Ate
-An Ode poem-
Strophe:
Shadows know the size of her love,
as night passes from her crossroad,
firm owls call to the stardom above,
while her songs back in time abode.
Stable strings the scene's stillness,
where her laughter waves in ether,
in small hours' thought's steepness,
advances silence, soft as a feather.
The owls stared with eyes of amber
a deity descended with stars' glare,
her eyes submitting love and candor,
that ghost time travelers, shared.
Antistrophe:
Brilliant the moon in ventured glory,
above shapes and daunting wraiths,
her radiance passed through faiths,
caressing travelers and their story.
Kindly advanced in valleys of blooms,
as night conveyed with each breath,
bestowing a Sovereign kiss of death,
with fates weaving the lethal looms.
Epode:
Ate smiles are beguiling and dismal,
darkened is her reign and abysmal,
hence enchanted souls dwell in void,
with acheronian passages destroyed.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Travelers
We're travelers and we have no home,
We're travelers and we are trying to atone,
We're travelers and we have no name,
We're travelers with no one to blame,
Travelers who have no shame,
Travelers who all look the same,
Travelers who still love you,
But we prefer skies blue,
We don't play the game you do,
We also never feel blue,
We only know what is true,
We also know what's good for you,
We don't need your superstition,
We can't believe in repetition,
We don't like your traditions,
We only have our intuition,
We're travelers, we can take the pain,
We're travelers, you think we're insane,
We're travelers, we see your principles sway,
We're travelers, we still love you anyway,
Traveling time, through dirt and grime,
Hoping one day to align,
Our hearts and minds,
Travelers who will leave a sign of better times.
5 December 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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My Poet Time Travelers
I thought of it all day and well into the night
That for you a poem I would write.
What words can you use to describe a person
You’ve never seen.
Then a realization came into my mind
I’ve been writing them for a very long time.
Every time we write about GOD and his begotten son
The words flow freely and never left undone.
So it matters not if it is sight unseen
We write about everything- it’s a poets dream.
Poets go into worlds never traveled before
Seeking all that GOD has made
And come back with knowledge that they’ve gained.
Into the realms of mystery, love, excitement and fear
So that with you these words they could share.
They see the realities of today
The dreams of yesterdays
The future of tomorrows
And the pains and sorrows.
They are the time travelers of the mind
Their eyes are open - they are not blind.
So when you read what they write
It’s because of this time travelers insight.
So to my time traveling co-poets, this I must say
I am proud to have traveled this road with you
Into the minds of man, and writing
The stories that they all understand.
poem by Louis Rams
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Moon
the moon is the centre
of the night
carving darkness
into shapes
releasing shadows
from their souls
the moon
unleashes
hidden power
into the world
causing the sea to swirl
my fear to grow
the surgeon's
nervous first cut
where blood oozes
to the size of the moon
on beds too
two love birds sing
their passion to
the unilluminated
part of the moon
two cats launch their
roucous foreplay
in the alleyway
tickling insomniacs
offering a comic respite
to their plight
the full moon
multiplies evil
and witchcraft
in the hissing of the bats
hoots of the owls
and the towering trees
that have greeted it 100,000 days
underneath which
even my shadow shrinks
to a half moon
i know why a hundred witches spring
to action on such nights
i wish not to die on
a full moon night
though it has shed its light
in a million love poems
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 10: Sudden Death
'Number four—the girl who died on the table—
The girl with golden hair—'
The purpling body lies on the polished marble.
We open the throat, and lay the thyroid bare . . .
One, who held the ether-cone, remembers
Her dark blue frightened eyes.
He heard the sharp breath quiver, and saw her breast
More hurriedly fall and rise.
Her hands made futile gestures, she turned her head
Fighting for breath; her cheeks were flushed to scarlet,—
And, suddenly, she lay dead.
And all the dreams that hurried along her veins
Came to the darkness of a sudden wall.
Confusion ran among them, they whirled and clamored,
They fell, they rose, they struck, they shouted,
Till at last a pallor of silence hushed them all.
What was her name? Where had she walked that morning?
Through what dark forest came her feet?
Along what sunlit walls, what peopled street?
Backward he dreamed along a chain of days,
He saw her go her strange and secret ways,
Waking and sleeping, noon and night.
She sat by a mirror, braiding her golden hair.
She read a story by candlelight.
Her shadow ran before her along the street,
She walked with rhythmic feet,
Turned a corner, descended a stair.
She bought a paper, held it to scan the headlines,
Smiled for a moment at sea-gulls high in sunlight,
And drew deep breaths of air.
Days passed, bright clouds of days. Nights passed. And music
Murmured within the walls of lighted windows.
She lifted her face to the light and danced.
The dancers wreathed and grouped in moving patterns,
Clustered, receded, streamed, advanced.
Her dress was purple, her slippers were golden,
Her eyes were blue; and a purple orchid
Opened its golden heart on her breast . . .
She leaned to the surly languor of lazy music,
Leaned on her partner's arm to rest.
The violins were weaving a weft of silver,
The horns were weaving a lustrous brede of gold,
And time was caught in a glistening pattern,
Time, too elusive to hold . . .
Shadows of leaves fell over her face,—and sunlight:
She turned her face away.
Nearer she moved to a crouching darkness
With every step and day.
Death, who at first had thought of her only an instant,
At a great distance, across the night,
Smiled from a window upon her, and followed her slowly
From purple light to light.
Once, in her dreams, he spoke out clearly, crying,
'I am the murderer, death.
I am the lover who keeps his appointment
At the doors of breath!'
She rose and stared at her own reflection,
Half dreading there to find
The dark-eyed ghost, waiting beside her,
Or reaching from behind
To lay pale hands upon her shoulders . . .
Or was this in her mind? . . .
She combed her hair. The sunlight glimmered
Along the tossing strands.
Was there a stillness in this hair,—
A quiet in these hands?
Death was a dream. It could not change these eyes,
Blow out their light, or turn this mouth to dust.
She combed her hair and sang. She would live forever.
Leaves flew past her window along a gust . . .
And graves were dug in the earth, and coffins passed,
And music ebbed with the ebbing hours.
And dreams went along her veins, and scattering clouds
Threw streaming shadows on walls and towers.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Stolen Kiss
The waters rippled on an incoming tide
The shimmering finger of the moon
Danced on the small waves
A hiss of rolling stones broke the silence
As waves invaded and retreated on the shore
They walked oblivious to it all
The silent whispers from their eyes
Told the age old story
As they strolled beneath the heavens
With its millions of eyes
No voices broke the stillness
Of their evening bliss
The smiles etched on their faces
Only spoke of a stolen kiss
poem by David Harris
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The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Ship II
It appeared bad and darkened - it was dusk;
from horizons that cut us like a knife,
hurtful were the years from this hectic life,
the island rules of prowess had to ask.
The ship's black smoke from two tall funnels,
raised like a sacrifice's odd bestowing,
as the gods above offered a wind's bellowing,
to disperse smog in the straights' canals.
In front of us, the ship floated in silken fog,
approaching magnificent the mooring,
growing in size, its huge displacement emboguing,
in our conceptual world of maritime log.
The night reached me when the ship's gaze,
turned curious to measure my presence;
so stared at my years of ocean competence,
proposing silent for an eternal marriage.
We stared at each other as lady Sadness,
kindly descended from the Straights,
alluring everyone along with cackling Fates,
inscribing all in the book of blackness.
In still silence we embraced; above darkness,
lost in avalanche her white ribbon waved,
the signal of the beacon my life never saved,
as I was engulfed by the ship's madness.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Beyond that ridge
Why do you keep your staring
beyond that ridge my loved,
where sun descended bearing,
field blooms of thistles mauve?
It was their icon that stayed,
to keep you company my loved,
where the light breeze payed
our toll to shining stars above.
It was a dark warmth of night
To embrace us then, my loved,
when the owls remotely cried,
for our undued domain halved.
.........................
O ur spirits appear at one a.m.
repeating a careless laughter,
daffodils fade and their stems,
ironically point to hours after.
Because a soul flied to aboves,
carrying a song to fair brides,
again we swim in summer coves,
and maybe sail into sea tides.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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A Child Remembers His Mother's Death...
She passed one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day...when it was...
Long from now...
A vague remembrance...of charcoal burning...burning slow anxious pain...
It was one full moon night...
When I had not slept...it was the first night before which, sleep had taken me in her warm feathers...
Where she fled from that night...
My eyes o’er the sleepless stars...
Sought her return...
The night when fear was known to me...
The greatest fears of all...
Fear of losing...
It was one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day
I had grown in a night...
My amuse...
She passed and I just looked...
And looked
Passed to where...
Know I not...
Full moon night ‘t was...
Like today...
Its consistent routines...
Slipped she to irregular tracks..
Past pale radiance
Pale radiance to shine o’er faint nostalgia...
(Woke from innocent carelessness...
To what...I amused... it was uncomfortable...awkward...just too bad to be real.)
poem by Lama Abbas
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Ode to the Earth
poetry in progress
the way you spin a game
of success on the theory
of ying yang, ever since you
took hold of the sky in your
winning azure blue and rich
potato brown you have sprung
so many surprises on us
as you twirl, you amaze
and unwittingly win
unrestrained applause
you hold onto the day
and night so dutifully
and evenly to unveil to
us the presents and
blessings of time
the greenery has sat up
straight to acquiece to
your discipline and some
stood up in glee for
a thousand years to join you
pouring out gratitude in a
maze of shapes and shades
multi hued flowers, freewheeling
leaves advertising their many
pointed shapes in the wind and
nuts so crunchy, fruits so sweet,
pulpy and healthy to the brim
so many have taken after their cue -
the butterflies carry sweet nectare
and a cryptic paradise to your circle game
the birds serenade bright and
cheerful notes in a cosmic rhythm
and tune to the soft streaming strokes
of your blazing luminuous conductor
cheering up the day
you energise, even night
refuses to bow out as it
juggles for actions with the day
it gently hangs out a lantern
for all to witnesss the soft shadows
and gentler quietness of nights
a privacy made for lovers
the owls compete with the moon
with their large glowing eyes
each carrying its own moon as they
absorb lunar energy to check out
on the little furry stealthy nocturnal creatures
the stars send well wishes all the way to
all the two legged, four legged,
six legged, and eight legged
who blast away their sweet love
odes in all the nooks and corners -
on the mountain tops, in the amazon
rainforests, over the oceans, in the rivers,
under a leaf, a fallen wood and
a million of hollow eyes that have
drilled their way into a driftwood
in a rose, an orchid, a carnation
everywhere you find creatures
cavorting holding onto shadows
of night to prove darkness will
never douse out the flame of love
but afford a sanctum for all to
merge and fertilise the day that
gives way to night and night that
gives way to day in - an everlasting
AN AUTUMN LOVE
-------
we wish love would
linger like the colours
of autumn a mood so
absorbing like the eons
we could spend ln
each other's eyes
time comes in circles
and the leaves play
them out so well
so green once and
now so red to accent their
triumph in keeping
the host so cheerful and alive
a new dress for every season
the wind comes as a friend,
to make sure the sendoff is
grand and full of dance and songs
they clap and slap
each other's back
to cheer each others up
they sigh, they cry their last
separation song before
diving into the circles of time
circle game of creation
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The first love
No night is equal to the first night;
No love is equal to the first love.
The first love and the first night will be
Soft with youth’s dew and hot with youth’s fire.
The first love develops no wrinkles
When bones turn brittle and glands, sapless.
The first love has no age in one’s mind.
The withered one returns to its spring.
It’s in eyes where the first love is born
And in those eyes it would live its life.
Confronted even after decades,
These eyes would bear the same dew and fire.
The conversation of eyes is a form
Of communication that eyes alone
Can translate and to replace it,
No language is yet born anywhere.
The code the pair of twin eyes conveyed
Cannot be decoded by other eyes.
The first love might be an infantile death.
It won’t mar the pleasure of its first birth.
16.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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267
This poem shall remember
The port of Dumaguete
The gentle waves of the boulevard
Where we once walked
Under the moon and stars
Where the wind was fresh and cool
Where time was once eternal
To your children and husband
And to my wife
And even to our friends
This poem is nothing
After all we never made it
But to me
This poem is more than significant
This is a love poem
To be recited again
In Dumaguete
The moon and stars
shining at night
And the waves of the sea
Bouncing on the boulevard
Still so excited
Like how I feel today as I write
This poem
I am not sure
Somehow somewhere
sometime
If it is still
With you
********************
and if by chance
you read this
do not blame
me or anybody
or yourself
do not even
blame the stars
they are just
taking their
own course
****************
this is nothing but just
another poem for you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This poem is just a poem
This poem shall remember
The port of Dumaguete
The gentle waves of the boulevard
Where we once walked
Under the moon and stars
Where the wind was fresh and cool
Where time was once eternal
To your children and husband
And to my wife
And even to our friends
This poem is nothing
After all we never made it
But to me
This poem is more than significant
This is a love poem
To be recited again
In Dumaguete
The moon and stars
shining at night
And the waves of the sea
Bouncing on the boulevard
Still so excited
Like how I feel today as I write
This poem
I am not sure
Somehow somewhere
sometime
If it is still
With you
********************
and if by chance
you read this
do not blame
me or anybody
or yourself
do not even
blame the stars
they are just
taking their
own course
****************
this is nothing but just
another poem, candice.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Memories
I see wild waves that break, and breaking-run;
And the wild sea-birds wheeling round the ships;
But at the dawn, the coming of the sun,
I see your red, red lips.
I see the cold moon now with fresh delight;
And the stars arise anew, and yet arise;
But in the night, the blackness of the night
I see your sad, sad eyes.
I hear the engines throbbing as we ride;
And the men’s songs. I hear great throats
Rejoice.
But in the silence, when all the songs have died,
I hear your soft, soft voice.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Stars have eyes! !
Stars have eyes
Did anyone ever see the eyes on stars?
The eyes on stars full of soul
Look any longer they take control
Did anyone ever see the eyes on stars?
The eyes on stars behold the sight
Look any longer and glide free like a kite
Did anyone see the eyes on stars?
The eyes on stars oh what a smile
Look any longer they’ll lite your darkness for a mile
Did anyone see the eyes on stars?
The eyes on stars share the love
Look any longer you know it comes from above
Well now you’ve seen the eyes on stars
Shared the beautiful soul amazed by their wonder
Enchanted by the smile
And overwhelmed by the love
But look any longer you will see the pain
The pain on the eyes of stars
Never to be concealed by the rain
The eyes on stars cry
Never to be wiped dry
The eyes on stars cry
The eyes on stars cry blood tears
Permanently there reminding of fears
The eyes on stars cry
The eyes on stars cry
Stars eyes cry
Stars eyes cry
Stars eyes cry
They cry blood
Stars eyes cry
Stars eyes smile
Stars have eyes
Stars eyes.
Lerato Ladyfair Shuping
poem by Lerato Shuping
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Echo
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
O dream, how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1893)
Submitted by anonym
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The King Of Love My Shepherd Is...
True love is like a lantern's light that guides by night and day.
It's fancy free, it's bold and bright, it's there to lead the way.
True love is like the falling snow that settles on the ground...
To shed abroad its magic glow, both here and all around.
True love is like a rainbow's arc that follows Summer's rain
And in our hearts it leaves its mark - God's promise once again.
True love is like a newborn star, the Universe to bless -
Its shining shimmers near and far, God's glory to express.
True love is like a dolphin's grin that's full of joys sublime,
That's free from sorrow, pain and sin, content to take its time...
True love is like a lightning strike, a spectacle and more,
A dynamo upon a bike with power still in store.
True love is Christmas, Easter, too... It's Pentecost and now.
True love is me! True love is you! Let's show God's love somehow!
True love is like your sweetheart's smile and in the laughter shared,
In twinkling eyes meant to beguile each time you stopped and stared.
True love is like a gentle breeze that softly passes by
And in that passing, grants you peace, then leaves you with a sigh...
True love is like God's warm embrace, as soft as angels' wings.
If you love God, receive His grace: Lord Jesus! King of Kings!
poem by Denis Martindale
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About The Bird With A Bleeding Heart
I was the one who taught you once about the bird with a bleeding heart.
How it raised its head, opened its eyes and stared to places beyond its reach.It has kept its dignity in the middle of its pains.
It managed to fly back to its nest and still sang its usual songs in the morning.
At night, like you, it did not sleep, and had a good look at the stars.
It was you who was seated at the last row at the last column of the chairs of the room.
Unlike the rest, it was you who listened most.
You wore a thick, heavy tinted sunglass, and you stared to every movement Of my eyes and lips as i was telling the story.
I had a good glance at you. You shed a tear and then you hid it in your hand.
Time flew. Swiftly.
I received the letter that you sent. You thanked me.
There is no return address, but let me tell you now as you read this poem.
This is our journey together.We are no longer afraid to cry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Are Not Getting Back Together
The first time I was kissed by you
I thought I get your flu
Since that kiss, my heart was beating for you
Even when the sky was blue
That was our first kiss
And after that you never call me 'miss'
You conquer my heart
And show me that you were too smart
There was a time when I believe that on my death
Your name would be on my last breath
But now, time's change
And I'm not in your range
Do whatever you wish to do
But my reaction would always be a boo
There was a time, I thought we were made for each other
But now I wanna say 'Don't bother'
The slap on my face, changed my life
And my heart was cut by a knife
That slap broke my heart
Not because it was in a public mart
But after the time you slap me
I decided that you have to pay the fee
I always thought our love was too strong
But no, it was weak as it didn't stayed for too long
Now I wanna say 'leave me alone'
And think we are unknown
Remember, we are not getting back together
As our love has flew away like a feather
poem by Marium Fatima
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The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the night and the empty skies my love
To the night and the empty skies
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth turn in my hand
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command my love
That was there at my command
The first time ever I lay with you
And felt your heart beat close to mine
I thought our joy would fill the earth
And would last 'till the end of time my love
And would last 'till the end of time
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the night and the empty skies my love
To the night and the empty skies
song performed by by Celine Dion from All The Way... A Decade Of Song
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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