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I Never Really Took What I’d Found

The layers of dust I left
Before the first morn birth
Think to dance even upon the tombs
Was a call of the cradle
Cast the dirge into echoes
To swell with laughter clouds
To the point of no return

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Laughter echoes

Laughter echoes
Giggles, chuckles, snigger's
He's in hysterics
Laughter echoes

Blood trickles
Oozing, seeping, gushing
His beautiful broken skull
Laughter echoes

Cold voice whispers
Mutters, murmurs, mumbles
He won't stop laughing
Laughter echoes

poem by Fedora Wearing Biggins
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Cool Tombs

When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs he forgot
the copperheads and the assassin . . . in the dust, in the
cool tombs.

And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street,
cash and collateral turned ashes . . . in the dust, in the
cool tombs.

Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in
November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she
remember? . . . in the dust, in the cool tombs?

Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries,
cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin
horns . . . tell me if the lovers are losers . . . tell me if any
get more than the lovers . . . in the dust . . . in the cool
tombs.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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Words fed on dust

There are some words
Fed on the dust
Ash fallen sound
Reaching deep cries
The noise of which hurts
Though thrown away cast
Down to the ground
Undead it’ll rise
In winds and storms
Rain cradle of tears
When no heart warms
Lost forgotten years
The time of their birth
Dark swallowed patches
And the silent dirge
That no music matches
Placed on a hearth
They’ll burn and surge
Like candles broken
Melting in wax
A candle token
Of the soul that aches
Forever and ever abreast
Of an unleashed why of a quest

©Miroslava Odalović

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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When I dance

I dance for me,
Silent vibrations from within
Rhythm of the unseen,

I dance for me.
My steps follow their direction,
My heart-beat echoes their sound.

Some say I dance weird: they call me possessed.

If I dance raw, if I dance pure,
If I dance whirlwind, if I dance the spirits within,
No matter what them say,
I know I dance me.
I dance for me.

©2001

poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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Laughter

Laughter
Mole-like token let it be bestowed on you
Laughter
Bell-like liquid an outpour light and blue
Laughter
The joyful cords in music born blessed throats
Laughter
The happy rowing in plenitude golden boats
Laughter
Running wild shaking bellies to dance
Laughter
Sweet disease swell infective trance
Laughter
The tongue tip peeping to mock the hands of time
Laughter
The gift of he’s she’s of you’re we’re or I’m
Laughter
The blissful eyes when joyful tears go down
Laughter
The king or queen carrying the highest crown

©Miroslava Odalovic

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The return of the native,

Fully teethed I left you.
Toothless I return to you.
Where from I had come,
There to I want to return
In between, I never came back
Nor did I give you any thought.
Which bird thinks of the nest
When he flies in gay?

In twilight, cows return to shed.
As night falls, I return to you.
In your cradle, I was born,
Only where my roots are known.
On return, I shall dropp to you
What I had earned elsewhere
So that, of me, you are aware
And I can pass away with after care.
24.05.2002, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Transmission

Radio, live transmission.
Radio, live transmission.
Listen to the silence, let it ring on.
Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun.
We would have a fine time living in the night,
Left to blind destruction,
Waiting for our sight.
And we would go on as though nothing was wrong.
And hide from these days we remained all alone.
Staying in the same place, just staying out the time.
Touching from a distance,
Further all the time.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Well I could call out when the going gets tough.
The things that we've learnt are no longer enough.
of the show
And we could dance.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.

song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning along Shore

Hark, oh hark the elfin laughter
All the little waves along,
As if echoes speeding after
Mocked a merry merman's song!

All the gulls are out, delighting
In a wild, uncharted quest­
See the first red sunshine smiting
Silver sheen of wing and breast!

Ho, the sunrise rainbow-hearted
Steals athwart the misty brine,
And the sky where clouds have parted
Is a bowl of amber wine!

Sweet, its cradle-lilt partaking,
Dreams that hover o'er the sea,
But the lyric of its waking
Is a sweeter thing to me!

Who would drowze in dull devotion
To his ease when dark is done,
And upon its breast the ocean
Like a jewel wears the sun?

"Up, forsake a lazy pillow!"
Calls the sea from cleft and cave,
Ho, for antic wind and billow
When the morn is on the wave!

poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Gold are not Silver

dust has to return, night has a day
as the sky in the heaven, the night has fall into darkness

the air blown to the highest height, the wave return to the shore
as the moutain tall looks in the ocean floor, the bird sings

man has to find, the destiny it brings
as the flowers that blooms, the stream goes to the river raged

birth that laugh, to the pangs it offers
as the gift tastes, the sweet rejoice in the halos of midst

brings as you gives, the heart that survive, to the laughter that pass by
make the best for everything you take, all are just fake, to what you made

the sounding joy you hears, is what you know that, all are just new, where everything will be for you

moment is true, time is made, days are counted, in the birth life
has started, live the best and God take the rest

air is but a breath in the end we will pass, clean the heart, the purest
soul make it last, for the gold is not silver and everything will turn to
dust

poem by Antonio Liao
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At 25k Feet Above

on a bed of clouds
feet dangling into the sea
you and me

above the clouds
the horizon beckoned us
we glided in the air

bits and pieces
clouds dispersed below the sky
new horizon teased

in a wink
the clouds spread as one grey spread
we melted as rain

vapour they turned
the heat within melted
we rocked

wings cut
through layers and layers of
moving vapours

slowly descended
we from the clouds above
earth-reality!

ah, you lifted me
above earth; closer to sky
dropped me on land again!

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Call Me Up (The Phone Is In The Cradle)

My friends, they don't talk much about religion
But my friends, they don't talk much anyway-ay
When they do I know I'd better listen
'Cause my good friends just naturally know
The right things to say
They say, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my door-oor
Well if you're so inclined and if you've got the time
We can talk the night away
Adam got so lonely in the garden
He said it's tough to be the only man alive
He said I'd give a rib for just somebody to talk to
Well thunder and lightnin' out providin'
You came strollin' by
She said, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Well if you're so inclined and if you've got the time
We can talk the night away
Now Rosie was the queen of the all night cowboy
She said, Texas boy, you seem kinda shy-y
Don't you expect an embossed invitation
Just knock on the wall, come down the hall
And knock on by
She said, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself [fade]

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why They Call It Falling

It's like jumpin
It's like leapin
It's like walkin on the ceilin
It's like floatin
It's like flyin through the air
It's like soarin
It's like glidin
It's a rocket ship you're ridin
It's a feelin that can take you anywhere

So why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
I don't know

There was passion
There was laughter
The first mornin after
I just couldn't get my feet to touch the ground
Every time we were together
We talked about forever
I was certain it was Heaven we had found

So why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
I don't know

But you can't live your life
Walkin in the clouds
Sooner or later
You have to come down

It's like a knife
Through the heart
And it all comes apart
It's like someone takes a pin to your balloon
It's a hole
It's a cave
It's kinda like a grave
When he tells you that he's found somebody new

So why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
Why they call it fallin
I don't know

Ooh

song performed by by Lee Ann Womack from I Hope You Dance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seven Layers of Heaven

touch,
sight,
taste,
hear,
smell
....
....
seven layers
of heaven
set in me
two more
layers
lost in
myself
clouded
in the views
cast by the world
heaven
comes in
seven
layers
so say hindus,
chinese,
buddhists,
even the muslims
and hell?
between
all
the senses
the heart
that torments
the doers
for
his misdeeds
the fugitive
who manages
to run away from
everybody
but not
the burning hell
of conscience
that pokes
at his top
making him bleed
at the heart
day and night
hell and heaven
bound in this
frame of
heart, soul
and mind
a living hell?
the heaven
in seven layers
the other two layers?
sixth sense?
seventh sense?
two puzzles
that wait
for an answer
hidden
in the realms
that circle
around me
i look into the sky
and journey
to the
eternal sphere
that joins me
to the moons, stars
try taking me
out of this world
and it sure looks different
feel different
a whole new world
the seventh sense
seventh heaven
the sixth?
the woman
who digs
deep into
layers of her own mind
to find the dates
of her own death
and exciting upcoming events
of the world, the tsunami
third world war,
end of the world
a nostradamus
a hell in between all these?
the scorn
from bigots
two layers
of heaven that got lost
in me
covered by
the clouds
five is perhaps
a more lucky number

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Lost In The Laughter

the shell of a snail
long since departed....
ghosts whisper, cannot touch!

layers of anger
devouring from within,
till nothing is left but dust.

flesh cries out for flesh,
old or young, doesnt matter.
water seeks itself, stone is stone.

a lover, a small fire
too far away to name....
and God's face is lost

in the laughter!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just dance

Burning desire
Just dance
A need so intense
Words cannot describe
Just dance
Clenched muscles tighten
As I reach a new high
Just dance
Craving more
Wanting something far more than this
Just dance
Burning desire
Wanting something more
Craving this new sensation
Just dance
The music sweeps away all thought
The pounding rhythm controls my body
Just dance
Foreign tongues call out to me
Distant and strange even as they are familiar
Just dance
Nothing left to do
But given into these sensations
Just dance
No time left for thought
All that's left for me to do is
Just dance

poem by DiAnne Douglass
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Return Trip

I will return to my place of Birth
To that place before Mother Earth
I will return to that Day of Awakening
To that Day of a New Beginning

I will return to my very first Sun
My very first Moon, my very first Star
I will return to that place that never was far

I will return to the land of the Beautiful,
the Good, the Grateful
Where there is nothing to forgive
For there is no sin
Where there is no regret
Life is what you dream

Where Innocence is never put to test
Where all is Sacred and blessed with Happiness

I will return to my place and time of Birth
I will return
I am not Cursed

poem by Sonya Florentino
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Sunday Mornings

There is a silence heard only on Sunday Morn
As raindrops tease suns shine
At the first call of Dawn

As the favoured
Woodpigeon
Parades in sunday best
A reverends collar above a
Blushing pink chest

He calls with such eloquence through wood
And ticking time

As coo's dance with rainclouds
As eye's dance with sleep
As children swoon with sugar candy
As couples eye's
Dance with each....

Other

Worldly steeples
Arch above life's head
As widows and insomniacs dream
Of the one's
They loved best

Theres such solitude and compassion
Pon a family
Sunday Morn
Within the silence and
Damp steeples

In the first call of dawn......

poem by Karen Sinclair
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Good-By To The Cradle

GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Style.

It is only the constancy of
Emotions. Highs and Downs, These things you must
accept with gladness
Like the birth of a Smile.
Hug a reality. Dance with an Illusion.
Settle on a Doubt.
Believe on the Impossible.
Have faith on Yourself and Always take
the Big Bite of the Dust.
Life Moves On. You dance as though it is your last.
You say I am Alone but I am Lovely.
Let the Spirit Soar. Let the color of the Day be Red.
Make Love Not War. Gosh. Gush. Hush. Slush
and Slash.
Give way to the River. Have vents. Bend
and Sway and Point your Feet
To Somewhere. Over there.
Love, Yes Love Above ALL.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Old Wooden Cradle

Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.

No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.

Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
It lent to the twilight a strange, subtle charm;
When bees left the clover, when play-time was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger or harm.

How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around,
What dreams would come flocking, as rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.

Good-bye to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of to-day does not know it by sight.
When day leaves the border, with system and order,
The child goes to bed and we put out the light.

I bow to Progression and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the past;
So off wit old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The old wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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