En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Ancestor

It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
with broken knees no one would shoot.
Then again, he was like the orange tree,
and young women plucked from him sweet fruit.
To meet him, you must be in the right place,
even his sons and daughter, we wondered
where was papa now and what was he doing.
He held the mystique of travelers
that pass your backyard and disappear into the trees.
Then, when you follow, you find nothing,
not a stir, not a twig displaced from its bough.
And then he would appear one night.
Half covered in shadows and half in light,
his voice quiet, absorbing our unspoken thoughts.
When his hands lay on the table at breakfast,
they were hands that had not fixed our crumbling home,
hands that had not taken us into them
and the fingers did not gently rub along our lips.
They were hands of a gypsy that filled our home
with love and safety, for a moment;
with all the shambles of boards and empty stomachs,
they filled us because of the love in them.
Beyond the ordinary love, beyond the coordinated life,
beyond the sponging of broken hearts,
came the untimely word, the fallen smile, the quiet tear,
that made us grow up quick and romantic.
Papa gave us something: when we paused from work,
my sister fourteen years old working the cotton fields,
my brother and I running like deer,
we would pause, because we had a papa no one could catch,
who spoke when he spoke and bragged and drank,
he bragged about us: he did not day we were smart,
nor did he say we were strong and were going to be rich someday.
He said we were good. he held us up to the world for it to see,
three children that were good, who understood love in a quiet way,
who owned nothing but calloused hands and true freedom,
and that is how he made us: he offered us to the wind,
to the mountains, to the skies of autumn and spring.
He said, “Here are my children! Care for them!”
And he left again, going somewhere like a child
with a warrior´s heart, nothing could stop him.
My grandmother would look at him for a long time,
and then she would say nothing.
She chose to remain silent, praying each night,
guiding down like a root in the heart of earth,
clutching sunlight and rains to her ancient breast.
And I am the blossom of many nights.
A threefold blossom: my sister is as she is,
my brother is as he is, and I am as I am.
Through sacred ceremony of living, daily living,
arose three distinct hopes, three loves,
out of the long felt nights and days of yesterday.

poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Papa, Can You Hear Me

papa, can you hear me?
papa, can you see me?
papa, can you find me in the night?
papa, are you near me?
papa, can you hear me?
papa, can you help me not be frightened?
looking at the skies i see a million eyes
which ones are yours?
where are you now
that yesterday has waved goodbye
and closed it's doors
the night is so much darker
the wind is so much colder
the world is so much bigger
now that i am alone
papa, please forgive me
i know you understand me
papa, don't you know i had no chose?
oh, can you hear me prayin'?
anything i'm sayin'?
even though the night is filled with voices
i remember everything you ever
taught me
evey book i've ever read
can all the words,
all the music help me face what's ahead?
the trees are so much taller
i feel so much smaller
the moon is twice as lonely
and the stars are half as bright
daddy, how i love you
daddy, how i need you
daddy, how i miss you
kissing me goodnight

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Killer/papa Was A Rollin Stone

So you want to be free
To live your life the way you wanna be
Will you give if we cry
Will we live or will we die
Tainted hearts heal with time
Shoot bad love so we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try to live our lives
The way we wanna be
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Racism in future kins can only lead to no good
And besides, all our sons and daughters already
Know how that feels
(adam tinley/henry samuel)
Was the third of september
That day Ill always remember, yes I will
cause that was the day that my daddy died
Never had a chance to see him, no
Never heard nothing but bad things about him
Mama, Im depending on you to tell me the truth
Mama just hung her head and said
Chorus
Papa was a rollin stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
(repeat)
Hey, mama, is it true what they say
That papa never worked aday in his life
Some bad talk going around sayin
Papa had three outside children
And another wife
That aint right
Heard some talk about papa and his storefront
Preachin
Talkin about saving souls and all the time
Leachin
And dealing in dirt
Stealin in the name of the lord
But mama she just said
Chorus
Say I heard my papa was a jack of all trades
Is that what papa sent to an early grave?
Folks say papa would beg, borrow or steal just
To pay his bills
Hey, mama, folks say papa was never much in thinkin
Spent most of his time chasin women and drinkin
But mother, Im depending on you
To tell me the truth
But my mama she just said
Chorus (2x)
(norman whitfield/barrett strong)

song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Chances

My Love,

I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.

I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.

I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.

I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.

I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.

I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.

U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.

I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.

You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.

I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.

You became my life, you became my love, my everything.
No matter what happened I still loved you,
And no matter what I tried to give you everything,
And you made me loose so much that I'm left with nothing,
And with my dying breath I give you what was all I had left, my everything.

I take my life to show you what love really means, that it's not the lie you told.

I may not be able to smile when you hold me,
I may not be able to hear your words even if their truth,
I may not be able to remember you soothing touch, or your warmth,
I mat not be able to see your eyes, or your reaching hands,
I may not be able to press my beating heart against your skin,
I may not be able to give you a second chance, for like my heart it is broken,
But After the pain and lies, I believe in what I felt for you,
And hope maybe someday you'll believe the same, and find beauty from pain

Even with nothing left to give you but my word, I breath my last breath for you.

I lay in silence to let you live, to give to you a broken second chance,

For I will always love you,
Be............

by: Bethany Maxwell =)

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty Hands

He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money

But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands

They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands

In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Night My Brother

Good Night My Brother

Good Night my dear brother.
It seems that is all I can say
as today you close your eyes on this, now fated day.
My mother she shed a tear and asked us all simply to pray.

We hear her heart breaking
Cracking as she… shuffles.
She moves quietly in her room.
The house is still lit, she doesn’t want any gloom.

She ponders to herself we are sure; of what is to come.
The children left behind, still wondering on the moment.
One minute he was there and the next he is gone.
Confused by it all...the children...Oh the children! ...oh what is to done?
The police have now come and gone
as dear brother he passed away at home
lying on his bed, no movement.. no…no breathing in his room.

Good night my dear brother
Those cigarettes
They did you in.
We spoke but some weeks ago
you lamented then, that that may be the way you will go!
Those accursed things took my father too...you knew this then and here we are
Five years later and back again.

Good night my dear brother
It seems that is all I can say
I love you dearly
You knew that...I love you beyond the grave.
I know God now keeps you
I know that you accepted him
I believe God keeps you,
So good night my brother dear, our journey has not come to an end.

Your sister. For my brother Val.
Elaine Oxamendi Vicet
11: 03pm

poem by Elaine Oxamendi Vicet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Gift You Have Given Me

Aaaaah
Mama...my first words
Dada threw me in the air
I trusted he'll catch me
And he did
But Papa...I've never met him
Never seen him, never known him
He used bare hands to form my porcelain skin
And ingenuity to craft my genius mind
The breathed in me for so long
Then dropped precious stones in me
To help beautify the ailing earth
He hugged me and prayed I'd remember him
I didn't...Papa...
He wrote a big book of letters I found boring
But used as a bed time story
And learned that Papa's this mighty guy
Papa...
Heard he loves me crazy, unconditionally
And wants me to love others the same
But the world knows not love that's pure and bursts
But I don't know how to...love
I long for him, I leave him alone a lot
But the yearning cannot be feigned
Papa...
The best things in life are free
People say free things have no value
But your life, your sanity
Your children, your family
Your health, your mind,
Your peace, your joy
Your love, Papa's love
Compare with the things we put value on:
My flat screen, my Range
My ipad, my Gucci.
My jewelry, my clothing
My degree, my duplex.
Now you, I, we are more beautiful
Than the most perfect rose or
Most beautiful egoistic peacock
He dropped many treasures in me
I've danced, I've sang, I've led
And now I'm writing to you
This gift I've been given...
This gift we've been given...
Let's change the world...
By first finding Papa.

poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dreamed.... (Hands)

i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.

hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!

hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....

whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dying Child

He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o'er the green.

His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.

Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?

He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood's sweet delight.

And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.

When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Used To Be Alright

Its pretty good, the wine
The way we look at
Ten to eight in the morning
Just talking, still awake in
Dawn and dew drinking, thinking
Always...
Remembering the laughs, the time
We got high for seven days down
In New Orleans and it seemed like
No one else knew we were just
The moon and sun in fog before the
Heat burned it away and took
The sleep from tired heads on
Beds of reaching hands, of road trip
Breath and long tall freedom
And then you long
For the days of trippin' down
The long road just reading the
Signs that show you the way to
A higher place you meditate to
Feel the quiet of the earth
That was back
When we used to be alright
Another shame, the way
The city smells worse on
A hot day in August....2 pm
Right before US good movers
Move and us shakers break
Our hearts getting home to
Country love and the garbage
Dump by the dried up creek
Near the forest that once had a life
And then I turned on the news
Somebody shoot me soon
I'm tired of over heating, falling
Quick to bending knees and
Broken veins, of always needing
Faith to get to shore and break
Al the vows I've made
No time or presence
Of mind to wonder why
No time for questions of
WHy I wonder why
Something's wrong...again
The noise shakes the ground
There's a rage in
The crowd and I'm a face
In the crowd, whats your name?
You're sinkin' in the sand
Standing next to me, a river
Running through your pants, afraid
To trust me when my hands
Are helping you

song performed by by I Mother Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Papa-Omm-Mow-Mow

Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow
The Beach Boys
Frazier/White/Wilson, Jr./Harris
The last time we were up here
We did a song by another group of guys
We like very much
A real friendly group of guys
Called the Rivingtons
Their song is called "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow"
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
A papa-oom-mow-mow
Funniest sound I ever heard
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But I can't understand a single word
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well if he's serious or if he's playin'
Woo my my it's all he's sayin
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well say there pop, say what's your name?
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Well don't you come around and show your face
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But hearing the sound I can't figure it out
Oo-wee this sound makes me stop and shout
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
Doot doot doot
Doot doot doot
A papa-papa-papa-papa-oom-mow-mow
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Doot doot doot
Well I hear this sound everywhere I go
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
From the record, TV, or the radio
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
But now it's spreadin' all through the land
I still can't seem to understand
Papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)
Papa-papa-papa-hoooo
Doot doot doot
(A papa-oom-mow-mow a papa-oom-mow-mow)

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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425

one more day papa
for me to get to know you more
how the days and years have built a wall between us
how you kept on telling me that after mama died the years had become so
hollow and even so cruel
one day more papa
you have always repeated that we are destined to be split
like a bamboo
and that sharp bolo does it with nothing but seconds

i leave back to where i am
and you will be staying to where you are
you tell me your heart is broken
but i will not tell you that mine too is bleeding

one day more papa and there will be no other days
i have long been dead away from your hands

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazarus

“No, Mary, there was nothing—not a word.
Nothing, and always nothing. Go again
Yourself, and he may listen—or at least
Look up at you, and let you see his eyes.
I might as well have been the sound of rain,
A wind among the cedars, or a bird;
Or nothing. Mary, make him look at you;
And even if he should say that we are nothing,
To know that you have heard him will be something.
And yet he loved us, and it was for love
The Master gave him back. Why did he wait
So long before he came? Why did he weep?
I thought he would be glad—and Lazarus—
To see us all again as he had left us—
All as it was, all as it was before.”

Mary, who felt her sister’s frightened arms
Like those of someone drowning who had seized her,
Fearing at last they were to fail and sink
Together in this fog-stricken sea of strangeness,
Fought sadly, with bereaved indignant eyes,
To find again the fading shores of home
That she had seen but now could see no longer
Now she could only gaze into the twilight,
And in the dimness know that he was there,
Like someone that was not. He who had been
Their brother, and was dead, now seemed alive
Only in death again—or worse than death;
For tombs at least, always until today,
Though sad were certain. There was nothing certain
For man or God in such a day as this;
For there they were alone, and there was he—
Alone; and somewhere out of Bethany,
The Master—who had come to them so late,
Only for love of them and then so slowly,
And was for their sake hunted now by men
Who feared Him as they feared no other prey—
For the world’s sake was hidden. “Better the tomb
For Lazarus than life, if this be life,”
She thought; and then to Martha, “No, my dear,”
She said aloud; “not as it was before.
Nothing is ever as it was before,
Where Time has been. Here there is more than Time;
And we that are so lonely and so far
From home, since he is with us here again,
Are farther now from him and from ourselves
Than we are from the stars. He will not speak
Until the spirit that is in him speaks;
And we must wait for all we are to know,
Or even to learn that we are not to know.
Martha, we are too near to this for knowledge,
And that is why it is that we must wait.
Our friends are coming if we call for them,
And there are covers we’ll put over him
To make him warmer. We are too young, perhaps,
To say that we know better what is best
Than he. We do not know how old he is.
If you remember what the Master said,
Try to believe that we need have no fear.
Let me, the selfish and the careless one,
Be housewife and a mother for tonight;
For I am not so fearful as you are,
And I was not so eager.”

Martha sank
Down at her sister’s feet and there sat watching
A flower that had a small familiar name
That was as old as memory, but was not
The name of what she saw now in its brief
And infinite mystery that so frightened her
That life became a terror. Tears again
Flooded her eyes and overflowed. “No, Mary,”
She murmured slowly, hating her own words
Before she heard them, “you are not so eager
To see our brother as we see him now;
Neither is he who gave him back to us.
I was to be the simple one, as always,
And this was all for me.” She stared again
Over among the trees where Lazarus,
Who seemed to be a man who was not there,
Might have been one more shadow among shadows,
If she had not remembered. Then she felt
The cool calm hands of Mary on her face,
And shivered, wondering if such hands were real.

“The Master loved you as he loved us all,
Martha; and you are saying only things
That children say when they have had no sleep.
Try somehow now to rest a little while;
You know that I am here, and that our friends
Are coming if I call.”

Martha at last
Arose, and went with Mary to the door,
Where they stood looking off at the same place,
And at the same shape that was always there
As if it would not ever move or speak,
And always would be there. “Mary, go now,
Before the dark that will be coming hides him.
I am afraid of him out there alone,
Unless I see him; and I have forgotten
What sleep is. Go now—make him look at you—
And I shall hear him if he stirs or whispers.
Go!—or I’ll scream and bring all Bethany
To come and make him speak. Make him say once
That he is glad, and God may say the rest.
Though He say I shall sleep, and sleep for ever,
I shall not care for that… Go!”

Mary, moving
Almost as if an angry child had pushed her,
Went forward a few steps; and having waited
As long as Martha’s eyes would look at hers,
Went forward a few more, and a few more;
And so, until she came to Lazarus,
Who crouched with his face hidden in his hands,
Like one that had no face. Before she spoke,
Feeling her sister’s eyes that were behind her
As if the door where Martha stood were now
As far from her as Egypt, Mary turned
Once more to see that she was there. Then, softly,
Fearing him not so much as wondering
What his first word might be, said, “Lazarus,
Forgive us if we seemed afraid of you;”
And having spoken, pitied her poor speech
That had so little seeming gladness in it,
So little comfort, and so little love.

There was no sign from him that he had heard,
Or that he knew that she was there, or cared
Whether she spoke to him again or died
There at his feet. “We love you, Lazarus,
And we are not afraid. The Master said
We need not be afraid. Will you not say
To me that you are glad? Look, Lazarus!
Look at my face, and see me. This is Mary.”
She found his hands and held them. They were cool,
Like hers, but they were not so calm as hers.
Through the white robes in which his friends had wrapped him
When he had groped out of that awful sleep,
She felt him trembling and she was afraid.
At last he sighed; and she prayed hungrily
To God that she might hear again the voice
Of Lazarus, whose hands were giving her now
The recognition of a living pressure
That was almost a language. When he spoke,
Only one word that she had waited for
Came from his lips, and that word was her name.

“I heard them saying, Mary, that he wept
Before I woke.” The words were low and shaken,
Yet Mary knew that he who uttered them
Was Lazarus; and that would be enough
Until there should be more… “Who made him come,
That he should weep for me?… Was it you, Mary?”
The questions held in his incredulous eyes
Were more than she would see. She looked away;
But she had felt them and should feel for ever,
She thought, their cold and lonely desperation
That had the bitterness of all cold things
That were not cruel. “I should have wept,” he said,
“If I had been the Master….”

Now she could feel
His hands above her hair—the same black hair
That once he made a jest of, praising it,
While Martha’s busy eyes had left their work
To flash with laughing envy. Nothing of that
Was to be theirs again; and such a thought
Was like the flying by of a quick bird
Seen through a shadowy doorway in the twilight.
For now she felt his hands upon her head,
Like weights of kindness: “I forgive you, Mary….
You did not know—Martha could not have known—
Only the Master knew…. Where is he now?
Yes, I remember. They came after him.
May the good God forgive him…. I forgive him.
I must; and I may know only from him
The burden of all this… Martha was here—
But I was not yet here. She was afraid….
Why did he do it, Mary? Was it—you?
Was it for you?… Where are the friends I saw?
Yes, I remember. They all went away.
I made them go away…. Where is he now?…
What do I see down there? Do I see Martha—
Down by the door?… I must have time for this.”

Lazarus looked about him fearfully,
And then again at Mary, who discovered
Awakening apprehension in his eyes,
And shivered at his feet. All she had feared
Was here; and only in the slow reproach
Of his forgiveness lived his gratitude.
Why had he asked if it was all for her
That he was here? And what had Martha meant?
Why had the Master waited? What was coming
To Lazarus, and to them, that had not come?
What had the Master seen before he came,
That he had come so late?

“Where is he, Mary?”
Lazarus asked again. “Where did he go?”
Once more he gazed about him, and once more
At Mary for an answer. “Have they found him?
Or did he go away because he wished
Never to look into my eyes again?…
That, I could understand…. Where is he, Mary?”

“I do not know,” she said. “Yet in my heart
I know that he is living, as you are living—
Living, and here. He is not far from us.
He will come back to us and find us all—
Lazarus, Martha, Mary—everything—
All as it was before. Martha said that.
And he said we were not to be afraid.”
Lazarus closed his eyes while on his face
A tortured adumbration of a smile
Flickered an instant. “All as it was before,”
He murmured wearily. “Martha said that;
And he said you were not to be afraid …
Not you… Not you… Why should you be afraid?
Give all your little fears, and Martha’s with them,
To me; and I will add them unto mine,
Like a few rain-drops to Gennesaret.”

“If you had frightened me in other ways,
Not willing it,” Mary said, “I should have known
You still for Lazarus. But who is this?
Tell me again that you are Lazarus;
And tell me if the Master gave to you
No sign of a new joy that shall be coming
To this house that he loved. Are you afraid?
Are you afraid, who have felt everything—
And seen…?”

But Lazarus only shook his head,
Staring with his bewildered shining eyes
Hard into Mary’s face. “I do not know,
Mary,” he said, after a long time.
“When I came back, I knew the Master’s eyes
Were looking into mine. I looked at his,
And there was more in them than I could see.
At first I could see nothing but his eyes;
Nothing else anywhere was to be seen—
Only his eyes. And they looked into mine—
Long into mine, Mary, as if he knew.”

Mary began to be afraid of words
As she had never been afraid before
Of loneliness or darkness, or of death,
But now she must have more of them or die:
“He cannot know that there is worse than death,”
She said. “And you…”

“Yes, there is worse than death.”
Said Lazarus; “and that was what he knew;
And that is what it was that I could see
This morning in his eyes. I was afraid,
But not as you are. There is worse than death,
Mary; and there is nothing that is good
For you in dying while you are still here.
Mary, never go back to that again.
You would not hear me if I told you more,
For I should say it only in a language
That you are not to learn by going back.
To be a child again is to go forward—
And that is much to know. Many grow old,
And fade, and go away, not knowing how much
That is to know. Mary, the night is coming,
And there will soon be darkness all around you.
Let us go down where Martha waits for us,
And let there be light shining in this house.”

He rose, but Mary would not let him go:
“Martha, when she came back from here, said only
That she heard nothing. And have you no more
For Mary now than you had then for Martha?
Is Nothing, Lazarus, all you have for me?
Was Nothing all you found where you have been?
If that be so, what is there worse than that—
Or better—if that be so? And why should you,
With even our love, go the same dark road over?”

“I could not answer that, if that were so,”
Said Lazarus,—“not even if I were God.
Why should He care whether I came or stayed,
If that were so? Why should the Master weep—
For me, or for the world,—or save himself
Longer for nothing? And if that were so,
Why should a few years’ more mortality
Make him a fugitive where flight were needless,
Had he but held his peace and given his nod
To an old Law that would be new as any?
I cannot say the answer to all that;
Though I may say that he is not afraid,
And that it is not for the joy there is
In serving an eternal Ignorance
Of our futility that he is here.
Is that what you and Martha mean by Nothing?
Is that what you are fearing? If that be so,
There are more weeds than lentils in your garden.
And one whose weeds are laughing at his harvest
May as well have no garden; for not there
Shall he be gleaning the few bits and orts
Of life that are to save him. For my part,
I am again with you, here among shadows
That will not always be so dark as this;
Though now I see there’s yet an evil in me
That made me let you be afraid of me.
No, I was not afraid—not even of life.
I thought I was…I must have time for this;
And all the time there is will not be long.
I cannot tell you what the Master saw
This morning in my eyes. I do not know.
I cannot yet say how far I have gone,
Or why it is that I am here again,
Or where the old road leads. I do not know.
I know that when I did come back, I saw
His eyes again among the trees and faces—
Only his eyes; and they looked into mine—
Long into mine—long, long, as if he knew.”

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shadows Fell

April was a lovely girl, her warmth was in her eyes
And she and I would walk within the calm of clear blue skies
Too short our time together, and what time consisted of
I knew her well, the shadows fell
See, April was my love...

A young man then, I knew the things a young man knows
But somehow lost it all with age, I guess that's how it goes
But April understood, and in time revealed to me
Reflection, my direction
And what April was to be...

She became to me the way to love's soothing caress
The answers to all questions, life and love, were met with yes
All that April showed to me, my heart still now believes
To take her place, her smiling face
April love, my heart still grieves...

Our time together had the look, forever on it's face
The hands of time stood still for us, in arm, and sweet embrace
It wasn't meant to be for us, nor I to have the sound
But she was singing, bells were ringing
As she felt the darkened ground...

Too soon my April left me, to some higher plane I'm sure
To wait for me to come someday, and reminisce with her
To tell me why each tear was lost, each April that I cried
As love turned to loss, inside the cross
When my April died...

Winter's breath blows hard upon her memory now
But I remember April, springtime love and lifetime vow
Sometimes I can feel her touch, and feel the gentle breeze
The days and nights, the wrongs the rights
There are many thoughts of these...

Many years ago now, April's love had held my heart
Too many days, and nights spent now without, but not apart
And I would trade my todays, for yesterday to be...
With April once again, and back to when
April was my love, you see.......

poem by Dino Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Found A Reason

(reed)
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
I found a reason to keep living
Oh and the reason, dear, is you
I found a reason to keep singing
Oh and the reason, dear, is you
Oh I do believe
If you dont like things you live
For some place you never gone before
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Honey, I found a reason to keep living
And you know the reason, dear its you
And Ive walked down lifes lonely highways
Hand in hand with myself
And I realized how many paths have crossed between us
Oh I do believe
Youre all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before
Oh I do believe
Youre all what you perceive
What come is better that what came before
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
Pa papa papa papa
And youd better come, come come, come to me
Come come, come to me
Pa papa papa pa

song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wonder Where My Papa Is?

I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
I wonder why he does not come
And see his Lilly Long.
He would come and sit by me
When the fever burnt my brow,
I wonder where my papa is,
For he comes not near me now.

I hear no more the foot pace
In the hall by my door,
Where he would gently, gently tread
Upon the oaken floor.
His place is vacant by the hearth,
There stands his easy chair;
I hear no more his loving voice
Raising the evening prayer.

The last time I saw my papa dear
Was just five days ago,
He took me in his arms and said,
"You are getting better slow,
Thank God, my little Lilly pet
Will soon be well again,
And run about the house and play
With little Nettie Lane."

I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
It cannot be he has forgotten
His little Lilly Long.
No, he never would have left me
And mamma without aid;
I fear my papa has fallen
A victim of the "plague."

The mother listened to her child,
Her heart filled with pain
To hear her loved one mourn for him
Who would never come again.
Tears were falling from her eyes,
From her bossom heaved a sigh;
Little Lilly asked in wonder,
"Mamma dear, what makes you cry?"

"Dearest Lilly must I tell you
That your papa is no more,
That he cannot come and see you
And caress you as of yore.
He has gone to live with Jesus,
In the heavenly home above,
Where are dwelling the blessed
In God's everlasting love."

Lilly listened to her mother,
She uttered not a sound,
O'er her little pale cheeks softly
Tears began to trinkle down;
At last she sweetly murmured,
"Mamma dear, you and I
Must live so we can meet papa
In Heaven, by and by."

"Yes, my child," the mother answered,
"Your words are very true,
While we live on earth we should keep
The heavenly land in view;
Then bright on earth will be our future,
Bright as a shining star;
We will live in love together,
Till we reach that home afar."

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Nights

I've hated to talk about it,
but there has been so many after nights.
I've needed to work out, one more story.

Trying to end, my often very sad's.
Another one, of my, the most incredibly bad's!

My heart, was shaking as I knelt on the ground.
My hands, were pressing his wounds.
Pressing hard, prayng, deeper and deeper.
Begging God, Help, Shouting, Holding back the Grim Reaper

Like his mother, my shaking hands
With a sobbing, torn chest
Held him tightly to my breast
Gently wiped the blood from his face and lips
I watched, and felt his soul, escaped my grip.
Raining tears washed the blood from his face.
Even now, I've often wished that God.
Would've let me take his place!

I couldn't bare to see my brother die!
The shouting of my heart, screaming why? God. Why?
Please! God! Why....?
I felt my buddies tears, they were hugging our backs.
Even though, I knew he was dead.
God,
I held him close, I kissed his head.
Like a mother with hurt child.
I sat, rocking him in the mud.
Filling a rice paddy with tears, and blood.

So now after all these years.
I've tried to tell, my life story. Of so many tears.
I've had enough, to make rice paddies flood?
My tears as I've relived, nights, after nights.
How I tried. To stop. My buddies blood
So, just, how, many tears, does it take to make a rice paddy flood?
I've seen that much, and his filled it with blood.

So when you read this, try to understand.
I'm doing the best that I can.
I fight every day the things that make me so sad.
But it helps to talk about it, and the many after nights!
The days and days, the nights after nights.
I've called my life stories, just incredibly bad...........

poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Be True To Our Mutual Lies

please be true
to these mutual lies
as we lie
and kiss
and roll
and make such a quick love

do not make any moans
or calls
do not not kiss and tell
do not
be too possessive of my
body
my soul
my mind

these hands are strong
and so warm

you know, when these hands hold you tight
you know

these are not just yours
you know
these hands love you too like how these hands love

the rest of you, my all true loves
and them

they may not believe us
true to our lies
protective of ten fingers loving many lovely women
all worthy of my strong loving hands

my hands are made of ten fingers
there is no way that

these hands can be monogamous

you love me so true
and you would not have the folly to tell me that i have not loved

and loved you well enough

we must both be polygamous, and we must tell the world
we are true and we exist.

we lie because the truth is they are nor prepared for what they are too.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Mouth

Is anything as lovely to me
As the truth in love
Ill take it over freedom any day
It brings me ever an this time to my knees
An on my knees I run away
Yes I know your sticks and stones they
They will easily break these bones an
An all my words come back to haunt me
I will put my strength into
The things left standing
I am hoarse with wild eyes
No debts outstanding
My hands are yours my brother
You can take my coat as well
My eyes are yours sister
And my heart, and my heart
In which he dwells
Heard the voice of my master callin me
From deep in the hollow
Said that I must follow him there yeah
Is any place darker for me
With all them wolves about
Well its a poor mouth that I wear
My hands are yours my brother
You can take my coat as well
My eyes are yours sister
And my heart, and my heart
In which he dwells
Livin from hand to poor mouth
You an me an my secret south

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seek and Thou Shall Find

I stopped to ask this young woman for directions,
she hesitated then said, “Now let me see”.
Her voice was clear, soft and gentle,
and she smiled politely at me.

The directions she gave me were complicated,
but as it happened she lived close by the place,
so she said she would walk so far with me
and as I said thank you, another smile lit up her face.

Our talking passed the time away very quickly
and she said, “This is as far as I go.”
She then asked if I had got time for a coffee
and I said, “How could I possibly say no.”

We talked as we walked up to her apartment,
and coffee was my only intent.
We talked and drank coffee until after midnight,
but then our hands touched by accident.

Our fingers searched out for each other’s
and we kissed as our hands held tight.
Our hands then touched each others body’s
and we knew I would be staying the night.

We were both trembling with excitement
and kissed as our clothes fell to the floor.
We caressed and kissed each other all over
and made love again and again, and once more.

We both collapsed and fell asleep on the carpet,
and were awakened by the morning light.
Once again we covered each other with kisses
and made love until the sun shone bright.

I never did get to the place I was searching,
but I did find true love on the way.
We decided to live together
and I’m moving in today.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Heard

i heard that to stop your mama
from wasting her life
and all the lives of those who also love her
like you
and your brother and sisters
and even your papa
you decided to choose
silence
extreme, determined, strong, authoritative silence
in the house
for you were once such a lively little girl
dancing in the yard and so sweet with ribbons in your hair
and smiling and laughing at the top of your innocent voice
and then
all of a sudden you embraced silence
and your mama
was stunned, stoned to your quick numbness and afraid about what
people say
that you have become crazy, a product of a broken home
your mama
finally opens her eyes
and for the first time in her life
sees you
a woman who wants to bloom but obstructed by her choking hands
she is so afraid finally
she lets you grow she sets you free she now calls you
your name.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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