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The sky is an encrypted silver table
set with candles and ghostly bangles;
weaving mischief all night long
winds, gaunt predators,
straddle the courtyard.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Bows And Bangles
Born and raised in wilderness
Of suburban shops and schools
How she tried and tried to be satisfied
With a job on the typing pool
She hated the smell of carbon paper
The office so smoky and dry
How she longed for the day she would make her get away
And say her last goodbye
Bows and bangles on her fingers
And silver bells on her toes
That lady has music where she wonders
That lady has music where she goes
Married a guy with prospects
And so became his wife
And that my friend is the end of the story
'Cos that was the rest of his life
She could have been a movie star
She could have made the scene
Right or wrong she still hangs on
Each night to her favourite dream
Bows and bangles on her fingers
And silver bells on her toes
That lady has music where she wonders
That lady has music where she goes
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bows & Bangles
Born and raised in wilderness
Of suburban shops and schools
How she tried and tried to be satisfied
With a job on the typing pool
She hated the smell of carbon paper
The office so smoky and dry
How she longed for the day she would make her get away
And say her last goodbye
Bows and bangles on her fingers
And silver bells on her toes
That lady has music where she wonders
That lady has music where she goes
Married a guy with prospects
And so became his wife
And that my friend is the end of the story
cos that was the rest of his life
She could have been a movie star
She could have made the scene
Right or wrong she still hangs on
Each night to her favourite dream
Bows and bangles on her fingers
And silver bells on her toes
That lady has music where she wonders
That lady has music where she goes
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Interior
The gaunt brown walls
Look infinite in their decent meanness.
There is nothing of home in the noisy kettle,
The fulsome fire.
The atmosphere
Suggests the trail of a ghostly druggist.
Dressings and lint on the long, lean table -
Whom are they for?
The patients yawn,
Or lie as in training for shroud and coffin.
A nurse in the corridor scolds and wrangles.
It's grim and strange.
Far footfalls clank.
The bad burn waits with his head unbandaged.
My neighbour chokes in the clutch of chloral . . .
O, a gruesome world!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wearer counts
Glass bangles
On a royal hand,
Golden bangles
On a common hand,
Which is in command?
Who it wears
Not what one wears
Lends to its demand.
How appealing
Those plastic bangles are
On that modern lady
With richness sprinkling!
! 06.11.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ruined Souls
Decayed tombstones, broken-winged angels
still breathing in this courtyard.
The old kings, heroes and warriors having a long term rest
after a brutal murder.
cemetery flowers; some withered
but some in bloom.
there is no room for the spectators and tresspassers
who search their ancestors.
chains, swords, crowns, rings bracelets and bangles
all had been turned to dust.
nothing remained.
even their names and addresses
everything washed and vanished
by the heavy rains.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bangles
In festival seasons,
Miles walked bangle sellers
Tread the vennel unforgettable,
On feet, worn and torn,
With white clothe bundles,
Full of bangles and their lives,
On their heads wobble,
Whose calls village girls listen,
Break their clay pots,
In which they had collected coins,
And buy bangles
In hues and designs diverse.
Some unknown artists
Shaped the designs on bangles,
Who never came to the limelight,
Instead, wages collected
And withdrew in to silence.
Village girls put on bangles;
Always mesmerised beauty little pains out kept.
Jingling arms love CDs inserted
In to the heart-players of rustic guys,
Who always combed their hairs.
Girls keep and care the bangles,
Like virginity, till the nuptials.
Bracelet turns bracelets,
Often, after the wed locks.
Uncared…
Broken…
And discarded bangles:
“All Fate”, they say…yes!
In kitchens, a few scattered;
Into wells, a few thrown;
And, also, a few burnt in flames.
Unalloyed simple joys,
Experienced worn bangles,
Like virginity, left village girls.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Silver Dreams
Silver lace spun cross the sky
Pierced by Luna's blazing eye
Moonlit walk takes me away
Down quaint lanes of autumn gray
Cooling winds of season's end
Follow like a long lost friend
Till their fury sets me free
Neath this glowing tapestry
On to silver dreams, in flight
Borne by soaring wings of night.
poem by Night Flyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table
poem by Vincent Armone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mom Sets the Table
Night after night my mom sets the table
full of joy she passes her hand over the green fleat
like dishes she lays her chips down
they her finest china carefully stacked
her drink is the insurance bet
night after night 21 meals are servered
6 people share the meal with her
we her family eat alone
yet night after night my mom sets the table
the table of broken dreams and poisoned meals
night after night she countinues to eat
untill is consumed
Night after night my mom sets the table
night after night we her family shallow the bitter meal she makes
Night after night my mom sets the table.....
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleepless
If I could have your arms tonight-
But half the world and the broken sea
Lie between you and me.
The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard,
Beating all night against the barren stone,
The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard
Makes me more alone.
If you were here, if you were only here-
My blood cries out to you all night in vain
As sleepless as the rain.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baubles, Bangles & Beads
Wright, forrest
Baubles bangles hear how they ring ching-a-lingle
Baubles bangles bright shiny heads sparkles spangles
My heart will sing sing-a-linge
Wearing baubles bangles and beads
I glitter and gleam so make somebody dream
So that some day he may buy me
A ring a-ling a-ling a-ling a-ling
A-ling a-ling a-ling a-lingle
Ive heard thats where it leads
Wearing baubles bangles and beads
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Has To Stay
Like I want to erase the fear
before I light a remote fire
in the blue veins.
Actually this was the crisis of self pride
in manic depression
seeking the anonymity of toes
tracing the footpath.
Becoming a paper-boat
in the winds of flesh and fancies
on the choppy sea of death.
No spinal pain for candles
to burn in courtyard
of sunken faith.
Red grapes in a tiny bowl
leap to lips of sun
for sons and daughters. Ajmer, INDIA
SATISH VERMA
poem by Satish Verma
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Grandma's Silver
You met me
and I had given up.
You met me
and I took out the good china
from Grandma's hutch;
her gold-plated knives, forks and spoons
and the silver,
toasting you
that summer night
had both of us playing house.
I was the gourmet cook,
you were eating hearty
and wolfed down lustily my heart;
made me forget giving up
for giving it up
happily;
mostly from memory
and you were kind enough
not to notice
how awkwardly
and how long
my breathing took
to run to smooth.
It was the conversation
I believe
late into the night
that over-came me
re-mending those broken heart pieces
which laid themselves out carefully
on my dining room
table;
festooned
with grandma's
silver and gold-plated spoons.
We have gone on now through
paper, wood
and silver anniversaries;
golden
on our horizon;
nearing fifty years.
Thanks Grandma
for the silver-ware
and for him.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Field Of Mortality
The Field of Mortality
On a field, not far from here, I see millions of lit candles in long rows,
but only at night; in daylight it is a potato patch. A man, you may call
him god if you like, walks among the candles every so often he stops
and with his thumb and index finger snuffs out light; the skin on his
fingers are corned from this arduous work. Behind him new candles
spring up, sometimes he turns and go back waste some of them too.
He is heading for the part where the candles have been burned out,
only the wick flickers. He uses he thumb to bump them off; a spiral of
grey smoke in still air. He is old as time, sometimes he misses candles
that keep on burning, although they have no wick. As dawn begins,
behind the easterly mountain, the field of mortality turns into a potato
patch again, where an old man is harvesting spuds.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Candles
The days of the future stand in front of us
Like a line of candles all alight----
Golden and warm and lively little candles.
The days that are past are left behind,
A mournful row of candles that are out;
The nearer ones are still smoking,
Candles cold, and melted, candles bent.,
I don’t want to see them; their shapes hurt me,
It hurts me to remember the light of them at first.
I look before me at my lighted candles,
I don’t want to turn around and see with horror
How quickly the dark line is lengthening,
How quickly the candles multiply that have been put out.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Black Veil
Ten years ago on a cold dark night
Someone was killed beneath the townhall light
There were few at the scene, but they all agreed
That the slayer who ran looked a lot like me
She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me
The judge said son, what is your aliby?
If you were somewhere else, then you wont have to die.
I said not a word, though it meant my life,
For Id been in the arms of my best friends wife.
Oh, she walks these hills in a long black veil.
She visits my grave when the night winds wail.
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Oh, now the scaffold is high, eternity is near
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
And sometimes at night when the cold winds blow
In a long black veil she cries over my bones.
She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Oh, she walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me.
Nobody knows. nobody knows, but me.
Nobody knows but me.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scottish Dance
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She then became my joy and pride
Then one-night she gave me Scottish ale
Then she became my Scottish bride
~We then danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we drank a little more~
She enjoyed to go out clubbing
Her family and mates I would meet
She was so exciting and loving
And when I grabbed her she said I was cheek...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She was also my Scottish bride
She fed me Scottish eggs and Haggis
I got so sick I thought I had nearly died.
~So we danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we ate a little more.~
She took me out dancing
Where I would meet her friends and mates
She would drink and dance all night long
How I wished to go back to the states...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She was also my Scottish wife
She told me she loved me with all of her heart
And together we would share the same life.
~So we danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we loved a little more~
I would take her out drinking
Every Friday and Saturday night
One thing she loved more than drinking or singing
My lassie she loved to argue and fight...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
But that was many years ago
I will always remember my Scottish Lassie
And the places that we use to go
~We would dance around the table
We would dance across the floor
We would dance and dance all night long
And then we would dance a little more~
Now I am alone and single
But her memories and thoughts I do keep
I remember the good-times and not the bad
So now I smile and I never weep
~So I dance around the table
I dance across the floor
I dance and dance all night long
And then I drink and dance a little more~
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Flight
night flying
sneaking in
under the radar
ghostly ethereal
on silver slither
moon night light
unseen unknown
on smudge ink dark
moonless night
traceless trackless
uncharted unlogged
leave no water plowed wake
journey silent unseen
arrival departure unobserved
ghostly galleon sky flight
below rivers cities
myriad anchored lights
laid out diverse clusters
on highways byways
street lights dense
street lights sparse
purpose course direction
plotted charted fixed setting
nothing interrupts salient purpose
poem by Terence George Craddock
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