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Forty Two Lost Seagulls

I cud coffee beans bitter,
atop the cutter steersman,
pale dusk, sets to skitter,
our trip to far began.

Our engines thrum sadden,
Africa's coastal to alargo,
round is the moon on Aden,
upon coffee sacks of cargo.

A dreadful equilateral link,
that persecutes your time,
when ghostly shadows sink,
like monsters in odd rhyme.

Upon the deck are dancing,
the wraiths of three fools,
with broken smiles gunning,
galleys of medieval ghouls;

and forty two lost seagulls,
astray from Bacau's shore,
change odd flights to regal,
upon our non caressed chore.

Four of lost sunken friends,
singing hoarse calls blither,
they gallivant from depths,
upon a frail reality dither.

The Madonna beside my berth
reminds me of your prayer,
twas next to our home hearth,
closer to my route of never.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Damaged Staunch

A route you 'll live close to far - equinox doldrum;
complete it was, some flaws in, tangible to revive
moments when my coastal ports stare of me, upon
my knots link to northern parallels, light of dawn,
(how could you be with me upon, a ghostly dawn?)

My dimmer of a Southern Cross, a damaged staunch;
imperious, an ideal route, moorings within stars,
we pilot in strange ports, Sete Cari, Bacau, Aden
Horizon of misty cutter fog, we to repair a rudder
(a blow of eery, ghostly wind, danger of half-tides)

Rains, embraced adjoining, you of a picture still,
my flag's domain persecutes, mail, my post arrives,
absently you - yet absolute, as all my life's tinder,
A gift of your trajectory, an odd caress to abide,
(shallows hide dangers, tidal washed rock's side..)

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Coffee!

Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee

The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.

poem by Chnar Namq
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Bitter End

Since were feeling so anesthetised
In our comfort zone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home
Were running out of alibis
From the second of may
Reminds me of the summer time
On this winters day
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
Every step we take thats synchronized
Every broken bone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home
You shower me with lullabies
As youre walking away
Reminds me that its killing time
On this fateful day
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
See you at the bitter end
From the time we intercepted
Feels more like suicide...
See you at the bitter end

song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lost lagoon

It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.

It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.

O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,--
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Floating Brim

An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.

The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.

On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.

A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.

A ghostly port to stop, at Cape Coast,
a shinning and all was a dim past,
an end aghast, a thorny crowned post
to visit my sleep, for I remained last.

Our cargo slowly cuts on a bluish drape,
our diesels hum a besetting rhythm
in mists, as we envision a dark gate
that opens to engulf our floating brim.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Quarta Maria

Quarta Maria bears up round,
favored route before Gregale,
helm a-weather to surround,
concaving head and main sail.

Bearing west, for four days,
a-steady course at two-thirty,
she goes large on mile chase,
foremast curves full and sturdy.

Sails apt away closing to wind,
for not striking an opposing sea,
with square sail, routes winged,
Quarta Maria, Gregale nestle.

Ghost steersman upon rudder
a drunk crew upon dead water,
hoarse voices in dark shudder,
bearded fools in ocean, totter.

A ghostly route, for four days,
sails in solitude away forever,
comradely lost crew in craze,
able is the pilot in bad weather.

Gregale blows in gale frantic,
for four years, route to void,
adytum vastness this Atlantic,
drunk ghosts, on links to avoid.

For four centuries on link arcane,
aright working masts and ropes,
beholden to the Queen of Spain,
Quarta Maria's nautilus hope.
________________________

Gregale = North East wind
two thirty = at 230 degrees -
sailing west and slightly south
________________________

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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A Cup of Coffee

I start my day with coffee as my friend
The beans so fresh, as it blends
Giving out an aroma, that wakes me up
I stumble to the kitchen and look for the cup
I pour some black liquid and sip right away
I just want coffee, to start my day
Then on the road I'm on my way
Coffee is my friend to make my day
Stuck in traffic, I loose my mind
I then sip my coffee and just rewind
I get to work with a cup in hand
Juggling with papers I can't withstand
The coffee at work tastes bitter and cheap
But it's better than getting caught counting sheep
All day long, I make pot after pot
Of black steaming mugs of liquid gut-rot
Tanked up on coffee, I face the day
Taking anything that comes my way.

poem by Meena Mustafa
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Call Me My Love

I invite your form amid the deck winds,
I hear your voice up in clouds to delve,
'hold me my love as tidal waves engulf,
and gray dusk descends on ripe fields.'

In our lightless home a coldness casts,
shapes of time laugh near the hearth,
much a void resembles above my berth,
your eyes' stare at my departing masts.

A faint call as I stand upon the bridge,
alludes to me melodious words to ravel,
'call me my love out my sadden garden,
when sun sets, behind a distant ridge.'

'Call when streams oppose your routes,
with sacred love and bonds I 'll regale,
when winds my words carry to gunwale,
transform my verses to notes of flutes.'

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I Am Told

For forty four years now

Each morning I woke up

I go straight to prepare

A cup of coffee for my wife

It's a ritual that I do

For forty four years

Not that she asks for it
But it's what I love to do

Love is what commands me

To lit a kettle to boil a water

For she likes it when its so hot

A coffee she drinks quite early

Suddenly, now that it's our anniversary

I do the thing I 've been doing ever since

We got married for forty four years back

Yet for the first time I am told just so today

That the coffee I served her now tasted bad

poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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An Evening at the Coffee House nearby Fishery!

Old Mahogany Grandfather clock here
Struck to say it's exactly seven!
Rusty wind peeps through the broken windows
That's really nauseous,
Faraway tossing boats
And in the deep sea Sun dips
without a Life-jacket?
Seagulls rest on the breakwater
And a vibrating song echoes of Louis Armstrong's
'O what a wonderful World and dark sacred nights'
Shrunk golden tea leaves struggle
To give their taste of Paradise
But they're frustrated it seems
As the tiny coffee beans brewed
And mesmerized the strange customers
Providing their bitter taste of oblique life?
On his way home,
A drunken poor sailor
Stopped for a while
And he offers a citation ticket
for his twelve ounce cup of coffee
and a Doughnut?
Midnight!
It's totally dark here
without the unlit Lighthouse?

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Lost In France

(ronnie scott/steve wolfe)
Producers for bonnie: david mackay, ronnie scott, steve wolfe
I was lost in france
In the fields the birds were singing
I was lost in france
And the day was just beginning
As I stood there in the morning rain
I had a feeling I cant explain
I was lost in france in love
I was lost in france
In the street a band was playing
And the crowd all danced
Didnt catch what they were saying
When I looked up he was standing there
And I knew I shouldnt but I didnt care
I was lost in france in love
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
I was lost in france
And the vines were over-flowing
I was lost in france
And a million stars were glowing
And I looked round for a telephone
To say baby I wont be home
I was lost in france in love
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
And I looked round for a telephone
To say baby I wont be home
I was lost in france in love
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing
Ooh la la la ooh la la la dance
Ooh la la la dancing...out

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're Not Free

I remember you like it was yesterday
Remember the time you said youd find me
I remember the songs that you used to play
I hear them still and it reminds me
My runaway you know youve gone wrong for so long
So glamorus at the outset
Now youre almost done
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Time to get home
And count up the calls
Livin on dreams
That never were real
Get down to the touch
Because you cant feel
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Prayin to God
Youve broken the chains
One day youll look back
And think of my name
All of your friends
Pretend youre the best
They run you around
But they could care less
Theyll never see
How good it could be
No man like me
Theyll never know
Just where it could go
You think youre free
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Time to get home
And count up the calls
Livin on dreams
That never were real
Get down to the touch
Because you cant feel
You stumbled
And you still dont see it
The losers always think they can win
Youre never gonna wannabelieve it
You think youre gone
But I see ya yeah
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Time to get home
And count up the calls
Livin on dreams
That never were real
Get down to the touch
Because you cant feel
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Time to get home
And count up the calls
Livin on dreams
That never were real
Get down to the touch
Because you cant feel
Youre not free
Youre only lost
Youre not free
Youre not free
Youre not free

song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brass lantern lights

So egregious of a western datum to command
of this travel and conquer new, unknown lands,
what an effusive cause of my tidal obsequies,
my galley had taken an imperious route west.

Nomad women named of this, a ghostly route,
nobody had survived to report, or preached,
on new lands that no one before placed his foot,
my monkey shrieks at this analogy bewitched.

I spoke to the steersman to be aware of stars,
that shine south, beyond the parallel of N.27,
because their luminance is evident of storms,
and of the morning rainbow that brings tempest.

Brass lantern lights illuminate to a nowhere,
around the steadfast an immense void to dismiss,
lonely serenity embraces a dim fear, as we stare,
because dark monsters will emerge of the Abyss.

We have a Crucifix to talk to, He maybe listens;
my ancestors were sailors, got lost in deepest sea,
As we bear away, my bitter mouth is curving down,
all we edge to pay a coin, for a darkened grave fee.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Is it Tea or Coffee?

Is it Tea or Coffee?
Tell me!
My instant early morning dream
I like it black, white with sugar or cream!

The choice is free
Yet the mind cannot agree
With Tea is a Yippee!
With Coffee it is a Whoopee!

The thought of a little caffeine
The smell of fresh roasted beans
Will once again set off my adrenalin
While my exhausted brain is waiting

That stirring cup of sizzling black
Put on the kettle; spill the beans out of the sack
I will pay the fee; I will pay the levee
I will beg on one knee for a little bit of Coffee

Take a sip of the early morning coffee
Close your eyes and try to see
As you smell the airy aroma like a bee
Tea or Coffee! Perhaps you now understand me

Those swarms of dark brown seeds
They feed my vicious needs indeed
I don’t care how much I pee or how much I wee
For that sparking liquid of hot black called coffee

Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Broken Dreams

I don’t see a long road ahead of me
And my coffee cup, instead of been half full
It’s always half empty

I got no home
I’m on the streets
An in the cold lonely morning
I’m awaken by somebodys cries an screams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

My past's erased from my memory
Anyone I knew before
Never cared enough to contact me

I’ve lost my friends
I’ve lost my family
My life’s falling apart
It’s coming loose at the seems

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

The dreams I used to dream
When I was a kid
Never left my heart
But I never did them, I never lived

So now I cry into my glass
To try an make it full
I’m crying lost rivers an lost streams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

poem by Lucy Vernezze
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Homeless

Homeless;
- Down by the muddy Mississippi
Skinny as a rail,
Sleeping under the old Eads bridge
Feeling low, dirty, and frail -
Homeless;
- With less than two coins
In both pockets,
Empty eyes
Look through sunken sockets -
Homeless;
- So many people walk right on by
I wonder how many care,
They all keep moving
Even though they stare -
Homeless;
- Lost a job
Lost a home,
Lost a family
Lost all hope -
Homeless;
- Where will I go from here
What should I do,
I'm so thankful when the weather's fair
And the skies are blue -
Homeless;
- Don't know the day nor season
And, yea, it sure gets cold at night,
I've got an old sleeping bag
I'll be alright -
Homeless;
- There's so many of us out here
Without a home,
Even so
I feel so very alone -
Homeless;
- It's a tough situation
Not pretty, just true,
And at any time
It could happen to you -
Homeless;
- Hey buddy...
Could you spare a dime,
And say a prayer for us
... sometime -
- I'm just homeless, not less human...

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Coffee Time

Oh, it's coffee time again
A time to talk to friends
And have a snack or two
And listen to all the goshop

It's coffee time again
A time to break your diet
A time to self-endulge
And eat the food you crarve

It's coffee time again
A time to sit and resst
And think what lies ahead
For the rest of the day

poem by Jerry Abrahamson
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Sandy

Lost a willow to Sandy
Many lost a whole lot more
On my deck sipping Brandy
Better here that down the shore

Houses ravaged, boats are tossed
People told: leave the island
Most went mainland, some are lost
Either way they took a stand

Mother Nature calls the shots
A lesson learned my dear friends
So, take heed or sleep in cots
And with God please make amends

poem by Paul H Nelson
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Lost Spirit

I hardly know who I am anymore
On this day when my spirit
Seems to be lost in the clouds-
The sun is trying to show its face as
The moon retreats behind the mountains-
It was forty three years ago when I lost myself-
Lost myself inside the world of my delusions-
When fate opened the door and let me into
This world of madness, where
Expressionless faces appeared and
Raised their voices- these voices only I could hear?
Now everyone is circle dancing about the sun and
As I would walk toward with my arms outstretched
Trying to become a part of this group of strangers, gracefully pirouetting,
While singing a tuneful melody about
Love, bliss, and gracefulness -feelings foreign to me-
Foreign to me from birth-
It is as if their grasps upon one another are locked,
Locked and keyed so that I cannot enter-
I have always been labeled as different-
Not uniquely blessed but different in
Some sort of maudlin and bizarre sort of way?
I hardly know who I am anymore-
I suppose I never knew, but as of now
I wish the sun would set below the mountaintops so that
The moon could rise above with the stars,
All of the people in the world would disappear and
I would be left alone, dancing to my own tune-
My tune about my once lost spirit being found-
Although the voices only I can hear are threatening,
At least have become familiar- but now I hear the thunder clapping,
Lightening brightening the now darkened sky as my spirit
Has become a night bird flying aimlessly about-
Some have said that birds have no souls and
Now as the rain falls in torrents I feel as if
My spirit has been lost forever atop the wings of this night bird,
Who has flown into the blackness of this mysterious night-?
Life is indeed a mystery to me because of my lost spirit
That once could have become queen of the forest and everyone has vanished,
I have found the solitude I have once longed for so often but it hardly matters now,
Because my spirit has gone astray, and
I hardly know who I am anymore?

poem by Claudia Krizay
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