Outsi De The Prison
outside
the birds are singing
the mountains crimson and bare
the fish-bones of the poplars
are hidden under the faded yellowish leaves
since sometime
a huge stork..patient and a hardworker
is gathering something from
the garbage-field
down there..to build her nest
when you look from here
the city seems empty and bare
the clock tower a little bit far and high
sruck eleven of the morning
all my optimism is full in me
and increasing and filling again
that never exhausted and finished yet
that is my peculiar, private treasure
ı hope and say and repeat stubbornly
we will soon be set free
ı stopped writing my letter
and I descended to the open strolling-hall
there is a magnificient sun outside..shining
oh...the lovely steppes..how I love and long for
you feel there as you are healing a bit a bit
a litle and a little
we talked about you and about this with our comrades
at this moment...to me
the world seems full of good fellows
but nevertheless the evening approaches and comes
İ n vain
we cannot help it
we cannot do anything about it
let it come
but ı am stiil hoping we will be set free very soon....
nazı m Hİ KMET RAN...
poem by Metin Sahin
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Related quotes
Occupation
when the dawn enlightens by the horns of my oxen
I plow the soıl with my prıde in my patient struggle
under my bare feet ı feel the soil humid and warm
with brilliant lights in my arm muscles
I forge the ıron till noon
the darkness turns to crimson
in the warmth of the afternoon
with the most greennes on their leaves
I gather the newly ripened olives
all my body and my eyes in lights
I have always have visitors in my house in every evening
my door ajar..wide open to every kınd of songs
at night ı go ınto the water knee high
and I pull the nets from the sea
full of fish mixed with the shining stars
now ı am responsible from the world
they ask me
about the human.the soıl, the darkness and the daylight
I think you understand me
I am fully occupied and busy
and you my rose
do you understand me too
I am fully occupied staying in love with you
you just stay there without moving
in the illumination
let the shining sun always stay on your green gown
my wound again has opened suddenly
the blood is fiercely flowing thorough me
in my full occupied body
BURSA 1948
Nazım HİKMET
Translatıon Metin ŞAHİN
poem by Metin Sahin
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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let The New Year 2k+9 Bloom!
In a world that is
Free from terrible terrorism and death
Full of happy harmony and warmth
Free from fateful wars and schisms
Full of hopping hopes and optimism
Free from wretched hatred and bigotry
Full of pure happiness and joy
Free from painful penury and poverty
Full of crystal understanding and aplomb
Free from nasty violence and bombs
Full of sweet smiles and cheers
Free fromdeadly flaws and fears
Full of pleasant peace and poise
Free from fanatic racism and strife
Full of prosperous pleasure and health
Free from disastrous floods and quakes
Full of vergent vegetation and lands
Free from global warming and heat
Full of bracing breeze and air
Free from wicked ego and envy
Full of Divine wisdom and knowledge
Let the NEW YEAR 2K + 9 bloom!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Starvation
I think the world is starving itself
Thousands of packs of condoms are free
yet even aid to the poor is at cost
little girls starve their bodies
to let the most part go uncovered
and bare the cold, cold world
we collect taxes to build bridges
when we are at the last ridges
poverty takes us to the edges
yet the city shines like the sun that blazes
holding all the treasure of ages
But we are empty vessels
filling our souls with a maddening liquor
we are cold and scared lungs
searching for a warm murderous puff of smoke
slowly undressing for human starvation
the once envisaged final damnation
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Peace Tonight
Honey pick the red corner shoes
The ones that hardly ever get used
I knelt in front of my whole collection
And Im picking you a special selection
On a no news is good news middle of mid-year day
I feel no ill with time to kill I wanna play
Lets make peace tonight
(lets make peace tonight)
The moon is bare and shining bright
(moon is shining bright)
Lets make peace tonight in a good time
(lets make peace tonight)
Im callin on my good friends today
You know the drives about an hour away
And well be pitching up a tent by the trees
And well be wading in the river to our knees
Oh now loves been planted and were checking out the yield
Its two black dogs and a white one their running in the field
Lets make peace tonight
(lets make peace tonight)
The moon is bare and shining bright
(moon is shining bright)
Well lets make peace tonight in a good time
(lets make peace tonight)
Oh
Oh
Oh
Well we used to have some money but we spent it
(used to have some money but we spent it)
Yeah so when we want to have it then we rent it
(when we want to have it we rent it)
But were cuttin up the rug and I know you love me love me
(were cuttin up the rug and I know you love me)
And the best of everything here is free
(everything here is free)
Oh when things get messy then we tidy up the room
Well be no stranger to that dustpan and the broom
Lets make peace tonight
(lets make peace tonight)
The moon is bare and shining bright
(moon is shining bright)
Lets make peace tonight
(lets make peace tonight)
The moon is bare and shining bright
(moon is shining bright)
Lets make peace tonight in a good time
(lets make peace tonight)
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tombstone
The night is dark, the moon is full
Across the blood red plain
Every step and every breath
Brings me nearer home
The spirits watch me on my way
They whisper on the wind
And when the dawn lights up the sky
I'll see my land again
A hot wind blows the scrub and dust
across the barren land
Trees stand bare like skeletons
The mountains all torn down
The water holes are dry as bones
No birds are singing now
And faraway a city stands
Tombstones against the sky
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tombestone
The night is dark, the moon is full
Across the blood red plain
Every step and every breath
Brings me nearer home
The spirits watch me on my way
They whisper on the wind
And when the dawn lights up the sky
Ill see my land again
A hot wind blows the scrub and dust
Across the barren land
Trees stand bare like skeletons
The mountains all torn down
The water holes are dry as bones
No birds are singing now
And faraway a city stands
Tombstones against the sky
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never
minds unfolding,
hearts racing,
the clock ticking,
as I just sit and wait.
waiting till time ends,
till I'm free,
free from these chains,
and free from the pain.
somewhere it's safe,
someday I'll be too,
but until I find it,
I'm stuck here without you.
you were my freedom,
my sanctum and hope,
but now I don't know,
where have you gone?
you looking at me,
'twas the spark,
but that was long ago,
never to happen again.
you said you loved me,
I was the fool,
I believed you,
huge mistake.
the pain you cause me,
was too much to bare,
but now I know,
you never truly cared.
poem by Katherine Bryce
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Persistently Pursuing Piscine Protein
Once again whilst fishing at the beach,
The fish they all stayed out of reach,
I think they knew that I was there,
And so my fish bag it stayed bare.
Nothing in there for me to eat,
The scaly ones had me beat,
But such is the nature of this fisherman,
I'll be trying again as soon as I can,
And next time I'll catch fish a' plenty,
Not going home with my fish bag empty.
This optimism keeps shining bright,
No matter how often on a cold wet night,
I venture out and fail to catch,
I know next time will be game, set, and match.
To me the stupidly determined one,
Who keeps on fishing when all hope is gone!
Tom Higgins 19/11/2012
poem by Tom Higgins
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The first city
The great hunter Nimrod
was a mighty leader of men
who ripped beasts and lions
apart with his bare hands
and he led them out of the mountains
and on the wide open plain of Shinar
they made a city fair
calling it Babylon
and men build a great tower there
from baked bricks plastered with
asphalt and bitumen
trying to reach to the sky
their Ziggurat was rising high.
They tried to build a gate to God
and they believed that no god
would be able to touch them there,
where it rose up in stepped stages
but the Lord came down
and lighting fell from the sky
hitting the tower again and again
and it stood burning
in unquenchable flames.
[Reference: Genesis 11: 1-9. Asphalt and bitumen = tar.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Fury Of Beautiful Bones
Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
Oh sing, bone bag man, sing.
Your head is what I remember that August
you were in love with another woman but
that didn't matter. I was the guy of your
bones, your fingers long and nubby, your
forehead a beacon, bare as marble and I worried
you like an odor because you had not quite forgotten,
bone bag man, garlic in the North End,
the book you dedicated, naked as a fish,
naked as someone drowning into his own mouth.
I wonder, Mr. Bone man, what you're thinking
of your fury now, gone sour as a sinking whale,
crawling up the alphabet on her own bones.
Am I in your ear still singing songs in the rain,
me of the death rattle, me of the magnolias,
me of the sawdust tavern at the city's edge.
Women have lovely bones, arms, neck, thigh
and I admire them also, but your bones
supersede loveliness. They are the tough
ones that get broken and reset. I just can't
answer for you, only for your bones,
round rulers, round nudgers, round poles,
numb nubkins, the sword of sugar.
I feel the skull, Mr. Skeleton, living its
own life in its own skin.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Set them free..They will multiply..
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.
collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.
I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.
Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Back and Side go Bare
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
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Jolly Good Ale and Old
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
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Beautiful Bird
You say that I am beautiful, but you have
Me locked up in this cage, every time I sing
My voice is full of rage.
If you truly loved me you would let me go
But you keep me locked up for all your friends to show.
I am not a show bird for you to put on display
I am a free spirit, and I have to go my way.
how can you keep me, when I don’t want to stay.
Open up this door and let me fly away.
You also are a beautiful bird and that I can see
So why don’t you join me and we both will be free.
Two free spirits flying high in the sky
singing songs of love as we go flying by.
Let the world see us soaring like eagles
High above the ground
We are so much in love that
you can not hear our sounds.
We are the beautiful birds that
Touch the human soul
We are the wonders that forever
You want to hold.
poem by Louis Rams
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Ending [Final]
The memories invade my brain
As crows in poplars build their nest,
While clouds go by and come again,
Like smoke, above the lake and plain,
And never rest.
It's gone the autumn with its shine
Of faded green an vivid gold,
With purple grapes, which look so fine,
And now the park, my soul divine,
Are bare and cold.
The frozen lake will be resigned
When the last leaf falls to the ground
And wind through branches gently blows,
So that you know you left behind
A field of snow, which makes no sound,
And wailing crows.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Full Of You
Cardboard boxes on the floor
They contain memories and so much more
Black and white photographs
Faded now but I remember how we laughed
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty house, full of you
Pour myself a glass of wine
Let it breathe but I dont give it too much time
Take another and set it down
I kid myself theres nobody else around
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty glass, full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
I hear footsteps by the door
Could it be theres nothing else that I want more
There you stand in front of me
I see your face my heart has wings you set me free
Theres nothing left for me to do
Now my empty heart, is full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
Let me tell you darling
Never did I doubt you
I cant live without you
Its so good youre back with me
song performed by by Rick Astley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The day I walked out of the prison
Bright sunshine maneuvered its course
Sheds of lights plummeted distinctively
Across the prison cells
Another new day for stern inmates
And counting how much time is left
Before they’d be free
And discover the real world again
Six blocks of 4 floors cells
Housing 5000 inmates simultaneously
Marching to the main hall for breakfast
Right after they were mustered
0830hrs in the morning workshops will be filled
With reluctant inmates to carry on
The planned and guarded routines
Some will fill the prison open compound
Playing sports game
Sweating out and work out
Or just meddle around and cliqued
Under watchful eyes of warden
At watch tower
Scrutinizing their movement
For Rasheed who has been around for 35 years
Knows the yards so well he could tell
A fight is to happen at C block
And alerted the officials
A stout build Rasheed imprisoned for life
Without parole
Hoping one day he’d get
A presidential pardon
And walks out free and conserves
Whatever he had left and missed
He was 18, young and tender
Became a permanent resident of the prison
After committing an armed robbery
Was charged with an extended penalty
Seemingly repented
Adamant he could still walks out free
Strolling the night and lays down under the tree
Counting the stars and embraces the moon
Walking on the busy streets at noon
Smiling at beautiful women as he wishes
Swimming in an open sea as he pleases
Eating at renowned restaurant
Digesting fish head curry and chili prawn
Smelling the blossoming flowers
Hoping the season will not be over
Shopping for branded clothing
Hanging out at the bar and drinking everything
But that wouldn’t be enough
He got one final plot to plough
Going to the cemetery
Visiting his long lost parents
Should he walks out free
New hope awaken
35 years wasted down the drain
A new life would conceal the pains
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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When Days Get Long
I
When summer days get extremely long
the sky becomes a much deeper hue,
a myriad of birds fill the cobalt blue,
constantly singing their gorgeous song
it is as if everything do belong
to the coming spring, are singing true
like some beautiful birds and insects do,
while colourful swarming in their great throng
over the gentle meadow and the valley
filling the tranquil grey evening sky
softly singing a sweet kind of medley
while in jubilance they still do fly
over fields of hay and fields of barley,
sunny day after sunny day pass by.
II
Sunny day after sunny day pass by
with almost a kind of smothering heat
the fields, the open veldt and dirt road lie
far to hot to tread with just bare feet.
Everything shimmers, the poplars that rears
like huge fingers pointing to the sun,
massive broad oak trees of many years
and grass and flowers where life has just begun
glitters in a new emerald green sheen,
the wind rustles things touching one by one
as if finding things where there had not been,
between huge black boulders rocks and stone
the sun blazes on every day the same,
I see the sun making wings of hot flame.
III
I see the sun making wings of hot flame
on the few white clouds in dazzling colours
and in the west there are some small wild game
drinking water while the evening hours
brings the white and blue stars out dazzling clear
with night predators in the pitch black sky
and some more wild game are drawing near,
I hear the hyenas laughing, wild dogs cry,
the growls of lions, the howling of jackals,
I get the smells of the earth and the bush,
I hear some leopards growling, their calls
that are where they are lying in ambush,
at night the predators are hunting prey,
making a living in the dying day.
IV
Making a living in the dying day
swarms of birds fly calling with flapping wings
poplars, cedars and many trees do sway
while the twilight is grey, full of life, brings
as if by some magic, all at play
flying leaves, bats insects and flying things
with a few that lonesome away stray,
most are flying to nests in trees that swings
and eventually places of rest receives
the many small things that are fluttering,
the wind settles among the moving leaves,
the numerous evening birds start to sing
until the full moon shines its silver rays,
when night fades slowly as on other days.
V
When night fades slowly as on other days,
man is still bound by nature and destiny
to the world in which he works and plays
as it probably will be to eternity.
The yellow sun, the cobalt blue heaven
is like it has been from its very birth
with its joyous bright splendour even
like any other day upon this earth
but a time will come when man will be free
from all death and all kinds of destruction
from heartache, the sorrows that he see
with a new amazing introduction
to a place that’s holy, pure and bright;
now suddenly it is silver twilight.
VI
Now suddenly it is silver twilight
and the sheer darkness of night flees away
before the coming new breaking day
with the blazing sheer redness of sunlight
constantly reflecting against the bright
unclouded sky open in its solid grey
with the red blossoming as if its to stay
and in the veldt guinea fowl flees in fright
while a small jackal laughs out its delight
and the few milling dark clouds do stray
before a strong wind as if in spite
and through bushes and grass rocking it plays
churning up eddies before going out of sight
while the hot sun rises with its golden rays.
VII
While the hot sun rises with its golden rays,
you come from a country where rivers meander
where the rain sieves down for many days
where some beautiful wild birds do wander
in lush overgrown tranquil water-meadows,
far away from the busy big city,
filled with thick green living hedgerows
where many bright wild flowers are pretty
but I still do wonder what you will see
in a land where vicious savage beasts
have no civility and do roam free
where the natives have very weird feasts,
where the flaming sun does spare no one,
when summer days get extremely long.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sin People Will Die
The breeze blowing between trees the birds singing sweet melody
Without feel of loosing rain via country the father given dowry protect people every day
The ruins of all heritages earn money for every moment they war ship with proudly
Bunch of lotus flowers fight for live further upon mud while lake empty
The theme of doctrine sin people will die and turn to dusting among world
Cruel people demolish noble one presented heritage they true loved never wicked
The born of true once upon time against sin people threw stone build true for demolished
Struck to innocent people and kid nap them belong treasure like largest beg all over world
Lethargy life destroyed every rich boasting with gathered ignorant people while eating and drinking
Spreading darkness every dwelling places the factory closed every where people are crying
The birds and butterfly belong to the winter fly away not ability to comfortable living
All though not ending presented duration for human circling around universal it's so long
Whenever smile with every nation altogether while full of stomach without hesitation
Although no one like to see true of world wealth people try to more and more money earn
The breeze blowing and murmur with sad dropping yellowish leaf one by one floating along
The turn dumpy singing sweet melody look ill every one although sun is beaming
poem by Inguruwatta Pushpadewa
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