A Poem of Moving Fire n Fiery Wings
On cool waters
Of a winter morning
She moved like fire
Shifting in a blink
As the dark waters flowed
Through the thick fog
She appeared like a butterfly
Flapping its fiery wings
On the cactus
By the dark desert tracks
(04 Aug 2011)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Oh why butterfly?
His wings of jade and amber,
Wink, like gilt pennants in the sun.
Oh why butterfly?
Just flutter on by.
As he twists and he tumbles,
He sheds tears of childish glee.
Oh why butterfly?
Escape to the sky.
Dark nights are ever nearer,
But he sings his carefree song.
Oh why butterfly?
For winter is nigh
The frost set hard on my butterfly,
His glowing eyes were lifeless.
His beautiful wings lost all their shine.
Oh why butterfly?
I hear your cry.
-9.10pm 2nd January 2001, age 14 -
poem by Amy J Richardson
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Yellow Butterfly.
Gently flapping it's thin wings,
A butterfly lands upon my fingers,
And upon a soft breeze it leaves,
Yet it's delicate presence lingers.
Sunny yellow rimmed it's wings.
With dark daffodil yellow rings,
Pure coal black traced it's veins,
It's image - in my mind - remains.
Such a soft and delicate brush,
Of a butterflies wings, so plush,
The softest touch of it's tiny legs,
Lifted my spirits - well, the dregs.
That butterfly, that passed me by,
The messenger between land and sky,
Has stayed lodged in my mind,
I'll never meet another of it's kind,
A single butterfly, while I was alone,
Came to me and my world was thrown,
But I'll never forget that yellow butterfly,
That left me when I let out a soft sigh,
A soft sigh that came from me,
Swept my butterfly, set it free,
This is my butterfly that I'll remember,
My butterfly from last September.
poem by Rayne Goddard
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When The River Flowed
When The River Flowed
© 2011 (Jim Sularz)
Dedicated to my Brother-in-Law: William L. Browne III (1959-2011)
Let it be known, in memoriam, that he is loved.
And any earthly bonds that shaped his soul,
is now a wide river flowing,
to a distant Heaven bestowed.
He could have walked a much longer path,
and would have paused again, with a hearty laugh.
But, when the river flowed, when the river flowed,
– it marked this hour, for him to go.
Don’t cry for him, with welling tears upset,
but celebrate his fulfilled years, instead.
When the river flowed, when the river flowed,
- it moved his gift of life ahead.
For loving sons, family, friends and beloved wife,
he leaves cherished memories, a faithful man’s insight.
And when the river flowed, when the river flowed,
- it moved him gently, to Everlasting Life!
poem by Jim Sularz
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In the beginning
In the beginning
God looked at the dark void
and His voice structured
the universe and the sun, moon,
stars and the earth appeared.
There was no more void
and the breath from God
went out as His voice
that cleft the waters
and the deep
and there was no more continual darkness
and light broke
the everlasting night
and the waters parted
and sky and land appeared.
God created plants and vegetation
and animals and all
living things,
but with His hands
God formed man
and his mate
and build them in His image
and gave some
of His own breath
to them
to make them living.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Glass Spider
Up until one century ago there lived,
In the zi duang provence of eastern country.
A glass-like spider.
Having devoured its prey it would drape the skeletons over its web in weeks creating a macabre shrine of remains.
Its web was also unique in that it had many layers, like floors in a buuilding.
At the top of this palace-like place, assembled with almost apparent care, were tiny shining objects, glass, beads, dew-drops.
One could almost call it an altar.
When the breeze blew thru this construction,
It produced sounds of wailing, crying.
Tiny wails, tiny cries.
The baby spiders would get scared and search frantically for their mother.
But the glass spider would have long gone, having known that the babies would survive somehow on their own.
Oh-the glass spider had blue eyes almost like-a humans.
They shed tears at the wintered turn of the centuries.
Dont you hear this wasted cry, life is over you
(mummy come back cause the waters all gone)
But youve seen whos in heaven. is there anyone in hell
(mummy come back cause its dark now)
Take care, take care.
(mummy come back cause the waters all gone)
Somewhere she glows divine. somewhere she wakes alone.
But you, youve promise in your lovin eye. God its dark now.
Jah jah jah jah jah
Jah jah jah jah jah
Gone, gone the waters all gone
Mummy come back cause the waters all gone
Stay low on the ground, my fire can drive you, savage and afraid
Spitting at the dawn, come along before the animals awake
Run moving all night, rivers to the left.
If your mother dont love you then the riverbed might
Gone, gone, the waters all gone
Mummy come back cause the waters all gone
Jah jah jah jah jah
Jah jah jah jah jah
Gone gone the waters all gone
Mummy come back cause the waters all gone
Gone gone the waters all gone
Mummy come back cause the waters all gone
Gone gone the waters all gone
Mummy come back cause the waters all gone
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imperative Movement
Water
Shining
Dark night
Who’s that walking past?
Only shadow on the moving waters!
Dark silence
Speaking silence
Between the shadow
And me…
One moving
On the moving waters
Me
On the dark earth
Inimitable darkness
Imperative movement!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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How spiny the cactus raised itself
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the desert
how red the sand
burnt under the mid-day sun
how scorched the scorpion moved
across the red sand
and in that silence
a sudden whirlwind blows
a red, red cloud of sand
from the dunes rises
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the tempest:
and yet
and yet
the tempest was subdued and fell
as happened long ago and now
and still
and spiny the cactus raises itself
into the desert
and the red sand
burns under the mid-day sun
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The Cool Living Waters
the cool living waters of spring
plunge in like a hot rod wanting pacification
flames of fire
cinders of desire
let us be calm and swim in the cool living waters
of divinity
nude we realize there is shame and we stand
and take the clothes of morality
then we rest under the cool shades of green trees
beside the brook
the winds from the mountains refresh what dimples we have
and we reflect upon the words of God
time moves and stays a while and this evil of boredom comes
idle moments craving for more
and then we stand and play under the sun
we run, we play, we sweat and those that watch us
begin to think
that we are sinners on the loose
cool living waters i ask
bathe and wash all their dirty minds
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Offers Appeared
Offers appeared but seldom,
Across the waters acted something;
One person melted into a meeting,
Beneath a rock they remembered.
From age to age the requests were fulfilled,
Accept them when they lose themselves.
A brooding dove complains afterwards,
When a perspiring pigeon hoots and clobbers the other.
The sky’s gone dark, darker than the night
When morning arrives too hard, hardly with a scratch.
The birds of the morning are around
Like cars of the day, and bikes of the evening.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Bronze Glow Horizon - A Nonet
cool waters flow atop river rock
graceful waters caress the sea
gentle autumn winds flutter
seagulls take flight beyond
bronze-glow horizon
and land upon
sandy white
seaside
beach
©2011
poem by Lisa Arnold
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Melancholy wintertime thoughts
Its cold outside and the fire
Crackles in the hearth, sends forth
Merry sparks to conceal you from
the dark.
You will not let the fire dim,
Because you know they will come in
All the wonderers in the dark.
All the dancers in the dark all the lonely
And the old, those from before who are
Here searching through the dark.
The peikko and the shamleg the journo and the ancient one
who slides on his belly, seek refuge in the dark.
The beast with many horns and he who
sleeps the day seek refuge in the dark.
So draw near to your little fire, throw on
A log or two. Think not of the beasts of winter and
they wont care for you
A thought after Yeats
When youth was life and life was youth
and life was love and love was life,
I thought love came and went;
its coming, overwhelming; and its going,
death of spirit; then, as if
the wild white swans had flown away
and left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.
But now I know it’s not like that:
love that, guarded, never flies from here in heart
to where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;
ungiven every livelong day
it turns to rags and dry old bones,
confiscated in the heart.
Better now, be with those wild white swans
which on a dark cold icy winter’s day
gather at the water’s edge to stretch
for yesterday’s warm loaf still fresh;
then turn, swim, lift strong wings and fly
one knows not where, and may not ask;
watch them then, into the distance;
hear the flap of wings grow into silent air;
pause still a little while;
then turn, one’s living breath
white in that winter air;
then back to warmth of home and love and peat fire
glowing in the hearth of heart renewed.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What One Does Matters
as the butterfly
somewhere in china
flutters its
wings
the sea of Japan
starts to grow the biggest
tsunami
when the butterfly hovers
upon the hair of the geisha
the waters recede and once more
finds
its need for nest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire and water (A morning in Sivakasi)
A shrill peacock-cry from the bell tower
Pierced my morning silence
The temple bell rang and rang
With its thick tongue in fever
Images, fiery, some smouldering
Came dropping from the white sky
Clusters of acacias that had grown
Waterless under the skin of the earth
Spread their ghostly hair evenly
Into the rainless, blazing August sky
The girls with jasmines in their hair
Stood unblinking all day, in the hall,
Bringing fire into people’s lives
Dark sweaty men made balls of fire
Old ladies kneaded fiery dough
There is fire in their tired hearts,
In their minds, on their hands
But no water to quench their thirsts.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Sunday Morning Sun
I sat by a lake this morning
as the sun crept into the sky.
The dew sparkled on the grass
and I caught a glimpse of a butterfly fly.
The waters shimmered
under the morning sun.
The ripples caused by a light breeze
twinkled as they rolled along
as I sat in complete solitude
under a Sunday morning sun.
The world was so close,
yet seemed a million miles away.
Everywhere things were waking
to a brand new day.
The air was fresh and cool
like God intended it to be.
The leaves of my writing pad
flickered as I started
to write down what I saw
under a Sunday morning sun.
10 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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Era of the Butterfly
The butterfly with golden wings
Soars through summer sunlight
Over waves of endless time;
Love drifts on gossamer wings
In the Era of the Butterfly
Shimmering dewdrops tenderly kiss
Bright roses’ ruby lips
Laughing brooks babble downstream
Following paths of endless miles
In the Era of the Butterfly
While a breeze is softly stirring
Graceful leaves of inland trees,
By a sea of blue reflections
A mermaid’s combing lengths
Of her shimmer-green hair
As she wonders of her loved one
Beneath the sea queen’s throne of rock
Darting fish with scales like nacre
Play sea-games deep below
Where waters flow blue-green
Through glowing-color forest fronds
Growing thick from sea-bed sands
In this era hope and love
Spring up for all those blessed
By a touch of feather wings
In bliss eternal they intend to live
Virgin earth sweetly sings ‘I am
Alive, thriving richly gold and green’
As fresh blue waters of her lakes
Cast sparks of joy in sunlight,
Grasses of a rich-soil earth
Sigh a chorus of contentment
Directed by flirtatious zephyrs
A time of idyll, of peaceful coexistence
With no reason to ever quarrel;
The winged one will ensure the truth
No being is allowed to be
Superior to another
In the Era of the Butterfly
** ** ** ** **
poem by Erein Emrys
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Waters
Waters, taw, rat, tar, tars, rats, set, rate, rates, tea;
But i only love on water to satisfy my muse!
And like the joy of love in the garden of roses.
Waters, wear, wears, ware, wares, are, ears, waste;
But i only live on with my positive mind always!
And like the muse of your love in the land of peace.
Waters, at, as, tear, tears, sear, sew, rest, war, art, arts;
But i only saw you waiting in the dark alone!
And like the days of war in the land of trouble.
Waters, east, saw, was, eat, ate, wars, raw, sate, sea, ear;
For we are what we say we are on this earth!
But try to be yourself always on the positive side.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Your mind a landscape
a farm of coconut trees
and horses and cows fenced
a buffalo wading in mud
beside the river filled with fish
a woman naked
enjoying the cool waters
a man watching hiding
behind the thick bushes
birds above their heads
clouds shifting places
lights fade
the curtains fall
and then we all live
and not talk about it
all these
still disturbing our minds
we figure out
how these can end
what murder
what prison cell!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cataclysm
Water closed me in from behind
Water slowly spread to
All directions I moved
No, I was not alone
People thronged from all sides
Panic writ large upon the faces
I spotted some familiar
Though they seem not to care for me
The sky threw up
Dull subdued light
The shades of which
I see for the first time
I kept walking
The faces no longer around
The water that initially
Touched my feet playfully
Now came up to my knees
My conscious self felt a mild furor
My surreal self, as cool as
The waters closing in from all sides
Everything around moved
At its decisive pace…
As one eon began to fade
Slowly and steadily
The surreal surroundings
Echoed with the notes
That flowed with ease
Form the flute…
Whoever said cataclysm
Comes as a jolt with fire
Emerging from depths of the oceans?
16 Oct 2010
05.10hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Holy Mountain
From this small mountain
folded valleys glide
to shining waters.
Flowing like quicksilver,
dark rivers run free
to the sun-drenched sea.
This is my holy mountain.
I seek your gentle voice
where the small birds rest
on thin branches.
See how their breath
arouses the storm?
Fluttering wings
can make shudder the world,
to passion stir vast
twisting winds.
Though I am small
and dying,
make of me
a pillar of fire,
and I’ll descend from these heights
to flood the dark valleys
with your living light.
poem by Steven Federle
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