You Have No Idea How Grateful I Am To You
Remember when you told me,
To go fly a kite?
Did you envision it to be seen,
By so many people?
That one suggestion,
Opened for me so many doors.
What else do you see in my future?
Anything luxurious on four wheels?
Any cruises on that menu?
How about a loving relationship...
With delicious chemistry and communication?
First or last names?
I'll even take initials at this point.
Let me know, okay?
When you told me to go fly a kite?
And I did?
You have no idea how grateful I am to you.
Here...
I brought to you the string.
Hold onto it.
And the first 'vibe' you get from it...
Call me,
Immediately!
What other talents have you been keeping from me?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Kite Fight
Kite to kite
Fly the sky...
Suddenly
Kite to kite
Fight the sky...
One kite cut
Another kite...
with out nife...
One kite flying
Another kite...
Pass away to fly...
Not for kite
Life also same...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Flying High
My oh my!
What a gorgeous day to fly
Let's release that puffer kite
High in the crystal clear blue sky
We're running out of string
Send that kid on his bike
To the hobby shop to get more
What do you mean, what for?
Why, to fly that kite
Beyond the clouds, earth and universe
The wind is perfect today
We can do this beyond the moon and stars
oops! string broke over passing cars
Where is it now?
Where the past kite fliers now fly
My, oh my!
How high, this kite did, fly
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Through Thick or Thin Lips
I was told to go fly a kite.
Believing I would be slighted,
By this directive.
That's exactly what I did.
I flew that kite to heights unknown.
After holding on tightly to the cord...
I soared.
And grateful was I for the advice.
Normally I would have felt insulted.
Quickly to argue.
To heat into conflict...
With those prepared to ignorantly fight.
But as the old saying goes...
Through thick or thin lips,
It pays to listen.
You never know who God wants to use...
To deliver a message.
Only when the mind is closed...
So are the doors to clarity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just To Hear Your Story Being Told
Stay up all night,
If you are the type...
That can not seem to sleep right.
And bear on shoulders,
Those burdens you can't control.
The ones you hold in overload.
Fight with clinched teeth and be uptight...
About common situations that incite,
And corrode that need you have to be bold.
Just to hear your story being told.
Just to hear your story!
Go fly a kite!
If that is the attitude you choose and like.
But put some movement to it.
And don't criticize...
Those you know who recommend,
You should get a life.
Don't close off to sit inside.
To peep out from a keyhole...
Just to hear your story being told.
Go fly a kite!
Just to hear your story being told!
Stay up all night.
Fight with clinched teeth and be uptight
But...
Don't sit inside.
Just to hear your story being told.
Just to hear your story...
Stay up all night,
If you are the type...
That can not seem to sleep right.
And bear on shoulders,
Those burdens you can't control.
The ones you hold in overload.
To peep on the outside,
From a keyhole...
Just to hear your story being told.
Go fly a kite...
If you need your story to be told.
Just to hear your story.
And,
Go fly a kite...
If you need your story to be told.
Just to hear your story.
And...
Go fly a kite!
Just to hear your story being told!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kite Song
I flew a kite, I held on tight to its string.
Each time I go anywhere, I held on tight.
In the middle of the night I woke up in fright,
Thinking maybe in my dream I let go of my kite.
When I was in a restaurant, talking to my friends,
Watching their mouths move faster and faster.
I thought of the kite that was flying in the sky
And made sure that my hand was holding the string.
That was a long time ago,
Many skies went by since then.
Now my hands stopped holding anything
And Ive learnt to take a walk instead.
Then one day in the evening light,
I saw something strange shining bright.
The sky was dark, with swarms of larks,
And in the midst of it all, yes, it was my kite.
How did the kite get there, Ill never know,
Floating away among the clouds to where nobody knows.
I held my gun with both my hands,
Slowly aiming at the shining dot.
The shot went off, the dot blew off,
Since then Ive never seen the kite again.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patanjali - for Alison
The boy Patanjali,
flying his kite in the breezy Thiramurti hills
one day cut the thread; the kite
sailed over the hills upon the wind;
asked why he had done that,
the child had no answer;
only his future life
and yoga sutras.
The kite was silent, dancing in its joy;
we, that joyful kite.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Kites
Kits are
Fly with
The sky...
Air was very help full...
Kite fly to fly
Another kite to fight...
Fight move the thread...
One kite cut the fight...
Another kite...
One kite loss life with fly...
Another kite fly to fly...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I have a kite
a kite fly too high, is but a dream to see
see it with me, fly it to see, feel it
with me, all are just the way to
be with me
a kite flies, lies a tie that flies
a wonderful kite, soar high above to
the sky so high, surfing to the heaven
it see
a kite that brings, the thing to be,
brings it with me
a day that i know, where it go, hold
me so dearly, and leave with me
for that kite that fly is me....
poem by Antonio Liao
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My grand son's pastel drawing
Siluna! Who sent me a drawing.
'Grandpa here's you! .'
A little house
By a Coconut tree
An old man with a beard
And he holds a string
A Red kite in the sky.
I replied him;
'Thank you very much for your lovely drawing my Sonny!
And I was searching in the pale sky
Your departed brother who left us
Without saying a Good bye!
And I added one more kite in Orange color
Flies in the mysterious sky without a string!
*To our deceased loving Grandson Prabashwara, one day we too come to that reserved place and definitely we bring this poem for you!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Kite
Come up and be a kite
Beelzebub is aching in my belly-o.
My feet are heavy and Im rooted in my wellios.
And I want to get away and go
From all these mirror windows.
I look at eye level, it isnt good enough.
And then I find it out when I take a good look up.
Theres a hole in the sky with a big eyeball
Calling me:
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!
I feel a rush along my body, like a bullet.
Im 2-d after a push-and-pull feeling.
And I want to get back to safe home:
I love the homeland dome.*
I got no limbs, Im like a feather on the wind.
Well, Im not sure if I want to be up here, at all.
And Id like to be back on the ground,
But I dont know how to get down--down--down!
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet-Emulate If Need Be
There is no harm if we should imitate
A Master's work or copy his life-style;
There is no thing we sometimes call as 'Fate';
'Tis left to each to walk or run Life's mile.
There is a tinge of sub-lying likeness,
In art or craft of all earthlings, we see;
All underlying good, we must harness;
The faults, mistakes and blunders- let them be.
The string of Life's kite, we all tend to hold
Was flown by Forefathers in Winds unknown;
Some learn to fly it only when quite old;
The moment some hold it, the kite is down!
There is no harm in emulating then
The good achieved by all our earlier men.
poem by John Celes
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Fly Kite
kite fly
with out tail
on rounding
with a tail..
good flying..
kite fly with
air..
thred...
tail...
kite will bee
fly...?
i don't no
kite also don't
no
that is life
some thing
but nothing...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Fly
The kite was
Flying under
The sky...
Kite not need
to tuch the sky...
The kite
Flying very high...
Sky is near
Kite is near
Both are play
The fly...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Maiden Flight
The wind on top of the mountain
Is just right for flying my kite.
No, it’s not a store bought item
I made it from old newspapers,
Elmer’s glue and old balsa wood
Spine and spar sticks from last years kite.
Now here I am again ready
To launch it on its maiden flight.
I hope the tail isn’t too long;
The bridle string is sufficient.
Well, here goes! Come on baby fly!
That’s it! You want more string? Up! Up!
Easy does it! Straighten out babe!
That’s it! That’s it! You’re on your own.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Beneath The Heights...
Beneath the heights
Flying along the tracks of floating rain clouds
My kite flies not caring for me ever.
Behind the kite my thread trails.
My hands hold it ever.
When the clouds begin to rain my kite sways
But as the sky clears he smiles.
I am not seen by him still.
Beneath my kite my thread shudders.
My hands hold it ever.
Above the heaven`s zenith
He flies, he alone flies.
Far down in the earth`s nadir
I stand alone holding my thread.
Beneath me the tremor begins...
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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No effect is by single force.
The red kite prides itself
on its flight right in the sky.
The green kite regrets
As it still sleeps on the soil.
The red kite forgets
that the wind is the cause of its flight.
On your pinnacle of joy,
you are put up by forces outside your might.
07.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Inspired by Issa - A kite rises
a kite rises
twelve young eyes
too
twelve young eyes
a kite rises
into the sky
in 12 young eyes
a kite and
cear blue sky
twelve young eyes
rising in similar angle
a kite rises
inspired by
a kite rises
slow and easy...
a little village
-Issa,1816
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Kite The Wind Took As If A Poem
You bought the kit,
couldn’t wait for Mum to clear the table
to spread its bits and pieces out
didn’t your Dad help you? Yes, of course –
those were the good times..
‘your Dad’… do we ever really realise
they had a life of their own,
not merely extras in the drama
of your life?
the wooden struts cut to length,
the careful, don’t hurry Michael cotton wound
around the glue, and then more glue,
put the top back on again Michael
or you’ll be sorry when you come to use it again…
what’s again, in a boy’s life? …
that special waterproofed paper
finally in place; Mum’s hair-dryer
cautiously used to tauten
the bright kite’s sail
not too near Michael,
read the instructions…
it’s alive now, the kite,
the two of you waiting
to learn about wind, even
what you thought a mere light breeze…
what strength! on that first outing
on the beach or in the park;
the mere light breeze
which as your kite sailed up there in the sky,
dipping, soaring around the other kites
like a half learned, half graceful dance
which the wind wrote
but you did not listen fully to:
a sudden pull of wind, a parting
somewhere between string and kite…
no longer your kite; now
it’s the wind’s kite
sailing off into the blue
to meet the clouds perhaps
was it your Dad, after
he too had been silent-sad,
or was it Mum as she wiped your face who said
the wind, the sky, loved it too much
to give it back
and so with poems.
Throw away the box and stuff
but keep the glue, it may, like memory,
come in useful
next time
and so with poems.
The wind, the sky,
deserve them for their own;
they can go further, faster, they’re more strong
than you;
let go the string, now, as it falls to earth;
watch the bright kite
till it's out of sight;
was it ever yours?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Admit I Have Forgotten
When I was a much younger person,
It was difficult for me to listen...
With a paying of attention.
I was young, dumb and full of...
Ignorance I shared.
With those who became upset,
With decisions I made too late to correct.
Today,
I listen to everyone.
Whether what is said is solicited or not.
I even sit through people repeating themselves,
With hopes my raised eyebrow would send a clue...
I got the message two days ago.
And they 'still' continue.
Believing I am listening intently.
I've learned that one never knows,
What is being said today...
Will not apply one day.
Whenever that day arrives.
'Remember you told me to shut my mouth,
To listen years ago.
And I became offended,
Calling you some horrible and atrocious names? '
No.
I don't remember that.
What names did you call me?
How horrible and atrocious were they?
'Well...
I just wanted to say I am grateful to you.
And I feel even more blessed,
You have forgiven me.'
Wait a minute. Hold on.
What were those names you called me?
Help me remember.
Maybe I haven't forgiven you at all.
Although I admit I have forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Garden A Bright Day
i shall miss the time when i go out of the house
and close the door behind me
when i shall tread upon the grass in the garden
stretch my arms
run and fly my own kite
as i hold strongly upon said
string
when i decide to let the kite go
and find it no more from my sight
when i stop under the shade of the trees
and look far
into the hills below where houses
look like
tiny cubes
when the sea is so blue extending into nowhere
when i lose myself
when i close my eyes
when i dream that i can be happy with myself
alone
without the mob
that tends to confuse my thoughts
and replace them
with their own.
it is a bright day and the garden blooms
there is no cause for worry
no sadness
i'll make it perfect somehow
today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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