Rivulets Flow
A soft drizzle flows in runnels,
and clouds above, in souls exist,
travel in dusk, sky's gray mist,
tear droplets in minds channels.
Graceful form, in dusk appears,
from western horizons so ranks,
next to rivers of oblivion banks,
where shadows neglected tears.
Rain rolls in a mentated stream,
bedewed are the faces of dark,
as noble souls observe and hark,
in worlds where belovers dream.
Rivulets flow from mount slopes,
consenting affections none had,
watering blooms in flower beds,
saluting sweet ranges and hopes.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Odd Token
She came on, like of the Sun
to lighten snow days of mourn;
an old call; children that run
our thorny memories to adorn;
A wraith she was of lone wind
a ghost that led to old remorse,
and it was a far mode to hint,
that loves are empty by force;
force of destiny, ode to array,
sweet little hopes flied in air,
for souls where in clouds pray,
for songs to echo in empty fare;
and it was our voices that left
up where cities look like smears
writing dusk half lit poetic deft
alone in worlds of abated tears.
an adytum of values, and drifts
of Mistral and of Zephyr smiles
the winds sing to our noon lifts,
as you enter in our poem files.
Here is the two of us that never met;
here is the two of us that never spoken;
distance is smiling to our rhymed duet,
'n' clouds are one of our love odd token.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Rivers of a Poet
The Rivers of the Poet
The verses of the poet
vary from the rivers
though they also flow
while circulating inside
until materializing
in words and verses
that others can see.
The poet’s soul communions
with the exterior world
and flows like the rivers
with each inspiration.
The rivers of the poet
do dry inside of him
as he writes,
but it is forever
that they flow in written form
upon the sheets of paper.
That is how
the rivers of the poet
leave and manage to stay
until another river
appears and flows
with another inspiration.
poem by Juan Antonio Rodriguez
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Dreams in the Dusk
Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland.
Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart’s loss.
Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Fine Rain Droplets
n the amid of dried ground
There stands a peasant in solitude
Both his eyes opened towards the sky
To be merciful from the black clouds.
Then it started raining with full grace
And he felt the happiness at its green
And chuckled for the merciful droplets
The round shaped droplets of rain
Falling from the tip of the every leaf
Drenched the hard dusty red soil.
The earth stretched its lap to welcome
The rain to sweep away the drought.
Once again the fragrance of motherland
Spread all over the draught area.
Each and every graceful droplets falling
To sweep away the pity droplets of tears.
poem by Johnson Xavier
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Ode to the Plum Blossom
Wind and rain escorted Spring's departure,
Flying snow welcomes Spring's return.
On the ice-clad rock rising high and sheer
A flower blooms sweet and fair.
Sweet and fair, she craves not Spring for herself alone,
To be the harbinger of Spring she is content.
When the mountain flowers are in full bloom
She will smile mingling in their midst.
Outside the post-house, beside the broken bridge, Alone, deserted, a flower blooms.
Saddened by her solitude in the falling dusk,
She is now assailed by wind and rain.
Let other flowers be envious!
She craves not Spring for herself alone.
Her petals may be ground in the mud,
But her fragrance will endure.
poem by Mao Zedong
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Dreams
I HAVE been dreaming all a summer day
Of rare and dainty poems I would write;
Love-lyrics delicate as lilac-scent,
Soft idylls woven of wind, and flower, and stream,
And songs and sonnets carven in fine gold.
The day is fading and the dusk is cold;
Out of the skies has gone the opal gleam,
Out of my heart has passed the high intent
Into the shadow of the falling night—
Must all my dreams in darkness pass away?
I have been dreaming all a summer day:
Shall I go dreaming so until Life’s light
Fades in Death’s dusk, and all my days are spent?
Ah, what am I the dreamer but a dream!
The day is fading and the dusk is cold.
My songs and sonnets carven in fine gold
Have faded from me with the last day -beam
That purple lustre to the sea-line lent,
And flushed the clouds with rose and chrysolite;
So days and dreams in darkness pass away.
I have been dreaming all a summer day
Of songs and sonnets carven in fine gold;
But all my dreams in darkness pass away;
The day is fading, and the dusk is cold.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Valor is abraded
Soldier of oddities, autumnal fog
aborning valor, confer to overfly
recalling his home, in misty bog
counting raindrops, of a gray sky..
Valor is abraded, functions a log,
his red diluted, in drizzle complies
Maiden of oddities, autumnal rain,
recalls his dark uniform, and rank,
he smiled departing, in dark train,
acclaiming prowess, his eyes sunk..
Rain drops fall from skies above,
adorning a smile, clouds to assay,
he stares in solitude, a courtly love,
her sweet glance, upon their quay..
Friendly raindrops. of a gray sky,
form splendid, in clouds ascends,
staring at cumulus, a mizzle nigh,
sweetly waving, amid his friends..
Honor is abraded, beckons away,
his crimson diluted, in rain amends.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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A Picture
The Sun burns fiercely down the skies;
The sea is full of flashing eyes;
The waves glide shoreward serpentwise
And fawn with foamy tongues on stark
Gray rocks, each sharp-toothed as a shark,
And hiss in clefts and channels dark.
Blood-purple soon the waters grow,
As though drowned sea-kings fought below
Forgotten fights of long ago.
The gray owl Dusk its wings has spread;
The sun sinks in a blossom-bed
Of poppy-clouds; the day is dead.
poem by Victor James Daley
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A Love By The Sea
Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
The susurration of the sighing sea
Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls
That tremble in a passion of farewell.
To the desires that trebled life in me,
(O melancholy of the wind that rolls!)
The dreams that seemed the future to foretell,
The hopes that mounted herward like the sea,
To all the sweet things sent on happy souls,
I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.
And to the girl who was so much to me
(O lamentation of this wind that rolls!)
Since I may not the life of her compel,
Out of the night, beside the sounding sea,
Full of the love that might have blent our souls,
A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Sacred Band I
A drizzle starts to fall
upon the lands you lay;
may your crosses stay,
white marble to sprawl;
The three hundred died,
Inscribed lines of red,
as dusk crowned bled,
Charons baleful stride.
Eternal blooms to care
adorn Aurora's daughter
at a macabre slaughter
to maids tearful stare.
Glory bestows Laurels,
gray sky hails forsooth,
Thyrse on soils blooth,
invoking Churches bells.
Time passengers stand,
to hark battles clamors,
Nike in ethers glamors,
wraiths of Sacred Band.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sad
dusk to dusk
this sadness
carries a shade
the heart finds
hard to bear
the melancholy
scarlet of dusk
an artist keenly
touches up to portray
the remaining
breaths of the day
the soft breeze
carries your soft sigh
and carress
to bid me farewell
the quiet dusk is
choked with
my longings
for you while divinity
witholds its
consolations
and looks at me
through blood shot eyes
a breathless
conflagration of
copper red,
orange and gold
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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There is a small glen in the clouds
There is a small glen in the clouds
where cumulus receive nice forms,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
Up there the Sun his golden crowns,
faithful rises to brighten morns,
there is a small glen in the clouds.
Strong currents sing solitude's sounds,
on glen souls bare of painful thorns,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
The winds affray in gray surrounds;
air streams repeat some lyric calls,
there is a small glen in the clouds.
Beholden soul on glen, astounds,
a dream is remnant while it mourns,
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
Souls rise on glen to feast in bounds,
air callithumps atop the knolls,
there is a small glen in the clouds;
enthralled souls fly, on heavens grounds.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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When Age Comes On
When Age comes on!--
'The deepening dusk is where the dawn
Once glittered splendid, and the dew
In honey-drips, from red rose-lips
Was kissed away by me and you.--
And now across the frosty lawn
Black foot-prints trail, and Age comes on--
And Age comes on!
And biting wild-winds whistle through
Our tattered hopes--and Age comes on!
When Age comes on!--
O tide of raptures, long withdrawn,
Flow back in summer-floods, and fling
Here at our feet our childhood sweet,
And all the songs we used to sing! . . .
Old loves, old friends--all dead and gone--
Our old faith lost--and Age comes on--
And Age comes on!
Poor hearts! have we not anything
But longings left when Age comes on?
ENVOY.
Just as of old! The world rolls on and on;
The day dies into night--night into dawn--
Dawn into dusk--through centuries untold.--
Just as of old.
Time loiters not. The river ever flows,
Its brink or white with blossoms or with snows;
Its tide or warm with Spring or Winter cold:
Just as of old.
Lo! where is the beginning, where the end
Of living, loving, longing? Listen, friend!--
God answers with a silence of pure gold--
Just as of old.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Hand
Clouds darken the plain.
From all sides, the mountains of the horizon move forward; the plain shrinks, crumpled into valleys that grow deeper. The three rivers become torrents that flow swiftly in their cavernous beds towards those dark spots where they meet: the cities.
Then the sun again.
The mountains move back to the distant circular horizon; the valleys disappear, and the three rivers flow placidly in their scarcely perceptible beds of luminous sands. The cities glisten with their crystal walls and the hard light is reflected from house to house along the glass streets. Men no longer drag their dark-blue shadows like long chains that rattled on the opaque cobble stones. Silence of light: frozen wines of sound. No wind stirs, sleepily coiled around the towers that are transparent stems bearing the white flowers of clouds which float, vehicles for our pure thoughts, like water-lilies on the surface of a stream until they fade into the blue depth of space.
poem by Edouard Roditi
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Pearl In The Shell
And the fear goes on shadows
And the tear flows on for nothing
And the fear goes on shadows
And the tear flows on for nothing
Under his nose was a dream come true
Been there all the time and he almost knew
And the fear goes on shadows
And the tear flows on for nothing
And the fear goes on shadows
And the tear flows on for nothing
Under his nose was a dream come true
Been there all the time and he almost knew
Thoughts of people in misfortune stopped him doing things well
His duty was to use it - left his pearl in the shell
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunshine On Cloudy Days
for my friends,
Without you,
Days seems so dark and gloomy
Seeing not the beauty, but life's reality
The thick clouds covering the sun
Forbidding the wandering sunshine to have fun.
I just wonder
Will there be sunshine on a cloudy day?
And make the birds and butterflies fly around to play.
Will there be rainbow after the rain?
Just like a smile after the pain.
Until you came
The clouds break out, letting the sunshine in
To touch the flowers and shines on him.
Melting the snow and let violets sprouts again
And let the shadow of love comes out from the rain.
Friends,
Are like shadows in the dusk
A soft breeze when the day is withering fast
They are like sunshine in the early dawn
Making one's heart smile with joy, not with a frown
A sun that shines and sparkles in the river
Painting their faces in the clear sleeping water.
Friends, thank you for being my sunshine
making my life threading on the line.
_maia_
08Jul09
12: 05pm
poem by Maia Padua
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Trails
Falling soft rain, a meter of late,
for you my solitude waited in vain,
soldier of emptiness, and of fate,
beat of timing, my song's refrain.
Ghosts, visitors of previous lives,
our past images upon the trails,
as shadows show in byway drives,
their companionship never fails.
The shadows elongate on slopes,
and sun to west horizons deigns,
on our elliptic orbits an' scopes,
and on this vast scenery reigns.
Shadows surpass, close to fade,
comely is this rejoice of mauve,
upon the slope's night serenade,
scenery flows to a darkish suave.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Evening Song
WHEN all the weary flowers,
Worn out with sunlit hours,
Droop o'er the garden beds
Their little sleepy heads,
The dewy dusk on quiet wings comes stealing;
And, as the night descends,
The shadows troop like friends
To bring them healing.
So, weary of the light
Of life too full and bright,
We long for night to fall
To wrap us from it all;
Then death on dewy wings draws near and holds us,
And like a kind friend come
To children far from home,
With love enfolds us.
But when the night is done,
Fresh to the morning sun,
Their little faces yet
With night's sweet dewdrops wet,
The flowers awake to the new day's new graces;
And we, ah! shall we too
Turn to the daydawn new
Our tear-wet faces?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Parade Drive
It was when I waited for you - in gale;
among the clouds I returned to share,
the vented blue horizons of solar flare,
cause I had a choice to expand or fail.
And it was a choice we both consented,
one caress - your tips - tender on face,
when fates cared our threads to trace,
for you were my solitude ever extended.
as dusk descended gray upon the moors,
I saw you elevating - upstanding maiden,
a form of sacred above my dark burden,
in river Acheron and my pain that cures.
there were dances with forms diffused,
extended to aboves - expended to skies,
were my spirits - cared death to demise
eligibly alive I was amid blooms bemused.
Wraiths of solitude and horizon's lines,
in paths exclusive, amid paeans I arrive,
with cellars of red shed to parade drive,
where life of eighteen, unfolded shines.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Dandelion Seeds Space Flights Bloom
God blows dandelion seeds
into wind bound horizons
little children delight screams
leap frog into flight jumbo jets
aeronautical aspirations seeds
dream lift flights runway fields
choose navigation star flight maps
thoughts minds souls space ranges
poem by Terence George Craddock
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