En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Photograph: A Lynching

is it the cut glass
of their eyes
looking up toward
the new gnarled branch
of the black man
hanging from a tree?

is it the white milk pleated
collar of the woman
smiling toward the camera,
her fingers loose around
a christian cross drooping
against her breast?

is it all of us
captured by history into an
accurate album? will we be
required to view it together
under a gathering sky?

poem by Lucille Clifton
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The Tree And The Branch

the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging

the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it

the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it

angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit

a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile For The Camera

I see you standing out there in the hall
You seem so nervous waiting for his call
I focus on you
I reach for the lens
The shutter snaps again
(smile)
Smile for the camera
You know
(smile)
The camera never ever lies
Ive been watching you with
Eager hungry eyes
For sometime
(smile)
I hold my lens in the middle of the night
Visions of you dancing in the strobe light
Up on my wall is a picture or two
Of someone who looks like you
(smile)
Smile for the camera
You know
(smile)
The camera is my wide lens
(smile)
You know the camera is my private eye
I got color transparencies
I got black and white
(smile)
Smile for the camera
You know that
(smile)
Cameras never ever lies
(smile)
Ive been watching you with telephoto eyes
For some time
(smile)
Smile for me
(come on)
Smile for me
(come on)
Smile for me
(come on)
Smile for me
(come on)
Smile for me
(come on)
Smile for me
(come on)
(smile)
Wont you smile for the camera
Wont you smile for the
Click, click, click
(smile)
Smile for the camera
(smile)
Smile for the camera
(smile)
Smile for the camera
(smile)
Smile for the camera
(smile)
Smile for the camera
(smile)
You know
(smile)
The camera is my private eye
(smile)
Ive got color transparencies
(smile)
Ive got black and white
(smile)
Smile for the camera
You know that
(smile)
Cameras never ever lies
(smile)
Ive been watching you with telephoto eyes
(smile)
Smile for the camera
You know that
(smile)
Camera is my private eye
(smile)
Ive been watching you
With eager hungry eyes for some time

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hanging Like A Cloud On The Arm Of A Cliff

you were so calm
like a white cumulus hanging on the arm of a cliff
beside the branch of
a tree where a little black bird
sings

below you
i am the gray pebble watching
listening

amazed
on a miniature world
complete.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going To Africa

The gathering of the spirits!
The gathering of the minds,
The gathering of the people,
The gathering of the race;
But, i am free once again.

Best of love,
Best of the best!
White oak and water,
Black oak and sugar,
Going to Africa! !

Of the Balck Ark,
Of the White Ark,
Natural mystic,
Revelation! !
Of light and darkness,
In the city.

Keep on learning,
Keep on teaching,
Keep on writing,
Keep on preaching!
And, let the system teach us all.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Loving Tree

Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
“Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?”

The second said, “My eyes have seen
No tree that is not fair;
But the Orange tree is the sweetest tree,
The loving blood is there.”

And the third said, “In the green time
I knew a loving tree
That gave a drink of the blood-red milk,
It was the Mulberry.”

Then the first one said, “Of all the trees
No sweetest can I name;
Ask her who yonder slowly comes—
That woman lean and lame.”

Grief like a hideous suckling hung
Along her hollow breast,
Pain was upon her as she walked,
And as she stooped to rest.

“Why will you question so?” she said,
“Is it to mock at me?
For how should I, who walk in Hell,
Know of a loving tree?

“My eyes are not as woman's eyes,
They hope not east or west:
Dull Famine my bed-mate is,
And Loneliness my guest.

“ 'Tis not the most delicious flower
That leaves the scent of Spring,
Nor is it yet the brightest bird
That loads his heart to sing.

“A tree may dance in the white weather
Or dream in a blue gown,
A tree may sing as a sweetheart
To bid the stars come down:

“Some trees are slim and lovable
And some are sleek and strong,
But the tree that has the cripple's heart
Will know the cripple's song.

“The sweetest death is the red death
That comes up nakedly,
And the tree that has the foiled heart
It is the loving tree.

“While ever lip shall seek for lip,
While ever light shall fall,
The tree that has the ruined heart
Is tenderest of all.

“Oh, ye may have your men to kiss,
And children warm to hold,
But the heart that had the hottest love
Was never yet consoled.”

The women three walked on their way,
Their shamed eyes could see
How well the tree with the foiled heart
Is still the loving tree.

poem by John Shaw Neilson
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The Poem That Makes You Alive

from the office the paper works pile up
like a mountain where you walk only a few steps
where it is so steep
and you want to rest on the grass because you feel like
you are dying in a minute
and they understand why sometimes you have to stop
and get some air from the window facing the sea

when you go home for lunch
with your wife
your shoulder hangs a little bit down
like a hanging plant from a branch of an old tree
your eyes are drooping
and you lose your appetite
not the food but for life itself
you have been doing things by compulsion
this bread and butter thing
this normal course
this work that is dictated upon us
society moves like a clockwork
office like a jail
the world like a cell to you

you keep your computer open
after lunch you sit in front of it again
punch the letters and tell the screen
this is my life
this could have been my work

writing poems, this poem and the rest of the poems
this makes you alive
without milk without the cradle without the bottle

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There’s a black child (in answer to fanie olivier)

There’s a black child
finding his way with goats through the cliffs
and his hair is blown in the wind
while grasses are braiding galloping around his feet.

He knows of the urge to want more,
how to take with force,
to draw his cross on the ballot paper, to say his say
and his feet walk on a dusty road

and in the dark night some of the tribe
gather around the fires, where spears are being melted
leaders armed with rifles arrive, who talk about plundering
torture and murder

and they are laughing as the war is over,
on what their hands fall they can take,
when suddenly they strike
a shaking white woman is raped

and there’s darkness hanging black over the country,
a darkness that no light can pierce,
with black faces smiling
in a circle around the fire.

[Reference: “by ruacana” (at ruacana) by fanie olivier.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Crowded Trolley-Car

The rain's cold grains are silver-gray
Sharp as golden sands,
A bell is clanging, people sway
Hanging by their hands.

Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff,
Snatch and catch and grope;
That face is yellow-pale, as if
The fellow swung from rope.

Dull like pebbles, sharp like knives,
Glances strike and glare,
Fingers tangle, Bluebeard's wives
Dangle by the hair.

Orchard of the strangest fruits
Hanging from the skies;
Brothers, yet insensate brutes
Who fear each other's eyes.

One man stands as free men stand,
As if his soul might be
Brave, unbroken; see his hand
Nailed to an oaken tree.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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My Sycamore Tree

A rainbow appeared across the sky
Like a promise
A covenant
Shinning on high
I waited and watched Making sure I could see
Climbing the branches of my sycamore tree

A star shone bright
Symbolizing
Signifying
The importance that night
Men followed it
As I watched happily
Sitting atop my sycamore tree

A white dove descended from the clouds
With a voice
And a light
Amazing the crowds
Water and word
I watched and thought of what it could be
From the tallest branch of my sycamore tree

From a tree like mine a cross was formed
Spitting
Beating
Some laughed while others mourned
I knew there was something I could do
But I was afraid of what would happen to me
So I stayed put, hanging on tight to my sycamore tree

Three days later a butterfly appeared
Alive
And vibrant
Then to my tree it finally neared
It seemed as though it was speaking to me
Speaking of life eternally
So I followed the butterfly as far as I could see
Then I quickly climbed down the branches

Joyully leaving my sycamore tree

poem by Emily Caudill
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At the bar

Inebriated sailors.
Chatting laughter woman's
Worming foggy windows.

Swooping eyes on counters
Drops of gin stain,
On sticky fingers' stools
.
Glass are talking mirrors briefing corked air.
Air corked briefing talking glass.

Smiling teethes praying at pink cocktail glasses
Drunk of blond and red colour asses.

poem by Luca Menin
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Y.. Tree of Life

The tree of life
It has a branch
A money making branch

The bigger the money making branch
The more comfortable our life
But if the money making branch
Is the only branch
On our tree of life
It is such an ugly and unstable tree.

A prayer and devotion branch
Will stabilize the tree of life
Let it be a real big branch
On your tree of life
But if only two branches on a tree
Imagine how ugly it would still be!

So let there be branches
Of Affability and Charity
Of Cheerfulness and Friendliness
Of Gentleness and Honesty
Of Humility and Compassion
Of Spirituality and Wisdom
Of Courage and Hard work

With these branches present,
It will carry soon the lush greenery
Of love and job satisfaction
And soon enough, the tree of life
Will bear the fruits
Of peace of mind and happiness.

A wonderful tree of life I wish you
with many fine branches
and lots of greenery and fruits.

poem by Aufie Zophy
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What Say You (feat. John Mellencamp)

Artist : Travis Tritt & John "Cougar" Mellencamp
Title : What Say You
Album : My Honky Tonk History
Genre : Country
I believe that there's a right & I believe that there's a wrong
That north and south, black & white
Can somehow get along
What say you, What say you
I believe there's a basic good in the heart of every man
And I'm not gonna criticize what I can't understand
What say you
What say you
I'm not afraid to say what's on my mind, To take a stand, to draw the line
To speak my heart & bare my soul,
I don't like lies, I'd rather know the truth
Hey, what say you, What say you
But I'm not ashamed of where I come from,
With this blue collar on my shirt
And I don't look for handouts,
Cause I'm not afraid of work
What say you,
Yeah, what say you
Man, I don't talk no religion & I ain't gonna wave that flag
But I love God & America & I'd fight for what I have
What say you
Yeah, what say you
I know I'm not always right
I don't think I'm better than you
I don't have all the answers
But I'll share my point of view
What say you
I'm not afraid to say what's on my mind
Take a stand & draw that line
To speak my heart & bare my soul
I don't like lies, I'd rather know the truth
So what say you
What say you
What say you and you and you and you ...
What say you

song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree

My existence
start from a little piece of seed...

First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...

But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...

With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...

Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...

Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...

Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...

Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...

Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...

Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...

Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...

Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...

Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...

Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...

But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...

By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM

poem by tree Ryd
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A Kingfisher On A Dead Tree

on a glass pond
a dead tree stands
perched is a kingfisher
on one of its weak twigs

i sit alone on a
rock thinking about nothing
i must have been lost
this day

blue wings and some
white feathers on the neck
black sharp beak
the kingfisher looks at me

a leaf falls on the glass pond
the eyes of the kingfisher
and my eyes ride on the ripple
like small paper boats
going nowhere

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On the Infancy of Our Savior

Hail! blessed Virgin, full of heavenly grace,
Blest above all that sprang from human race,
Whose heaven-saluted womb brought forth in one
A blessed Savior and a blessed Son.
O what a ravishment 't had been to see
Thy little Savior perking on thy knee!
To see Him nuzzle in thy virgin breast,
His milk-white body all unclad, undressed;
To see thy busy fingers clothe and wrap
His spraddling limbs in thy indulgent lap;
To see His desperate eyes with childish grace
Smiling upon His smiling mother's face;
And when His forward strength began to bloom
To see Him diddle up and down the room.
O who would think so sweet a Babe as this
Should ere be slain by a false-hearted kiss?
Had I a rag, if sure Thy body wore it,
Pardon, sweet Babe, I think I should adore it;
Till then, O grant this boon, a boon far dearer:
The weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.

poem by Francis Quarles
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Strong Black Woman

I am
a black woman strong
beyond definition
standing tall by my words
humming a song to defy my place
and claim my space till time
looks on me with tears
and renew itself

I am a black woman
poised to vanquish night
and usher in the day
veer the wind southward
that moist clouds rise for me
to feel joy that kindles blue meridian skies

I am a black woman
fulfilling my call
as a strong black woman
never to bow nor bend to heartaches and
the pain that brings tears to eyes
I am a black woman
still carrying the warm smiles of my youth

I am a black woman
gathering my songs into fiery Zulu spears
to kill tears still dancing on our foreheads
and when morning star rises tomorrow
everything will be bright before us
because yesterday ended last night

poem by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese
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An Open Boat

O, what is that whimpering there in the darkness?

'Let him lie in my arms. He is breathing, I know.
Look. I'll wrap all my hair round his neck' - 'The sea's rising,
The boat must be lightened. He's dead. He must go.'

See - quick - by that flash, where the bitter foam tosses,
The cloud of white faces, in the black open boat,
And the wild pleading woman that clasps her dead lover
And wraps her loose hair round his breast and his throat.

'Come, lady, he's dead.' - 'No, I feel his heart beating,
He's living, I know. But he's numbed with the cold.
See, I'm wrapping my hair all around him to warm him.' -
- 'No. We can't keep the dead, dear. Come, loosen your hold.

'Come. Loosen your fingers.' - ' O God, let me keep him!' -

O, hide it, black night! Let the winds have their way!
And there are no voices or ghosts from that darkness,
To fret the bare seas at the breaking of day.

poem by Alfred Noyes
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The Prisoner

You have watched me, safe in your anonymity
I have dreamed you, held in your security
Some people believe a photograph traps your mortal soul
Your eyes were the camera and youve take hold
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole
Every place I go I feel your lenses trained on me
This distant concentration takes away my energy
Your image burns its negative
Behind my waking eyes
Then the night comes and you stalk your prize
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole
Some people believe a photograph traps your mortal soul
Your eyes were the camera and youve taken hold
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole

song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heather

The black panther treads at my side,
And above my fingers
There float the petal-like flames.

The milk-white girls
Unbend from the holly-trees,
And their snow-white leopard
Watches to follow our trace.

poem by Ezra Pound
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He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon - Villanelle

He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
From drops of peridot scattered at sea,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His father not caring where or with whom,
Or from what rare ocean his being might be-
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

He learnt his letters from a dark winged loon
Who flew where the mountains caress the trees,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His speech was a garble of false and truth,
Whistling like a hollow piped reed,
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

His eyes a contagion of waters blue
And brackish trunks of underwater trees
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His normal voice wove a threadless tune,
Brought close the mermaids, hungry to feed;
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

poem by Patti Masterman
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