Calendar Day 23/Kalendar dan 23.
…that is the way a rainy day opens.
Like a dropp of rain at the edge of a split atom anticipating the parameter of light-that is the way a rainy day opens. The light on the wind, the step on the water, a water desert dropp and a voice at the bottom of the drizzle, the silence of the boughs rising into the sky to be a cloudy treetop. An axiom of the word within a dropp unuttered by words strengthened for creation. Stripped free from everything, liberated from the word itself and its understanding, the muteness of a dry soul burying the axes of war under an oak tree. To think the water desert into a vacant space.
Календар Дан 23.
...тако се отвара кишни дан.
Као када кишна кап на ивици атома ишчекује параметар свјетла-тако се отвара кишни дан. Свјетло на вјетру, корак на води, водене пустиње кап и глас у дну ромињања, ћутање грања што у небо израста да крошња од облака буде. Аксиом ријечи у капи неизговорене ријечју оснажене на стварање. Слободно од свега и од ријечи саме поимања њеног, нијемост суве душе што сјекире ратне под храстом покопала је. Да у празан простор водену пустињу мни.
©Мирослава Одаловић
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Calender Day 1
It's a silent night and half a truth. The edges of thought lightly touched by the Moon. It's a thick darkness I feed with the light of the letters, an aureole of the written among the walls the whispers slipping between the words and the body prostrated before the soul. From my altar like window the bidrs are flying up towards the arches upwards into an all held within manner built beneath the limits of the human craving.
...and half a dream. In another one there's an eye sighting into the gap and each step is light when there is no bottom. The space is answered in time and the time is wondered at in space about the meaning of standing and duration. The black sky spells out the stars the signs of its counting and I am but one of them. Sometimes the reflection answered in the surface of the water by the depth in which my own countenance is reflected and the edges of my shadow. Sometimes it's nothing as an always a good place to start a journey.
...and half a touch. It moves with its fingers the quiver of an early storm that will grow into slapping the boughs, the first dropp of rain will flood the streets now trodden by a silent night.
...and half a smile. Built within a tear and all made of hope. That smiles the night.
Тиха је ноћ и пола истине. Тек Мјесецом дотакнути рубови мисли. Мисле ме. Појим густе тмине свјетлом слова, ореол исписаног међу зидовима, шапат поклеко између ријечи и тијело сопствено пред душу стављам. Са мог прозора као са олтара узлијећу птице ка сводовима горе сведржитељно изграђеног под међама људског хтијења.
...и пола сна. Другом око снатри у јаз и лак је сваки корак када нема дна. Простор одговорен временом и вријеме простором упитано о смислу стајања и трајања. Небо црно изриче звијезде знаке свог бројања и ја сам само једна од њих. Понекад површином воде одговорен одсјај дубина у којим се огледа и мој лик и рубови моје сјени. Понекад ништа од којег креће сваки добар пут.
...и пола додира. Он прстима покреће први дрхтај олује што ће прерасти у љуто шамарање грања, прва кап кише што ће поплавити улице којом хода сада тиха ноћ.
...и пола осмјеха. Сазданог у сузи и од наде сав. Осмјехује ноћ.
©Мирослава Одаловић
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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J???? ??? ??? ???? ? ???? ???????
једна ноћ што виси о нити Мјесеца
исписује зебњу јутарњега часа
шилом тмине кроз ткања неба што пресијеца
ријечи с руба ријечи и ћутања без гласа
међе очију склопи трептајем и сијај
спрам Луниног ока ти охани миром
ил' спрам луче ријечју тиху пјесму свијај
о љубави слово исцијељеном лиром
једна ноћ да прође крај путева страха
један Мјесец да се састави у круг
једна ријеч да никад не остане без даха
један живот смрти да одужи дуг
©Мирослава Одаловић
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fifth Element-Peti Element
Bespoken by earth
I could no longer
No longer stand in the epitaph ground
I had to move into the grain
Squatted in its growth torn by its side
I felt it filling me from top to bottom
And the slide the grain and I thrice breathed
And the slide the grain and I thrice moved
And the slide the grain and I thrice signed
Bespoken by water
I could no longer
No longer stand in the epitaph ground
I had to move into the drop
Spherically kissed by a water edge
I felt its tear falling down my cheek
Toll falling chant of all the rains in it
And the storms the dropp and I thrice breathed
And the storms the dropp and I thrice moved
And the storms the dropp and I thrice signed
Bespoken by fire
I could no longer
No longer stand in the epitaph ground
I had to move into the flame
Touched by the thousands of its tongues
I felt its words the speech of the whole world
And the dust the flame and I thrice breathed
And the dust the flame and I thrice moved
And the dust the flame and I thrice signed
Bespoken by the wind
I could no longer
No longer stand in the epitaph ground
I had to walk though the treetops
Read off by the life line from its wounded leaf
I felt its hurt whispered into my palm
Ash rustling chant so light and dry
Like the air the tree and I thrice breathed
Like the air the tree and I thrice moved
Like the air the tree and I thrice signed
I am the fifth element
Walking in the wind
Pouring in the drop
Licking the flame
Filling the ground
Изговорена тлом
Више нисам могла
Нисам могла стајати у епитафу земље
Морала сам се у грумен уселити
У расту му склупчана гурнута крај њега
Осјетила како ме пуни од врха до дна
И одрон што грумен и ја смо га три пута дисали
И одрон што грумен и ја смо га три пута покренули
И одрон што грумен и ја смо га три пута потписали
Изговорена водом
Више нисам могла
Нисам могла стајати у епитафу земље
Морала сам се у капљу преселити
Сферно пољубљену ивицом воде
Осјетила јој сузу како клизи ми низ образ
И олује што капља и ја смо их три пута дисали
И олује што капља и ја смо их три пута покренули
И олује што капља и ја смо их три пута потписали
Изговорена ватром
Више нисам могла
Нисам могла стајати у епитафу земље
Морала сам се у пламен уселити
Дирнута хиљадама његових језика
Осјетила ријечи цијели говор свијета
И прах што пламен и ја смо га три пута дисали
И прах што пламен и ја смо га три пута покренули
И прах што пламен и ја смо га три пута потписали
Изговорена вјетром
Више нисам могла
Нисам могла стајати у епитафу земље
Морала сам кроз крошњу проћи
Линијом живота прочитана са њеног рањеног листа
Осјетила рану како ми шапће у длан
Пјесму пепела што шушти тако лаког и сувог
Као ваздух што вјетар и ја смо га три пута дисали
Као ваздух што вјетар и ја смо га три пута покренули
Као ваздух што вјетар и ја смо га три пута потписали
Ја сам пети елемент
Што у вјетру хода
Што у капљи сипа
Што пламен лиже
И што земљу пуни
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Water Drop
The miraculous water drop
Falling from the sky,
The romantic rain dropp
Dancing proudly on
The lower lip of a maiden,
The Divine water drop
As an elixir to the thirsty throat;
The dainty dropp for a hungry stomach;
The charming dew drop,
Shining on the morning leaves;
The kind water drop
Flowing into the fields,
The friendly tear drop
To soothe the wounded heart;
The holy dropp that washes our sins;
The Master water dropp
At the moral to tune stable
To the ups and downs of life
And for selfless service
To the co-species on the earth;
And lo, the Wild water drop
To flood and drought us
At our absurd misuse!
poem by Sasikala Kamandula
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Don't Drop Your Garbage
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage at my front door.
Get to steppin' take it back.
No one seeks to hear your preaching.
Or your point of view described while you teach'.
With self righteous sighs.
Too many sitting on the edge are jumpy.
And twice as many want to fight.
Don't dropp your garbage.
Get from my door and get to steppin'.
Don't want to regret what I do.
I wish to keep that evil sleepin'.
Don't wake it up,
I ask of you!
Don't dropp your garbage at my front door.
Get to steppin' take it back.
No one seeks to hear your preaching.
Or your point of view described while you 'teach'.
With your self righteous sighs.
Too many sitting with an edge are jumpy.
And twice as many look to fight.
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
I'd like to keep myself polite.
Get away!
I don't want to get those demons screaming.
Or stir a yelling to disturb my peaceful night.
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Drops Of Water, Drops Of Thought
Drops of water, Drops of thoughts
When eyes of sky rain
Each dropp has an angel
Carry the dropp somewhere
Each dropp has a special fate
When head of sky birth
Each brainchild has an angel
Carry the dropp to a brain
One dropp to write another on to paint
Each dropp has a special fate
All what we need is just to pray
poem by hosny Soliman
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339
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About A Stone Without A Door
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Wells of Silence
In the wells of silence
a dropp of word
might stir
the whole tranquility
of the utter silence
and a dropp of sigh
might disturb the whole
serenity there
What about a dropp of God's sigh
and a dropp of Jesus' blood
combined?
That will be a new revolution! ! ! ! !
poem by Sangnam Nam
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The Truth Can't be True Without Me or You!
I never care my salvation,
I never care for deliverance,
I need not bother discipline or mediation,
Why I am here,
I never like to think,
Someday I complete my mission,
lost and buried in history,
I am no special, not a sapient,
look just like a dropp of water,
seen in like river or like in ocean,
carried above to clouds,
Falling back as dew dropp or raindrop,
Identifying with materials,
In cycle of Recycles!
I know for sure,
I am not this, I am not that,
I am not what words can say,
Seeing me not in any world,
Only seeing world in me,
Why I need enlightenment,
As I am the light that make everything glow!
I am not the water, I am not the air,
I am not the fire,
I am not the space,
I am not the Earth, made up of minerals
Nay, origin of all, is that Truth,
And for sure that TRUTH can't be True without me or you!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Recluse
Do you think it's enough
a single dropp of rain to clean
the dirty clothes and his soul?
The ragamuffin was in a rainforest
all his youth.
He opens his mouth
and waits for the rainy season
rest of his life.
The man already vamoose in a drought
and what's the purpose of searching his tomb
under the rainbow?
It's in vain.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Supreme Transformation
A dropp of water cannot include the ocean
but the ocean includes a dropp of water.
But if this dropp of water
drops into the ocean,
and loses itself, loses its identity,
then that dropp has become the ocean.
I cannot include God,
but God surely includes me.
But if.........
poem by Nazmul Haque
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Rain from Heaven
rain rain rain rain
the murmer of rain
the sweet song of rain
the wind along with rain
the nostalgic feeling of rain
which can be enjoyed with a sad song
now its raining! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
the dropp that fallen in my face
let it be the last dropp before I die
and let that dropp clean all my guilt
so that my soul will not see hell
then you might hear my sound
along with the next rain; Says
'the rain on that day was from heaven'
(10/2/2009)
poem by Martin Thomas
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Looking for Water
Still the leaves are spinning 'round
Take my hand as we go down, and down, and down
Looking for water
Well, our light's gone in a New York minute
Don't know about you, but my heart's not in it
(Looking, looking, looking)
I'm looking for water
I'm looking for water
(Looking, looking, looking)
I can't breathe the air, can't raise a fact
'Cause all we've got left is a beat in the night, and I'm
(Looking for water)
Looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
Take my hand as we go down, and down
Leave it all behind, nothing could be found
(I'm, looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
(I, looking for water)
Looking everywhere
(Looking for water)
Looking here and there
(I'm looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I can't live in this cage, I can't eat this candy
The edge of the earth to the spin in my head
The look in your eyes and never means never
The dawn's early light, baby, dark is forever
(Looking, looking)
(Looking, looking)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
song performed by by David Bowie, music by David Bowie, lyrics by David Bowie from Reality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do you know My Dear?
Do you know My Dear?
The dew dropp that does not fall on the ground,
The mysterious dropp that surrenders inside the flower,
The dream dropp that hangs at the tip of a leaf,
The retiring dropp that collects at the edge of the eye,
It is nothing but the remains of our silent conversation!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Y.... River meets desert
A young river,
So strong
Nothing could stop it
Nothing went wrong
Big rocks in its way
No problem at all
It went over them
Around them if tall
But then it met the desert
Water sank deep into sand
Huge problem for the river
It looked like its life was to end
Desperately
It turned to our God
'Please, God help me
To get away from or over this spot'
A voice from above said
'Look at the wind in the sky
It crosses the desert so easily
So just stop to cry! '
'But I am not wind, I am water
How can I cross
Please help me
I am at a loss'
'Did you forget dear river, '
Said the voice from above
'Long time before you were a river
The wind carried you with love'
The river let its water evaporate
Allowed the wind to carry it once more
In its loving arms,
wind held the river as before
Across the desert they went
A lot of water in a big large cloud
And at the other side
The wind let it rain out
There the river again became strong
Even better and stronger than before
With much vigor it ran
For everyone to adore
Dear young men and women alike
If you meet with the desert or anything wrong
Remember who carried you
Before you became a river so strong
poem by Aufie Zophy
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A Tree in the Desert
A tree in the desert thirsts for water
A tree in the desert gets too much sun
A tree in the desert is alone in the freezing night
A tree in the desert might never be seen
A tree in the desert might never be touched
A tree in the desert may or may not thrive
A tree in the desert struggles to stay alive
poem by Leo Valencia
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Effects!
The rain returns after a long holiday,
From the terrains where the greens stay,
A cooling breeze touches the hot skin,
The consummation of water and loam,
Emanate the smell of the soil and the soul,
Congested noses cleared, farmers thrilled,
Emptied brooks are bare and naked,
Frogs with tired legs not started to croak,
The thirsty coconut trees still have young,
On the banks of river, where their roots hung,
The villagers are out on the red soil path,
Looking at one another with gleeful thought,
dropp by dropp the rain showers their heart,
To fill the catchment and then run to dissolve the dirt,
To wipe the tears of our hungry farmers,
The rain of water spray on their face,
As the wind hugs the wind,
The fire calms down the inferno.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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It's raining zen
rain is zen
you can practise it
in so many ways
the sound of water
filling us up with
divine echoes
drizzle, pitter patter
small rain, heavy rain
storm or a teary
plodding non stop
the heaven send the
graces to earth
in roaring thunder
lighted up in everyway
the best is the tail end
every dropp leaving the eave
a glittering zen
that helps the mind holds
onto a blessed
moment in time
every dropp that takes
leave of the eave
a glittering zen
helping the mind
find a moment in time
rewritten;
rain is zen
you can practise it
in so many ways
in the middle of it all
the sound of water striking
a divine echo in us
drizzle, pitter patter
small rain, heavy rain
stormy or a teary
plodding non stop
the heaven sends
graces to earth
in so many different ways
in rip roaring thunder
splitting flashing lightning
a tearing sheet lighted up
every step of the way
the best is the tail end
when every drop
that leaves the eave
a glittering zen for
the brain to hold onto
every dropp that takes
leave a glittering zen
helping the mind
find a moment in time
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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August Rain
You came when the last dropp of August rain fell
When I was moments away from drying my face
I knew time was raining down on me then
Perhaps the sound of the raging wind outside
Was as deafening as the silence of my heart
That I never heard or saw you coming in
The devious sun sneered at me, fraudulently smiled at me
And was telling me that a more vicious torrential rain
Was looming somewhere unsuspectingly
Hiding behind the nebulous clouds that had clouded my senses
But then I paid no heed to this farsighted admonition
For I thought it will be just another rainy day
And so it happened, what was supposed to happen
And every rainy day, I remember you, I memorize the feeling
You came and you went away as I was swept away
Just when the August rain was about to fall again
I’m a hundred moments away from drying my face
And I’m walking away, miles away from these rainy days
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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