The morning glories
The morning glories
bloom, securing the gate
in the old fence
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Morning glories
morning glories
in slight breeze
young girls in
their shy years
try day by day
to smile to sweetheart
through their smitten hearts
a field of morning glories
dance in silence
subdued dance
in the morning quiet
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pieces Of Fragile Lace
A spider spins a micro fine thread, her gentle web to weave,
It is with awe, that we behold this art, one can't believe
This work, viewed on a frosty morn, portrays pieces of fragile lace,
How can a tiny creature create these patterns, with silent grace.
She works with great dedication, using skills beyond belief,
Securing her thread to one, and then another sturdy leaf,
Or twig, or gate, or fence, or flower, whatever is to hand,
A magical spun gossamer, her love sealed in every strand.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Over There
The fence is long and high where we love
You cant see the other side where they live
Ive spied with my little eye
And Ive sighed with my little sigh
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
This is the fence that turns one into two
I want to break through but Im though if I do
Ive tried with my little try
And Ive cried with my little cry
But it seems that the gate holds the only clue
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive though again
But it seems Ive given all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
[brilliant solo from stan the man]
Every hour I have to count to ten
And a thousand times Ive thought again
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
But it seems Ive give all that I can give
Is there anyone there
Here is the fence that they built
{over there}
This is the fence that hate built
Is anyone there
{over there}
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open The Gate
I see you from the distance
From beyond the fence you made
Hiding all your feelings
Behind your barricade
Oh have you been invaded
Is this the reason why you hide
I know just how you're feeling
I know - let me inside
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up - hurry
I want to get near you
But you just won't let me in
'Cause you're so scared of losing
Everything you've got within
Come on now you can trust me
Come on and open the door
'Cause I know just how you're feeling
I know - I've been there before
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
And do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now - hurry
Do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
And do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
Hurry
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Down
song performed by by No Doubt from Beacon Street Collection
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open The Gate
I see you from a distance
From beyond the fence youve made
Hiding all your feelings
Behind your barricade
Have you been invaded
Is this the reason why you hide
I know just how your feeling
I know so let me inside
Open the gate up
Open the gate up, hurry
Open the gate up, hurry
I want to get near you
But you just wont let me in
Youre so scared of losing
Everything youve got within
Come on now you can trust me
Come on open the door
I know just how youre feeling
I know, Ive been there before
Open the gate up
Open the gate up hurry
Open the gate up hurry
Do it right now
Open the gate up...
Or Im gonna knock the d*mn door down!
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Move with a reservation
Imagine a field with a fence.
Imagine it without a fence.
Imagine it with a fence and a gate,
Like which must be your contact field.
27.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Bloom is not a Bloom
Bloom not bloom
mist not mist
Night half come
heaven bright go
Come like spring dream how long time?
Go like morning cloud not find place The bloom is not a bloom,
The mist not mist.
At midnight she comes,
And goes again at dawn.
She comes like a spring dream -
how long will she stay?
She goes like morning cloud, without a trace.
Transient gowns
morning glories by the sidewalk
each bloom oozes with my love
in the mist, full of the beauty of youth
can you hear the stirring of a smitten heart?
each flower's trumpet that helps play
my love song to the heaven and you
- take it now or tomorrow it will be gone
- gently as it has come, the fashion of those
transient violet gowns
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Jump over the Cottonwood fence if the gate's locked
A poor Mom writes to her daughter
Who eloped with the next-door neighbour.
Dad looks into the infinity the wholeday
And sometimes forgets my name too.
It's really sad and come home together
Before I too get the forgetfulness!
Jump over the Cottonwood fence
If the gate's locked and it's not a hard task for you
Because you're very familiar with the height of the fence!
*We live in the present, we dream of the future, but we learn eternal truths from the past.
-Unknown
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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When Fantasy Is Totally Gone (In Answer To Mandi Engelbrecht)
Many memories still remain with me
of your white house with the wooden windows,
where irises bloom purple in the garden,
with a bottle of St. Anna on the porch,
the fireplace burning cheerfully in winter,
the stars that glitter silver-blue above us,
the branches of the avocado tree slamming
when the wind blows strong up on the mountain,
your deep glance that desires in silence,
the way that you sometimes happily smile
when being together comes to perfection,
when your red lips are soft, hot and hungry,
when we both build a castle brick for brick,
are together in all our future dreams;
where you sing joyfully, paint and write poems,
where every caress is pure and holy,
where there is no goodbye and just hello,
where all the fragile feelings become real,
where morning glories grow exuberant
and we somewhat innocent believe in love
l’Envoi
but this world is full of a own reality,
as a place of cruel hard actuality;
where destiny continually hits on its own,
where I constantly stand totally alone
where dreams flutter away like butterflies,
where morning glories becomes just a weed,
where many thousands of poems come from me,
where in the sounds of silence I bleed.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Early One Morning
Early one morning in May I set out,
And nobody I knew was about.
I'm bound away for ever,
Away somewhere, away for ever.
There was no wind to trouble the weathercocks.
I had burnt my letters and darned my socks.
No one knew I was going away,
I thought myself I should come back some day.
I heard the brook through the town gardens run.
O sweet was the mud turned to dust by the sun.
A gate banged in a fence and banged in my head.
'A fine morning, sir', a shepherd said.
I could not return from my liberty,
To my youth and my love and my misery.
The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet,
The only sweet thing that is not also fleet.
I'm bound away for ever,
Away somehwere, away for ever.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Everything worthwhile has a fence around it, but there is always a gate and a key.
This House is no Longer a Home
As I walk down the lonely street
Knees get weak, can barely keep my feet
I see the fence, the gate, the porch
From where you gazed and lit my torch
I see the house, the room, the bed
Your voice still ringing in my head
You said you didn't love anymore
And you walked out the door
The walls were painted antique white
Semi-gloss to bring in the light
Pictures hung on every wall
With memories of us all
Now the fence is falling, the flowers dying
Tears fall through the cracks from all the crying
The gate is broken and no one can come in
It's a shame even the birds won't sing
But this house is no longher a home
You chose freedom, you chose to roam
This house is no longer a home
Like a beer without foam
A classic car without chrome
You chose to roam
Now this house is no longer a home
I recall that first night
We made love in the full moonlight
Tfhe air was filled with ecstasy
Our moans sang a symphony
Our bodies became one
As we ventured till the morning sun
But love doesn't live here anymore
I can still hear the slamming of the door
I can feel the vibration of every picture frame
As I stand here wondering who's to blame
poem by Alfred Ramos
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One Has Standards to Maintain
Are you a joke?
Or is this an inappropriate time,
For your life to be lived.
And your dreams of securing a house,
With a white picket fence...
Seems too rich in delusion.
And undernourished.
Lacking in an acceptance of reality.
And you laugh at 'me' and my perceptions,
Quick.
One of us desires for yesterday to make a comeback.
And the other refuses to accept anything from yesterday,
At all.
Including those delusions,
Assembled for a fast marketing of trash repackaged.
One has standards to maintain.
The other?
Has a sanity to protect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Love of Life I've Come To Know
I did not come to know love,
To rid myself of it to hate.
I did not choose to unlock a door...
To then escape by building a gate.
I did not hop a fence,
To convince anyone I could run.
I did not come to face the truth,
To allow what I've learned to be undone.
I did not concentrate,
To then refuse comprehension.
I wanted and sought more to understand...
And stand to feel the Sun upon me come.
I did not come to know love,
To rid myself of it to hate.
I did not choose to unlock a door...
To then escape by building a gate.
My choice,
Was not to hide but decide my voice I'd share.
To say those things I felt and meant,
From a caring awareness I had to declare.
I did not hop a fence,
To convince anyone I could run.
I did not come to face the truth,
To allow what I've learned to be undone.
I did not earn anything,
With a purpose to throw it away!
Or someday myself betray.
Not to sacrifice this love of life I've come to know.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just A Fence
I say this in truth and not in pretense
All else I wish to own is just a fence
A fence that is made out of steel or wood
Placed around my property as it should
Around my home to protect like a guard
So my dogs won't escape from their yard
I want them to be free without a restraint
To run and play without a neighbors complaint
A fence also to be a barrier from the street
So the many dangers or hazards they will not meet
But sadly I am poor and I have no extra expense
So all that I wish for, is just a fence.
poem by Randy McClave
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Humbug
Across the fence we stand on looking;
Nevertheless, I can see your glances,
hear your talks, smell your presence,
feel the currents and taste the essence
of your vision, in thought, part by part
and the response I got to my dart.
Notwithstanding the fence, we’re not apart.
Over the fence we do yet communicate.
Corporals are fenced to ensure chastity;
Any fence to forbid sexual amity?
Then why is all this humbug?
10.04.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On the Boundary
I Love the ancient boundary-fence,
That mouldering chock-and-log.
When I go ride the boundary
I let the old horse jog
And take his pleasure in and out
Where the sandalwood grows dense,
And tender pines clasp hands across
The log that tops the fence.
’Tis pleasant on the boundary-fence,
These sultry summer days;
A mile away, outside the scrub,
The plain is all ablaze,
The sheep are panting on the camps,
The heat is so intense;
But here the shade is cool and sweet
Along the boundary-fence.
I love to loaf along the fence,
So does my collie dog,
He often finds a spotted cat
Hid in a hollow log;
He’s very near as old as I
And ought to have more sense,
I’ve hammered him so many times
Along the boundary-fence.
My mother says that boundary fence
Must surely be bewitched;
The old man says that through that fence
The neighbours are enriched;
It’s always down, and through the gaps
Our stock all get them hence,
I takes me half my time to watch
The doings of that fence.
But should you seek the reason
You won’t travel very far,
’Tis there a mile away among
The murmuring Belar:
The Jones’s block joins on to ours,
And so, in consequence,
It’s part of Polly’s work to ride
Their side the boundary-fence.
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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When I Was A Child A Bully Would Challenge Me
When I was a child a bully would challenge me. He was bigger. I would run away. Over and over this went on. One morning I woke up from a dream in which I seem the bully punch some one I love over a fence. I was furious that morning. That morning the bully said something about my sister. Later that day we met at the park to fight. It was all set we would fight. It seemed as if every child from the school was there. I did not care. All that I seen, felt, all that ran through my mind was him punching my sister over the fence. The bully looked so surprised when I stepped into him and punched him right in the face. He started crying. When he got back to his feet the crowd of children were cheering. One of the older children ran in. He would not let him continue, blood poured from the bully's face. The older child might have sensed that I really would have changed the bully's life even more profoundly.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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The White China Flower Blooming One Morning
outside the fence of this old house where
some flowers grow in the wild
along the rugger path
i see this little boy cutting the stem
of the white china flower
all in bloom this early morning
and i feel this sense of innocent cruelty
which he did
to destroy nature's beauty
unprotected by the hands of the uneducated
young creatures
i could have told him about the phenomenology
of the real beauty
of things untouched and uncut from their own branches
their blooms facing the sun with all
unhampered freedom
but the little brown boy already run away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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