My window is no blank surface
My window is no blank surface
but is a bright reflection
of Your light that trickles through to me
as Your interest
from morning twilight
where day and night
penetrate deeper into my life
while I wait upon thoughts coming from You
where every facet of my life now is getting meaning
as Your sharpening, Your forming into a new existence
free from my conceit, my weakness,
where your light, truth and love are going right through me
I know that You bring consciousness
and Your glory, Your splendour is circling out brighter.
[Reference: My venster is ‘n blanke vlak (My window is a blank surface) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Borders
Past the borders that divides us
of seeing, feeling, hearing and tasting
past thoughts, sensations of you and me
the ways how
we experience each other, the reality,
I want to go deeper to you
so that somewhere there
my inner eyes, my thoughts penetrate
to that which is the essence of our humanity
and in simplicity I do not want to wait longer
past the empty and vain game with a deeper meaning
not heeding the shallow things of the world
so that we can be aware of that which is holy,
more splendid and base love on eternal light.
[Reference: Borders by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Facing a Blank: Part 3
Here I am facing a blank page once again,
searching the white for borders and meaning.
Where my inspiration has dried up like a river
in the dryest summer, in this famine filled place
where meaning dares not tread for fear of death.
Up at five thirty, looking out at the morning
the touch of cold air is only that, a touch
morning twilight glimmers over clouds,
but they bring no hope for change or growth
This life was given for what reason?
to seek out sustenance in this place
Green profusion is everywhere, yet all is dead
the goal is there, but it is uncouth and evil
Why search for such goals, except to fit in
when there are riches beyond the desert?
Every day we gather together in comradeship
and it is like a shallow oasis, there and gone.
Holding together for a deeper pool; love maybe
or for the wine that we consume just to smile.
And each night in hope I look to her face,
see not the signs, and take one more drink
It is despair brought to life in false happiness.
And I face the blank alone, holding tight to reason-
that this, too, shall pass beyond the blank spaces.
poem by Poet Dragon
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For A Start....
blank, it is blank at first.
suspect, there is nothing, there is no one.
wait. there is a hush.
there is a shadow coming.
wait. there is a word.
it is a bean sprouting
last night placed
on top of
a sack wet by the rain
of tears.
i hear the sounds of syllables.
no figuring of meanings this time.
just hearing a sound
of life.
it is enough. I am not scared anymore
to the question: is there life here?
the windows begin to open
and lights are turned off.
good morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Light Through The Morning Window
THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW
The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
The pale sky waiting behind everything
The night which is gone now.
All these failures one after the other,
Other names other destinies, greater than mine
The single singing I cannot hear
The great prophecies I will not realize.
Others who are more to me
Even than I am to myself.
The morning
The morning again
Words again
Trying to live again
A poem again perhaps.
In a life of many days
In which each small day
Its own struggle
And each night
A night which ends
With morning light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A ray of light! !
A Ray of Light
I opend up window in the moon light
Moonfairy shining bright
Giving up a ray of light
All haunted dreams shimering the sky
A Ray of Ligh
t
Telling the stories of past
Wid the charm of its night
Where Stars smiling bright
A Ray of light
Holding sky in hand
Looking for another night
O my! its moonlight
Drops appearing in bright light
Givvng the hope of morning bright
A Ray of Light
Hold my hand n let it fall
Coz its coming of day light
music playng lovely n delight
A Ray of Light
poem by Somia Race
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Blank
Blank pages, blank lines
Blank heart, blank mind
Blank feeling, blank soul
Blank high, blank low.
I dont know why
You just cant see
That all you've ever known
Is the blank side of me.
A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Blank Space Inside Us
there are blank pages
some say that it is a must that something must be drawn
words to be written
thoughts to stifle, capture,
stuffed,
there is a day that you prefer
to keep a blank sky
a dark sky without stars
no light
when you close your eyes
you are at home with this blank page
words become
invincible
but they are all there
perfectly correct
well viewed by the eyes of your heart
somehow you go beyond
your every
day fences
move away, jump and run towards
an island of light
a patch of green grass
still no stars
pure blank
it is when you do not believe in the power of thoughts
when what preoccupies you
is nothing when you are finally one with all
space
it is too peaceful to even dropp a word
like a pin on
a shiny floor of tiles....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daylight Of Truth
We shine bright, in the heart
The day light of truth
The winds of knowlegde
The power of mind
The night's are times
When lies come in
With the weakness of sentiments
That's a further deal
A strength to communicate
Is to have a friend
In the light that's a guide
In the night of weakness
A support to us
To deliver the light of truth
Again, again and again
To rule ourselves
In the light of the bright day
That's daylight
The light of Day
The daylight of truth
poem by Pratiksha Singnodia
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The Window of Heaven
The window of Heaven is open,
The angels can fly to and fro,
And those that I love can all gather,
And look down at Christmas below.
For Christmas is special in Heaven,
The love is so easy to see,
And down from the window at Christmas,
God sends a present to me.
'I will forever be with you,
Your side, I shall always be near,
And though you may not always see me,
In your heart I will always be there.
I will warm up your soul during Christmas,
My love is a fire burning bright,
Then my blanket of love will surround you,
And keep you all through the night.
On the brink of your Christmas morning,
I'll be the star at the top of the tree,
Shining my light on your teardrops,
You'll see a reflection of me.
Then as the gifts are all opened,
With the children encircling the hearth,
Look deep in their little faces,
Their kisses will be from my heart.
For the window of Heaven is open,
My love can pour out so free,
And those that I love can all gather,
And look up to Heaven at me.'
poem by Jean Penner
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No Star I Can See
There is no star,
Which I can see
From my window...
Boundless darkness
Is here in the
Chest of night.
The painted sky,
I saw in the daylight
Now is wiped away
As my last poem
I wrote but made
it vanish from
The page, because
It couldn't tell
The blank story,
Of my desolate
Life...no star
Still is visible
From this window..
Someone has spread
The melted pitch
On the road of my
Moped sky..I stare
And stare all night.
The caged breeze,
The starless sky
And night, none can share
My loneliness, I know
They are no living
Persons like me...
But, they can drown me
In complete void of
Sea of utter darkness.
One star can do this;
Only one star......
Thru my little window,
It's flickering light,
Can fill my dark room,
With its heavenly touch!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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It's a Feeling Deeper
There is a certain meaning to it.
For people who are born to do this.
It's not on the surface to depict.
With an easy category to assign to it.
It's a feeling deeper.
There is a certain meaning to it.
For people who are born to do this.
It's just not what it appears to exist.
This 'thing' is deeper.
Below a surface reached for 'it'.
It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.
Deeper,
And from below a surface that must be exposed.
This 'thing' gets deeper,
And those knowing it want it shown not kept unknown.
It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
It's a feeling deeper.
It's not on the surface to depict.
With an easy category to assign to it.
It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
It's just not what it appears to exist.
This 'thing' is deeper.
Below a surface reached for 'it'.
It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
Deeper.
Deeper.
It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
Much deeper.
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper.
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper!
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper!
Much much deeper!
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper.
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper!
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper!
Much much deeper!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If I look at light (Un-wreathed quatrains) (in answer to John Milton)
If I look at light in this world of darkness
the starkness of a moonless starless night
brings nothing bright to my own consciousness
with only a flickering kind of strange sight,
the light is dim in a world of bickering,
existing is a bad reflection of Him
and the brim decline is in every thing
while we as is due act proper and prim,
in everything it still stays very true,
in what we do that the Supreme Being
who's everlasting somewhere beyond the blue,
does indeed from us not need a thing
and at His behest many thousands speed
in each deed, in nothing that we suggest,
but to His request even existence heed,
to bring constant joy, happiness and rest.
[Reference: Sonnet xix "On his Blindness" by John Milton.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Proud Man
The humble man receives praise the way a clean window takes
the light of the sun.' Thomas Merton
-
The proud man
is like a dirty window.
He cannot permit to pass
the morning's glory;
whereas the humble man
dissolves in the light
of the rising sun
like a freshly scrubbed window.
poem by Steven Federle
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Blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I'd write a letter to you
And there'd be nothing to it
I wouldn't hem and haw
On just how to start it
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I wish I'd stand up straight
I wish I'd said things different
I wish I'd said nothing
Things would be so perfect
I wish myself to keep
I pray my soul to sleep
I wish myself away
I wish I was blank
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunlight
I can’t wait for tomorrow
To see a brand new day
I think about the morning
And it warms my heart
The morning sunlight
That brings me hope
The sunlight
That keeps me to smile
Oh sunlight… don’t you know
How much joy you had brought to me?
I go dance with the trees
To the tune of gasping leaves
Sunlight, Oh sunlight
Show me the way
For a brighter day
Shine on me like a guiding light
Bring me the love
That I can feel deep inside of me
Come to me
And light my window pane
For today, you are my angel
Oh sunlight, my sunlight
Stay close to me
As I feel your power
That embraces me
For today and tomorrow
You’ll be there beside me
Oh sunlight….
You’re my laughter, my friend
My life, my joy
Oh sunlight….! ! !
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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The Night Is Done
THE NIGHT IS DONE
The night is done-
The broken night of wakings
And sleepings again-
The morning has come
Life begins again
Mind and consciousness are here
Duty and prayer and light all together-
Sleep has no reason and dreams have no reason and night has no reason-
The morning is the answer-
Beginning again is the meaning-
All my life I have loved the morning
And left the night to the sleepers and dreamers and lovers of worlds never mine.
Oh how glad I am when the night goes and the morning light begins again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The dove of truth
The dove of truth is sitting in our garden
Our gaze inside the room
Light and truth just outside our window
Our eyes see only gloom
The dove of truth is making dovely sounds
Our ears like better beat and drum
Love and truth just outside our window
But our ears are deaf for them
The dove of truth is still sitting in our garden
Her message clearly there
Love and light just outside our window
But our egos would not care
If just our ego could be silenced
The dove of truth is never far away
Truth, light and love is all around,
Our soul will pray.
poem by Aufie Zophy
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A Tangled Web Of Words
Victory beyond our senses
in the bright congealing light
makes nonsense of our thoughts
that spill out through the night.
A tangled web of words
of which we have no control
splatter themselves
upon the blank pages
of our mind for all time.
We are captives to our thoughts
whether they be right or wrong
as they plan to captivate our mind.
We can only capitulate
under the onslaught they bring,
lowering our defences
to the power in gifts they bring.
16 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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In An Awe of A Brilliant Morning
Under the tropic of laden sky
It casts a brilliant morning
With tassels of raindrops
Dancing with the wind
On a soulful song of a voiceless mind
Came from a jaded night to a rainbow
On her reflection
Through the window
Trickles of rain tussling right… down
From her eyes, and yet too humble
For yesterday, it came for a reason
In rouse of a morose heart to smile
With the sun, as it rises high
In an awe of brilliant morning
Like diamonds…bright
On her reflection
To her finger! An Empty finger!
She smiled, a very darling smile
And said, “Michael Keith Jude,
… I love you with all my heart! ”
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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