The place is where Eden falls
in acres of land the spots self expelled
called earth called sky seek heaven above
the ways the ocean daily swims
when clay made pots reach their brims
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Manali - the Land of Gods
I always wondered why this place,
was called the land of Gods.
With harsh cold and mountain folds,
With loneliness and uneven moulds,
Without comforts and anything mod,
I didnýt know why it was called the Gods.
When I got the opportunity,
I decided to see,
Whether what I had heard was truth or hearsay.
Although I find it difficult to climb,
I agreed to join this treacherous mime.
When I arrived at the camp site,
I was dumbstruck and beholden with the sight,
Which stood before my very eyes.
Snow covered mountains, gushing streams, and the beautiful sunrise. And as I saw the various moods,
Of nature and it's various goods,
I slowly started to understand,
Why it is called the Land of God,
Despite the lack of anything mod.
Because the grass here is green,
And not the brown with which the cities teem.
Because the water here is pure,
And does not require a testing gear.
Because the birds here are free,
And not caged-in, as we see.
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the mountains here reach up to heaven,
And are not like the Sahyadris all paven.
Because the wind here spreads fragrance,
Not dust, smoke, and other jargon.
Because the flowers here naturally bloom,
And are not forced to grow in pots to face their doom.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the lakes here are blue,
And do not stink with the city stew.
Because the people here are simple,
And do not show off false smiles and dimples.
Because everything here is pure and natural,
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the sun sets over a spectacular horizon,
And does not have to hide behind concrete prisons.
Because the jungles here are full of trees,
Where all components of nature mingle free.
Because at night we can see the stars,
which are not blocked out by the city lights spread afar.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Seeing the Jogini waterfall,
And the Lammergeyer rock tall,
Listening about the Bhrugu Lake,
And the pleasure the effort gives and takes,
I came to know why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And as I go on thinking,
In the spare moments lurking,
Where silently beside the stream,
Or by the tent rim,
I realize the reason,
Why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And now the time has come for me,
To go back to my own city.
I yearn for this paradise,
Away from the city life.
Because this nature and me,
Share a similar spree,
For life and all it's blooms,
Adjusting to its glooms,
Now I see, why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
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The Land
The Land
He stood tall against the land
he called his home.
The land that could feed him
when hunger gripped him.
Shelter him in times
of coming storms.
For his part in this concept,
he was to look after Mother Earth.
It gave him food and shelter
and he would never scar it.
It was not his land to own
as he would a pair of boots.
New strangers came
and called the land their own,
but they did not own it.
The land was there for all to share,
and if they looked after it,
the land would be there
for every tomorrow’s sun.
24 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Genesis BK III
(ll. 135-143) The day departed, hasting over the dwellings of
earth. And after the gleaming light the Lord, our maker, thrust
on the first of evenings. Murky gloom pressed hard upon the
heels of day; God called it night. Our Lord sundered them, one
from the other; and ever since they follow out the will of God to
do it on the earth.
(ll. 143-153) Then came a second day, light after darkness. And
the Lord of life ordained a pleasant firmament amid the waters.
Our Lord sundered the seas and established the heavens. By His
word the King, Almighty God, raised them above the earth. The
waters were divided under the heavens by His holy might; the
waters were sundered from the waters, under the firmament.
(ll. 154-168) Then came hasting over the earth the third fair
morning. Not yet were the wide ways and spacious tracts useful
unto God, but the land lay covered by the deep. The Lord of
angels, by His word, commanded that the waters come together,
which now beneath the heavens hold their course and place
ordained. Then suddenly, wide-stretching under heaven, lay the
sea, as God gave bidding. The great deep was sundered from the
land. The Warden of life, the Lord of hosts, beheld the dry
ground far outspread. And the King of glory called it earth.
For the ocean-billows and the wide-flung sea He set a lawful path
and lettered them....
((LACUNA -- two to three leaves missing))
Road to Success
The road to success is not straight,
There is a curve called FAILURE,
A loop called CONFUSION,
Speed bumps called FRIENDS,
Red light called ENEMIES and
caution lights called FAMILY.
But if you have a spare called
DETERMINATION,
An engine called PERSEVERANCE,
Insurance called FAITH and
A driver called JESUS (GOD, ALLAH, ISHVAR)
You will make it to a place called
SUCCESS
poem by Pratiksha Jain
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Land Called Hope
Far across the sea of suffering
lies, a land called hope
where our dreams lay sleeping
waiting for our wake up call.
We rise and stretch every morning,
hoping to stretch across that sea
and grasp one of our sleeping dreams
from that land called hope.
Each day we fail to reach it
while it is only inches away,
but our day will come.
Our arms will stretch
far within its shore
and pluck one
of our sleeping dreams
from that land called hope.
poem by David Harris
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Susanna
Life is like being hungry in a land called Hungary!
And life is like eating turkey in a land called Turkey;
But my love will always be with you,
And like the red roses planted in the land of peace and joy.
Where can you hide without love?
And like someone drinking beer in a land called Beer!
So, act honourably and truthfully towards me my love;
For you are called Susanna!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sonnet: For God’s Sake, Don’t Sin
And Jesus said, ‘if you love Me. Don’t Sin;
Then I’ll speak to my Father in Heaven,
Wherein a place, you will certainly win;
This is the only way for all earth’s men.’
When God detests the only thing called sin,
Man continues to permit them galore;
No sinful soul ever enters Heaven;
Ask God’s forgiveness, repenting some more.
God loves the pure of heart of men, He made;
He wants each one to return back to Him;
By keeping every commandment He bade;
Not live in vices or as per one’s whim.
God, help us give the love, You seek of men,
And let us live happily in Heaven.
6-30-2001
poem by John Celes
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Clay Thoughts!
there are some hard truths,
we often fail to believe
rather we succeed to forget
we are made of clay....
yes clay, i mean it
molded to be a wonder called human
still u feel reluctant to walk barefoot
feeling the mud itself is dirty for you! !
i am no exception
the extreme of identity crisis
the thought that disturbs u and me
we are clay
poem by Felix Lama
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Star 69
You dont have to take the bar exam to see
What you did is ignoramus 103
Where have I got to hang my hat
You dont have line to me
All this just to be your friend
I was there to tell you
Extortion and arson, petty larceny
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
I know all about the warehouse fire.
I know squirrelies didnt chew the wire.
Three people have my number, the other two were with me.
I dont stand tall, but Im not your patsy.
This time you have gone too far with me.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
Whyd you put your quarter down on me?
This reads like some dark inside edition, hard copy.
I cant be your character witness, I cant be your alibi.
Dont arrange the fbi, here this spy versus spy.
You my friend are guilty as can be.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I cant be your alibi.
Star 69.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is There Heaven Anywhere?
Happiness is where heaven is actually;
Happy state of feeling is what heaven is.
There is not a place called heaven above;
It’s all the story symbolically said so far
About a perfect state of happiness so!
Heaven can be reached only by soul
But not by body or materially ever truly!
Body functions by the energy within
That has come from all pervading state
And can reach at the end there only;
That is the place called heaven by all!
Hell is the place we make of ourselves
By the problems accumulated by mess;
Hell becomes heaven when all is well!
poem by Ramesh T A
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What used to be called liberal is now called radical, what used to be called radical is now called insane, what used to be called reactionary is now called moderate, and what used to be called insane is now called solid conservative thinking.
quote by Tony Kushner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apparently They Are Not Aware Of This
First of all,
I did not call her a bull.
I called her a cow.
With bullish ways.
Who is this...
Quoting me out of context?
The last time it was claimed,
I called someone an imbecile.
When clearly I had called 'him'...
An idiot.
Who is this doing the misquoting?
'Who knows.'
Whoever it is has spent too much time,
Trying to find ways to undermine my character.
To gain favor.
'Maybe there is a popularity contest.
And you've been submitted by someone,
In a secret ballot or something.'
And I have done my very best,
To smooth over those rough edges.
Only I have perfected...
To my knowledge,
A backing myself up against a brick wall,
With a jumping over it.
To land tall and walk on my feet.
And that was difficult.
The pain in my legs?
Agonizing.
Since then...
I've learned how to charm.
I've discovered that more conducive to do,
Than inflicting my own pain.
'Apparently they are not aware of this.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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World Called Earth
the ships flee the planet below
as the world rips itself apart
it, s death throes for all to see
the ships flee into space
speeding away from the
dying world behind them
as a world battled amongs
it, s self trying to keep hold
as land sank below ocean
blues
mountains topped from the sky
ground crumbled into depths
as cracks appeared in the earth
a world dying of old age
as ships get far enough away
bring engines to a stop
to watch this world collaspe
finally tear it, s self apart
this world called home
a world called earth
poem by Graham Russell
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My Dream Come True Just Turned Out To Be A Dream
Had Many Dreams
of Course you and I.
But my Dream Come True,
Just turned out to be a dream.
Badly did I want it to come true..
But it is really true,
True that
My Dream Come True,
Just turned out to be a dream.
We Dreamt of it Each Night,
Thought of it Each Day
My Dream Come True,
Just turned out to be a dream.
We Bickered With it all day
Through out our ways
But we still remained,
Remained unaware that
The Dream Come True,
Will just turn out to be a Dream.
We imagined us there
But we truly couldn't bear,
Bare that
Our Dream Come True,
Will just turned out to be a dream.
Up the Mountains,
Did we wish to go...
To the land of streams and snow
Did we wish to go…
But we didn't ever know,
Know that,
We'd sacrifice a soul…
Give it up as a whole
I wished we hadn't done that
So did all…
But we never ever knew
That the pass to enter the mounts,
Was to sacrifice a soul....
Mountains and rivulets,
Kept beckoning us…
The days faded away...
And at last
Towards them we made our Sway!
We called ourselves lucky,
Without knowing we weren't.
We Beamed with Pride
Over flowed with Joy.
But we stilled remained Unaware
That we'd sacrifice a soul.
And
Our Dream Come True,
Will just turn out to be a dream.
UP the divine land,
We were to be.
But couldn't we ever think,
Think one of us would reach Far Above
And Above to the Heaven.
We didn't imagine
She'd fly without us
FLY SO HIGH
High to the Heaven.
To make our dream come true
Just turn out to become a dream
And just a Dream
Mourning her removal from the Earth
Praying for her Placement in the Heaven,
We slid down the Mountains…
Being one less
One less than how many arrived
Our Dream Come true
JUST Turned out to be a DREAM!
It is Really True,
True That
Our Dream Come True,
Just turned out to be a dream.
A Dream Unforgettable…
poem by Rishi Kaashyap
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We have common enemies today. It's called childhood poverty. It's called cancer. It's called AIDS. It's called Parkinson's. It's called Muscular Dystrophy.
quote by Jerry Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road To Success isn’t As The Crow Flies
The road to success is not as the crow flies
There are derailments and breakdowns
Speed breakers are called uncertainty
Humps are called hurdles of life
Neon signs are called friends to guide you
And consciousness is called Family make you aware of
But if you have a spare wheel called willpower,
A strong engine called firmness,
Car insurance called confidence, and
A car driving skill is called Faith,
I m sure you will drive your car successfully
Towards the road of success
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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A Place Called Eden
There was a paradise that ruled long ago.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
More beautiful than the human eye can ever perceive;
untainted by humans,
this Place called Eden.
This Garden was eternal, life-giving,
as perfect as the Heavens brought to Earth.
But along came Man,
swept in with a storm,
hiding the sun.
A pummeling rain flattened the flowers
and lightning licked at trees, destroying
this Place called Eden.
The clouds finally parted.
The sun peaked out fearfully, looking down
at Man, who stood alone.
Who felt himself powerful.
Betrayal drowned the Garden.
Mad smiled at his feat:
He had taken over with sin,
this Place called Eden.
Man cursed himself,
Perfection was lost, Misery
had taken over Man as Nature
healed itself for its revenge on the Destroyer.
Man learned self-loathing
and the true power of
this Place called Eden.
Death came to Earth. It punished Man fiercer
than Nature had: any man close
to finding the lost Land
was taken from Earth,
and Man was never to find it again,
this Place called Eden.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Open Mind
The very very deepest sea
Is aptly called complacency.
The very highest mountain peak
Is something that we all should seek.
The flattest part of every land
Is the easiest to understand.
So why adventure? Why reach out?
Why whisper quietly and not shout?
Let's break the dishes and exclaim
I never want each day the same!
poem by David Keig
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The Scottish Cow
They call you a cow
When you walk down the street
That doesn't make any sense to me,
As I have been to a farm once before
And cows there, I have seen.
So I would like to know why
You are called that name
And what does it really mean,
As you don't look or act like a cow
But maybe there's something, I haven't seen.
Your daughters bow their head
Whenever they are next to you
As though as they are ashamed,
Is it their fault for that name your called
If not, then who is to be blamed.
Women still point at you
And the men they still smile
Whenever that you walk by
I still don't understand the name your called,
But maybe one day, I will ask you why.
Questions come to my mind
About the word your called
Every time that you are walking past,
Like will they ever stop calling you a cow
Or will that name forever last.
As you don't moo
And you are not fat at all
And certainly your not cover up in fur,
But your called a cow on a daily bases
And to me that seems so absurd.
So when your daughters get older
Will they also be called cows
Just like you their dear old mother
Maybe that's why they are bowing their heads
They are pretending or wishing they are some other.
And the women they still point
As the men they still smile and talk
Whenever you walk that mile,
Then maybe in fact you are what you are
And maybe indeed, you are a cow.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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