Happiness
A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth--
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.
I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Kiss Of Life
See me a big woman, big woman look how you dance
See me a big woman, big woman caught in a trance
Dancing on the tabletop, covered up with the easter feast
Youre dancing for the fishermen, from the very large right
To the least
Dancing for the slow release, first the boy and then the beast
Then the beast
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
See me, a big woman, big woman so full of life
See me, a big woman, big woman going to be my wife
Watching for the different eyes - they change your face -
They come inside
Watch the spirits laugh and cry, watch them find a place
To hide
Watch the spirits talk in tongues, watch them take you for
A ride
Down at the ocean lies a body in the sand
Big woman sits beside, head in hand
With heat from her skin, and fire from her breath
She blows hard, she slows deep in the mouth of death
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0068 The Connoisseur (2)
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
even the doorhandle, gently turned,
seems to speak a message
before the room entered, the first breath taken
of the room’s own air
and on the table, the grey-green vase seems
to be the host; the silent messenger: the furniture
somehow eternal in its order; every line and curve
within the room speaking of some
divine geometry; the shaded sunlight seems
to fall on tiptoe, touch in silent praise;
the air, to be refined; and the silence –
what does the silence say unspoken
as if it holds some god-smiled word,
some solemn laughter, about what
is there and is not there, has made
of this room, this ordinary room,
a shrine where one can worship without form
oneself?
the vase too holds itself both
open and reserved; its perfect curves
the subtle decisions of a history
of centuries, of generations
of human hands; of things made
for oneself, for others, for all else
where all else is known;
silent the vase; the room full of its sound.
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
you; moving forward with respectful quiet step
to touch this grey-green
Chinese vase
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Good Morning Self
i wake up
checking my navel.
i face the mirror
to see my eyes
blinking
a face blinking
i am happy to note
that i am not bound
anymore
to that which
obsessed me last night
oversleeping over
a naked body inside my mind
this morning
as i open the window of my room
i see a black bird
rushing like a stone thrown
into a white sky
a stone with the wings
of the wind
good morning self
goodbye
persistent lust
before i forget
i got a new mask
an office man
with a very serious face
no jokes
just benign remarks
about today's
winning politician
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Face in the Mirror
She calls out to the face in the mirror
And runs her fingers down the varnished frame
Then she lights a cigarette and inhales deeply,
Leaving the lighter lit and staring into the flame.
The sun shines in through the half opened curtains
It lights up the room but not her face
The mirror still darkened as the face stands staring
Darkness wraps around her, concealing the empty space.
She never chased the dreams
Or ran through the morning light
She was never heard above the screams
She just hid in the darkness of the night,
With the face in the mirror.
Now the sun's gone down, she looks through the window
At the faces and places and motion below
The face in the mirror watches her shadow
As she sits on the window ledge waiting to go.
She sees cars drive by with their bright lights
She hears voices carrying away into the night
The face in the mirror incites her to jump
And she leaps and falls downwards flight after flight.
She never chased her dreams
Now she's chasing the ground
She wasn't heard above the screams
Now she doesn't make a sound,
And the face in the mirror smashes.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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Biko
September 77
Port elizabeth weather fine
It was business as usual
In police room 619
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Hiromija, hiromija
The man is dead, the man is dead
When I try to sleep at night
I can only dream in red
The outside world is black and white
With only one colour dead
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Hiromija, hiromija
The man is dead, the man is dead
You can blow out a candle
But you can never blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch
The wind will blow it higher
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Oh biko, biko, because biko
Hiromija, hiromija
The man is dead, the man is dead
And the eyes of the world are watching you now
Theyre watching you now, watching you now
Watching you now, watching you now
Theyre watching you now
You gotta waken up, you gotta face up
I think you gotta open up
The eyes of the world are watching you now
You gotta waken up, you gotta face up
You know you can never turn away
Never turn away
Words and music : peter gabriel reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Makes Me Happy, To Be With You
It makes me happy, to be with you.
To watch you smile and hear you speak
and see your eyes turn softly warm,
makes me happy to be with you.
It makes me happy, to be with you.
To watch you spreading jam and butter
on your home made scones,
makes me happy to be with you.
It makes me happy, to be with you.
To be able to put my arms around you
and draw you gently close to me,
makes me happy to be with you.
And it makes me happy, to be with you
when holding your cheek close to mine,
breathing the warmth of you
and feeling the warmth of you
soaking quietly through me,
makes my breath tremble in my chest.
You make me happy to be with you.
poem by Red O'Mara
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These Walls
In your heart there are oceans
In your heart there are flowering trees
Look inside and live inside these walls
Your body yearns
In your dreams, youve seen castles
In your dreams youve been kings and queens
Youve ridden white horses past these walls
Your body yearns
Im not one to say I know what you go through
I only wanna open wide the window and let sunlight through
For you
In your face, I see longing
In your face, I see hopes and fears
Youve been locked for too long behind these walls
Your body yearns
Im not one to say I know what you go through
I only wanna open wide the window and let sunlight through
For you
Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me
What youre feeling
Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me
What you need
Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me
Everything
Take my hand and Ill lead you
Take my word that Ill not deceive you
I only want to carry you on beyond these walls
Your body yearns
Im not one to say I know what you go through
I only wanna open wide the window and let sunlight through
For you
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Heliotrope
The feverish room and that white bed,
The tumbled skirts upon a chair,
The novel flung half-open where
Hat, hair-pins, puffs, and paints, are spread;
The mirror that has sucked your face
Into its secret deep of deeps,
And there mysteriously keeps
Forgotten memories of grace;
And you, half-dressed and half awake,
Your slant eyes strangely watching me,
And I, who watch you drowsily,
With eyes that, having slept not, ache;
This (need one dread? nay, dare one hope?)
Will rise, a ghost of memory, if
Ever again my handkerchief
Is scented with White Heliotrope.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Facing Myself
do not ask me who i am
whether i have understood this self so well
or yourself
we always reason out
about the mysteries that surround our beings
i will give no answer
silent as a zipper
i close the door of my mouth
and go inside my esophagus
this slimy self that wants to be out
but cannot
in the mirror however
like the sun with so much light
i face myself and
check
this is beautiful i tell myself
i repeat it many times
i close the window of my soul
not wanting that you hear
any of these dialogues
this narcissism of the self unto itself
in the pond of my eyes
the mirror that shows what reflection is there
of the soul to the body
the body that is warm and touched
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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To The Other World
try standing naked by this mirror
see yourself to every detail
look closer to your eyes
count the waves of your eyelashes
open your mouth and see how many teeth you have
all white, pure white lining up on your pink gums
feel your lips with your fingertips
feel the pulp the flesh of the lower lip
to the upper lip
touch your hair
do not imagine them all black
closely they are not at all
move a little bit closer and see your body
this beautiful human body
flesh, contours, curves, some muscles
the whole of your skin wrapping
everything in your body holding them all
nothing falls, on this erect body, this
god before you, standing steel-like with dignity
in front of the mirror
do not claim you have seen your soul with your eyes
do not lie
be honest to yourself now,
alone, you are alone, do not imagine
any god, any soul, any spirit,
just be honest,
touch your body with your hands
feel the joy of having this body
your body, pinch a part of it to feel
not pain, but just to feel that you are alive,
do you ever ask what made these parts stay as one?
look again at the mirror of this stature
your body, it is you, touching your body
take a hammer, and destroy the mirror
shatter everything to pieces
this is the world without a mirror
there is nothing to reflect you now
nothing to imagine, it is you, the real you
do you ever ask now, where is that other world?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Elegy For My Father
HLF, August 8,1918—August 22,1997
“Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seal’s wide spindrift gaze towards paradise.”
—Hart Crane, “Voyages”
“If a lion could talk, we couldn’t understand it”
—Ludwig Wittgenstein
Under the ocean that stretches out wordlessly
past the long edge of the last human shore,
there are deep windows the waves haven't opened,
where night is reflected through decades of glass.
There is the nursery, there is the nanny,
there are my father’s unreachable eyes
turned towards the window. Is the child uneasy?
His is the death that is circling the stars.
In the deep room where candles burn soundlessly
and peace pours at last through the cells of our bodies,
three of us are watching, one of us is staring
with the wide gaze of a wild, wave-fed seal.
Incense and sage speak in smoke loud as waves,
and crickets sing sand towards the edge of the hourglass.
We wait outside time, while night collects courage
around us. The vigil is wordless. And you
watch the longest, move the farthest, besieged by your breath,
pulling into your body. You stare towards your death,
head arched on the pillow, your left fingers curled.
Your mouth sucking gently, unmoved by these hours
and their vigil of salt spray, you show us how far
you are going, and how long the long minutes are,
while spiralling night watches over the room
and takes you, until you watch us in turn.
Lions speak their own language. You are still breathing.
Here is release. Here is your pillow,
cool like a handkerchief pressed in a pocket.
Here is your white tousled long growing hair.
Here is a kiss on your temple to hold you
safe through your solitude’s long steady war;
here, you can go. We will stay with you,
keeping the silence we all came here for.
Night, take his left hand, turning the pages.
Spin with the windows and doors that he mended.
Spin with his answers, patient, impatient.
Spin with his dry independence, his arms
warmed by the needs of his family, his hands
flying under the wide, carved gold ring, and the pages
flying so his thought could fly. His breath slows,
lending its edges out to the night.
Here is his open mouth. Silence is here
like one more new question that he will not answer.
A leaf is his temple. The dark is the prayer.
He has given his body; his hand lies above
the sheets in a symbol of wholeness, a curve
of thumb and forefinger, ringed with wide gold,
and the instant that empties his breath is a flame
faced with a sudden cathedral's new stone.
poem by Annie Finch
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Everytime You Walk Out That Door
Oh oh yeah yeah
The table set for dinner only just for once
Serving at your empty chair
Remembering our love the crazy lives we shared
Last time you were sitting there
I can hear your voice still calling out my name
It's now your symptom upon the pillow next to me
I'magining your kisses when I close my eyes
They don't replace you holding me
A house is not a home when I'm alone here
Summer turns to winter when you're gone
And all I see are clouds outside my window
Everytime you walk out the door
And in the morning as I slowly wash my face
Feel you
Sneaking upon me
Go to my reflection staring tells me everything I'm alone
You're not really there
I can hear your voice still calling out my name
It's now your symptom upon the pillow next to me
I'magining your kisses when I close my eyes
They don't replace you holding me
A house is not a home when I'm alone here
Summer turns to winter when you're gone
And all I see are clouds outside my window
Everytime you walk out the door
I'm not saying that I can't just live without you
But I'm fine so much better when you're here
You turn my darkness to light
And you make everything all right by my side
A house is not a home when I'm alone here
Summer turns to winter when you're gone
And all I see are clouds outside my window
Everytime you walk out the door
song performed by by Kelly Rowland from Simply Deep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Creator
Everybody wants some more
Everybody, take some more
Justified to meet their maker
Satisfied to be your creator
You want more out of life
As is sucks out your eyes
Fashion aint no surprise
Lower your chin and open wide
Strapped in your mirror world, silently waiting
But somethings coming at you
So turn around cause here it comes, here it comes
Here it comes
Everyday youll wake up to know,
Ill be watching you, see every move that you make
Everyday youll wake up to know,
Ill be there each time, hear everything that you say
You got to keep yourself alive
Your fate is shortened and supplied
Its a burning design for the crucified
Strapped in your mirror world, silently waiting
But somethings coming at you
So turn around cause here it comes, here it comes
Here it comes
Everyday youll wake up to know,
Ill be watching you, see every move that you make
Everyday youll wake up to know,
Ill be there each time, hear everything that you say
Every time you walk away
Ill be watching you, see every move that you make
Therell never be a place you can go
There aint no denying
Sometimes she flies away
So high she flies away
Ya know its clear, ya know its time, deciding when
Ya know its clear, ya know its time, deciding when
Justified will meet their maker
Satisfied to be your creator
song performed by by Uranium 235
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem that Does Not Make Me Sleep
it is still your face
i have avoided looking at you for years
for i must simply
be hurting myself
crushing myself
to this
unrequited longings
something
that my heart pretends
to accept
my mouth denies
my hands
cold on the railing
on cruel nights
how many sighs do i have to
throw to this wall?
my body has taken a lot of changes
siding to the left
to the right
and could not stay that long in the middle
i bury my face on the pillow
i cannot breath
i cannot also die
dishonorably without having told them that i have fallen
into this abyss of love
that is killing me
so gently
like slow suicide unnoticed
by intimacies
i open the window
let air in
i sit on the chair on the side of my bed
turn on the table lamp
the paper is ready and the pen is pouring its ink on the
mantel
how can i promise myself that i can now sleep
and not write again?
i, this liar,
this painful heart
looking for the coolest
herbal cure
you are the leaf in the forest
that i have never found
where...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Miracle Goodnight
Burning up each others love, burning up our lives
Tried all kinds of working out, miracle goodnight
Future full and empty knocking on my door
Ragged limbed and hungry mama
Miracle no more
(skin tell me) turn it around
(head tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing)
Morning star youre beautiful, yellow dime on high
Spins around my little room, miracle goodnight
Even flower all alone, pazanane capeche
Havent got a death wish, just want a little more
(skin tell me) turn it around
(head tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) miracle goodnight
(breath tell me) turn it around
(heart tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) it was only make believe
I wish there was a sailor a thousand miles from here
I wished I had a future, anywhere
I love you in the morning sun, I love you in my dreams
I love the sound of making love, the feeling of your skin
The corner of your eyes, I long forevermore
I never want to say goodnight, miracle goodnight
(skin tell me) turn it around
(head tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) miracle goodnight
(breath tell me) turn it around
(heart tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) it was only make believe
Dont want to know the past, I want to know the real deal
I really dont want to know that
The less we know, the better we feel
Morning star youre beautiful, yellow diamond high
Spinning around my little room, miracle
(skin tell me) turn it around
(head tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) miracle goodnight
(breath tell me) turn it around
(heart tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) it was only make believe
(skin tell me) turn it around
(moon tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) it was only make believe
(eyes tell me)
(judes tell me) nobody dancing
(nobody dancing) miracle
(skin tell me) tonight
(head tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) nobody dancing
(breath tell me) turn it around
(heart tell me) make it alright
(nobody dancing) it was only make believe
(skin tell me) turn it around
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sweping Sound Early Morning
early morning the sound of sweeping the street
catches your attention,
you have just taken a bath, undergoing the
require cleansing of the body, combing the hair,
checking the nails for dirt, trimming your mustache,
wiping the wet portions of your body,
perfuming the side of the ears and the hands,
it is a ritual, it is like cleaning the body to give
the impression that you have also cleaned your soul
praying, talking to yourself, grasping for any message
from your dream last night, listening to the voice of God,
your conscience whispering what to do for the day
you take the last button, look at yourself in the mirror,
you take the deep breath, open the window, and then
face a new day. It is still you, along with you, talking to yourself.
You are brave, and now ready to face the demands of the brand new day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Look At Me
look at me, you sit next to the fire place
looking at the reflection of your tired face...
through the window, and you know
i will be home soon because its almost noon
so you sit in the living room
watching the rain poor.
Watching the rain poor
all of a sudden I walk through door
I stand there. Then I say.
I cant do this anymore.
Please. Don't even speak.
Just listen to me. look at me.
I'm lost. I wish I could make the time stop.
So I could find my way and do whats right
I wish I had Barnard's watch. But I don't.
You see I want a life. I do.
I wanna make everything alright.
But how can i fly?
When all you see is paper planes
this morning we argued again
every morning is the just the same.
I know you hate the way we are living.
But can't you see what I am giving?
For you and for me. You want me to give in?
When you look at me, what do you see?
Look at me! You cant even look at me.
that's why you just look at yourself.
Thinking I've failed
your just the same as everyone else
just leave me alone, in my home,
where my heart, is cold.
I don't want no one to hold, just go!
just get out of my chair
get out of my house
and stop pretending you care.
Yes... that's it...
You walk out of my life,
watch me from outside
as I figure, my falling tear
is telling me, I am still here.
You look at me.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Watching Me Fall
I've been watching me fall for it seems like years
Watching me grow small, i watch me disappear
Slipping out my ordinary world, out my ordinary eyes
Yeah slipping out the ordinary me into someone else's life
Into someone else's life...
There's a thin white cold new moon and the snow is coming down
And the neon bright tokyo lights flicker through the crowd
I've been drifting around for hours and i'm lost and i'm tired
When a whisper in my ear insatiable breathes
"why don't you follow me inside?..."
Yeah the room is small, the room is bright
Her hair is black, the bed is white
And the night is always young
Is always young... always young
The night is always young...
Yeah i've been seeing them strip to the bone in the mirror on the wall
Seeing her swallow him whole like it's not me at all
She holds out her hands and i follow her down to my knees
And the sucking inside insatiable smiles
"you will forget yourself in me..."
Yeah the room is small, the room is bright
Her eyes are black, the bed is white
And the night is always young
And the night goes on and on
And the night is always young
And the night is never over and over and over and over and over...
And this it's gone
And this it's gone
Yeah then it's gone
Yeah it's a cruel mean cold new day and outside the snow is still coming down
And in the blood red tokyo bed i watch me coming round
She pulled him down for hours
Deeper than i've ever been
And as i fall in the mirror on the wall
I'm watching me scream
I'm watching me scream
I'm watching me scream
I'm watching me scream
Yeah i've been watching me go for it must be years
Watching me get slow, i watch me disappear
And one day, yeah i know, i won't come back at all...
And always over and over in his ordinary eyes
I'm watching me fall
I'm watching me fall
I'm watching me fall
I'm watching me fall
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunlight
I can’t wait for tomorrow
To see a brand new day
I think about the morning
And it warms my heart
The morning sunlight
That brings me hope
The sunlight
That keeps me to smile
Oh sunlight… don’t you know
How much joy you had brought to me?
I go dance with the trees
To the tune of gasping leaves
Sunlight, Oh sunlight
Show me the way
For a brighter day
Shine on me like a guiding light
Bring me the love
That I can feel deep inside of me
Come to me
And light my window pane
For today, you are my angel
Oh sunlight, my sunlight
Stay close to me
As I feel your power
That embraces me
For today and tomorrow
You’ll be there beside me
Oh sunlight….
You’re my laughter, my friend
My life, my joy
Oh sunlight….! ! !
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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