the tears
this was something that you feared.
you layed down the ground rules from the start, and i accepted it with all my heart.
soon after we got to know each other.
and your fears slowly deminished
you opened your heart and i saw what was in it.
a love so deep and so profound
that it knocked me to the ground.
in my heart you will be
keeping my heart company.
looking for love, i no longer seek
because of you- i am complete.l
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
0009 Medieval English Cathedral
Once I had this fanciful idea of recording
the silence in each great cathedral
and marketing these...
As you pull open the worn and squeaky door
there's a strange moment of apprehension as if
you're not sure what will greet you - a fullness
or an emptiness; a football-stadium roar
or a silence; an earfull of praise or
a mindfull of questions...
but the first step inside, and a silent gasp -
it's bigger inside than outside...
and the sound of your steps soars to the high
indescribably glorious roof like a
small bird looking for an escape.
so that you'd like to sing a note or two
to hear them repeated by those
invisible angels of the echo, waiting poised
in the stoniness of the walls and roof
like the mountain cliffs and valleys
from whence the stone was dragged
by devotion.
and you feel an intruder into the space of history
waiting for you to find your place.
How wonderful if at this moment, history unreeled;
played itself backwards; and as the years rolled back,
the cathedral nave would fill with the quietly respectful
devout. Then back again, and the voices would be more raw,
rich with the earth they'd just been tending.
Would the praise, to our ears, sound more heartfelt?
we'll never know.
Reel back again to that almost
unimaginable scene - the walls rising, still part built;
the clambering masons, chisels singing on the stone,
lifted only a little lower than the angels
on wooden planks on slender wooden scaffold,
the squeal of pulleys, the sudden silence of tools
and the call for the master mason;
and up there where the roof is still blue-grey sky,
the occasional bird from an optimistic nest
built the year before in the part-built spire, fluttering,
searching for a crumb or two from
the mason's heady meal
as birds may wheel again over half-there walls
when please God no the roof falls in and
respectful visitors walk down the tidy gravelled path
where once the aisle was walked, bowed head and singing,
but now so neatly grassed where pews and praise once stood,
remarking out aloud or in their heart
how the silence is, still, living, there.
(revisited)
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Enigmatic
Within the woodlands dappled shade.
I came across a block of stone
I had no doubt it was man made
Though when and why cannot be known.
So perfect was the craftsmanship
which had been lavished on this stone
A place of ritual worship
It had to be an altar stone.
Though no one worships here today.
The altar stone still stands alone.
Within the woods hidden away
But sadly there is little known.
There’s no recorded history
To help me solve the mystery.
(09 August 2011)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Going West
He sits in his rocking chair,
his dreams cemented in the past.
He wishes he had been a pioneer
packing up everything
and travelling west to start again afresh.
That is for the young men,
but he is an old man who thinks
things like that cannot be done now.
He is too old to start again.
He never tried it when he was young,
now time has passed
and all he can do is rock to and fro.
Wishing he had done it then.
Someone once told him
a long, long time ago
that nothing was impossible.
He smiled at the suggestion,
now he wonders of its validity.
Standing up he takes a deep breath
of the air around him
and coughs a little bit.
He smiles to himself, he is going to do it.
He is going west to the sunset,
the place where all his dream lay awaiting for him.
He will do it tomorrow,
then he sits back in his rocking chair
and thinks of all the beauty there he will find.
25 January 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Im So High
Written: kylie minogue, guy chambers and megan smith
Will you take me pool side
Can feel the summer breeze
Theres a place that looks inviting
By a little taste of moonlight
And a canopy of stars
Chorus:
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooh
Its a feeling
Such a feeling
Something I can not hide
Youre the reason
Im so high
Never had the feeling
So could it be more right
I feel as if I know you
But we only met tonight
Ive got a cool sensation
I can hardly catch my breath
Repeat chorus
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo oh
Its a feeling
Such a feeling
Something I can not hide
On the ceiling
Im so high
In the evening
Im so high
Such a feeling
Im so high
The partys almost over
I dont want tonight to end
We could be starting something
You feel more than a friend
The universe conspired
For the two of us tonight
Repeat chorus 2x
On the ceiling
Im so high
In the evening
Im so high
Such a feeling
Im so high
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Altar of my Heart
If I never say how I feel does it mean
feeling goes away; no, feeling lives on
in my heart, shall be there until we part
then encapsulated in deep freeze until
all is revealed at the end of time
Physical reality does not have space for
this frequency, made my peace that the
world cannot allow this to be; I offered
unwavering support - helped where I
could hoping to leave a memory
Yet oddly content as all remained un-
aware of my existence as it should be,
no place in reality for the feelings pure
and sweet I treasure within, cherished
in deepest recess of inner sanctuary
Took up breastplate and sword to ward
off arrows of doubt about meaning of love
unrequited, looked at my beloved sun, re-
joiced in ability to admire, nobody knew
I walked this earth, this is perfect
Love unconditional the name of the game,
when trust enters the equation expectation
spoils devotion - bury feelings to be safe in
the sacred place where precious jewels
of love and wisdom are held
Framed by high ideals extracted from wild
ore that abounds, mounted on the high
altar of my heart, I do not require much
from those I love, quiet devotion quite
enough to keep joy alive…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Travel To Wander To Be Away From Anything
today i leave on a journey beyond the sea
i shall wander to see the other face of this earth
somewhere
i will be away from anything
it is my decision
it is my need,
away, i will wander, away, i will ponder
i will be hgher from this place
so i can see better from this far
i will be silent i will not write
i will not make conclusions
the wandering will be long
i will be alone
to the wonders of God's creations
unspeakable
unfathomable
i will just watch the flow of days and nights
i will be silent still
this spectator, this wanderer
this worshipper,
these eyes will just feel
unspeaking
because there are no words equivalent
to these wonders
that now i will begin to see with so much beauty
that will surely
shame me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trespasser for M lady Chitra
Lost deep in thought my footsteps strayed
And brought me to a woodland glade.
Wherein there stood an altar stone
erected to some God unknown
Erected in pre history.
The stone will stand eternally
as evidence of worship here
of some forgotten deity..
The altar stone is still pristine
It’s surface completely free
of lichens which should have been
thriving on it visibly.
Perhaps the worshippers still meet
Creep through the woods on silent feet
to carry out their ancient rites.
Beneath the moon on summer nights
When new gods drive he old gods out.
I am convinced I have no doubt
There still remains a faithful few
who worship as they used to do.
Perchance they still worship here
That is the reason that the stone is clear.
Quite suddenly I feel oppressed
and I decide its for the best.
To take again my homeward way
hurriedly without delay.
I feel that I must leave this place
and quicken up my walking pace
I wonder still uneasily
did I offend some deity.
Albeit inadvertently
who might decide to punish me
Though years have passed I’m still afraid.
I trespassed in that woodland glade.
Although in fact by accident
perhaps I earned some punishment.
Perhaps I’m being paranoid.
I try my hardest to avoid
Walking woodland paths alone
they might lead to that altar stone.
10/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!