Ghandhiji's Second Coming
Bullets shed blood, but couldn't kill him.
Truth had lit even the dark nooks.
Waves of Non-violence had swept clean
All the weapons. An earthquake had
Toppled a mighty empire. And he
Was the pivot. Rays of Sacrifice
Had formed rainbows of triumph
In the sky of millions. When he
Had marched to Dhandi, history gave birth
To a new chapter. His vibrant words
Had shaken the distant Africa too.
Finally, he could dropp the long longed
Nectar on the tongue tips of Indians
To get his reward with a pistol.
Now,
bereft and cleft by the dark minds
laughing with the white teeth,
our fair lady laments on.
Gandhiji breaks his spectacles,
holds his stick upside down,
and gets ready to step out
from the frame hanging on the wall
for a Second Coming.
Fabiyas M V
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Related quotes
My Dad's Spectacles
Thick frame, thin glasses,
An old spectacles,
A keep sake,
An inheritance rarest
From my dad dearest.
Crises, tensions, frustrations…..
Struggles, triumphs, delights…..
On my dad’s spectacles
Life its imprints left,
Which often I felt alone left.
Betrayed never;
Guided ever;
Mate of eyes;
Nothing could part,
Except an attack on heart.
Once, he saw me,
Now, him I see,
All through the same spectacles,
Black and white,
A buttress to sight.
FABIYAS M V
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Lamenting ladies
A lady laments a voyage of pleasure
And cornucopia, English, weather.
A lady laments a man's time for leisure
But never the daffodil fields of treasure.
A lady laments her chicken-wire home;
Believing the cockerels out on the roam.
A lady laments good-sparkling youth
But only half-hearted in truth.
A lady laments the political tool
But never the boy's public-school.
A lady laments the critic's eye;
Scorning only to whisper and spy.
But-above-all: what a genteel lady laments
Is that once lost innocence.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Gandhi Jayanthi
You won the hearts of Indians globally –
O beloved Father of India!
You stood for truth, non-violence totally,
And gave the freedom we enjoy.
Born in Porbandar on October two,
Mohandhas Karamchand Gandhi,
You stood against odds of all sorts
To win innumerable patriotic hearts.
About you, Albert Einstein said,
‘Generations to come will scarce believe
that such a man as this had walked
upon the earth in flesh and blood.’
You were a mediocre student;
You were so timid and too shy;
You went to England to learn law,
To South Africa to practice!
The racial state of Africa
Had influenced your mind aright
To enter politics and fight,
And born were Satyagraha, Ahimsa!
What mattered was not skin-color,
But pangs of hunger and dolor!
What mattered was not caste or race,
But love of mankind and a smiling face!
You loved India’s poor peasantry;
You fought the British valiantly;
You led the nation brilliantly,
And won the freedom gallantly!
You fasted for the people’s sake;
You kept the freedom cry awake;
You didn’t use things of British make,
And made salt boldly with your rake!
Happy Birthday Gandhiji!
Though dead, you’re live in Indian hearts!
Your noble sacrifice on earth
Will shower Indians immense mirth!
You loved to pray to God always!
You trod the land by feet most days;
You kept the Freedom Struggle’s pace,
And won the battle against race!
Jai Hind! Jai Bharat!
Jai Gandhiji!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-10-2009
poem by John Celes
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There Are White Flowers In Her Hair
There are white flowers in her hair,
blue-white stars when she laughs
in her eyes shining like rainbows,
with a own innocent beauty
with the coming of spring in the air
between the blooming flowers,
in rainbows shining like her eyes,
she finds where the prettiest flowers grow,
she is bounded to loveliness,
she notices roses that are dark like blood
in her eyes shining like rainbows,
but in her cheeks there is a gloss.
Delighted she stands at corn fields
clouds dark and white,
in rainbows shining like her eyes
there is somewhere a pot of gold.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My White Skirt
'Through our own recovered innocence we discern the innocence of our neighbors.'
-Henry David Thoreau
See this white skirt?
I won't worry
as long as this skirt
swishes at my smooth knees,
rippling and laughing,
like a bright and silent flirt.
You're going to cut your pinkie,
as always,
you're never alert.
I won't think of consequences, piling up,
dirtying me like mud caking.
Treat me like a princess,
or like a sheet set,
but my life is a big mess
and you don't have a big enough net
for me
to believe
you won't leave me hanging, forsaken.
Your calloused fingers slide down the chords.
The guitar, then our lips, a final squeeze.
You sweat and quake;
I hold you at the end of an invisible sword.
But the room is rearranging,
but I'm not hoping.
Not yet.
I am
shaken,
not ready to be forsaken.
The next step means either hating you or faking.
That bleeding finger
spouts on my skirt. then skin
and it's dark red like sin!
I'm still shaking,
this was just a daydream I was remaking
and I'm shaken
unwilling to be swept off, to be taken.
It makes me shiver cold,
and I want to put up a hand,
end the nightmare,
or put you on ice, on hold,
instead of hearing an echo of a heart breaking...
poem by Delilah Miller
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A Hymn to the Unsung Heroes
Under the green sods, lie unknown
The mighty warriors of our land.
Strong and steadfast they marched to the field,
Wielding weapons in their hand.
Their daring and their deeds of grit,
Secured freedom for our land.
Blessed be the wombs that bore,
Those dauntless men of fiery brand.
Plucked away from hearth and kin,
They oft dwelt in lands unknown.
Many a laurel they had won.
Living a dismal life forlorn.
Lay in ambush in dingy trench
Crossed swords with formidable might
Starved to death in enemy camps
Fought with verve for country's right
The resolute brigade knew no rest
Ease and comfort, they had none
To drill and discipline, they were wed
Life's winsome pleasures, they did shun
Bravely bared their manly breasts
Before triggered guns and flying bullets
Shed out every dropp of blood
To save the nation from rival blasts
Long, long may their memories last
Let every tongue their daring praise
Let the Nation bow its head
Let their deeds, our morale raise.
poem by Valsa George
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Africa, I were the one you killed
In those misery-days;
Those days when happiness of birth cried;
-with an oversized echo;
Africa, when your gods roared in their wooden-cages
I were the twins you unjustly killed;
-Just to appease your gods
Again when darkness fell on the skin of your sky
-and gave it ugly spot;
I were the lamp-lights you held;
to walk on the blood-shed roads,
when your furious deities are thirsty and in full rage,
-in their desert homes.
My bloods you gave, to turn away their anger.
Africa, when you killed your'today'
Tell me what would your tomorrow be?
Thanks be to angel Mary Slessor,
who came to dry-clean the tears of Mama-Africa,
-with her most decent affection.
Truely the years've gone in a quick motion of time;
but its scar remains a badge on my heart
Africa, my Africa,
I were the twins you unjustly killed yesterday;
O the living history of misery;
Africa, I'm back-again today not to avenge,
but tell you how much I love you.
Adesitimi.
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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Looking Dark
As the tree covered by his own bark,
The truest and invisible site of our character is 'dark'.
It also covers our life; more than light,
It remains with us even in bright; as shadow,
If it is not there than the life becomes a room without any door and window.
Born in dark, sleep in dark and
Death in dark; emotions also comes in dark......
That's true, we get the techniques to be sharp; only in dark.
What is dark?
It is the most hard mark of life,
Of its own type, and never get removed instead we sacrifice our life,
Because it is not worst or bad but it is the shed which always keep our self out from the worst,
Unless we become lost...
In this untidy world.
Dark has many kinds, it is what?
Answer revolves around the human's mind.
If it is dirty, on one could clean it.
Or if it is clean, everyone could seen; this dream.
Because when the dark becomes visible....
Than human its self got the power of double.....
So please try to see your own dark......
poem by Prateek Khard
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Gandhiji Seeks Freedom
Bartered for violence, corruption, liquor....
Gandhiji seeks Freedom
Freedom from the heart of currency notes!
Quoted by politics, history, culture....
Gandhiji seeks Freedom
Freedom from the mouth of hypocrisies!
Showcased in squares, in buildings, in cites....
Gandhiji seeks Freedom
Freedom from the eyes of his crucifiers!
Masqueraded by every Tom, Dick and Harry
Gandhiji seeks Freedom
Freedom from the hands of his deceitful dupes!
The March Of The Dead
The cruel war was over -- oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers.
And you scarce could see the house-tops for the flags that flew between;
The bells were pealing madly to the sky;
And everyone was shouting for the Soldiers of the Queen,
And the glory of an age was passing by.
And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;
The bells were silent, not an echo stirred.
The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;
We waited, and we never spoke a word.
The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack
There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:
"Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;
They are coming -- it's the Army of the Dead."
They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow;
They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;
With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe,
And clotted holes the khaki couldn't hide.
Oh, the clammy brow of anguish! the livid, foam-flecked lips!
The reeling ranks of ruin swept along!
The limb that trailed, the hand that failed, the bloody finger tips!
And oh, the dreary rhythm of their song!
"They left us on the veldt-side, but we felt we couldn't stop
On this, our England's crowning festal day;
We're the men of Magersfontein, we're the men of Spion Kop,
Colenso -- we're the men who had to pay.
We're the men who paid the blood-price. Shall the grave be all our gain?
You owe us. Long and heavy is the score.
Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain,
And cheer us as ye never cheered before."
The folks were white and stricken, and each tongue seemed weighted with lead;
Each heart was clutched in hollow hand of ice;
And every eye was staring at the horror of the dead,
The pity of the men who paid the price.
They were come, were come to mock us, in the first flush of our peace;
Through writhing lips their teeth were all agleam;
They were coming in their thousands -- oh, would they never cease!
I closed my eyes, and then -- it was a dream.
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet gleaming street;
The town was mad; a man was like a boy.
A thousand flags were flaming where the sky and city meet;
A thousand bells were thundering the joy.
There was music, mirth and sunshine; but some eyes shone with regret;
And while we stun with cheers our homing braves,
O God, in Thy great mercy, let us nevermore forget
The graves they left behind, the bitter graves.
poem by Robert William Service
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Sweat Drops
Sweat Drops
Sweat drops and sea waves
Are salty alike:
Manifestations of agility.
Purest drops fall down
From the forehead of labor,
But laziness and corpse never sweat.
On all the races are seen sweat dews,
On which fall the victory rays,
Creating the rainbows in the minds.
Mountaineers mount up
In the blue moonlight,
And down in the sweat drops.
Seeds sprout
In each fallen dropp in the field:
Sweat drops are life drops.
Sweat stream
Floats the failures away,
Depositing fresh joys on the shore.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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So You're Here
hi, you ready for the next drink?
a couple of minutes
hi, (silence) got to make this out
a triumph for anything
was it?
i guess not
take your time
will you do me a favor
hmmm
millions, ... there is a baby, , ,
would you mind going out
again
and saying that you are mistaken?
take it easy
i'll tell.
(goes out and closes the door)
steps are coming
dark room, narrow alley,
white floors,
motors running.
i mean it baby
you're the only one.
thank you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lip-Stick Liz
Oh Lip-Stick Liz was in the biz, That's the oldest known in history;
She had a lot of fancy rags, Of her form she made no myst'ry.
She had a man, a fancy man, His name was Alexander,
And he used to beat her up because he couldn't understand her.
Now Lip-Stick Liz she loved her man And she couldn't love no other
So when she saw him with a Broadway Blonde, Her rage she could not smother.
She saw him once and she saw him twice But the third time nearly crazed her,
So she walked bang into a hardware store, And she bought a brand new razor.
Now Lip-Stick Liz she trailed them two For she was tired of weeping;
She trailed them two, in a flash hotel And there she found them sleeping;
So she gashed them once and she gashed them twice Their ju'lar veins to sever,
And the bright blood flowed like a brook between. And their lives were gone forever.
Now Lip-Stick Liz went to the p'lice And sez she: "Me hands are gory,
And you'll put me away in a deep dark cell When once you've heard me story."
So they've put her away in a deep dark cell, Until her life be over
And what is the moral of the whole damn show, I wish I could discover.
Chorus:
Oh Lip-Stick Liz! What a lousy life this is.
It's a hell of a break for a girl on the make,
Oh Lip-Stick Liz!
poem by Robert William Service
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Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love
Pistol shots
Gun shots
Pistol shots
Gun shots
Bullets from a revolver
Bullets from a gun
Bullets through the atmosphere
Here they come
John, Ive been bad
And theyre coming after me
Done someone wrong
And I fear that it was me
Sapphire bullets
Bullets of pure love
Sapphire bullets
Bullets of pure love
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Crippled Singer
A pair of crutches
Holds a handsome face high
In the limelight on the stage.
Being poked by an accident,
A swarm of sorrows always
Stings him like the wasps.
The waves of sweet melody,
Gushing out of the agony,
Vibrate a thousand heads in front.
As he opens his mouth,
Melodious nectar drips
On the tips of hearts.
Though he stands on
The extreme edge of ache,
We hear only the raptures.
As miseries put out the fire,
A spark may fall somewhere
To grow into a flame later.
Faiyas M V
(A modified version)
poem by Fabiyas M V
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I'm Ready
Well I\'m ready... ready as anybody can be
I am ready... a ready as anybody can be
I\'m ready for you
I hope you ready for me
Got an out of town pistol with the graveyard frame
It shoots tombstone bullets... wit da ball and chain
I\'m drinkin\' TNT... and smokin\' dynamite
I hope some schoolboy pick a fight
\'Cause I\'m ready... ready as anybody can be
Well I\'m ready for you... I hope you ready for me
Now listen...
All you pretty little chicks with\'chor curly hair
Know you feel like I ain\'t nowhere
But stop what\'chor doin\' honey... come over here
I\'ll prove it to ya baby that I ain\'t no square
\'Cause I\'m ready... ready as anybody can be
Now I\'m ready for you... I hope you ready for me
Look out...
Look out...
Well I been drinkin\' gin like never before
I\'m feelin\' so good... honey that\'s for sure
One more drink... honey I wish you would
Take a whole lotta lovin\' to make me feel good
\'Cause I\'m ready... ready as anybody can be
Well I\'m ready for you... I hope you ready for...
A ready for...
A ready for...
Well I\'m ready for...
Oh baby...
You know I\'m ready for you
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You, the Dark
Dark, She is the mind of yours.
Icy chill of thought becomes
A steely shimmer.
Behold a glimmer in the black -
A flash of grey, that even glows
In show against the hallowed dark of you.
And that is why you scream in jarring tones
'I have no heart for joy!
My white and brittle bones have died'
You cried in dark and fractured moans.
So now the Queen of Black you writhe,
Whence from dark of shade
That honed an evil form afar;
In curse of me you bade:
'I, the wave shall rape the shore!
Violence will there be in glares I'll throw
At all who prey, and more:
A dark and fetid sea I'll bleed.'
And now, the bitter tinge
And bleak of waste
That eyed the death of once your soul
Will here forever be!
Indeed you tell:
'The cramping pain is here!
Eternal spasm, infinite chasm,
The Devil's chaplain plays!
We'll climax in a tortured glee
As all my love decays.'
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Dark dark dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark
dark dark dark dark dark dark dark darkdarkdarkdark
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Scooter Boys
Scooter boys and argentineans
Europe shed the blood of the indians
Here I sit in the land of plenty
Crying about my own virginity
Hey blue blood youre nothing new
See I come from priviledge too
A chapter in the book on the americas
And your just another colonial terrorist
Scooter boys and argentineans
Europe shed the blood of the indians
Here I sit in the land of plenty
Crying about my own virginity
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Way down south where the maya reign
Zapata reading poety in his grave
They say were stealing from the best
To feed the poor
Well they need more
Scooter boys and argentineans
Europe shed the blood of the indians
Here I sit in the land of plenty
Crying about my own virginity
Yeah
Yeah
Oh
Yeah
Yeah
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All's Well
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
But the steed is in the stall,
Unsleeping;
And the warder on the wall,
Watch-keeping;
And the granary is stored,
And ready gun and sword.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The wind blows fierce, and the foam flies white,
And the waters moan and swell.
But the foes to haven keep,
Safe hiding;
And our ships are on the deep,
Sure riding;
And the gallant hearts on board
Keep ceaseless watch and ward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
There are widows weeping, and babes affright,
And a ceaseless burial bell.
But the hand that holds the gun
Still shakes not;
And the line drops one by one,
Yet breaks not.
Of the blood so nobly poured
There shall surely be reward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's Well
poem by Francis William Bourdillon
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Darkness Of Light
People regard light as a great principle,
Something that awakens our day,
Something that enables us to see in our misty minds,
Something that we all share.
But when does light share darkness,
Nobody ever thinks about when light was dark,
How it was used to kill and sacrifice,
The forgotten.
This light isn't all good,
For once it cleared the darkness,
It never fought away its return,
This darkness in which we all live in,
Is only light itself, for the earth started in darkness.
The birth is only the true state,
The Big Bang or God brang light,
But before the light there was dark,
And light was our saviour now
Our destroyed respects in the dark.
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
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