I Want To Sleep With The Same Innocence
I want to sleep with the same innocence
as the lad who slept among apples
away from the tumult brought by centuries
and awake as if every new day
is a morning filled with new promise.
I long to be at the sea
with the same kind of longing
as the boy who wanted to cut out his heart
because of the sea
to see the surging and swell
to experience the endless energy.
Let me lie down somewhere in the veldt
far away from the atrocities of man,
where grasses, the bushes and trees
grow in splendour
and some animals still roam free
where the first rays of the sun will awaken me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Little Pieces of Innocence
Little Pieces of Innocence
(0n watching my children sleep)
Sweet sleep, little pieces of innocence,
While dreams so serenely fair,
Fill their heads with joyous thoughts,
How gladly do I stand and stare,
Upon the gifts that love has brought.
No darkness spreads her sorrow here,
Sleep on dear children, rest, but know,
Your father watches with such delight,
This moment of truth, and with heart aglow,
And filled with love this night.
Those little pieces of innocence,
So serene, so full of grace,
Sweetest gifts that Heaven imparts,
Fondly shall I long embrace,
The innocence in their hearts.
Those little pieces of innocence,
Their youthful years so few,
Enjoy now as you grow,
Joys of innocence, pure and true,
That only children ever know.
The hour is fleeting, and morn is nigh,
Innocence so filled with truth,
Awake! enjoy your childhood years,
Before time sweeps away your youth,
And innocence disappears.
Never, never can I lose them,
No time or distance shall stake a claim,
Though saddness may overcome me,
My heart will stay the same,
And those little pieces of innocence will forever be.
By
Richard Netherland Cook
poem by Richard Netherland Cook
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Awake
Awake my sleeping heart
find a love for me.
Someone I can hold
and set me free.
You have slept far too long
and let so many pass by.
Awake my sleeping heart
find me someone
to care for, as I grow old.
To be there at my side
in times of happiness,
and in times of woe.
Awake; awake
my sleeping heart
before it is too late.
Awake, awake
I beg of thee.
Awake my love
and set me free.
2 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Waiting and Wishing
I loiter by this surging sea,
Here, by this surging, sooming sea,
Here, by this wailing, wild-faced sea,
Dreaming through the dreamy night;
Yearning for a strange delight!
Will it ever, ever, ever fly to me,
By this surging sea,
By this surging, sooming sea,
By this wailing, wild-faced sea?
I know some gentle spirit lives,
Some loving, lonely spirit lives,
Some melancholy spirit lives,
Walking o'er the earth for me,
Searching round the world for me!
Will she ever, ever, ever hither come?
Where the waters roam,
Where the sobbing waters roam!
Where the raving waters roam!
All worn and wasted by the storms,
All gapped and fractured by the storms,
All split and splintered by the storms,
Overhead the caverns groan,
Gloomy, ghastly caverns groan! -
Will she ever, ever, ever fill this heart?
Peace, O longing heart!
Peace, O longing, beating heart!
Peace, O beating, weary heart!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Tedina's endless sleep
It's like a dream to us all
that thou art
in an endless sleep
It all started like a joke
when thy head got hurt
you survived the theatre twice
As time jogged on
an endless sleep called thou
Thy response
to an endless sleep
is the cause
our eyes are wet
and our hearts bitter
Thy love craves for thee
she weeps bitterly
for thou can't awake
from thy endless sleep
to see thy sons and daughters
become men and women
Tedina
thy endless sleep
has wounded our hearts
in pain we shall be
as long as we stay awake.
poem by Inawo Murphy Ternenge
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Vastly The Veldt, The Bush Stretches Out About Me (Idyll) (In Answer To Sir Philip Sidney)
I
Vastly the veldt, the bush stretches out about me
where nature is left to its own existence,
where all kinds of game roam free
and here is nothing to bother with an insistence
and the weary traveller on this earth
can find a new kind of longing, a new kind of hope,
like a kind of refreshing new birth
while thoughts go past the normal human scope
where a person wonders about the creator of things
while serenity is displayed where ever you look,
bees and birds continually sing about happy tidings
and nowhere one can get this experience in a book
that comes as some kind of divine blessing,
you have got to realise that there is more to life and living.
II
You have got to realise that there is more to life and living
that every word and deed leaves a mark, a own impact,
comes as benevolence or a kind of attack,
that there’s more to life that taking and giving
that nature’s innocence and violence draws and sting
and our actions on to it we can never take back,
even our wanderings on a natural track
leaves its mark on mere existing
that somehow nature needs to be left unspoilt
while we live in a kind of ruling arrogance,
this deadly paradise has its own kind of dazzling
while we effect change, like gods live rich and spoilt
while we hide beyond a cloak of ignorance,
seldom do we realise the beauty of the coming spring.
III
Seldom do we realise the beauty of the coming spring
and yet on a farm I have met a rural girl
who brings another feeling to existing, something touching,
while in the veldt sometimes dust clouds whirl
the strange solitariness feels as if it’s alive
and she has taken me to her hidden places,
the places dear to a sweetheart or wife
where violets grow wild, wildflowers have different faces
and the sun shines friendly in a blue hued sky,
where you can feel the great tranquillity,
see birds in their coloured swarms fly
and realise that here is some strange kind of unity
a kind of unspoilt idyllic life
that exists happily without any kind of strive.
poem by Gert Strydom
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One mind awake can awaken another, The second awake can awaken their next door brother. Three awake can awaken the town By turning the whole place upside down. Many awake can make such a fuss That they finally awaken the rest of us.
quote by Helen Kromer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gacela of the Dark Death
I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.
I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.
I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that I have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that I am the small friend of the West wing;
that I am the intense shadows of my tears.
Cover me at dawn with a veil,
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me,
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.
For I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me to earth;
for I want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.
poem by Federico García Lorca
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On a spoor
We were hot on a fresh spoor
and the bushman tracker said
that the enemy were not far ahead
when we crossed through some dense bush
under some trees
and looking up I saw something on a branch
camouflaged, dappled into the shade
and yellow eyes peered down at me
filled with rage, with energy
and astounded more than anything
I brought the gun to bear,
but the pent up energy,
melted with languid grace
right into the tree
as if it wasn’t aware of me, aware of us
and we walked on past a clearing
into the open veldt where hip high grass
was interrupted by some green thorn bushes.
A huge male lion came bursting
out of one of the bushes
with swishing tale running at full speed
and we all froze in our strides with weapons ready
and it was almost
as if the light machinegun’s trigger was tempting me
to shoot the raging storming animal down
and at that moment I was relieved
that it was not the leopard that would jump,
from one of us after another at sheer speed
and at quick succession try to kill us all
being a expert at baboon hunting
and thus at killing primates
but the tracker had signalled for all of us
to wait when he saw it
and that party of special force soldiers
was ready to kill when that lion
came to a halt with swishing tail right in front of me
and I can still smell its foul breath
when it roared with wide-open jaws
and terror hit my stomach like a mighty fist
and I could have cut it down
blasting it right from the ground
but the ferocity, the beauty of that beast
halted me as if I was watching it in a dream
and I watched its yellow fangs and pink tongue
totally motionless trying to stare it down
and suddenly it turned around
walking back into the veldt
timid and kitten-eyed
disappearing into the grass, melting into it
poem by Gert Strydom
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An Industrial Estate
I walk through the fields laden with life,
There are flowers, bushes and trees,
They show no signs of stress or of strife,
There's wonder in the birds and bees.
The deer roam free while the fox cubs play,
The voles and mice are at rest,
An eagle overhead blocks the sunshine's ray,
This is truly how beauty's expressed.
At one with nature is how we should live,
We all have a right to survive,
Being cruel to others is hard to forgive,
Why don't we let animals thrive?
I've come back home after a long time gone,
To see where I ventured and played,
The wildlife habitat has been withdrawn,
All those animals have now been betrayed.
We cannot complain when we're overrun,
By animals seeking shelter from above,
We've stolen their land when all's said and done,
Without mercy they've been given the shove.
Where can they go when we steal their land?
The fact is we don't really care,
The way we treat animals is so underhand,
They've no time or chance to prepare.
Like us they'll try their best to exist,
Though they're living in constant fear,
Their right to live is being dismissed,
Take action now or they'll all disappear.
Those beautiful fields that I once knew,
All the animals have been left to their fate,
From their old habitat the pollution will spew,
As it's now,
‘' An Industrial Estate ‘'
Truth Of Truth!
Truth of truth is this,
Behind every heart, may be beautiful,
Or not,
There is that great truth,
We awakened from sleep of innocence,
Awakened to dream
Just innocently witness cosmic
play And
Go back into sleep of innocence once again, this happens eternally,
and now and then we awakened into dream and once again go to sleep!
The same recycled energy and matter,
The same innocent child grow and die,
Die only to get recycled some how and somewhere!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I Cant Sleep Without You Here
I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.
Its 3AM
And I’m awake again.
Through open eyes, I sing my lonely song, To the silver moonlight.
I am consumed by the lonely darkness, Of the night.
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
When I dream- I dream of our love’s delight-
Only to awake, Without you, By my side.
I’m stuck between longing and desire-
As in the darkness, Within my heart burns passions fire.
Without you here, Next to me, It just doesn’t feel right.
In the darkness, You’re my light!
Within my heart burns an unquenchable fire!
There’s so much more
Which I long for
And desire!
And I grow weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But we can both relate.
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
Every night without you- I cant help but want to reach out for
More!
Inside my heart-
You’re leaving a road map of all the places we’ve been.
Inside my heart-
Your love has burnt its mark so deep within.
And there’s so much more
For us to long for
And desire!
Within my heart burns passion’s fire!
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
I’m weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But you and I can both relate.
Each and every night, I cant help but want to reach out for
More!
And I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.
poem by Philip Alarie
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A Camel's Dream
When he deserted me
I deserted water
When I deserted the water,
it lost its shine crying.
Trees were growing dark in their places
in the woods; that evening he came to take me
with him clearing the thick glow of the sunset hues
then came he to make a path a kind of road
At the end of the road
I became the back he can ride
deserting many things I so long have to long for
while I look at the village
through those green trees
with my deep eyes
I saw him waiving at me
to bid me goodbye.
I was already entering the desert
and a portion of his road became the whole
the entire road for me.
For the borders of the nation he ruled
were the horizons of the four directions,
the sand hills I walk on with him on my back
were always the initial spot I had departed.
Numerous mornings and evenings met
on the rooftops of the sandhills where the
next morning and the sun crossed.
Originally what he wanted from me
was some amount of water he could use,
always in the shape of the water
I obeyed him.
At the same speed as the sunlight speedy
falls on the ground, stars fell.
With the power of the star-falls
the water soaked itself down to the ground
and then to
the roots of the sands.
Whenever his forehead shined
with full of heavenly words
and thirstied,
I dug up the roots of the sands
where the water gathers and kept it
in my body.
When the sun rose,
everything except the sands were
under the power of the sun;
when the wind blew,
everything along with the sands were
under the windy flows.
There I took out the water from my body
and washed his dry face.
When he loved me
I had a large amount of waters.
When he was communicating with someone
in heavens,
I listened to the music the sands were making.
Many trees were there with no shadows,
and the worlds I look through those trees were
always moving forward.
Through those trees the wind blew.
The thicket-bushes were weeping
and there came about some animals
who loved the bushes, and the one
who rides on my back
lets things to be ruled ruled
lets things to die dead.
He stands the trees and the animals
that resemble each other on their spots
then he passes by.
In the mean time he took out the water
from my body numerous times
and drank it to cleanse his body.
His songs made the sand hills
create echoes to echo
to ring through the regions afar.
When he finally changed the desert into the sea,
at its open entrance
I began to grow old all alone.
Though I wanted to serve him on the sea
he walked away from me
onto the sea.
Many years have gone by
and come along and
for me not to serve him on the sea
meant to go back to the desert, and
the sea had turned into the desert back again.
At its entrance to the sea,
I could not become a small boat for him.
All day long, I was lonely;
all night long, lonesome for days.
When he left me, I deserted the water,
I deserted again the act of deserting
and by deserting it, I no longer was left
to exist.
poem by by unknown author (22 June 2003), translated by Sangnam Nam
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My Anticipated Celebration
Lost in the midst of unending thought
In the dark
Longing to see the end of the tunnel
Oh, how wonderful the experience to behold.
Anticipating the experience
Filled with mountainous expectation
Let my hope see me through
And take away the dark…
Come in, illumination
Your identity unfold
And bring to end
This unwanted longing experience.
That the white community be unfolded
From end to end
Let the white have their day
And the atmosphere filled with elation.
poem by Bamisaye Adeniran
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A Mind Rich In Innocence
Truth, The Real God
Not that we have made
Does not want a facade
Of the limited and narrow world that we parade
It asks for a mind rich in Innocence
That doesnt have a scratch of experience
A mind free from time
A mind free from grime
It wants a Being whose heart is Full
Rich, clear which does not get pulled
By jaded and petty eyesight
Just capable of intense feeling in all its might
Be sensitive with your nerves
Your eyes, your body, your voice, your ears
See the beauty of the tree, the smile of the child
The agony of the woman without a meal, the animals in wild
Unless you do, there is no intelligence
It doesnt come with knowledge or experience
Comes with sensitivity and observation
A mind rich in Innocence....
poem by Renu Rakheja
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In the middle
It strikes me when I see her smile,
I catered her well, for she was fragile.
Her heart I promised I will never break,
But it Is now or never, so the risk I will take.
Long before, we have made a promise,
"Either of us must not fall in love, or this friendship will vanish"
And so, the promise I tried to keep,
I think about it, every night before I sleep.
She makes me smile by her effortless actions.
When I am with her, I focus my attention.
She made me feel this way again,
For a long time, my feelings have been left unspoken.
Stuck on her, but I must not!
Everything from me had changed a lot.
Diverse things she had thought to me,
So I will stand by her side, perpetually.
Accidentally in love, I have been!
She gave my life a different spin.
Sun flower and Marigold may dry and fold,
Baby it's just with her, I want to grow old.
You are everything I wanted,
I hope he won't take you for granted.
These are many things that I always wanted to say,
But I was afraid, for it may start a fray.
Every time that we are together,
I wonder, hoping that we could be forever.
I pray that my decision is right,
Will I set you free? Should I hold you tight?
poem by Art Aquino
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Love From You
How long dose a heart ache
Can you break a heart that is not whole
You imprisoned your heart so it would be safe
Believing that was a better place
Well i am pardoning your heart and soul
Your free your free to go
With this freedom i am giving you
You must love and let someone love you
Now you are free to roam and explore
And find that love you have been longing for
You have so much love to give
This love you have is a special gift
Well i will let you know something that is true
Its me thats been waiting for this love from you
A hunting expedition
Far off in the bush veldt near to Marken,
where the red sand lies like sea sand,
a young hunter on a day
takes a old.303 rifle with open sights
and walks following a tracker,
that they call a guide,
past green thorn trees
with long white camel-thorns
to where a impala
is standing against a hillock
and he aims for a headshot
and I say to him: “shoot for the shoulder-blade”
but he doesn’t listen
and when the shot resounds
the antelope lowers its head
and the bullet whistles away from a rock plate
with the antelope
running away in a red brown stripe
disappearing into the bushes
and the bush veldt sun
burns without mercy down on us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Orange Appeal
Half the rude you brought once has cold
We send with friends
All the evil actions worked my mood on you
As the energy comes from the waves at cliffs
Moan miss
We look for leaves on the family tree
Ah:thee won't sing
Half the rude you brought once has cold
We send with friends
Compare an apple to an orange like in the
Dream we seen
As the energy come from the waves at Trussels
And all this hearty fruit has made my muscles grow to what you see
Half the rude you brought once has cold
We send with friends
Will you just bend
Apples and Oranges
song performed by by Alien Ant Farm from ANThology
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Days
Every morning I awake
to face the coming day.
Some are harder than others.
Some are filled with promise,
while others are filled with dread.
All will consume me
before the darkness calls
and my head hits the pillow
of my comfortable bed.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Old Folks at Home
1 Way down upon de Swanee ribber,
2 Far, far away,
3 Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
4 Dere's wha de old folks stay.
5 All up and down de whole creation,
6 Sadly I roam,
7 Still longing for de old plantation,
8 And for de old folks at home.
9 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
10 Ebry where I roam,
11 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
12 Far from de old folks at home.
13 [Solo] All round de little farm I wandered
14 When I was young,
15 Den many happy days I squandered,
16 Many de songs I sung.
17 When I was playing wid my brudder
18 Happy was I --.
19 Oh! take me to my kind old mudder,
20 Dere let me live and die.
21 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
22 Ebry where I roam,
23 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
24 Far from de old folks at home.
25 One little hut among de bushes,
26 One dat I love,
27 Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
28 No matter where I rove
29 When will I see de bees a humming
30 All round de comb?
31 When will I hear de banjo tumming
32 Down in my good old home?
33 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
34 Ebry where I roam,
35 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
36 Far from de old folks at home
poem by Stephen C. Foster
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