Related quotes: A crib, a growing plant,...

Waiting for Lindsey

A crib, a growing plant, a madonna’s rocking chair,
Moving images of shooting stars and moons:
What must be prepared for her arrival?
What should properly adorn the world she finds?

While she’s kicking in her evolution
In training to abandon the lake-like womb -
Summoned to be the embodiment of dreams –
The demand persists: how must we prepare?

Nothing of her future can be previsaged,
Nor her choices, nor her freedoms of choice:
The numbers swell in lines that bind the continents -
Some insisting on justice, some applying for bread.

A brightly multi-coloured mobile
A trunk of infant clothes, gifted and store-found
Await as first inheritance, closeted
In a slightly sunlit, meditative room.

Families of ducks gather outside the window.
So large our hopes of her, and
She so young and small -
Our questions burn the tongues of a hundred million more.

poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sisotowbell Lane

Sisotowbell lane
Noah is fixing the pump in the rain
He brings us no shame
We always knew that he always knew
Up over the hill
Jovial neighbors come down when they will
With stories to tell
Sometimes they do
Yes sometimes we do
We have a rocking chair
Each of us rocks his share
Eating muffin buns and berries
By the steamy kitchen window
Sometimes we do
Our tongues turn blue
Sisotowbell lane
Anywhere else now would seem very strange
The seasons are changing
Everyday in everyway
Sometimes it is spring
Sometimes it is not anything
A poet can sing
Sometimes we try
Yes we always try
We have a rocking chair
Somedays we rock and stare
At the woodlands and the grasslands and the badlands cross the river
Sometimes we do
We like the view
Sisotowbell lane
Go to the city youll come back again
To wade thru the grain
You always do
Yes we always do
Come back to the stars
Sweet well water and pickling jars
Well lend you the car
We always do
Yes sometimes we do
We have a rocking chair
Someone is always there
Rocking rhythms while theyre waiting with the candle in the window
Sometimes we do
We wait for you

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Couplets 02 Touchy Composition

Between two cotyledons— plant grows with a bud!
With two lines— couplets come into flower with an idea.
Sometimes, two lines may be more powerful than two hundred lines.
Small verses like couplets are really beautiful.

They speak and touch with peace— as Poems for Life.

Couplet— I
Watering rain on the leaves
Orchid plant mutely sleeps

Couplet— II
Under the pillow raining night
Memory coins may or might!

Couplet— III
All green buds grows yellow
Plant or animal must follow!

Couplet— IV
Shooting stars proclaimed that
No one ever will be mate…

Couplet— V
How the moon came into being
The way fishes sleep and sing

Ashraful Musaddeq

poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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Cut To The Chase

Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
It is the fire that lights itself
But it burns with a restless flame
The arrow on a moving target
The archer must be sure of his aim
It is the engine that drives itself
But it chooses the uphill climb
A bearing on magnetic north
Growing farther away all the time
Cant stop --- moving
Cant stop --- moving
Cant stop ---
You may be right
Its all a waste of time
I guess thats just a chance
Im prepared to take
A danger Im prepared to face
Cut to the chase
It is the rocket that ignites itself
And launches its way to the stars
A driver on a busy freeway
Racing the oblivious cars
Its the motor of the western world
Spinning off to every extreme
Pure as a lovers desire
Evil as a murderers dream
Young enough not to care too much
About the way things used to be
Im young enough to remember the future ---
The past has no claim on me
Im old enough not to care too much
About what you think of me
But Im young enough to remember the future
And the way things ought to be
What kind of difference
Can one person make?
Cut to the chase

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance A Multi-Coloured Dance Of Rainbow

Words can fail like magnets not sticking to the fridge
and we all complain when the rent is due again.
Pay your bills and meet the obligations of
the world, never mind attending to the
payment of your soul.

The new voice is speaking, the new religion
has been announced. We are to celebrate
everything and tradition we are to renounce.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.

We are to ignore the truth of the Gospel
for too many find that it offends. We must
not have complaining and so we must merge
into one blend. Let the fires burn so
brightly as we burn away the words
we do not like. Dance a multi-coloured
dance of rainbow prisms and
inter-faith delusions.

Men should not sleep with women, for
that is not the way the new voices want
it to be. Instead they should seek male
partners and live in illusions of
conformity. We must not call a spade
a spade for in doing so we ignore
the new mindset.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.

No need to wave flags for we must
not cause nationalism to exist. Only
one nation is right and that is the
propaganda we must believe. So we
watch our televsions and rejoice
in the latest American war.
Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.

The parade has begun, and the marchers
have lined up like soliders in a drill.
The banners are ready ot wave, the
sound of music will soon flood the
streets. We will march for equality
and conform ourselves to a plastic
sheeted state of being. Dance a
multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.

And though the old ways will not die,
we will pretend they do not matter.
We will surrender ourselves to
immoral methods of existing. We
will speak only of politically correct
topics and we shall never disagree.

Dance a multi-coloured dance of rainbow
prisms and inter-faith delusions.

poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
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World, Wise head & Football

World on leg, world by leg, world in leg not hand

Shooting, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

World on head, world by head, world in head not hand

Only two-operator touch world by their all

Heading, shooting or kicking moving, going from to from

We feel exciting with love or loveless

We total world exclaim goal, goal and goal

I believe immensely

Football is world

Head of wise man

No doubt consequence

Enough similarity has between wise man & football

Player's are playing football by leg or head

Exactly society is a stadium

Where people are playing or acting game

By adoration or abhor like by head or foot to wise man

And seer next & next generation

Wise man get adoration or abhor from society.

Shooting, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

When he will go to eternal from this cosmic

Then we will shout that he was a good man.

World on leg, world by leg, world in leg not hand

Shooting or kicking, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

We total world exclaim

Goal, goal, goal.

poem by Mashiur Rahman
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Me And My Old Cat Sam

I sit here all alone well

Me and my old cat Sam

Rocking back and fro

As my

Chair squeaks

As I rock

In front of the old fireplace

Just me and my old cat
Sam

Knitting mittens

Singing while my cat sam takes
A nap

I’m growing old

Still alone

Me and my old cat Sam and my
Old rocking chair

As the fireplace is cracking while

The

Red blue flames seem to cracker
And pop

As it

Burn so happily it seem's

My chair squeaks my cat nod as I
Rock

In my rocking chair back and fro

Cheerfully in front of my old
Fireplace

With red and blue flames highlighting
The wall and ceilings

Me and my old cat Sam as he nod’s

I rock back and fro

While my rocking chair squeaks along
With the fireplace cracker and
Popping..

poem by Carolyn Sears
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The Candle

By my bed, on a little round table
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three
dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remember giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I had given my three little
dreams
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay
folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening
for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in
my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure,
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed,
I peeped through a slit of the blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen.
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed...
The three dreams started singing a little song.

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Welcome To The Pleasuredome

(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
The world is my oyster........ ha ha ha ha ha........
The animals are winding me up
The jungle call the jungle call who-ha who-ha who-ha who-ha
In xanadu did kublai khan
A pleasuredome erect
Moving on keep moving on-yeah
Moving at one million miles an hour using my power
I sell it by the hour I have it so I market it you really cant afford it-yeah
Really cant afford it
*shooting stars never stop even when they reach the top
Shooting stars never stop even when they reach the top
**there goes a supernova what a pushover-yeah
There goes a supernova what a pushover
***were a long way from home welcome to the pleasuredome
On our way home going home where lovers roam
Long way from home welcome to the pleasuredome
Moving on keep moving on
I will give you diamonds by the shower love your body even when its old
Do it just as only I can do it and never ever doing what Im told
*(repeat)
**(repeat)
Keep moving on got to reach the top
Dont stop pay love and life-oh my keep moving on on again-yeah
Shooting stars never stop shooting stars never stop
****shooting stars never stop even when they reach the top there goes a supernova what a pushover
****(repeat)
***(repeat)
Who-ha who-ha welcome to the pleasuredome welcome........ha ha ha ha ha........
Long way from home welcome to the pleasuredome

song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty

This is my world, small as it is,
It is a planet by itself with very
Small moons, and tiny stars,
And so tiny, you cannot just
See me there, I am hiding,
But I still live here just the same,
Breathing atomic air, and drinking
Molecular waters, so you see,
How tiny I could be, how tiny
I could get, but this is my
Small happy world, my smile
My laughter so tiny, that you
Cannot hear, you cannot feel,

And that is your world as big
As the sun, with comets and
Meteors, and so big and so
Wide, with oceans and rivers,
And continents, and gigantic
Arctics, and snowy lands, and
We are then so different, and
With me, there is no problem,
I, in my small world, can fit
In yours, but you, you cannot
Fit in mine, that we must
Accept, I am a small world,
And you are a space still expanding,
Now, do you understand,
why I hide?
why I shy away from you?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is My World That Is Your World

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ramblings

You cannot lock the door
Now, night shall open it
For fireflies to come in
They slept in hiding

Like you, fireflies fly away
Pallid cowards from rain
Lest their lights die in the mist

You wait by the door

As true stars come again
Lighting night skies
My Fireflies shall reveal
Inferior flickers under
The now, brimming
Skies bursting

II.
How many full moons passed
Past your sad window?
Your fingers cannot tell
They’re used to gripping
Rusty doorknobs
A great deal to ancestry
Our human hands corroded
We cannot reach nor outrun
Rust becomes us

III.
If we listen to dawn dreams
We shall hear prophets scream
Nothing
To a mutter

One speaks of the underworld so endless
Unmoving as the sky stretches a distance of lies
No farther
Or it will break

There are no skies no caves
No edges no space
Nothing
To whisper

IV.
We are shooting stars in space
Shot into nothing
Yet we keep on shooting

For the moment
We close down
We set strong feet on land
Like steel gates stilled

We look into our eyes
Tears are dwindling
Thus far, we cannot cease fearing
For nothing

V.
There is God
As the world keeps ears
For each earthworm in the void

He shall hear us
Shouting the questions
Dinning,
Rocking the ruckus of cumulus
In this outcry

He shall know us
By eyes and mouth
By hand by footprints
And the grasses covering all

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Murmurs

1. You cannot lock the door
Now, night shall open it
For fireflies to come in
They slept in hiding

Like you, fireflies fly away
Pallid cowards from rain
Lest their lights die in the mist

You wait by the door

As true stars come again
Lighting night skies
My Fireflies shall reveal
Inferior flickers under
The now, brimming
Skies bursting
II.
How many full moons passed
Past your sad window?
Your fingers cannot tell
They’re used to gripping
Rusty doorknobs
A great deal to ancestry
Our human hands corroded
We cannot reach nor outrun
Rust becomes us