Moments With Me
I am not able to enjoy
The moments with you
And it is misfortune.
Everything passed
I remained alone
Looking empty sky.
Great consolation
You are with me
And I am in consonance
With you only with you
And only for you.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Consolations For My Mediocrity
There are many consolations for my mediocrity-
Most are like me
Very few are great-
I tried and wrote what I had to-
I did not give up-
Greatness is a gift of God
I was not given-
A petty person's consolation
In the end perhaps too the greatest
Will know oblivion-
And last and in the end
There is no consolation for having failed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Love
My love for People is so great,
My heart melts once it has twitched;
The nights break down to slithering pieces
Of dark and darker pieces, shards,
When he is away, when his time has passed
The moments of life begin to thaw.
He is a beautiful ripe fruit, his beauty is great,
Gardening is all I do,
Waiting for all the right moments in my life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Misfortune conquers timid souls while great minds subdue misfortune.
Active time nourishes
You can read books, hear music or watch movies.
In such moments you enjoy passive time.
You can write, draw, sing or play music.
In such moments you enjoy active time..
02.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My Canadian Chronicles 13
In each life, there are special moments
we like to remember and recall.
Moments that have brought us laughter
almost cascading into tears.
Moments of great happiness
to last us through the years.
Moments with very special people
who are dearly beloved friends.
Special moments no one can take away.
They happen but once
and are captured forever within our mind.
Special moments within our lifetime.
10 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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Treasured Moments
Every one of us has moments,
treasured moments to call our own.
They come when we’re not looking,
and linger with us a lifetime.
They bring happiness
that we can look back on,
through our growing years.
No one can steal them from us,
nor taint them in anyway.
They are our treasured moments,
that linger with us,
even when we pray.
They are little time capsules
that hold our world together,
when we are feeling down.
They are the joys we reached,
when heaven said, its you.
Treasured moments
like photographs,
capture a moment in time.
We think of some thing to associate them with.
So when we see that thing
we can enjoy them once more,
those treasured moments.
31 May 2007
poem by David Harris
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Have A Lovely Day
Let our visions lead the way
Let us enjoy each new day
let us have some more fun
Before this day is over and done
For there is no limit for us to enjoy
We can have moments of fun and joy
Because life's grass is still pretty green
And there are many things unseen
There are new promises and adventures gathered
Which are waiting to be fulfilled all together
But to enjoy each moment of a lovely day
We must let our vision to lead our way.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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It Is Always a Loss When A Friend Is Gone
Brother Jackson died a few moons ago. It is a loss.
It is a finale; it is the final curtain.
Everyday is a loss, tomorrow is uncertain.
Take several deep breaths, do as many toasts
That your heart and soul desire.
Stare at the moon, walk in the sun, play in the rain, and admire
The trees, the plants, the leaves and the flowers.
Smile with, wave at, and chat with your neighbors.
Everyday is a loss; sweet moments move quicker than the thieves
Of Penzance. Appreciate and enjoy every second of the day.
The Cardiologist is in jail; it is a loss
For our community. There no winners,
Only losers. Life is short and precious.
Enjoy the plains, the mounts, the valleys and the rivers;
Never be vindictive and malicious.
It is always a loss, when you examine it deeply.
There are no winners, only losers.
Smile with, wave at and forgive your neighbors.
It is always a loss! Pray for Brother Jackson, and have pity
On the adversaries. Enjoy and appreciate every second of the day.
Smoking Joe Frazier, a great boxer, recently passed away.
Steve Jobs, a genius, died; so did Andy Rooney.
It is always a loss, when you examine it deeply.
Don’t stop praying for our friends, foes and brothers everyday.
Smile, laugh and enjoy every second of the day.
poem by Hebert Logerie (07 November 2011)
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Tests are a gift. And great tests are a great gift. To fail the test is a misfortune. But to refuse the test is to refuse the gift, and something worse, more irrevocable, than misfortune.
Lois McMaster Bujold in Shards of Honor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They are still my kin
I didn’t go to him for any favour;
He remained my friend.
I didn’t do with him any business;
He remained my cousin.
I didn’t have with him any common roof;
He remained my brother.
I didn’t keep to her my eyes wide open;
She remained my wife.
I didn’t get from them any allowance;
They remained my children.
It is as good as they are none to me;
With the God’s grace I could keep them as mine.
19.09.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I really enjoy the consolation when I'm having to cut loose stuff I love, of saying 'Well, at least it will make it onto DVD.' There's a couple of scenes which I liked very much, but couldn't fit them into the film that are on there.
Edward Harrington
With the best writers of his era Edward Harrington did rate
The farmer's son from Shepparton was a poetic great
He wrote the stirring ballads that poetry lovers love to recite
A poem of his recited at many a poetry night.
As a young man Edward Harrington went off to fight in war
And through the remainder of his life he carried the mental scar
Of his terrible experiences in Palestine far away
And the mental scar remained with him until his dying day.
His great ballads of the Australian bush rangers Dan Morgan and the Kelly gang are sung
By ballad singers who heard them when they themselves were young,
Australia's most notorious in verse he glorified
The men who hid from the law in the rugged country side.
He was one of Australia's last famous men of rhyme
The poems of Edward Harrington have withstood the test of time
And those who knew the great poet said he was sensitive and shy
And fame and adulation he did not seem to enjoy.
In 1965 in his seventieth year Edward Harrington passed away
But his poems are still recited and his songs are sung today
The farmer's son from Shepparton a prince of poetry
One of Australia's finest and few as great as he.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Life Was Zero
Life was zero
But started with one
Went up the hill top
Journey remained non stop
It was all we could do as best
Now was the time to rest
Enjoy the fruit and spend the time
But where was the peace any time?
So far it has remained adventurous
Now it should not remain continuous
One must take deep breath and spread the leg
'So far life was successful' must bear the tag
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Pandemonium
if no tale tells you my story
that's not my point to breed
strictly and strictly it's you
bears misfortune to hold the
sanctity at its highest orbit
I an empty glass
seeking fathoms
to be filled with
I the observant
declining from debris to destiny
abstaining from laconic fallacy
if no tale tells the glass not eternal
the depth of different vibration and frequency
always almost all the time
brings the beggar to rampart
and encrowning the majestic farce
makes devil the divine
and divine to dull
it's you misfortune never disappears
to rest to grip to grab the reality
means the glass ever empty
seeking to be filled with....
Pranab k c
03/12/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Aaron Hatfield
Better than granite, Spoon River,
Is the memory-picture you keep of me
Standing before the pioneer men and women
There at Concord Church on Communion day.
Speaking in broken voice of the peasant youth
Of Galilee who went to the city
And was killed by bankers and lawyers;
My voice mingling with the June wind
That blew over wheat fields from Atterbury;
While the white stones in the burying ground
Around the Church shimmered in the summer sun.
And there, though my own memories
Were too great to bear, were you, O pioneers,
With bowed heads breathing forth your sorrow
For the sons killed in battle and the daughters
And little children who vanished in life's morning,
Or at the intolerable hour of noon.
But in those moments of tragic silence,
When the wine and bread were passed,
Came the reconciliation for us --
Us the ploughmen and the hewers of wood,
Us the peasants, brothers of the peasant of Galilee --
To us came the Comforter
And the consolation of tongues of flame!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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In order to be utterly happy the only thing necessary is to refrain from comparing this moment with other moments in the past, which I often did not fully enjoy because I was comparing them with other moments of the future.
quote by Andre Gide
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kissing A Misfortune
Kissing a misfortune
Is a life`s last endeavour
As you never make a return.
Kissing a misfortune
Is a man`s lost game
As you don`t have a partner in it.
A slipped word,
A wrong unknowingly done and
A right forgotten to be done...
Kissing a misfortune
Is a friend`s tragedy and
Indeed a life`s ghost.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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It's another day
It's another day.
Many mails, yet an empty mail box.
Many calls, yet an empty mind.
Facebook is flooded with thoughts,
Yet it missed something.
What should I say?
What the mind searched for
Remained as misty as this morning.
It's another day.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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