Letters
i feel a feverish pulsation
pass through my veins
as i look at each word
uttered or unuttered
placed in the cup of my palm
bound by time, the
words disintegrate
and each letter
slips and slides
into a timeless space
mostly never to return…
i crack under the weight
of the silence they leave behind
but
the ones that return
to the warmth of my palm
are drained of the pulsating
passion and boomerang to
attack me with the
ferocity of a wounded lion
filled with compassion at
their helpless act of defense
i hug the poor rag-doll letters
weary after a futile journey…
i fold these letters in compassion
and i shelter them
on my soft lap
…the wounded-wing letters
fallen midflight to a cruel arrow
17sep2009
15.29hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Red Letters
Red letters
Cut deep
Soothe the pain inside.
Red letters
Bold and loud
Scream silently.
Red letters
Secret and hidden
But a cry for help.
Red letters -
A way to deal with this pain.
As I cut these words into my skin
I remember seeing red words somewhere before
Then it hits me like a lightning bolt -
Words of Jesus are printed in red. Words of Christ in red.
Red letters
Real truth, piercing deep
Soothes my pain inside.
Red letters
Your passion, Your blood
Covers me.
Red letters
Hope and life
I cry, 'Fill me! '
Red letters -
You were pierced and bloody
So I wouldn't have to be.
'What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus!
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus!
Oh! precious is the flow that makes me white as snow!
No other fount I know -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus! '
Red letters... Nothing but the blood -
Red letters... Nothing but the blood of Jesus!
poem by Zoe MacRae
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Write by Return
Clerk, corresponding,
“Rooster and Comb”,
Here I sit idle
“Thinking of home”;
I must be grafting—
Living to earn,
More correspondence,
“Write by return.”
Clerk in employ of
“Shoddy and Woods”,
Thinks that we have not
Forwarded goods.
Parcel we sent them—
Missing, I learn,
Says in his postscript:
“Write by return.”
Here is another
Letter from Bland—
“Cheque he expected
Isn’t to hand.”
How we forgot it
Cannot discern,
“Forward remittance,
Write by return.”
Here is another—
O how they come?
Treats of a “Bender”
Planned by a chum.
See on the margin,
Big letters: “Burn
After perusal—
Write by return.”
Mail in from England,
Letters for me—
Dear little sweetheart
Over the sea.
“Quite broken-hearted,
O how I yearn
Only to see you. . . .
Write by return.”
One who will “never
Think that I’m bad”
Writes me a letter
Tearful and sad.
Thinks that I’m starving,
Filled with concern,
Sends me some money—
“Write by return.”
Letter from father,
Sent to his son,
“All is forgiven—
Fat calf for one.”
O that I ever
Thought he was stern—
Money for passage—
Write by return.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Letters
You never liked to get
The letters that I sent.
But now youve got the gist
Of what my letters meant.
Youre reading them again,
The ones you didnt burn.
You press them to your lips,
My pages of concern.
I said thered been a flood.
I said theres nothing left.
I hoped that you would come.
I gave you my address.
Your story was so long,
The plot was so intense,
It took you years to cross
The lines of self-defense.
The wounded forms appear:
The loss, the full extent;
And simple kindness here,
The solitude of strength.
You walk into my room.
You stand there at my desk,
Begin your letter to
The one whos coming next.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
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Letters To No One
I wrote a letter to my love
and never received a reply.
I've often wondered why that was.
Did he up and die?
Yes, he did. It's a fact.
And because I didn't know
I kept writing letters
and kept feeling low.
These letters went to no one.
So no one wrote to me.
I've often wondered if all my words
would come back home to me?
And then one day they all came back.
'Undeliverable'
is what they said.
I guess my lover moved away
or maybe he was dead.
And so I stopped my letters.
I never wrote again.
I still have all those letters,
unopened and unread.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Letters Never Sent
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
In a suitcase tied with string
On the highest shelf
In the closet down the hall
Hidden from myself
Fits of madness, pools of grief
Fevers of desire
How peculiar these remain
Slavaged from the fire
For some I crumpled some I burned
Some I tore to shreds
Lifetimes later, here they are
Ones I saved instead
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Never reached their destination
Mostly born of pain
Resurfaced with the purpose of
A trip down memory lane
Broken hearted, breaking hearts
All the way it went
Evidence of what I saw
My experiments
Lifes a riddle, lifes a dream
Lifes an accident
Now Im gonna set them free
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Once upon a time taboo
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Incongruous, and overdue
Letters never sent
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Sign Your Letters
(sylvester / clarke / hicks)
Please sign your letters
Please dont make me blue
Please sign your letters,
And then Ill know its you
Cant stop thinking of you
Youre always on my mind
Please sign your letters
Please dont be unkind
I read your letter
I read most every line
You said you loved me,
Said you would be mine
My heart was jumping
Something shook my mind
I found your letter was left unsigned
Chorus
Your letter said wed met some time ago
Id like to see you,
But somehow you just wont show
I just dont know which way to go
Repeat
Chorus
Please sign your letters
Please dont be unkind
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writting
When i feel lost lonely and have nowhere to go,
the words keep me company and im a loner no more,
Letters come together in my minds free flowing from my
heart,
Two letters one letter many letters make up words,
Long words short word
bring up sentences that form up,
my concious wades throught them picking seeking to join
short and long and make it work,
No rules to my word play anything u want can stay a
concortion a work of art,
Am lost in emotions,
lost in expressions,
pronouns adjectives and nouns,
Lay them straight,
hang them down they still are need a flow to make a sweet
sound,
The rhyme,
the time is put into consideration when iplay with all my words,
My best friend is my pen, my paper and my head there is no limit to what i can,
Its a poem am at it a work of art in progress i love the work
of my hands...
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
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8-3-1
The way I want you babe
Its embarrassing
I cant control myself
Its just too much for me
I cant concentrate
I dont know what to say
Except your name baby
The sweetest name
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
When you say my name
I begin to shake
I break out in a sweat
This is the best it gets
Theres nothing second rate
About this feeling babe
Its forever come what may
Its what I hope and pray yeah
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
Its understanding and its understood
And baby it sure feels good
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Word
If I make a word
it is first sculpted from letters
on the page
a canvass across which
letters skate
from margin to margin transforming
into meanings and sentences
which give us art, science, poetry
and civilization.
This is created from an arbitrary entity,
the scratchings we call letters
which in turn form yet another
mysterious entity we call the alphabet.
What manner of miracle is this?
All of civilization is born from
these scribbly scratchings?
So if each letter is an imaginary entity,
an arbitrary symbol we made up
which has no meaning by itself
and lives inside another arbitrary entity
we call the alphabet
we may properly ask
what is going on here?
Meaning here is deriving from an arbitrary nothingness
arbitrarily created from arbitrary letters
by virtue of common agreement around
what words will mean?
Ponder this:
we too, as individuals are letter unique
and, in our variety, form a kind of human alphabet.
What we all mean and can mean to each other
therefore depends upon the words we form
in our families and communities; our human alphabets.
So, one word letters such as 'I' are too self-regarding
and are narcissistic anomalies
not true words at all.
Better words have more syllables than that
and have enabled us to form social sentences
more complex
which we can use for good or ill
peace or war, love or hate.
So watch your words and sentences
don't swing them recklessly in a crowded room
you'll put somebody's mind out
or create genius.
Big responsibility this
especially for us poets.
So in the end
in mass society
you and I are a single letter
but combined create all there is.
You can take that
as the first
and last
Word
And by the way
arbitrary letters
are electrons at the sub-atomic level
and combine to make molecules
and the greatest meaning of all
All of the Universe.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Alphabet Lost And Found
On this fateful day, in the history of whenever,
An epidemic of missing letters has swept the land.
Whatever the cause, for the sake of future generations,
In the limited time we have been permitted, these stories must be told.
There was an apple that lost his 'a'
There was a zebra that lost his 'z'
There was a chauffeur that left his 'auffer' on the dashboard
Of the car that lost its 'r'
Well, the car had lost its 'r' in a pothole
On a street that lost its 'e'
When the garbage collector with a missing 'ector' swept it up
With a broom that lost its 'oom'
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together-
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
There was a school that lost its 'cool'
when they tired to ring the bell that had no 'l'
With all the letters gone, the spelling bee was canceled
Science teachers had their hands full
English classes could not be complete
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Crowds of people, animals, and incomplete words have been seen at a previously unknown place to be referred to as-
The alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found) (how could they survive without their letters)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Mail Call
The letters always just evade the hand
One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird.
Surely the past from which the letters rise
Is waiting in the future, past the graves?
The soldiers are all haunted by their lives.
Their claims upon their kind are paid in paper
That established a presence, like a smell.
In letters and in dreams they see the world.
They are waiting: and the years contract
To an empty hand, to one unuttered sound --
The soldier simply wishes for his name.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Letters Or Feathers?
A letter has run into feathers,
The old image of letters are words;
Keep the frock of letters a secret,
How delightful a clean person this is!
Letters are dear to the touch,
Few will discover a grassy bank,
In wrapped water, water all white,
Leaving fishes to the taste,
Feathers are scales this time.
My head chattered from time to time,
Leaving the dear person in a landing.
Let the river seek a blunt instrument
Called rocks, a fully able object,
Worrying is all it contains.
poem by Naveed Akram
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50 Years Later
I have no letter to show you my son
Said the modern father to his
Postmodern son.
Epistolary novel is a form of past
Why are you worried about such
Trivial matters like letter?
Asked the modern father to his
Postmodern son.
I got sms in my message box
I got mails in my pc
And deleted to make way to
New ones
Nothing remains forever dear
Said the proud father to his son.
I read about letters in little mags
My friends say it was really amazing
To share thoughts, feelings
Through letters
But you have nothing to show me
Ha! It's really very sad!
You should have some letters dad!
Said the postmodern son.
poem by Amitabh Roy
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Hi... Bye...
hi
one syllable,
two letters, it makes the difference
of being here and
you being there,
hi
and i say hi too to you
crisp, too short, reserved,
as we both wonder what next to say
what is the possibility of
another letter, or word, or perhaps
an incomplete sentence will do the trick
of what that rest must follow...
hi.... and i fall short of meaning and i write...
bye.
three letters
one syllable, sad and
indifferent
it could have asked for some more
but you know
it cannot.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ex-Whore
I'm a miserably predictable
Broken, sticked-up doll.
My dress is torn, my hair matted
And one arm dangles at my side.
My wounded pride, my wounded pride.
I used to be pretty, you know
Before I got so old, before I became disposable.
They used to look at me and smile
I was theirs for a while.
My wounded pride, my wounded pride.
Too old for the job,
No one pays to keep a rag.
I'm a doll, a broken doll,
Wishing I didn't fall.
poem by Ana Podarevska
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Without Lip Or Sucking Of Tongue
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And the length of time it took,
For anyone to notice my presence.
Although it was not my presence,
Or reason why...
That I began this journey to be noticed.
I was much too young.
Like a puppy first seeing its tail for the first time...
And curious as to where it came from.
Who knew?
I didn't!
Until I began following an attraction,
That seemed always in my mind.
Of course I 'know' how I arrived.
I first heard my voice.
And my parents noticed it.
I learned if I used it in certain ways,
They were there.
I was a baby them.
Then I connected my voice to words.
I was in awe that letters were attached.
And those letters attached used in different ways,
Made those words I said more or less effective.
Then I began to see those letters change,
As I began to print them by hand slowly.
I was amazed! .
Then I discovered certain words I shouldn't say!
I should never have been told that.
Because even today...
I will use those same words to chase people away.
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And I used a lot of cussing along the way.
Trust me.
But I stopped when it was pointed out to me,
I 'seemed' to have had more intelligence than that.
And whoever said that to me,
Had no clue as to how curious I was.
'Ma?
What's intelligence? '
~Someobody who asks too many questions.
And is about to get on my last nerve.~
'You talking about me? '
~Are you or are you not in my face? ~
'Why can't I ask you anything,
Before it's turned into a test? '
~And if you want to pass,
You know what to do.
Without lip or sucking of tongue.
You got that, mister? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Watch For Me At Midnight
A long time ago, I kissed her
on the step of our front door
then marched away with other men
off to a foreign country
to fight in a distant war.
At first the letters came frequently
slowly diminishing to a few,
which got me thinking and worried
that in my long absence
I was slowly losing you.
Then I got a letter from your brother
that explained things to me
you were sick in hospital
and I should not worry
about our son and you.
The letters then stopped coming
each mail run I looked on in despair
that there were never any letters
from your brother or you
and my heart felt so heavy.
Then in the next summer
that dreaded letter came.
You had passed into God’s hands
in that early spring
leaving one last message for me.
When you come home my dear
I will not be here
I leave in your trust our son
may he grow up to be
a man just like you.
Fear not you will see me again
if you go down to the fairy wood
and find the circle where the fairies play
and watch for me at midnight
under the haze of the moon.
3 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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