The pendant
You admired one that somebody
had made
and bought a small pair of pliers,
some silver wire,
clasps, hooks, bits,
different kinds of crystals,
semi-precious stones,
even blue tanzanite stones,
sirkovsky crystals, some pearls
and I saw you bore small holes
and bit-by-bit strung it together.
I watched you with your eyes focused
while you worked
with the pleasure of making something
really beautiful
to hang on your slender neck
between magnificent breasts.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
IMMENSELY DEAR (Revised)
A personal favourite is Symbolism, I prefer
symbolic special objects to the real, love the
purity of crystals with their ethereal power;
yet to convince me thoroughly snowflakes
need only ersatz imitation crystals
Charmed by symbolism of religious books
but dry catechisms are abhorrent – love the
significance of diamonds but do not want the
real thing – only symbols to magnify light,
the diamond itself is much too cold
Preferring as a child to play with boxes
and twigs clad in tinsel representing houses
and magic wands – anything suggesting
what it might be, then becoming whatever
I dream – drawn inexorably,
I love glitter – it says sunlight is creating
pearls and crystals of delicate things like
cobwebs and streams, I love the diamonds
seen on sprigs of grass early in spring but
do not try to entice me with real pearls
Diamonds or precious crystals are real and
cannot morph into other objects, although
I love seeing them behind glass in expensive
shops; but for my satisfaction I want only
symbols of these beloved objects,
I adore small fairies made from artificial
materials, not golden statues of saints and
angels – want to imagine what a thing might
represent – such symbolism is immensely
dear to me…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Crystals grew inside rock like arithmetic flowers. They lengthened and spread, added plane to plane in an awed and perfect obedience to an absolute geometry that even stones - maybe only the stones - understood.
quote by Annie Dillard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hang Wire
Theyre going higher
Wind is whistling on the barbs
Your heads a hammer
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
That man is a liar
The day is like a warm night
Salt rusts the cold line
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
Every morning and every day
Ill bossanova with ya
If there were a fire
Can we scratch beneath this
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire?
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow
'Who affirms that crystals are alive?'
I affirm it, let who will deny:
Crystals are engendered, wax and thrive,
Wane and wither; I have seen them die.
Trust me, masters, crystals have their day,
Eager to attain the perfect norm,
Lit with purpose, potent to display
Facet, angle, colour, beauty, form.
Water-crystals need for flower and root
Sixty clear degrees, no less, no more;
Snow, so fickle, still in this acute
Angle thinks, and learns no other lore:
Such its life, and such its pleasure is,
Such its art and traffic, such its gain,
Evermore in new conjunctions this
Admirable angle to maintain.
Crystalcraft in every flower and flake
Snow exhibits, of the welkin free:
Crystalline are crystals for the sake,
All and singular, of crystalry.
Yet does every crystal of the snow
Individualize, a seedling sown
Broadcast, but instinct with power to grow
Beautiful in beauty of its own.
Every flake with all its prongs and dints
Burns ecstatic as a new-lit star:
Men are not more diverse, finger prints
More dissimilar than snow-flakes are.
Worlds of men and snow endure, increase,
Woven of power and passion to defy
Time and travail: only races cease,
Individual men and crystals die.
poem by John Davidson
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Tears
Glittering in the moonlight,
like morning dew in the sun.
Like live crystals,
living through the ages.
They've seen many a thing,
much more than you know.
Holding precious memories,
beyond our greatest dreams.
These crystals of which i speak,
know both great pain and joy.
For they live inside every one of us,
just waiting to be released.
Sea Captain
The merchandise of gold in the land of gold,
The merchandise of silver in the land of silver,
The merchandise of bronze in the land of bronze,
The merchandise of precious stones in the land of stones,
The merchandise of fine linen in the land of thread,
The merchandise of pearls in the land of pearls,
The merchandise of silk in the land of wool,
The merchandise of scarlet in the land of clothes,
The merchandise of ivory in the land of elephants,
The merchandise of scented wood in the land of timber,
The merchandise of brass in the land of metals,
The merchandise of precious wood in the land of trees,
The merchandise of wool in the land of sheep,
And the merchandise of marble in the land of marbles;
For this is the message to the sea captain.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sheer Delight
Movies liked by me only means I have peace
to sit alone instead of watching general TV,
with Fantasia for company I am free to put
up my feet and balance the laptop on my
knees as the wooden school desk is too
cold, and feast my eyes on things I love
Watching Walt Disney fairies covering flowers
with glittering crystals, autumn fairies turning
leaves to gold, skating winter sprites catching
rides upon spinning ice crystals while my eyes
keep wandering to the filigree of the gilded
winter grass I had sneaked into the house
Then I admired the Edwardian Lady decorations
on page 29, a poem by Wordsworth in which he
laments what man has made of man; wondering
whether he meant proliferating laws destroying
general freedom, making all into criminals
on the basis of our basic instincts
Wordsworth knew birds and flowers enjoyed the
air they breathed, knew pleasure to be the holy
plan of nature, realised man was exiled from
his inner being and the sheer delight
of mere existence
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Light Of Pure Life
Went to a shop to look at crystal lamps when my
eyes were caught by crystal lace fabrics perfect
for creating the beautiful gown I always dream
of, formed when I walk in the sea splashing
with my feet till sprays of crystal drops
cover me in silver white layers
I wondered how to make a dress from liquid crystal
to shimmer and shine wherever I went, now having
found the perfect crystal lace my dream is fulfilled –
though my book on Secret Tools for Six-Sensory
Living recommends seeking psychic healing
through the power of crystals
as the only dream worth cherishing; but a crystal
dress seems more attractive to me than people
who try to sell the psychic power of crystals -
only charlatans use these devices - I love
New Age ideas but without evidence of
their success, crystals remain
enchanting symbols representing the beauty,
clarity and light of pure life…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Reason Why Pain Is Inflicted Sometimes
Feeling the need
To have pearls
Around your neck
I will give you pain
To make you cry
Now you have all
The pearls gleaming
In your eyes, cheeks
Then around your
white slender neck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fury Of Guitars and Sopranos
This singing
is a kind of dying,
a kind of birth,
a votive candle.
I have a dream-mother
who sings with her guitar,
nursing the bedroom
with a moonlight and beautiful olives.
A flute came too,
joining the five strings,
a God finger over the holes.
I knew a beautiful woman once
who sang with her fingertips
and her eyes were brown
like small birds.
At the cup of her breasts
I drew wine.
At the mound of her legs
I drew figs.
She sang for my thirst,
mysterious songs of God
that would have laid an army down.
It was as if a morning-glory
had bloomed in her throat
and all that blue
and small pollen
ate into my heart
violent and religious.
poem by Anne Sexton
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I bind long Blackwood poles
I bind long Blackwood poles
with a blue pair of pliers and binding wire
between green palisades
and cut it with a old pruning scissor
into the right lengths
and wear a blue bull cap,
but the sun
burns the hell out of me
and every now and then
there’s coffee and water
and a friend’s pruning scissor
that I get from my sweetheart.
I work into the night
and she calls
and ask me
to stop working
and my neck and shoulders
and back and hands are sore
and my face is burnt red
by the sun,
but my sweetheart
is very happy
about how the fence looks.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Am Brave in Heaven
At the beginning my stones reflected
The town in the middle of heaven;
Half an acre was blessed by bravery,
One other half reflected the pillars of duty.
The natural imagination stemmed from countries,
A convulsive heart gained much to reduce.
The grass greenly admired the sky of heaven,
The sea of a world it contained.
The rivers of milk and honey seemed splendid,
As the initial speciality reduced
To form crystals unshakeable,
Towards the horizon so dazzling and boastful.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Reading poetry on the Web
i wade through rivers
of diamonds, rubies,
plain rocks and stones
that criss cross the world
picking up gems
poetry on the web
i wade through rivers
to get to international souls
sacred rivers of all kinds
ganges, indus, nile, mekong
chao phraya
filled with stones
heads of all kinds,
round, flat, sharp,
black, white, green,
brown, yellow, big and small,
sand, silt, gravel,
between them when lucky
precious gems turn up to greet me
fishes help spread the magic
liven up nooks and corners
some sprint, some plain swim
among these, the best rivers
are crystal clear,
a dazzling picture of sky, heaven
taking the breath of god
as they whisper a poetic tale
immediately marked in gold by the morning sun
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Small Wire
My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.
God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.
poem by Anne Sexton
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234
the reason why pain is inflicted sometimes
Feeling the need
To have pearls
Around your neck
I will give you pain
To make you cry
Now you have all
The pearls gleaming
In your eyes, cheeks
Then around your
white slender neck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The gypsies
You believed in the power
of rock crystals
and there were people
selling and displaying them
on rows of tables
in Brooklyn shopping mall.
Like mages they would discuss
the powers locked into
the stones,
but to me they were only rocks
of various types and colours,
and a just a group of gypsies
selling their wares.
Some old people
even bought some
believing in healing properties
for arthritis
and going along
I let you buy me a brown one
with strips of quartz running
with white lines right through it
and still it just another rock to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Darling
My darling has got tiger eyes,
my most beloved has got semi-precious stones
that sometimes shines gleaming
as if a golden colour
is hidden deeply in the brown of her eyes,
as if the darkness of her eyes
holds on to a secret kind of light.
Sometimes the eyes of my beloved gleams
golden like the sun
that hangs in an open blue sky,
as if she continually with her heat
can comfort, caress and cover my skin.
Sometimes I want to be lost
in the depths of her eyes,
I want to loose myself,
I want to be soulless and forget myself
when I know of the depth
of our true love.
poem by Gert Strydom
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All Are Precious
Every child’s, a precious one!
Every spouse, a precious one;
Every sibling, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every parent’s, a precious one!
Every student’s, a precious one!
Every teacher, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every worker’s, a precious one!
Every inmate, a precious one;
Every colleague, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Every person’s, a precious one!
Every life, a precious one;
Every soul, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!
So, take all care of every life,
And don’t take undue risks at all;
Life’s most precious thing on earth;
For, most have small, a family norm!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 24-10-2010
poem by John Celes
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Angel Dont Cry
Uncanny woman
You weaved your spell on me
I was taken by the look in your eyes
For all the wrong reasons
You must have been a spiteful child
Full of anger
Raised by the hand of a duchess, a mother and a heathen
You laid your tender trap of crystals and wine
Your neck was sweetly laced with a scent I did not mind
I cant lie
I cant lie
I cant lie
Angel dont cry
Angel dont cry
Queen of darkness
You got your way with me
You caressed evry part of me soul
You got what you were after
A savage and an angel
You innocently hunger for love
Still shivering from the coldness of you laughter
You laid your tender trap of crystals and wine
Your neck was sweetly laced with a scent I did not mind
I cant lie
I cant lie
I cant lie
Angel dont cry
Angel dont cry
No, angel dont cry
Angel dont cry
No, no, no
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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