En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Shema

The hidden sound, the spell under the tongue,
Hints of our truth revealed. Behold, Shema:
A doorway opens from a dwelling of despair
To speed the fate of birth and teach
To wear death’s sudden mask.

The bodies of our ancestors, eroded by disease
Unnamed and unconfined. Vital organs inflamed
By domestic plague, blamed on foreign clime.
Limbs torn by canon, severed by sword,
Lives cascaded into waters, in armour drowned.
They carried in their recessed minds
A fragment of the sound, beyond the language of their time.

The colleges, hunched passageways of stone,
The worn and lettered tombs by which the students pass
Libraries rebuilt on wooden beams
In the sunlight of stained glass.
Illuminated minds renew
The stunted frames of ancient words:
Their syllables extend
Towards the hidden sound.

poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Water On Glass

Written by ricky & marty wilde
Cascading down
Theres a sound vaporising into vision
Its a sound in my head
That I feel and it shuts me in a prison
Say it wont last
Say it will pass
Always the sound in my brain
Can you hear it
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Dancing away
Like the lights on a moving coloured river
Sounds in my head seem to run
And again I feel a shiver
Say it wont last
Pray it will pass
Always that sound in my brain
Can you hear it (can you hear it)
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down

song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Beneath The Mask

Beneath the mask her wander lies
projecting an image for lovers eyes.
Such endless beauty my eyes behold,
under the mask she wears so bold

She hides behind her vain-full pride,
The twist and turn of storms inside.
She sits so still, so calm a girl
And guards with faith her hidden pearl.

Behold the mask covers her face
For between its cracks lies hidden grace
And beneath that mystic mask of wood
Lies secrets of a love so good

She needs to see through sudden glee
She needs not wear the mask for me.
In her glory I need to bask
For I love the girl who wear the mask.

Beneath the mask
There is a love and compassion
Inhibition and insecurities,
But there is also the girl I love

poem by C.F Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

238

i teach my child by G. Abad

I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.

II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,

But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Beneath The Feet Of Love....

be it only then the phoenix
that rises from the ashes?
then who walks the valley of bones,
hearing voices from another world?
whose footprints in the waters?
whose scream etched in stone?
whose hands rising from the darkness,
whose grunt births the dawn?

can you feel this heat of nearness?
the softness inside this shadow?
even the candle's flame flickers,
as if whispering some hidden truth!
and the moments tick by shaking tambourines,
while words undress revealing sound...
it must be the sound of silence,
or the name not yet revealed.

i am the tongue cleaving to your breastbone,
the taste of hunger bitter on your lips.
i am the song of the ages,
you the conch shell of desire.
i am the hollow in the mockingbird's longing,
you the grain of the weathered oak.
i am the rhythm of the pounding waves,
you the shore that never ends.

perhaps the light of the faraway lighthouse,
or the hint of beckoning stars...
will guide this ship to its destination,
to lie beneath the feet of love!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

i teach my child by G. Abad

I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.

II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,

But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Tinted Images

I remember tinted images
yellow and stained
in old wooden frames.
The glass was scratched and wavy.
They sat on a table next to a lamp
painted with naked cherubs.
The couch and chairs were covered in plastic.
I never asked why.
One day my father spilled his beer
no one panicked and I understood.
There were stories after dinner
with coffee and cigarettes.
I was young and don't recall them now.
We don't tell stories after dinner;
no one smokes anymore.
I have pictures in polished frames.
My couch is stained and the chairs are worn.
On a table next to the lamp
the one with naked cherubs
are the tinted images in the old wooden frames.
When the lamp is lit
I can see myself in the glass.

poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Wired For Sound

Words & music: michael w. smith and wayne kirkpatrick
Chorus:
Word of mouth is the counselor
There is no need for proof
In a world thats wired for sound
The tongue becomes the mighty sword
That battles the truth
In a world thats wired for sound
Comin on like a tidal wave
That washes thru the brain--a state of mind
No dispute when the noise is made
And so it lets the blind lead the blind
Lured by charisma to be swayed to believe
Chorus
Easier believing what is hard to get rid of than to try
Never searching--just accepting
Feeds the mind enough to get you by
Scratching the surface yet to dig deeper down
Chorus:
Word of mouth is the counselor
There is no need for proof
In a world thats wired for sound
The tongue becomes the mighty sword
That battles the truth
In a world thats wired for sound
Wisdom from the sacred page
Is turned and ignored
In a world thats wired for sound
Chorus

song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

For What It's Worth

[Originally by Buffalo Springfield]
There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away
We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

They Gravely Live

They gravely live with the masses,
When the crowd is larger than life.

Their wages are sound and honest,
When the religion will fight tonight.

A maze is to be clipped by the gardener
Who lives in this life of sound and minds.

Religion shall dissolve us as soon as fever,
Mind and body will contract a disease.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

For What It's Worth / Mr. Soul

buffalo springfield
For what it's worth
Stephen stills, 1966
There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me i got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away
We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Flutter

word by word
she spoke to me
hidden neath a mess of bygone linnen
she listens as to dry a thousand tongues
my love is thin and thinning
some cherised flower
flutters through
gentleborn beloved you
kindness always
kindness always
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
i stood her ground
no
they've swayed me
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
i stood her ground
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me
wrapped tight
inside your shawl
we wander round this dingy hall
softly spoken
shaken tree
the ash grove we come to be
the blood run
the blood run away
from arm and leg to a warm heart
all our colors agree
in the dark
but no man lives upon that land
far enough for us to see
i hear your voice yeah
in the hum of this machine
i hear the sound
the sound you've left me
i stood her ground
i hear the sound
the sound she's left me

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Sound Of Lost Love

*Heart sound*
An Indian’s drum
Thunder in the sky
The bass in a song

*Heart sound*
The sound of love
*Heart sound*

*Heart sound*
Gunshots through the air
Bumps on the road
Sticks of dynamite

*Heart sound*
The sound of love
*Heart sound*

*Slow heart sound*
Glass breaking
The ripping of paper
Nails on a chalkboard

*Slow heart sound*
The sound of lost love
*Slow heart sound*

poem by Paul Celano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

This one for Hanque with thanks

All around the world,
poems are talking among themselves
when the books are shut,
when the computers are switched off,
when old-fashioned poets put down
chewed pencils, sucked ballpens,
lips a little stained with the flavour
of ink that’s washable or permanent;

poems talking among themselves
in that language that poems understand,
that poets seek to write;
poems murmuring, complaining,
sometimes shouting desperately,

who are these people who
have dared to speak our language? What
is their right and reason? When
did they arise? Where
did they get their ideas? Why
do they even try? How
do they hope to improve on this? What
is a poet, anyway?

The tumult of their languages,
the babel of upraised voices
speaking, though, with that unutterable
beauty of that sound which can really act,
can change the world of change,
can touch the heart for lifetimes,
melts a heart of stone,
brings tears to eyes needful of tears,
opens clouds to blue sky and to sunlight,
watches angels as they ascend and descend,
speaks of, speaks,
the unknown, formless, eternal, ever present –

the tumult dies down; in the
silence and the stillness,
only the pure sound of sound itself; and

in that sound the absolution:
forgive them, O Muse of Poetry:
they know not what they do..
yet in their hearts, they know
what must be said.

The pain, exquisite;
found worthy; loved.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Three Things That Cannot Be Hidden

allegedly there are three things that cannot be hidden.

the sun
the moon
and the truth

throughout my life i have hidden the truth
about myself and it will still be that way
till i take my last
breath

do not insist in seeing that face of truth
my truth is ugly
and i have seen it from the very first day
that they brought
me here
without my permission

i know you like to see it and perhaps describe the horrible details of its
features
i plea before you
do not lift the cover of my being
you may soon regret that you live in this world having seen
the ugly face of my
truth

do not insist to see my truth
it may be the cause of your untimely death
and the gods may pity you

look at me
i wear a smile but my heart is bleeding
it is inflamed
but never bursting.

poem by Yolly Polly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Frammento

A fragment is something incomplete
Something broken-off, severed,
Detached, segregated,

A fragment of a conversation,
Extant fragments of an ancient
Document written on stone,
A fragment of my poetry,

How

do

i

say

it?

………………………………….
Some fragments of myself
Missing some fragments of
Myself hidden, and you will
Not find them, too many fragments
like lice in a native woman's
hair spreading on her head

I place them where
You cannot find them because
You presume too much
To know me to love me,

Along this line, so many parts
are detached, perhaps my navel

my mole, my thumb
my right ear, my left eye

So many parts severed, perhaps
My head from my heart
my mind from my soul

my past from my future

Some extant fragments of
My past self, written on some
Stones still unturned, yes

I have pretended so much
And you cannot detect
Which is true from false

i have become so many parts
of myself, now in the last hours

fragmented

wanting to be whole again..

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Old and the New

Mars! Mars!
Thy clashing sword was keen
And glittering with stars.
Thine armour sheen
Shone to the terrored sky,
And o’er the bodies of thy foes
With open blows
Didst step to victory.

War! War!
They hidden horrors sound
And echo from afar.
Upon the ground
Thou liest now in fear
To wait the cunning chance
To thrust thy lance,
And hurl thy poisoned spear.

poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Desperate Ones

Jacques brel, jouannest, eric blau, mort shuman
They hold each others hands
They walk without a sound
Down forgotten streets
Their shadows kiss the ground
Their footsteps
Sing a song
Tats ended before its begun
They walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Just like the tiptoe moth
That dance before the flame
They burn their hearts so much
That death is just a name
And if love calls again
So foolishly they run, they run, they run
They run, they run, they run, they run
They run without a sound
The desperate ones
I know the road teyre on
Ive walked their crooked mile
A hundred times or more
I drank their cup of bile
They watch their dreams go down
Be hind the settin sun
Yeh, yeh, yeh, they walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Le he who threw the stone at them
Stand up and take a bow
He knows the verb to love
Beu hell never, never, never know how
On the bridge of nevermore
They disappear one by one
Disappear without a sound
The desperate ones
And underneath the bridge
The waters sweet and deep
This is their journeys end
The land of endless sleep
They cry to us for help
We think its all in fun,
They cry, they cry, they cry, they cry
Without a sound
They disappear without a sound
They walk without a sound without a sound
Disappear without a sound
Cry without a sound
Yai, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj
The desperate ones

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Sound Of The Bell

Found a place where we can talk
I found a way to reach a little ground
Keep your castle in my sandbox
Build it up so we can burn it down
Anyway I love my man
Love to keep him spinning round and round
Keep him feeling love for my hand
Any way to turn him inside out
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Meet me up and down again
Every time is sweeter than the last
Once you get a taste of impact
Youre always hungry for the crash
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
And this is everything
I have loved
Yeah, I have loved
Break...
My...
Heart...
Down, I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Yeah...
(I dont wanna be found in the sunshine
I dont wanna be dim like a night light
I dont wanna be down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight...)

song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Sounds that should not be missed

Sound of blossom of a flower,
I desire to hear,
the sound of nature.

Sound of rain's glassy water drop,
over a roof's top,
the sound of joy.

Sound of beat of our heart,
through our ears caught,
the sound of wonder.

Sound of delicious supper in boil,
after a great day's toil,
the sound of hunger.

Sound of a mother's loving ballad,
hearing the cry of her toddler,
the sound of love! ! !

poem by Shyam Balaji
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Are You Sad?

You sound so sad,
Are you really

Sad?

Is your garden
Without any

Flower?

I am sad.

You doubt the sound
Of
My sadness?

What does
Sadness really
Sound

Like?

Does it sound like
A seagull’s journey
Along soundless
Stream on a

A dimming orange
Sunset, at the
Sea’s
Horizon

Homeward bound
Alone?

Is sadness in
True sadness
Sound at

All?

Is sadness not the
Maimed mouth
& death of the

Tongue?

The sound of my sadness
Is the sound of your
Sadness

You read me
In between
Some lines
In that imaginary
Phrase

Perhaps if you look for
Some flowers, or
Even a single flower
In-there
You may find it
If you really
Insists

But
You have to put
The flower
Yourself
Out-there

Sowing the seed
Of sensitivities

Who knows
If later, happiness
Grows
Like some unwanted
Weeds &

They would be many,

Not just one.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!