From The Banks Of Ganga: IX
Colourful petals
Yellow, ochre, white
Red and green
Halt a while around me:
Moments of present ecstasy
Nostalgia of yester years
And future days
Surrounded by chilling waters
My body quivers in chillness
When will it turn into a cold mass?
Will it then recall petals of nostalgia…?
I slip into my future moments of oblivion
My body flowing with the rapidity of Ganga
I don't know!
I can't say!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Related quotes
Nostalgia
What’re you doing O’ my friend
at those chilling shores of Ganga?
Gathering today, morrow’s nostalgia?
Let me share those moments;
taste your ecstasies.
On that future day when you fall into oblivion
let me recall those lost flashes and waned out scents
and earn for you, your own stolen heavens.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Rose Petals
Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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We May Have Great Plans For The Future
We may have great plans for the future but the future seems so far away
And we only can live in the present tomorrow is another day
The future's not ours to look into I once heard a wise woman say
And the sooner the rose comes into bloom the sooner 'twill fade to decay.
You will not find one who doesn't have dreams but dreams of course seldom come true
Still dreams to us all are important we all need a dream to pursue
We all need our dreams to inspire us and those who do not have a dream
Have lost their sense of life direction like a leaf in a rapid flowing stream.
When one hopes for a better tomorrow those sentiments apply to us all
And though the future we cannot look into the past we can readily recall
Of life there is truth in the saying that we must take the good days with the bad
The bright moments of joy and laughter and the dark moments when we feel sad.
We may have great plans for the future for a better tomorrow maybe
But what the future might hold for us is something that we cannot see
We keep on in hope of the good times and we all need our dreams to pursue
And if for me good things don't happen then good things might happen for you.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It's Better With The Good Eye
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Looking back at oh so far away.
Memory’s just another way to see.
A place to go on holiday for free,
Forty years ago if it’s a day.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
And was that other person really me,
What changed, why could I not stay?
Memory’s just another way to see
The way things were around us then when we
Thought all our dreams were surely on their way.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
The sky was always blue it seemed to me,
Every day the sun shone so they say -
Memory’s just another way to see,
But now I know that life’s not lunch for free
That bitter fruit is served on many days
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Memory’s just another way to see.
Martin Swords
“Prompt Poems”
Villanelle
March 2008
poem by Martin Swords
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x13-The Petals Shall Fall
(I suggest you read first the 'COLD WATERS'.2nd poem of DEAD PETALS)
-Dylan Blayne-
My heart pained the very first moment
that I looked into your eyes.
How I want to take that sorrow away,
to turn it to the skies…
why, the moment I saw you,
how I long to take your heart.
Though I rushed to pluck petals
to wipe away your fears…
you’re gone as though you’re drowned with your tears.
I knocked at your door,
But there was no answer.
I entered as a strange feeling
rushed through me deeper.
I called after you but all I heard
was rushing waters.
And so I looked for it and found you
Dead with tears.
I never had the time to question why…
or wipe your tears with petals by and by.
I saw the words you wrote before your bed…
‘the petals shall fall and the waters shall flow’,
how I wish I’d better be dead!
Blood flowed like water with your tears;
I wonder if I could carry this memory
for all the coming years.
I think you’re right, the petals shall fall…
and I guess I’m too late
to have you after all.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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On A Hill Under The Blue Sky
On a hill under the blue sky
Your body once did bend under sin,
for long moments my glance were set tense,
did your crucifixion cling to me,
and I trusted my life anew to You,
while below Jerusalem baked in the sun.
On a hill under the blue sky
Your body once did bend under sin,
while I watched that city for moments,
and everything in the future I wanted to do with You,
in my ears was every curse and scolding
that after thousands of years still clings to the place
on a hill under the blue sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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x12-COLD WATERS
(First poem after the introductory poem of DEAD PETALS)
Cold waters rushed down through her;
Hurting…stabbing…filling her in.
She shivered - then felt her body numb.
How good it felt to hurt that way…
where words are lost,
there’s no much more to say;
Feeling the waters through her skin
to soothe the pain inside.
Hurting more to forget the wound she hide.
Hurting until there’s no vainer than vain…
hurting more to ease the inner pain.
Tears rolled down unnoticed-
as she sat there all alone;
Waiting, always waiting…
for her body to get drowned.
But time seems to play a game with her,
and torment never seem to end.
Strong web of time gleamed clearer,
how she badly need a friend.
But it’s better to hurt that way…
where words are lost,
there’s nothing left to say.
She let the time slowly pass by…
‘the petals shall fall and the water shall flow’;
she never had the time to question why.
Minutes rolled like drops of water;
Time wheeled like a touch of forever.
Still, she let the time to slowly pass by…
‘the petals shall fall and the water shall flow’,
she never had the time to say goodbye.
Yet, her body betrayed her,
So she stood up.
And then for a moment later…
blood flowed like the cold waters.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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On The Last Hour....
incoherent
hour
nostalgia vomiting
nostalgia
hands wrap your
body of
hands
desire is gone
welcome
total blankness
you leave everything
to God to
God
switch to switch
turns off.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beyond My Years
I cannot think beyond my years
but every day that goes
I look back on the younger years
and am encouraged by those.
For the past becomes the bridges
that brought me to today.
I don't burn the bridges behind me
for they've shown me the way.
I keep my focus on present moments
and never on the past.
Even the moments that I'm living now
are ones that will not last.
The future is always the unknown.
It's a time beyond my years.
Unfamiliararity with what will come to me
are my adventures with new frontiers.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Canadian Chronicles 13
In each life, there are special moments
we like to remember and recall.
Moments that have brought us laughter
almost cascading into tears.
Moments of great happiness
to last us through the years.
Moments with very special people
who are dearly beloved friends.
Special moments no one can take away.
They happen but once
and are captured forever within our mind.
Special moments within our lifetime.
10 June 2009
poem by David Harris
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To The Aggies Of Ateneo De Davao Around The World
nostalgia is the word for all these now
we have the urge to look out the window and find
who we were: the joys of the college years that will tickle us
old friends and their memories like innocent children
coming on our laps asking for our embraces
old pictures make our hearts shrink a little only to grow
bigger like a bread from the pan
fresh and fuming with the flavor of wheat
nostalgia is the word for it
and time is its mother that nourishes with its milk
the past comes to us always with something greener
and a breather of mint and rosemary
some peppers and honeyed lemonades
nostalgia is the word for it
when our wings have gone far beyond the lands of our births
dissolving in the horizons of other lands
when our chirps are gone
nostalgia is the word for it
when we come back stronger this time and lovelier
with our wounds that healed
with our pains that lost its trick
nostalgia is the word for it
such is she a beautiful woman still even though the hairs have turned gray
and the breasts sag and the bones rattling like brittle sticks
nostalgia is the word for it and no matter where the winds of this world
and its cyclones and waves have taken us
we are back looking for the glitter of each other's eyes
and then we laugh and then the world has heard us
yes, nostalgia is the word that people seldom use
as they move on with their respective lives
but we are here once again
nostalgia is the theme, it is here and soon it will leave
we are once again full even for once
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Past, Present, And Future
As I think about the future,
I dream about the past.
I live in the present,
So I can make these moments last!
So I can’t wait to see,
What the future holds for me!
I feel no remorse for things done in the past,
Because the past holds the key,
To open new doors for present and future necessities!
poem by Orlando Feliciano
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Future to Future
in the future moments will
come when one person says
to another, “That was great! ”
we never know what
the future holds in store
for us-in it’s infinite
wisdom-but surely you and I
know of it’s impending arrival
some believe the future
holds great times ahead,
some believe in a bleak
fate and still others believe
unborn moments hold
a catastrophic end
me, I like to think that
maybe, just maybe, it
will all happen at the same
instance-I mean some things
will be great, some bleak,
some beginnings and some endings
“great” things will only
happen in the future, because
of now, and that’s tough enough
to decipher-so I will plead, now,
and leave the future to the future
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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You Can Have the Future
You Can Have the Future
by Alex Lewis
The present is malicious.
difficulty=delicious
We will to Hell be sent
If this is only the present.
What is the future if this is present?
Peace must have come and went.
Why should mankind advance?
He started on his last chance.
The present is so bad
That the years just add and Add.
In the future, what will become?
We cannot reverse what is done.
You can have the future.
You can have the future.
Take it far away.
It'll last a day.
Never let me see it again.
wHAT, wHERE, wHEN.
You can have the future.
poem by Alex Lewis
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Villanelle Of Marguerite's
'A little, _passionately, not at all?_'
She casts the snowy petals on the air:
And what care we how many petals fall!
Nay, wherefore seek the seasons to forestall?
It is but playing, and she will not care,
A little, passionately, not at all!
She would not answer us if we should call
Across the years: her visions are too fair;
And what care we how many petals fall!
She knows us not, nor recks if she enthrall
With voice and eyes and fashion of her hair,
A little, passionately, not at all!
Knee-deep she goes in meadow grasses tall,
Kissed by the daisies that her fingers tear:
And what care we how many petals fall!
We pass and go: but she shall not recall
What men we were, nor all she made us bear:
'_A little, passionately, not at all!_'
And what care we how many petals fall!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Changes
Sit by my side come as close as the air
Sharin a memory of grey
And wander in my words
And dream about the pictures that I play
Of changes
Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall
To brown and to yellow they fade
And then they have to die
Trapped within the circle time parade
Of changes
Moments of magic will glow in the night
All fears of the forest are gone
For when the morning breaks
Theyre swept away by golden drops of dawn
Of changes
Passions will part to a warm melody
As fires will sometimes turn cold
Like petals in the wind
Were puppets to the silver strings of souls
Of changes
Your tears will be trembling now were somewhere else
One last cup of wine we will pour
Ill kiss you one more time
And leave you on the rolling river shore
Of changes
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conscience Speaks
Sun is bright in the sky,
The old man walks and sighs.
He walks up the lane, stops and looks for a shade
Stops and takes a cold breadth;
My heart shakes, emotions pour through the eyes:
Why is it so?
Stress should I put on heart or brain.
My body shivers, eyes add to the fuel.
He comes to know of my stress.
Future Past or Present is it;
Ambiguity throws a coat.
FUTURE- Negative capability is the answer
Future and past go hand in hand,
Sins of past drowising in my heart,
Bring the fear of Future.
PRESENT- What is now is because of past,
What will come, a product of present.
Present, past and future housed both in heart and brain.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Us
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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342
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dimension Merge
For us the past has gone and the present moves on
into the yesterday of a future’s present time.
Despite living in the future’s past this will not last,
present and future will very soon combine.
Future or dimension, to some a misapprehension,
but they are one in the same.
If there’s more than one, they will follow on
to leave one, with it’s present name.
On merging we’ll realise we’ve no future to recognise,
and the past and present is all we’ll know.
The past will still be renewed, with each day used,
but the future will mean only tomorrow.
poem by Orlando Belo
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