A Red Palm
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.
That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair
In an abandoned school of dry spiders.
Dust settles on your forehead, dirt
Smiles under each fingernail.
You chop, step, and by the end of the first row,
You can buy one splendid fish for wife
And three sons. Another row, another fish,
Until you have enough and move on to milk,
Bread, meat. Ten hours and the cupboards creak.
You can rest in the back yard under a tree.
Your hands twitch on your lap,
Not unlike the fish on a pier or the bottom
Of a boat. You drink iced tea. The minutes jerk
Like flies.
It's dusk, now night,
And the lights in your home are on.
That costs money, yellow light
In the kitchen. That's thirty steps,
You say to your hands,
Now shaped into binoculars.
You could raise them to your eyes:
You were a fool in school, now look at you.
You're a giant among cotton plants.
Now you see your oldest boy, also running.
Papa, he says, it's time to come in.
You pull him into your lap
And ask, What's forty times nine?
He knows as well as you, and you smile.
The wind makes peace with the trees,
The stars strike themselves in the dark.
You get up and walk with the sigh of cotton plants.
You go to sleep with a red sun on your palm,
The sore light you see when you first stir in bed.
Related quotes
Running Wild
I move as fast as I can
I like to get around
Im crazy like a madman
My feet dont touch the ground
I move amongst the night life
And they just step aside
Cause when they see me coming
They know Im running wild
Dead or alive theres nothing
That bothers me at all
I take on all comers
They back off or they fall
They raise their hands to stop me
I laugh and I defy
Cause whats the point in living
Unless youre living wild
No chains can hold me down
I always break away
I never hear society
Tell me what to do or say
I taste the life that pleases me
And raise a storm for all the world to see I never stumble, never fall
Never stop for rest
I rebell but I walk tall
And I demand respect
I move amongst the nightlife
And they just step aside
Cause when they see me coming
They know Im running wild
Im running wild
Im running wild
Get outta my way
Im running wild
Im running wild
You better believe it
Wild...
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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Cotton Fields
When i was a little bitty baby
My mama done rock me in the cradle
In them old cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home
Let me tell you now well got me in a fix
I caught a nail in my tire doing lickitey splits
I had to walk a long long way to town
Came upon a nice old man well he had a hat on
Wait a minute mister can you give me some directions
I gonna want to be right off for home
Don't care if them cotton balls get rotten
When i got you baby, who needs cotton
In them old cotton fields back home
Brother only one thing more that's gonna warm you
A summer's day out in california
It's gonna be those cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
Give me them cotton fields
(it was back in louisiana)
Let me hear it for the cotton fields
(just about a mile from texarkana)
You know that there's just no place like home
Well boy it sure feels good to breathe the air back home
You shoulda seen their faces when they seen how i grown
In them old cotton fields back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Step Back
Now it looks to me like the same old place
In the sky it looks like rain
The same old town with the same old streets
The address has not change
You can find me there
With the door shut tight
And the one wish that remains
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
No you know I dont write no bad checks
I have no wish to repent
Ive seen a few
But whatever I do
I dont cause no accidents
Whiskey and wine help me pass the time
I dont leave no evidence
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Still I dont kneel down
I was born to fight
So youd best leave me alone
Maybe Ill get much more than I need
Or much less than I should own
Last of all let me say it again
Either step up or step on
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby step back baby step back
Either step up or step back
Baby walk back baby walk back
Either walk on or walk back
Baby step back ...
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Manager
For me money is cotton
For you it`s freedom
Nowadays it`s fashion-
An American Dream!
So you strive to get the beam
To work like a robot
For the sake of the cotton dream.
You`re a mean value maneger
You never work under, you take higher
This century is yours, hold your computer
A human is nothing, but his career.
You`re the luckiest
You work in the office
You`re the luckiest
You work in the office
Oh, yeah baby
Your fate isn`t silly nor wicked
Your bucks is saved by your cent
Step by step, untill you get blind
It`s OK you are almost dead
As far as the Boss is fully glad
Im the first who admit
We all need the money
So, shall we get mad?
It`s a real calamity...
Step by step, until you get blind
Step by step, until you get blind
Step by step, until you get blind
Step by step, until you get blind
The main thing is to know for sure
Where`s your place and who you are
No doubt, near a fool you`re smarter
Happiness for me means freedom
For you - Disney Land
You`re the luckiest
You work in the office
You`re the luckiest
You work in the office
Oh, yeah baby
You work in the office
Oh, my God!
Translated from Russian. The Leningrad band 'Menedjer'
poem by Emma Adamyan
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Stepping On The Stairs
in wanting to go up
you step on the stairs
on the first step
you have to please this black dog
with the meat of a cat
on the second step
you have to deceive this white cat
with the whiskers of a fish
on the third step
you have to please this pink mouse
with a collar of a black dog
rising on the fourth step
you have to convince the hawk
that the white cat is dead
advancing on the fifth step
the bull demands that the fish
must be caught with its fins clipped off
the sixth step is meticulous
you have to find a way to
reconcile the black cat and the white dog
on the seventh you will be confused
what to do and whom to really please
to reach the eight step
the ninth step has this owl
speaking to you to finally proceed
to the tenth step
and you want to advance some more
trying to figure out what these animals
are asking you to do without
creating all the chaos
you want to please them all
to get what you want
finally you take the tenth step
and you are too weary and guilty
and up there you find
there is really nothing worth
the taking at the end
there is just the wind
blowing your hair telling you nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Imagination Of Hope
despite these things
which i shall not tell you
about the truth
of the state of affairs
the arrangement of the chips
like dominoes
that may fall off and create the
havoc
... despite everything...
(sigh!)
i shall keep myself alive
give a smile to the day
hug my nights goodbye
take the stairs
and walk another mile
and shall come back
again
to you
...despite everything
the sadness
and despair
(sigh!)
i shall not tell you what
or where and when
and why...(sigh!)
somewhere beyond
yes there is always a time and a place
somewhere beyond
when i shall be happy
and glorious
where i shall be king
with a queen
with my prince and princes
with my soldiers
and a kingdom and a castle
(sigh!)
i always know this
somewhere sometime beyond.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Loneliness Of A Fisherman Of Ideas....
you fish at night
the moon is fading
it is when the night
is so dark
that you see the realities
of fish
squids having neon lights
around its body
a school of fish
appears like a diamond
city
you fish alone
in the deepest part of the ocean
where all the stars
have all gone into hiding
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fish And Shrimp [1-2]
Fish And Shrimp [1]
I sigh with deep feeling that fish and shrimp are but children.
They are slap-happy to play in the net of the fisherman.
Seafood merchants become fierce and cruel butchers,
Who exhibit them in a pool to attract buyers.
Fish and shrimp[2]
You need not sigh furiously because of the gluttons.
Since ancient times, fish and shrimp have been cooked with onions.
Excessive catch should be prevented and even God says no!
We must protect the existing resource on the earth so.
Chinese paintings & calligraphy about all Charles Wu's poems
http: //poem.bestfd.com/bbs/forum.php? mod=viewthread&tid=12101&extra=page%3D1
poem by Charles WOO
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A Song (#1)
ON a summer's day as I sat by a stream,
A dainty maid came by,
And she blessed my sight like a rosy dream,
And left me there to sigh, to sigh,
And left me there to sigh, to sigh.
On another day as I sat by the stream,
This maiden paused a while,
Then I made me bold as I told my dream,
She heard it with a smile, a smile,
She heard it with a smile, a smile.
Oh, the months have fled and the autumn's red,
The maid no more goes by;
For my dream came true and the maid I wed,
And now no more I sigh, I sigh,
And now no more I sigh.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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High Cotton
High cotton
Written by roger murrah and scott anders
We didnt know that times were lean
Round our house the grass was green
It didnt seem like things were all that bad
I bet we walked a thousand miles
Chopin cotton and pushin plows
And learnin how to give it all we had.
As life went on and years went by
I saw the light in daddys eyes
And felt - the love in mamas hands
They kept us warm and kept us fed
Taught us how to look ahead
Now lookin back, I understand.
Chorus:
We were walkin in high cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Those fertile fields are never far away
We were walkin in high cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Leavin home was the hardest thing we ever faced.
When sunday mornings rolled around
We dressed up in hand-me downs
Just in time, together with the church
Sometimes I think how long its been
And how it impressed me then
It was the only day my daddy wouldnt work.
Chorus x2
We were walkin in high cotton.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contented With Your Own Silence
in one instance you step out of your door
walk on the road,
keeping your gaze away from the danger side
you keep things to yourself
there is no one to share with
what story you have for the past days
when you hibernated in that room,
it is a break,
you stroll in the park
take your breath under those trees
sit upon one of those empty benches
lose your mind
upon what is obvious and
visible upon those
that do not need any
kind of scrutiny and fathoming
this the time to fish
for nothingness
you lay your hands upon the grass
it is this coolness
that makes you feel connected
to the earth
you sigh and sigh again and again
it is this exhaling that makes you a giver
rather than a taker
it makes you
comfortable like what smokers do
when (they pollute
the air)
there is a certain fulfillment
in this kind of loafing
you carry nothing and thus
you leave nothing
you are not alone
feel this solitude
there are so many of you
doing the same routine in the park
fishers of
nothingness
but i tell you
do not talk do not start a conversation with the one near you
or that one
who is walking his dog early morning
i tried it once
when you get no response
it will just make you lonelier
it is like taking a stone in your hand
and hitting your head with it
sit there,
just sit there
relax
take your time,
and simply be whole
nothing falling
apart
it is beautiful to
see
now that you are
contented with your own
silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ritual Of Leaving
leave before you
decide to say the words
unkind
say not
the words that hurt
they have no hands
to hold you
let leaving be simple
let goodbye
be the sigh of love
if you have a single tear
hide it inside your eyelid
if you have some regrets
keep then in your pockets
as you step out of the house
let the bangs be on
your hair
not the door
put up a little smile for the road
feel the falling leaf from a tree
cross this threshold
and then wave on the coming bus
step in there immediately
sit on the front
and never, never look back to
the face of the past
leave that wound alone
and let it heal with time
in the solitude of
its own understanding
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thankful To God
(2/23/12)
Ashes to ashes - dust to dust
I put my life in gods trust
He has watched me every step of the way
And from him I will not stray.
When my life seems to be going wrong
He comes and makes me strong.
Just say a little mental prayer
And with god his love you'll share.
Look at the beauties all around
In the sky and on the ground
The birds that fly high above
Spreading their wings with his love.
Many of the two and four legged
Animals on the ground
Is the food that we have found.
He supplies us with all our needs
And on which plants we could feed.
Plants for food, plants to cure
Everything here, rest assured.
Why do we worry so
He takes care of us - this we know.
So be thankful to god above
For he is the one true love.
poem by Louis Rams
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Cotton Eyed Joe
Traditional
If it hadnt been for cotton-eye joe
Id been married long time ago
Where did you come from. where did you go?
Where did you come from cotton-eye joe?
(repeat)
He came to town like a midwinter storm
He rode through the fields so
Handsome and strong
His eyes was his tools and his smile was his gun
But all he had come for was having some fun
(repeat intro)
He brought disaster wherever he went
The hearts of the girls was to hell broken sent
They all ran away so nobody would know
And left only men cause of cotton-eye joe
(repeat intro)
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pork Chops are Fun
chop chop chop the pork squeals over dinner
with it's fatty bits and tasty bites
it marinates on a stick over hot coal
who will taste it first who will finish the bowl
Wow Pork Chops with red wine
then dinner will be divine
chop chop chop the pork is done
with ginger, wine and lots of fun
it's time to have with a salty bun
chop chop chop see it go in the oven my friends
it's dinner time lets eat it all
then lets sit together and have a ball
chop chop chop the pork tastes good
with the meat so tender it bloody weel should
sometimes on the pan sometimes as a roast
call your freinds for dinner it's a dish one can boast
chop chop chop the pork is done
sprikle a little wine to make things bright
then the meat put it on light
watch it burn and tremble with delight
chop chop chop my pork chops are done
poem by Anuj Tikku
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Choppin' Wood
(Van Morrison)
You wired the trains and went back home to St. Claire's shores
Before you became a spark down at the yard
You were passing through those hungry years alone
You were just trying to make a living out in Detroit
When you came back off the boats you didn't want to go anywhere
You sit down to TV in your favourite chair
You watch the big picture fade away down at Harland and Wolff
But you still kept on choppin' wood
And you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
You lived your life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
Well the spark was gone but you carried on
You always did the best you could
You sent for us once but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood choppin' wood
Well you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
And you lived a life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
WeIl the spark was gone but you carried on
Well you did just the best that you could
You sent for us one time but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood
Kept on choppin'wood
Kept on choppin' wood
Local man chops wood
You know you did the best you could
Well everything just fell through
Kept on choppin' wood
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, keep on choppin'
Chop, chop, chop, choppin' wood
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispering Wind
Standing amid the forest trees
I feel so insignificant.
Small and unimportant can be
Very humbling among the plants
And underbrush that are dwarfed by
The regal, deciduous trees.
Quiet is defined by the sigh
Of the wind breathing through the leaves
And serenity thrives beneath
This lushest leaf-green canopy.
I walk along an ancient path
Once tread by aborigines.
Then, out of the blue, the soft wind
Whispered, ” you're home again my friend.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Majestic Tree
They bow to the winds that pass
The beautiful majestic trees,
With arms up toward the skies
They laugh in the summer breeze.
They provide shade and shelter for the bee,
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide lumber for houses, and barns
For a roof to cover our heads,
Lumber for aeroplanes, ships and cars
And for caskets, to bury our dead.
This is only a few uses you see
He plants history, who plants a tree.
They provide rest for the weary man
Food and protection, for many wild things,
Home and sanctuary, for millions of birds
And rock their babies to sleep in swings.
Their magestic grace so wild and free
He plants history, who plants a tree.
poem by Della Hodgson James
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Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
strength enfold, the fish is in the running
water waiting for us to carry in every heart,
please prepare the place, the net is
empty …… come and fish the fish
poem by Antonio Liao
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