Hemispheres 1658
When northern winters shivers drive,
south seas see plankton thrive:
identical turquoise images
mirrored hemispheres contrive,
both as much alive.
(31 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
The Child Within
The inner child
Within us all
It must be kept alive
Though darkest nights
And stormy seas
Its destruction may contrive
We must protect
And nurture it
If we are to thrive
The child within
Our heart and soul
Is how we will survive
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Taxi Suite (excerpt: 1. After Anacreon)
When I drive cab
I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat
When I drive cab
I am the hunter. My prey leaps out from where it
hid, beguiling me with gestures
When I drive cab
all may command me, yet I am in command of all who do
When I drive cab
I am guided by voices descending from the naked air
When I drive cab
A revelation of movement comes to me. They wake now.
Now they want to work or look around. Now they want
drunkenness and heavy food. Now they contrive to love.
When I drive cab
I bring the sailor home from the sea. In the back of
my car he fingers the pelt of his maiden
When I drive cab
I watch for stragglers in the urban order of things.
When I drive cab
I end the only lit and waitful things in miles of
darkened houses
Catastrophic Images Of 1945
CATASTROPHIC IMAGES OF 1945
6 And 9 August of 1945
Catastrophic images are still alive
By the sheer drive human could survive
Forget, forgive and strive to thrive
Sporting spirit contrive to revive
Even at a time of turmoil dream hive
Pilot of the US Air Force
Dropped a 16-kiloton
Uranium fission bomb
In a flash of light
All hell broke loose
The eyes of young girls
Watching the parachute melted
And their faces became bloated blisters
Temperatures rose to 4000 degrees
Melting iron and vaporizing human bodies
Three days later
‘Fat Man’ was dropped
One million dead-buried alive
A great moment of history
But not in any way a victory
An irrational act of semen drop
Destroyed there Almighty’s crop
Americans utter in frenzy
Bombing was a necessary in a war
How the mighty and wise were far
From human feeling and guiding star
Historical accounts reveal
And unfold myriad sufferings reel
Even stony heart expresses wail
Where cultured seems utterly fail
The horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Do not seem to have taught
The world’s political and military
Elite any lessons
These two days be commemorated
As the days of peace
Let the terror never allow revisit
The images sum up the brutality of man
Who has made the earth of two cities hot pan
How can citizens of the world
Believe in the hollow pursuit
Of establishing peace
By killing people
With the display of the latest
Weapons to promote sales
To feed their deadly pride
(Dr. Shujaat Hussain is an Indian prolific book reviewer, prominent poet and celebrated literary critic resides at 4/771, Friends Colony, Aligarh – 202 002 (U.P.)
India
poem by Dr. Shujaat Hussain
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A la Madeleine 0551 - Decrypted Poems
Delved underneath the church, a simple crypt
Exists which fosters deep poetic drive,
Carved like a tunnel, length, a putter's drive.
Rebounding echoes mirror manuscript
Years, tears, dissolving, melt Time's mask tight-lipped,
Portraying Janus. Words flow from the hive
Transmuting dusty thoughts to honey, strive
Eagerly to seed emotions. Clipped,
Decrypted links, thrice sifted, surface. Whipped
Pegasus is stubborn, cannot thrive,
Only through empathy may leap alive,
Energies unbridled, harness slipped.
Magic music, timeless melody,
Sends messages to set the spirit free.
(24 August 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Valhalla Drive
It all begins and
ends my friend,
Here on Valhalla Drive
You think the times
Are wearing thin
and that you
may not thrive.
You might be right
About your plight,
your inability to survive.
You struggle long
and struggle hard
just to stay alive.
Fear not my weary traveler,
At last you've found your way.
Forget the past,
You are home at last.
Here on Valhalla Drive.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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Drive
Give me a
Man who
Doesn't have
A drive ;)
I'll marry him
And my poetry
Will thrive :)
Why?
‘Cause
If I'm
With a
Man
Who's
Besotted
With his
Drive ;)
Instead
Of writing
I'll be
Just busy
Satisfying
His drive ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Dust Mites
Microscopic are lives lived like dust mites,
And inhabitants of a world that spins...
As well as speeds through an expansive eternity.
All are fixed to myths and worship beliefs...
To control what is 'thought' to be their destinies.
There is neither top nor bottom in this universe.
Although those living on Earth,
Have declared North and South Hemispheres.
With wind storms churning,
Counter-clockwise in the Northern one.
And clockwise in the Southern.
It is obvious no human has the power,
To control any of this.
Nor how this may relate to the Sun.
And yet conflicts exist,
To prove who has what to benefit 'whom'?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Little Red Car (Fun Poem 30)
I have a little red car,
that fits five quite comfortably,
but members of my family
when shopping think I drive a lorry.
The thing is that they think
it will take them as well,
would you believe.
I do not know where they got the notion
that if you push the back seat down
you can carry triple the amount.
In a minute if they keep going
I will be driving through the sunroof
as there will not be any room
for me in my little red car.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Drive
I know it's late now I know I
Ought to go
Ride in your car now
But please don't drop me home
My head's so heavy
Could
This be all a dream
Promise me
Maybes and say things
You don't mean
Rain fall from concrete colored skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
Drive
Drive
Take me through make me feel alive
Alive
When I ride with you
Keep my heart turning on
Axles around you
Keep our love burning just
Like it used to do
Now just for us
They could
Play our favourite tune
Let's not discuss
All these
Things we can't undo
Let rain fall from concrete coloured skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
Drive
Drive
Speed me through
Make me feel alive
Alive
When I ride with you
Rain fall from concrete coloured skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
song performed by by Bic Runga from Drive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Children Worry About
Mommy
Mommy, mommy
what’s going on in the world today?
Mommy am I going to be OK?
I heard some kids were wearing bombs
and blowing people up..
Mommy their world is very far away.
They can’t come here, right mommy?
Am I going to be OK.
Written: July 17,2007
Daddy
Daddy, daddy
I asked mommy some questions yesterday,
and tears were in her eyes.
She’s really scared daddy,
I know the reason why.
The kids with bombs,
might be here in our schools.
They won’t listen to the rules.
Mommy is really scared that one day,
you’ll both have no choice but to send me away
Written: July 17,2007
Mommy, Daddy
Mommy, Daddy, there’s no reason to fear
I figured it out late last night.
I said the words for God to hear.
I know He knows all things
and will do what’s right,
sooo… we say the words for God to hear,
everyday and every night.
Guess what Mommy, Daddy
everything will be alright.
Mommy, why are you still crying? ? ?
Written: July 17,2007
poem by Melvina Germain
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Song of the Torres Strait Islands
Bold Torres, the sailor, came and went,
with his swarthy, storm-worn band,
he saw Saavedra's Isle to north-
to south a loom of land.
He left unknowing his name would live
through ages with big fate,
as the first to stem with broad-bowed ship
the wash of the Northern Strait.
Round the western coast the Dutch ships crept,
seeking the hidden way;
some left their bones on that bare, west coast,
and the others sailed away.
Turned back, turned back, by reef and shoal,
twin guards of the narrow gate-
the path of the sun from the eastern seas-
they were mocked by the Northern Strait.
Year in, year out, the monsoons swept
o'er the isles of the coral shore,
The savage tossed in his frail canoe,
but the white man came no more.
No sail in sight at the flash of dawn!
No sail at the gloaming late!
Silent and still was the lonley pass-
Unsought was the Northern Strait.
A rattle of arms and a roll of drums,
and the meteor flag flies free,
as an English voice proclaims King George
Lord of the tropic sea.
The parrots scream as the volleys flash;
the gulls their haunts vacate;
and the 'south-east' fills the 'Endeavours' sails
as she heads through the Northern Strait.
And ever since then has our watch been kept
o'er the ships in the narrow way,
where the smoking funnels flare by night,
and the house-flags flaunt by day.
Ever the same strong south-east blows,
and ever we watch and wait,
the wardens we, in Australia's name,
the guard of the Northern Strait.
poem by Ernest Favenc
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The Force
To have what you want
You have to fight with passion
Feel with great compassion
Fear has no way in
Once you became driven
Totally committed
Not stopping until you get it
You have to keep on pushin
You have to keep hope alive
The drive to strive
And you will thrive
Just keep you eyes on the prize
poem by Tameeka Smith
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Happy Fourth Of July!
Dawn was grey, overcast, this Independence Day
A comment on how we treat independence and freedom now?
The freedom of the wolves to live, the polar bears to thrive
The freedom of a conflicted people to fight for the government they choose
Without the boots of our young men and women insisting on our choice
You can have the kind of freedom we dictate
As long as you do it our way, we will be your kindly uncle
We will smile and pat you gently on your head
Until you choose a way different from your kindly uncle's demands
Then the boots will return to stomp you into our way
Happy Fourth of July!
I would like to stand and sing The Star Spangled Banner
And know it was a salute to how we got our freedom
To watch the flag pass by and feel proud of our way of life
Today it seems only to mean we are in charge controlling others
July 4,2007
poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
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Riddle my Riddle Dear Watson
My first of four now hard, now soft appears,
sometimes it slakes, sometimes pours lakes of tears,
unmoved before, thaws, mists, then disappears,
descent rise follows, reign change engineers.
My second spins around as satellite
and from land's end scans out to see the light,
used dust to dust through dust returns to write
detailed tale of Man's mistaken might.
My third flaws all resisting flaming cause,
assures few doors contain engulfing maws,
sucks air it draws, earth scorched ignoring pause,
consuming trees, birds, bees, rooms, tombs, stores, floors.
My fourth blows forth to North, South, East and West,
arrested never, almost always blessed
unless its zest unrest spreads, topples nest,
destiny's quest jest crests at its behest.
My four withdrawn no earthly life could thrive,
when two are absent few remain alive.
Here ends this riddle's ride, henceforward strive
to decode band, drive four in hand, contrive
to draw conclusions for life's daily page
where poise and equipoise no war need wage
against a world where balance rules each age
from first bawl to last curtain call's ghast stage.
[c] Jonathan Robin robi3_1767_robi3_0000 XXX_ENZ 17 June 2008 revised 22 August 2009
Riddle my Riddle Dear Watson
My first of four now hard, now soft appears,
A part of whole which then may move to tears,
Unmoved before, in mist it disappears,
DEscent rise follows, changes engineers.
My second spins around as satellite
And from land's end scans out to see the light,
Used dust to dust through dust returns to write
DEtailed tale of Man's mistaken might.
My third flaws all that fights its flowing cause,
Assures no pause resists engulfing maws,
Unstintingly draws air without a pause
DEvouring trees, sweet honey bees, and floors.
My fourth blows forth to North, South, East and West,
Arrested never, almost always blessed.
Unless its zest unrest spreads, topples nest,
DEstiny is blessed at its behest.
My all spells one whose parts all four include,
And from those parts four further draws fair brood.
Up past, fast forwards by fell Time pursued.
DEpend on it: soon ends rhymed interlude.
My four withdrawn no further four could thrive,
And if one's absent few'd remain alive,
Understanding double riddle, strive
DEcode both four in hand, at hand, band drive.
... et l'aimant erre cher... What's on?
[c] Jonathan Robin robi3_1767_robi3_0000 AXX_LNX 17 June 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Contemplative Sentry
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical
How Nature always does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
When in that house M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity,
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Land of Trope
The Northern Territory's
Earnt qualities of trope
Have made me qualify the name
To Northern Terratrope.
South Australia too
Though not so trope-endowed
Is by no means trope-astray-
vis-a-vis Victoria
In a little-bro-big-bro-big-bro-little-bro way.
We've often thought of name change:
My favorite, 'South Sandwich Meat'.
But now the North is called The Trope,
'The Meat' I will delete
And call it Southern Terratrope.
O Ntropy and Stropy,
With names we'll have our day.
Miss N Trope hates folks.
Just call me Strop, OK?
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Thriving
We thrive together
And perish together.
It is comradeship.
We thrive with a leader
And perish with him.
It is monarchy.
We thrive with a master
And perish for him.
It is slavery.
We thrive together
And perish sporadically.
It is the survival of the fittest.
We thrive together
And perish fighting with in.
It is barbarism.
A democracy witnesses
All these sects mixed.
11.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Lady Of Shalott Wove Her Tapestry
the Lady of Shalott wove her tapestry over time time time
copying mirrored images faithfully seen in mind mind mind
her weaving life scenes days passing was safe slow slow slow
unfolding life mysteries ever window passing must time go go go
mirrored images replace life risk realities if we safe stay stay stay
love glimpsed mirror cracks heart spins fate feared today today today
love births embraced unfrequented love three steps slays slays slays
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Starry Skies
Winter nights are cold,
And you're feeling old,
Stuck under the overpass,
You just can't get past,
Life wastes away,
As you go grey,
Future looking bleak,
As you try to stay meek,
What is the point of all this,
You should try to find your bliss!
You're stuck in your cars,
While I'm looking at the stars,
You're in a traffic jam,
While I'm being a man,
Too alive to contrive,
The lie that you're alive,
Wake up and breathe,
It's almost time to leave,
What should you seek?
Is there time for us to meet?
What could I say to you?
If only my heart knew!
Sitting in a distant land,
Trying to look grand,
Feeling real sad,
Sometimes I make you mad!
Stuck in your cars, I'm looking at the stars,
In a traffic jam while I'm being a man,
Too alive to contrive, the lie that you're alive,
Wake up and breathe, it's time to leave,
Taillights blink and you turn to drink,
Future is escaping as quick as a wink,
Living to fight another day,
I don't like to see you this way,
Don't want to leave things like this,
It is you that I will always miss,
Time to be alive and love each other,
Wish we could be friends again, brother,
So it is peace that I wish for you that struggle,
Trying so hard to keep it together,
Maybe we are meant to find our own path,
What will we find in the aftermath?
On your chest they will leave a scar,
Then I'll see you on a distant star!
05 June 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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