Yew Sun
Yew sun! In my dreams, like only a few.
maybe two... But yew will have a place
to be respected in a plain barren, a dew
dropp will dropp and stop me in her embrace.
Sun amidst soiled fingers, dried, ecstatic
like a sarcastic notion of drought, slow
redeem of moist mostly of time elastic
on these primeval criteria of torment glow.
Remembrances of wind's caress fair
of strives in a mandragora field treen
Yew will recall of my lives passing there
an open box of dreams that trace green.
Dry lands will always adore me, a sense lost
trace, a kind lace... My adamant waste
to a yew sun barren face, thorny crowns most
will crown thorns inspire a poets taste?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
Field Of Dreams
May tomorrow bring you sunshine
as you kiss the sky
in this field of dreams
alone here, you stand
lost little dandelion
soaking up the morning sun
Love flowing like streams
torn apart at the seams
summer days are never gone
with just one promise in your hand
yesterday memories
blowing in the breeze
still never lost in time
You listen to every dropp of rain
fall like teardrops outside your window
in this field of dreams
you never let go
we hide behind the pain
this love so vein
Days so bitter sweet
days that never end
nights that just pass by
in this field of dreams
its only you and I
where our love will mend
And hearts tortured it seems
there is where we will meet
in this field of dreams
where we will never die
In this field of dreams
I'm still lonely on these streets
waiting here for you to be mine
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Time Passes
Time is passing while I am waiting
For true life to have some meaning-
Time is passing and I blindly
Count to ten upon my fingers-
Not knowing and not even able to distinguish
What is real from what is not?
One, two, three and the voices inside me won't stop commanding-
Four, five and six-
All I see are snakes within the bleakness and confinement of this room-
Seven, eight, and nine, and even through this dim light I believe I am being watched-
I count aloud to ten upon my fingers and
Time is passing and all that is all that I hear for the moment-
All that I see, I reach out to touch or to open my eyes to see-
Time has passed and everything is silent, without a trace of
Ever being near and once more I count,
Starting at seven, eight and then nine- watching the second hand on the wall clock and
Ten? Ten more hours to be locked inside of this empty, room where
The walls are barren and I am alone with my thoughts-
Time is passing and I would be running away, but there is nowhere to run to, except to
Places inside of my mind and one, two three and all that I see is
The walls of this empty room and a locked door-
I could count from one to a thousand and
Inside of this room I would remain- I could count to one million and
I would die before I even got there- so I count from one to three over and over because
Everything is seemingly easier when I am lost inside the world of my fantasies and
I realize now what is not truly real and threatening shall never harm me and
Time is passing and as I count, I am blissfully losing myself inside the world
I have made here inside of my mind for myself, alone…
This way time may pass even before the sun rises tomorrow, and then-and then?
My life perhaps shall have some meaning-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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I Believe In Dreams
I believe in dreams,
The only light to a future,
Not yet sure,
Yet felt.
I believe in dreams,
For by their dreams,
Nations were born,
In barren farmlands.
I believe in dreams,
Beyond imagination,
My only hope of
Genuine fulfillment.
I believe in dreams,
Watch me wallow,
In what my days will be,
From posterity's heart.
I believe in dreams,
The wine of later,
I feel and taste,
In eager anticipation.
poem by Venessa Ambrose
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Aestivate Stare
Eye glance in aestivate air,
staring at your serene grace,
a beauty adorned with a grin
Whispers hymn a benign face,
so I mind-trace this vitrine,
with you a becoming prayer...
I attend links and my insight,
adores your aura; I never had
as ornament your emitted light,
blossom on water, a lily pad.
I trace a face of soft curves,
advent on emerald sea shore,
to file my cause as blue waves,
sparkle foam's dance to adore.
A beatific flight above my past,
memory is my companionship,
kindly invites me, and my mast
points towards skies and winds.
I caress your aestivate hair,
conceived is your calm face,
heavens will accept my prayer,
dreams in your sleep embrace,
my aptitude and worry glare,
lone sunset becomes my flare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Fiddle Riddle
Once stood a man on my face
Ooh yeah, on my face
Gobbled him up cause my taste
Leaves nothing to waste
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
Piano it marks the good pace
Ooh yeah, the good pace
Dont know if its right, but I like the bass
So turn up the bass
Hear the fiddles as they play
Hear the fiddles as they play
What is fair is fair
And the guitar player
No metal, no brick, was no trace
Oh, no, was no trace
But machines moved on and still chased
No particular place
Hear the riddle that I say
Hear the riddle that I say
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
What is fair is fair
That is fair and square
To me
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody Like Her I Have Met Before (Stave Stanza Sestets)
Her smile was quick, her anger very slow
and lovely innocent did her bright face glow,
she was a shelter against the first rain,
a sweet girl who seemed to know no pain;
nobody like her I have met before,
she was so very easy to adore
as we met she smiled sweet, caught my glance,
seemed happy in any circumstance
but had a kind of unreal tenderness
and it was not only loneliness
that brought me to her, that made me feel more,
she was so very easy to adore.
So very strange was our first togetherness,
every look being a kind of caress
as if we had known each other quite long,
as if our lives did together belong
her sheer radiance I could not ignore,
she was so very easy to adore.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Desert sands
Invisible, amidst grains of sand;
blinding heat beads sweat that rivers run
from furrowed brow to hollow hands
that wipe along the sting that lands
on skin stretched beneath blazing sun.
Each and every way the warm wind blows
shards of glass swirl into heaving mounds
that shift and change the way to go.
A moving sea that dips and throws
unsteady feet on to drifting ground.
How is direction to be embraced,
when all that can be seen is endless,
desert marked by displacing face.
Where travelled footprints leave no trace
and all around barren emptiness.
poem by Diana Rosser
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A Cross Amidst Thorns
A stream flows in a swamp
Rain falls on a barren ground
A saint in a lion’s den.
A dove amongst owls…
There’s a cross amidst thorns.
Innocence dwells with guilt
Hope lingers in a despairing people
Life struggles with the grave.
Love unmasks into hatred…
There’s a cross amidst thorns.
Peace competes with the wrathful hand of anarchy
Conscience fights with corruption
The truth passes along with deception
Righteousness boasts with evil
There’s a cross amidst thorns
There’s a cross amidst thorns
Hope radiates from despair
Light reigns above darkness
Faith conquers fear
There’s a cross amidst thorns
poem by Timothy muggaga
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The Real Poets
THE REAL POETS
The real poets are few in number and largely known by name
The rest of us are endless frustration in aspiration
Words upon words upon words
Dreams upon dreams upon dreams
Getting and going nowhere forever unheard
The real poets find their anthologized place
And we know them over and over and over again
The rest of us just appear this only once
If we appear at all
And our words and our hearts and our minds
Do not encompass and inspire the endless rereadings
Time and Time’s Wounds make again and again and again
We are once only always forever losts
Nothing will save us
These words too coming in the wake of a long night’s reading
Of the poems of others
Cannot sustain and redeem
Cannot be what they would be
Cannot help and cannot save
Me or you or anyone we love
Even as poetry.
God Who Knows All
And in the End Decides on Everything
Has made us smaller even than the Angels
And our place in the Divine Song
Is not as far as we know
Anywhere heard at all.
Goodbye world
We are going
We have done what we could
We have written and written and written
Oxymandias’ poet will remain
And we will not
The lone and desert sands will stretch away
When we are not even a single grain.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Uncertain Weather
A day of uncertain weather
Captured in a frame forever
A face in a faded photograph
He must have had a life
Maybe with a family
People who meant everything to him
A sinner, a saint, a soldier
Caught up in a war he never
Had a chance to start or build a life
All gone long ago
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
To become just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
Hopes and fears important plans
Forgotten memories
Footsteps fading in the sand, ooh
Schemes and dreams small and grand
Nothing left to see
Footsteps fading in the sand, ooh
Someone who cast a shadow
Maybe just a lazy man
Doesnt make much difference now its true
A day of uncertain weather
Captured in a frame forever
A face in a faded photograph
All gone long ago
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
To become just a face without a name
One more to add to the total
Of those never heard of again
Yes hes gone
Just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind
All gone
Just a face without a name
Leaving no trace
Disappearing like smoke in the wind...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain
heaven's jewels
dropp from the sky
in so many ways
i love the slanted crystals
lightened by dusklight
that fell onto the
wooden planks
of childhood abode
dropp by dropp
they painted a glittering scene
of childhood years
the saddest is the morn rain
so slow, so persistent
the rain danced over
the school field
to the rhythm of the wind
my brain trapped
in slumberland
lost in the imagination
of secret love
noon rain
after the heat
sent the warm scent of
blooms, grasses
that heightened
the new founded libido
the warmth of your love
and longed for virgin hug
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Save Water Save Life
'Water, water' asked soldier to another soldier
He was wounded and dying for the dropp of water
Shells were fired from all the direction
He was to be rescued first as humble action
Thank god the soldier was saved for timely action
We could see the happiness on his face as sweet reaction
He should have been no more on the battle field
Had he not been given dropp of water for ground held
Water is precious commodity now a day
We have not found any alternate way
Glaciers are melting and flooding the rivers
The sea level is increased by flooding of water
There is alarming situation in many parts
Either people vacate the areas and depart
Or stick to the areas and face the devastation
As they have stayed for ages in same station
Water harvesting is best solution for problem
In many cities water has been rationed to ward of trouble
Can you imagine costal areas suffer most?
To protect and provide water for big cities involve big cost
Yes precious lives are to be provided
With water and wastage is to be avoided
Not a dropp of water should go into drain
As we are mainly dependant on rain
Entire existence of human race is in jeopardy
We may have no other option then to pray only almighty
All sources might have then stand dried away or
Water might have been polluted in alarming way
Save water and save the race any where
Educate the people not to waste water and dare
As it may take their lives and put to more difficulties
Water may then be never had even if increased the capabilities
The sources are fast drying out
Some times there is excess and sometimes drought
Life battle is to be taken care of and fought
So the slogan 'save water, save life' is sought
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Pebble In The Ocean
I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
But I don't know
no I don't know
which way this worlds going to go
the summer
the summer seems like its ready to snow
and winter
winter wants to have summers glow.
so I throw
I throw a pebble into the ocean
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
I'm waiting for it to explode
with all the destruction we cause it never seems to go
the smoke
the smoke makes the ocean
makes the ocean choke
the bottle doesn't reach you
the message was my love note that I wrote
for you
I wrote a love note for you
and now the maps gone missing
and I haven't got a clue
I don't know what to do
all I know is I want you.
So I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
Yes I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Drop the nothing
chasing with the wind is not but gone
life as we have is not but a passing
scene in our own very eyes
all has its prize as it appears, alas! all has
value in everything we serve, all are
just beginning to receive again
nothing new to us, what we receive is
ours to give it to the one who shared,
make the best, for we give of what is a gift
all are nothing, but has a value, that
comes when it is to be given, dropp that
something in you, and nothing lost
face to the one who gives everything in you
dropp the nothing, even nothing is something
in you that holds you, for you are something,
of everything to the one who give you life
poem by Antonio Liao
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Collective Chrysalis
Before tired tocsin tolls, notes final dawn
objections bowls to smithereens, blasts corn,
beauty need know no double face,
ambiguity's about-face.
Beholder and beholden lace
together love in love's embrace
each beat completes sweet other's pace.
Be forward, ward off wardens, trough or storm,
accounts drawn, love withdrawn or jealous scorn.
Base all on sharing, never base,
replace conformist time and place
with acceptance and erase
all pettiness too commonplace
that mars, that bars true state of grace.
Before last keynote speech leaves pages torn,
reach out, life's rose shows scent's well worth time's thorn.
There's neither chaser, chaste disgraced,
comparisons to draw, changed taste.
Fulfillment never runs to waste.
Collective chrysalis encased
in love's state states case for fresh trace.
for previous version entitled Lids Can Open 20050322 see below
Lids Can Open
After midnight tolls, before the dawn
insight objections bowls, won't be foresworn
beauty knows no double face
beholder and beholden trace
together love in love's embrace
where each heart charts the other's pace.
Drop keynote speech, leave pages torn,
reach out, out reach, rose needs no thorn,
there is no chaser and no chase
there's no disgrace but only grace
and one shared chrysalid in case
the lid can open, fears erase.
(30 December 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Perfect Place
Recession - a perfect fit,
Makes no difference where he sits,
Not since they cut the ties,
Put some sadness in his eye.
Promises - come and go,
Soak the sun in drifts of snow,
A qualified butt-collector,
Working for the private sector.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
They took the plans from up my sleeve,
By an architect, on new years eve,
There it goes, a new bronze tower,
Washed away with an april shower.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
But, when youve gone,
Im still here, the only one,
My eyes and my ears,
Will be here til Im gone;
And its still the perfect place,
To rest a tired and weary face,
And its still the perfect place,
To lose your soul with a trace.
A lived-in face, with a root,
Of matted hair, a smiling tooth,
A dirty hand, a pixies nose,
Scratches underneath his clothes.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This must be it ...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Place (live)
Recession - a perfect fit,
Makes no difference where he sits,
Not since they cut the ties,
Put some sadness in his eye.
Promises - come and go,
Soak the sun in drifts of snow,
A qualified butt-collector,
Working for the private sector.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
They took the plans from up my sleeve,
By an architect, on new years eve,
There it goes, a new bronze tower,
Washed away with an april shower.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
But, when youve gone,
Im still here, the only one,
My eyes and my ears,
Will be here til Im gone;
And its still the perfect place,
To rest a tired and weary face,
And its still the perfect place,
To lose your soul with a trace.
A lived-in face, with a root,
Of matted hair, a smiling tooth,
A dirty hand, a pixies nose,
Scratches underneath his clothes.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This could be it,
The perfect place.
Hes seen them go,
Without a trace,
This must be it ...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of A Talked-Off Ear
Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Nightly I hearken to knave or to ace,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,
Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,
Tales of the quarry, the kill, the chase,
Longer than heaven and duller than hell-
Never you blame me, who cry my case:
"Poets alone should kiss and tell!"
Dumbly I hear what I never should know,
Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;
Into minutiae gayly they go,
Telling the name and the time and the place.
Cede them your silence and grant them space-
Who tenders an inch shall be raped of an ell!
Sympathy's ever the boaster's brace;
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
Why am I tithed what I never did owe?
Choked with vicarious saffron and mace?
Weary my lids, and my fingers are slow-
Gentlemen, damn you, you've halted my pace.
Only the lads of the cursed race,
Only the knights of the desolate spell,
May point me the lines the blood-drops trace-
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
L'ENVOI
Prince or commoner, tenor or bass,
Painter or plumber or never-do-well,
Do me a favor and shut your face
Poets alone should kiss and tell.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open
Do not hide in the living room
amidst the familiar and well thumbed
Open the door
Feel the air trace its fingers
along your face and hands
Open your hands
Breathe in
Open your eyes
Breathe out your
mark upon the day
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Top Of A Mountain
Diss your issues that you've got with me.
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
Diss your issues that you've got with me.
Hey hey,
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You say you've paid,
Dues you want to send my way.
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You say you gave,
Others time you gave away.
I don't doubt it.
I'm not about it.
You say pain stays...
Riding on your back each day.
I don't doubt it.
I'm not about it.
You seem so afraid,
To let go and just walk away.
Then you want to blame me,
Because I'm not frustrated?
Diss your issues that you've got with me.
Hey hey,
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
Diss your issues that you've got with me.
Hey hey,
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You say you've paid,
Dues you want to send my way.
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You've got to learn to make pebbles from a rock!
Keep'a chippin' at those boulders...
'Til you find,
You've climbed to the top...
Of a mountain!
Diss your issues that you've got with me.
Hey hey,
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You say you've paid,
Dues you want to send my way.
I'm not about them!
Stop and dropp 'em.
You say you gave,
Others time you gave away.
I don't doubt it.
I'm not about it.
You've got to learn to make pebbles from a rock!
Keep'a chippin' at those boulders,
'Til you find...
You've made up your mind,
You can reach and plant your feet...
On the top of a mountain!
You can choose to look down and around...
But you can choose to move everyday,
Without delay,
From all of your nonsense!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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