A Flower To Auroville Mother 24
Chamomile, (German chamomile, Matricaria chamomilla)
Of your mistaken identity for crysanthemum
Vendors local were ignorant here once
Elapsed speedy time to prize your esteem optimum
Chamomile, to feel great real of your ambiance
Of sunlike a shape Aster-grouped, you're propagated
Albeit you're in slender rising, for your strong usage
Head up seemingly energised, harrowed center prettified
Chamomile, wonder is your muti-purposive visage
Of your ilk utile occidental alone, needs it be seizable
The wared orient urging for you all-medicative, calmative
Extracted decocted to infuse in health sizable
Chamomile, a concoction of you and me..imperative
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
I have to wake up and drink chamomile tea to slow down.
quote by Janice Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-38
Decorative Dahlia (Dahlia)
They all parade to my awe
Chamomile, Cosmos, crysanthemum, Zinnia..
I need to set my vision right
'Best is who? ' I'm to elucidate
In vain I accept my inability
As all are queens of high beauty
Wonder what to do..'step back? '
'No'..a command takes me aback
Dahlia, all beauties in one..
With all her sisters in a run
Dahlia, Queen of queens by norm
As if Sun himself in her form
A discus of plentiful florets
Glowing illumed on her face
Leafy bracts helping her throng
No doubt she can be head-strong
So, I declare Dahlia the best
Smile leafing from her tuberous root
poem by Indira Renganathan
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What Is Life?
There's snow outside my window,
Shadows on the floor,
The moon illumes the sky,
Just as the night before.
I miss my little family,
And with emotions high,
I sit with hands on head,
And cry, cry, cry...
The next day I feel better,
And put the kettle on,
And sip a cup of chamomile,
As sunshine strikes the lawn.
O passing days, please tell me,
Whatever is this life?
A moment filled with moments?
Splendor, wonder, strife?
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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Morning Calls
Morning calls for pain relief,
A line above the step beneath
The worst that you could do.
And the best that you could hope for
Is hardly the best.
Tepid water chase your pills with turpentine and chamomile
And don't be cheap on the wine.
You need to be up
All of the time.
Shield your eyes,
Conceal your lies.
Don't blink.
Everyone's watching.
They'll think you're up to something.
They need for you to be
Everything they cannot
Be themselves.
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girls Get The Bass In The Back (feat. Bounty Killer) (Hey Baby Remix)
Hey baby, baby (4x)
All the boys say
Hey, hey... (2x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey, hey... (2x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
I'm the kind of girl
That hangs with the guys
Like a fly in the wall
With my secret eyes
Taking it in
Try to be feminine
With my make-up bag
Watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody is surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you have enough you'll get the pass
And you can tell your friends how you made it back
No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
hey, hey... (4x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
Jum, jum, jum, jum
Jump on the stage
Jump
Jump on the stage
Jump
Jump on the stage cause we going crazy
Afterward myself and one of them gorgeous ladies
There is no need to be actin' shady
C'mon baby, hey, hey baby
When you rock your hips you know that it amazes me
Got me off the hook and nutting else don't phase me
Can you be my one and only sunshine lady
If no, maybe, hey baby
Hey, hey... (4x)
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
song performed by by No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inverted
A tribal instinct stops the nemesis:
Spraying the blood-soaked, small
foot prints on my chest;
unlocking, I accept
myself.
Why contained anger
of awesome ache over the periphery?
Through the atrophied, black limbs -
an elite infusion of trespassing knowledge?
The green adolescence was waiting in chains.
The hoarseness as from a cyanosed throat
after the sips of hemlock, the brave ascending
of a gaint stroke on the cheeks of death;
the dust will sing a farewell
to a river of tears!
End was not me on the chainsaw
a chamomile will wipe the blemishes of the Grail.
poem by Satish Verma
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Sonnet In Bee Flat
There must be a place (but I've yet to find one)
beneath the Sol-drawn dawn of autumn skies
where cut-throat trout still find the heart to run
and the fullness of Summer's life never dies.
There, as if Earth had changed rotation,
Instead of honey, nature gathers dew
and composes a world without notation.
Unlike the life of old, this work is new.
Despite the nearing gray cold wintry blast,
the twisted fir tree keeps her dreams of green,
of a chamomile welwitschian past,
and buzzing yellow flights of friends less seen.
But bees still dance their flower pollen-aise,
a song of haze gold mid-October days.
(mindbringer,19 October 2009)
poem by Thomas Holderfield
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Slowly Winter sets in...
It’s the onset of long awaited winter,
There is a slight nip in the air.
I hear the sound of bird’s twitter
Flitting about the trees without a care.
You can let your French windows open,
And draw your drapes apart.
And let the bright rays of the Sun
Stream in and warm your heart.
I feel cosy as I pull my Jaipuri quilt,
And quietly soak in the magical morn
I don’t feel any pangs of guilt,
And take an off with a yawn.
Today I am going to skip all the news,
I decide as I sip my chamomile tea.
And leisurely just enjoy a few
Of the things that make me, me.
I put on the foot tapping tribal music,
And make a breakfast of oats and bread.
Roll up my thin bamboo chicks
And pick up comics lying unread.
This is my way to unwind
And laze on a beautiful day
I don’t over tax my mind
And just rest, enjoy and pray.
It dawns on me lying in my hammock,
One needs so little to be happy.
Then why do we say life sucks,
And feel crappy most of the days.
It’s the onset of long awaited winter,
There is a slight nip in the air.
I hear the sound of bird’s twitter
Flitting about the trees without a care.
You can let your French windows open,
And draw your drapes apart.
And let the bright rays of the Sun
Stream in and warm your heart.
I feel cosy as I pull my Jaipuri quilt,
And quietly soak in the magical morn
I don’t feel any pangs of guilt,
And take an off with a yawn.
Today I am going to skip all the news,
I decide as I sip my chamomile tea.
And leisurely just enjoy a few
Of the things that make me, me.
I put on the foot tapping tribal music,
And make a breakfast of oats and bread.
Roll up my thin bamboo chicks
And pick up comics lying unread.
This is my way to unwind
And laze on a beautiful day,
I don’t over tax my weary mind
And just rest, enjoy and pray.
It dawns on me lying in my hammock,
One needs so little to be happy.
Then why do we say life sucks,
And feel crappy most of the days?
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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When Life Gives You Lemons
When Life Gives You Lemons
Shopping for a lemon and honey
For money can actually buy
At a Chinatown grocery store
The lemon acidity diminish phlegm
The honey to replenish sweetness lost
In conjunction with Chamomile Green Tea
To soothe my throat from this stupid lingering cough
When Life Gives You Lemons
I throw the lemons right back
For my lashing is the acidity squirted at malicious people
Their juice from the lemon is very weak
For the acid is deflected right back
Honey, I've got a lot more sweetness should malicious people throw acid at me
Yet attempt to destroy my sunshine as my uplifting spirit continues to be envied
Have a shot of Limoncello!
Unruly Dragon in Porcelain Equilibrium
Feral fires in your fluid soul
the magma of your volatile thoughts
are bubbles of molten emotions
erupting from the crater
of a flaming volcano.
The raving lava gushes forth wildly.
It carries suspended crystals,
it streams down the mountain slopes,
drawing over them
intractable arabesque patterns.
Then high above the mountain peaks
an eagle spreads its wide wings
among amorphous clouds
flying free boldly in the crumbly sky.
And like quietude after a storm,
your restless mind,
a turbulent brain craves for calm
and respite: A passionate heart
striving for soothing relief
in porcelain equilibrium.
But the unruly dragon
must cascade through wild rapids
before the tamed river of fervor
can flow slowly
from the restricting gorge
into the placid lake
of chamomile harmonies.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Blue flower [Floare albastră]
Have you plunged again in spheres
And in clouds you wanna flee?
How I wish you stayed with me,
You're the soul of all my years.
To no end the sunny rivers
You are piling in your head
Distant plains of which we read
And the sea that's dark and quivers.
The old pyramids are charming
Point directly to the sky
You don't need to search so high
For your happiness, my darling!
This is what the girlie said
Gently playing with my hair
Oh! she said a truth so rare;
And I laughed and shook my head.
– Come, the woods are full of peace
And the springs flow down the vale
While the rock's about to fail
In the stately precipice.
In the glade, with our dreams
Near the lake, like a blue screen,
And beneath the reed so green
We shall lie on berry leaves.
There you'll tell me many stories
And a lot of lies I feel
I shall snatch a chamomile
Trying to dismiss my worries.
And the sun will be so violent
And I'll be so red and fair
I shall loose my golden hair
For a while to make you silent.
If you want to kiss my lips
No one in the world will know
Cause we're lying here below
And who cares you've touched my hips?
When we see while looking back
The big moon with all its charm
You will hold me by the arm
I will jump around your neck.
And beneath the trees like towers
To the village we shall go
Our kisses then will flow
As sweet as the hidden flowers.
And arriving at the gate
In the darkness we shall chatter
This is not something to matter
Who cares that my love is great?
One last kiss and left me sour
Didn't know what I was feeling
How insane and how appealling
Was my sweet and blue, blue flower!
* * *
Off you went and my eyes burned
And our love died in an hour
Blue, blue flower, blue, blue flower!...
There is sadness in the world!
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Your Hair
Your hair, a city of chestnut brown
With locks resilient like hands, steady ambidextrous hands
And the chamomile bliss and breeze in the land,
Subtly sit like an orphaned child
Your hair, and the enticing air
Twisted and curled, devoured by a cicada
With pointed antenna beaming forward
Quantum leaps and celestial bodies reunited
Your hair, of soft and cozy feel
Buried me underneath the aroma
Of coffee-laced and inebriated mornings,
In the strands of the rays of the Sun,
Hanging by a thread,
Dwindling by the street lamps that flicker -
Ensconced in the premise of the night
And the eyes resembling a masked crescent moon
Then it should appear to me,
Like a fire and a name emblazoned on pavements
Talking like puppets and mannequins
With shunned eyes and stationary stances
Your hair, not that I know of -
The surreal and bizarre complex
Of the strands and locks that entwine
With fate and time, leaving me dismantled
I feel naked underneath your hair,
And over your lips, your lips of iridescence
My soul, lit like fireworks in high spirits
My oh my, do I wish to be buried underneath your hair
If I couldn't see you, like time eschewing the breath
Of sunshine's mouth, and the prying moon
Then I shall think of your hair and not your feet
For it is in your hair, have I found divine solace
And when I run my hands and caress thy chestnut brown
Of a hair so delighted by the chandeliers and lamps,
I feel my soul runaway in the impasse, the opaque tunnel
Your hair not of the arbitrator, not the trivial, but the certain
Your hair of enthralling fragrance and glowing with poise
Like stellar eyes in the dead azure, not resurrected
I long for your hair, and for your soul, like water flowing endlessly
And perhaps my love for you, on a mountainside streaming like a river.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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Lonesome Deity 'bove A Hermit Desk
A lonesome Deity hovers above my hermit desk,
delivering the soft, nuptial scent of dried chamomile petals;
a steaming vapor, livening puffy
bleary eyed, sleepy morning facial flesh
In the solitude of early hours belonging the songbirds,
I hear the familiar footsteps of his approach;
The invisible wind borne life force,
creaking untraceable floorboards,
rattling shutter-less windows:
Hermes, speaking in the silent code of Mercurial morse
revving me from the mossy undergrowth of my bed sheets
with a musing spring gambade from the ancient Aonian source.
The hiss and purr percolation of his slow drip voice
builds like steadily brewing kaffe klatsch
The dusty echo of his whisper soothes like a sleepy fan
Bedded in the warm blankets of his embrace,
I welcome his presence.
The dark clouds of bitterness that
for so long lingered between us,
have faded in the light of age,
the tiresome influence
anxiety cast upon us
died with those waning
flames of youth;
ash now lost
in the ever widening
gulf of the past.
Our Maternal guardian:
Patience, shepherdess of the fawn,
has guided us well in our play,
placing the searing irons of
boredom and restlessness
into the grip of our adolescent palms, and
with adroit, moist hands and egret fingertips,
Taught us how to mold these scorching
human elements,
converting them, with essential care,
into enduring tools of one's chosen craft.
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Modern Love LXX
Modern Love LXX
First chill of autumn
summer has
fallen out of love
cold wind descends
where yesterday
geraniums smiled
autumn breeze
flowers tremble
like aching hearts
winter is launched
a piece of memory -
green tea cermony!
Chilled autumn rain
marigolds dance
upon the meadow
Two cats dart
upon the last grass
of departing summer
cool fall evening
filling black sky
vast empty eternity
frogs laughter
points the way
to lonely saltmarsh
again that ancient
taste of freshly
broken heart
first autumn chill
under burning leaves
the necks of swans
morning prayers
mists lift free
from ocean waves
sun filled glass
fresh peaches taste
gong of morning
red hibiscus opens
in response
to warm stare
two seagull lovers
dip and soar
namaste to summer
morning dove sails
pointing at sky
liquid blue coos
full suspended sun
reflected on water
creating some ocean
buddha moon
toothless grin smile
window hinges
chamomile blossoms
entire garden
bottom dregs of cup
zazen morning twilight
crack in split mind
in exactly the right place
summer's footprint
in deep winter snow
leads to spring
as-ton-ish-ed
to find no one
there, here!
sad snowman
calmly awaiting
springs agony
First autumn chill
summer has
fallen out of love
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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Mr and Mrs Discobbolos
First Part
Mr and Mrs Discobbolos
Climbed to the top of a wall,
And they sat to watch the sunset sky
And to hear the Nupiter Piffkin cry
And the Biscuit Buffalo call.
They took up a roll and some Chamomile tea,
And both were as happy as happy could be -
Till Mrs Discobbolos said, -
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
It has just come into my head -
Suppose we should happen to fall!!!!!
Darling Mr Discobbolos?
'Suppose we should fall down flumpetty
Just like two pieces of stone!
On to the thorns, - or into the moat!
What would become of your new green coat?
And might you not break a bone?
It never occurred to me before -
That perhaps we shall never go down any more!'
And Mrs Discobbolos said -
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
What put it into your head
To climb up this wall? - my own
Darling Mr Discobbolos?'
Mr Discobbolos answered, -
'At first it gave me pain, -
And I felt my ears turn perfectly pink
When your exclamation made me think
We might never get down again!
But now I believe it is wiser far
To remain for ever just where we are.' -
And Mr Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
It has just come into my head -
'- We shall never go down again -
Dearest Mrs Discobbolos.!'
So Mr and Mrs Discobbolos
Stood up, and began to sing,
'Far away from hurry and strife
Here we will pass the rest of life,
Ding a dong, ding dong, ding!
We want no knives nor forks nor chairs,
No tables nor carpets nor household cares,
From worry of life we've fled -
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
There is no more trouble ahead
Sorrow or any such thing -
For Mr and Mrs Discobbolos!'
Second Part.
Mr and Mrs Discobbolos
Lived on the top of the wall
For twenty years, a month and a day,
Till their hair had grown all pearly gray,
And their teeth began to fall.
They never were ill, or at all dejected,
By all admired, and by some respected,
Till Mrs Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
It has just come into my head,
We have no more room at all -
Darling Mr Discobbolos!
Look at our six fine boys!
And our six sweet girls so fair!
Upon this wall they have all been born,
And not one of the twelve has happened to fall
Through my maternal care!
Surely they should not pass their lives
Without any chance of husbands or wives!'
And Mrs Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
Did it never come into your head
That our lives must be lived elsewhere,
Dearest Mr Discobbolos?
'They have never been at a ball,
Nor have even seen a bazaar!
Nor have heard folks say in a tone all hearty,
'What loves of girls (at a garden party)
Those Misses Discobbolos are!'
Morning and night it drives me wild
To think of the fate of each darling child!'
But Mr Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
What has come to your fiddledum head!
What a runcible goose you are!
Octopod Mrs Discobbolos!'
Suddenly Mr Discobbolos
Slid from the top of the wall;
And beneath it he dug a dreadful trench,
And filled it with dynamite, gunpowder gench,
And aloud he began to call -
'Let the wild bee sing,
And the blue bird hum!
For the end of your lives has certainly come!'
And Mrs Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
We shall presently all be dead,
On this ancient runcible wall,
Terrible Mr Discobbolos!'
Pensively, Mr Discobbolos
Sat with his back to the wall;
He lighted a match, and fired the train,
And the mortified mountain echoed again
To the sound of an awful fall!
And all the Discobbolos family flew
In thousands of bits to the sky so blue,
And no one was left to have said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
Has it come into anyone's head
That the end has happened to all
Of the whole of the Clan Discobbolos?'
poem by Edward Lear
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Mistaken Identity
Undercover cop car
Came screeching to a halt
Body lying on the ground
Must be someones fault
Circumstantial evidence
Seemed to point her way
Her right to remain silent
Was all she heard them say
Blue dress, blue eyes
Blonde hair, about five foot nine
Wrong place, wrong time
Wrong face, wrong crime
(chorus):
Mistaken identity
Could happen to you or to me
Mistaken identity
Mistaken identity
Could happen to you or to me
Mistaken identity
Mistaken identity
(I didnt do it, no, I didnt do it)
No money for a lawyer
To defend her case
Standing in the line-up
Tears rolling down her face
No one cared to listen
Someone had to take the heat
Sometimes theres no justice
When youre a victim of the street
Wrong place, wrong time
Wrong face, wrong crime (x4)
(chorus):
Tu ut tu tu tu...tu ut tut tu tu
They didnt even say
Im sorry
Tried to put her away
In a hurry
Dont make her pay the price
Shes not guilty
(guilty)
For someone elses crime
Set her free
(set her free)
I didnt
I didnt
I didnt do it no (x4)
(chorus out)
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Powerless on Rainy Nights
Powerless on rainy nights
thoughts plagued by
skipping records and
broken guitar strings
Mind haunted by the
lamenting croaks of the
lonesome bullfrog's ghost
dreams hijacked by spectral
hitchhiking faces; howling
roadside reflections of
highway insomnia.
Eyeballs strained out of tune
blitzed under the spell of the neon's
all night blinking spot light amphetamine
Mercurial messenger pigeon pecking at
the crumbled ruins of soggy saltines
sidewalks carnal convulsion
the city releases itself
in communal wet-dream
carnival allure captured in smoke
black vomit skyline
smog-grey coughing up
the nights altered blood
negatively charged impulses
fueled by the weekend's
reckless electricity
shedding ardent layers of the day
naked phosphorous flesh of the night
the machine unwinds under
the moon's drunken light
slow heavy constriction
green serpent air currents
brought in by the storm
summer's mouth hungry
humid and ajar
Purge and escape
libidinous engine
running full throttle
liquid lightning lubrication
human tension's come into close contact
continuously contracting and unwinding
deliriums delicious dance
the eventual fallout and
exhaustion's inevitable
self combustible collapse
what fantastical fastidious
drama replayed nightly
resurfacing through
fissures of lost time
year after year
purgatorial prisoner
of my own unknown
restless yearnings
the blasé day to day fate
not even the rich and recherche
have the power to payoff escape
the higher the stakes
the more indebted the slave
the deeper risk
the wider the grave
I let the morning tea
steep long
small sips
quiet solitude
cup after to cup
just to keep my mind
cherish the subtle beauty
The dried and fragrant petals
the chamomile's pure
flower child charity
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Summer Festivals in Low-income Towns – Sonnet #5
Summer Festivals in low-income towns
Popcorn, ice cream and cover bands abound
Smiles, folding chairs and honest hard workers
Bikers, families, and teenaged wanderers
Dart games and local chamber of commerce
Fringe blankets, folding chairs ice-stocked coolers
Inflatable trampolines, socks bare feet
Grouped around the beer tent where old chums meet
People relaxing breathing summer air
Break from drudgery at the local fair
Maybe yellow dandelions poke through grass
Maybe name brand vendors all took a pass
Unspoiled revelers enjoy the day
Summer magic settles while children play
poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado
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My Identity
So lost deep inside,
Is all that makes me.
My true identity,
Is hard to see.
To my friends and family,
I’m a different me.
I have a secret identity,
Wonder if you’ll ever see.
My thoughts and actions,
Are all that makes me,
But some things I may do,
May not describe me.
Now look inside me,
If you ever feel,
like it,
I’m no-one but me,
Never hiding my identity.
Don’t say I am hypocrisy,
Because I never showed you,
two of me.
Now please,
Look at me,
Try to see the real me.
I’m no-one but,
my real identity.
All full of beauty,
Inside me.
poem by Yisel Chong
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