A Monologue On the Grave
“You passed away and I am left behind,
With your kids: two daughters and a son.
Two years have passed since you have departed,
And for me these proved the centuries.
You are buried deep beneath tons of earth,
And live there in the unexplored world,
I lived not a single moment without recalling you,
But you have stopped your sojourn into my dreams.”
“I have lost my esteem and where ever I move,
Scandalous eyes stare with slanderous looks.
I remember, on your sad demise there came
Some uniformed men, all neat and clean,
And handed over you to the mother earth,
With strange tricks and so-called obsequies.
They played, peeled forth some notes of dirge,
Saluting you by thumping, thrashing the ground
Around your grave trod the tufts of fragrant grass.
Then placed they braided tassels of wild bushes,
They gave me your cap, belt and blood-stained boots,
And a petty cheque in exchange of sacrificed love.”
“Now no one comes to divide my miserable plight,
I go through the world by embracing your children,
Sacrificing my emotions, at nights I groan and moan,
My eyes have not yet consumed the stock of tears,
I smoulder all alone into the fire of my own entity,
I am confounded whether you were martyred,
Or died a vain death while bleeding the countrymen,
Fighting for the Nato’s Peace Keeping Forces who made you
The victim of friendly-fire.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
Final solution
The countless dead unburied lay beneath a covering of clay.
The good earth turned to dark red mud mixed with the best of soldier’s blood.
It mattered not how many died for death could not be satisfied.
Brave men who fought for their country. Death chose amongst them randomly.
I lived although my comrades died. Death often took them from my side.
Why did I live? So I can tell the world about the living hell
wich we endured knee deep in mud. I think it fitting that I should.
So many died on either side. Involuntary suicide
To fight a war they could not win, to no more see their kith and kin
Like every war it proved to be a total waste, a mockery
The cream of Europe’s fighting mem would never see their homes again.
What did it prove the First World War? Nothing we had not known before!
Though we remember those who died. The lessons learned are not applied
for men still battle constantly to prove superiority.
It seems mankind can’t live in peace, that wanton killing will not cease
Until death has added to his score the last man and there are no more.
I think that then and only then the world will be at peace again.
16/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Father's Garden
I remember my father as being a warm person-
A strong man in many ways always working hard so that
My mother and I could have the very best-
He passed so many years ago but
I can still hear his laughter, and recall his gentleness-
As he was always there for me-
I still can see him working in his garden
At the time we lived close to the shores of Carmel –
I can still hear the leaves upon the trees rustling in the wind,
And the peaceful rocking of the ocean waves
Soothing me as they were lapping upon the shore close by-
I will never forget the joy the flowers he had planted
Brought to him, my mother and I,
As he seemed to be lost inside a world of his own,
Transforming a yard where at one time only high grasses grew
Into a kingdom of color and beauty for everyone to perceive-
I shall never forget the rose bushes-
Yellow, pink and red blossoms in their colorful hues
Enlightening to everyone’s eyes, as they were, and fragrant as well,
In all of their delicacy;
My father passed years ago- - a terminal illness snatched away
This wonderful being – tears still come to my eyes in past memories- as
I cannot comprehend that if a god exists-
How could he have snatched life away so quickly from
A person who had such a zest for life?
I shall never forget the moment he died, how my uncle
Sat upon a chair in the bathroom with his head in his hands weeping
When my father fell to the floor at his death-
Although he has parted from this world forever, fond memories continue-
People always die but flowers keep growing and live on.
Yesterday I cut a pink rose from a bush in the yard and
Placed it in a small vase upon the end table by my bed side and
As I drifted off to sleep this delicate and lovely flower carried me
Into the world of my fantasies- where my father is still with me always, and
I still feel his loving arms embracing me; I can still hear the rustling of
Leaves upon the trees outside, and I still hear the waves lapping upon the shore
And even though in flesh he is gone-
Departed from this world, he has left valuable reminiscences for me to treasure;
Whenever I stand in his garden I can still feel his presence, as in my
Heart and spirit, he shall always be very much alive….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Clean Up The World
Clean Up The World
Where have we gone?
We’ve drifted away
Too many years
Nothin’ to say
Too many years
Intentional lies
Too many years
Collegiate-laundered hipplets
Drivin’ us to demise
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Along came McRonald
We got in its way
Too many years
Puppeteers played
Too many years
Stealing us blind
Too many years
Of totalitarians smothering us from the right
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Their Wall Street money’s been holdin’ us fast
Ideals shallow and vain
They sell us all just to make it last
Revolution of ‘89 today
We got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Self-centered cosmos
Material gain
Too many years
Deflecting their blame
Too many years
Stuffin’ their cart
Too many years
Deceit inside the head
Instead of love in their heart
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its grave
Copyright 1992 Will Fiala
poem by Will Fiala
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The Pieces Of Velvet
O! Friend you departed form us
Very soon,
Like a short visit of the half-moon
At the night.
Your demise has made us all friends,
Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters,
Mournful, grief-stricken.
You came and went through the terrestrial world,
Like a sojourn of the breeze;
Now you are the resident of Eternity,
Combined with it as a dropp loses its identity
By merging, mingling into the ocean.
Your overhasty departure signifies,
You have greater and more gorgeous jobs
To perform in the celestial zones.
You have left us all with cumbersome hearts,
Your memories, the moment you spent
Will remain with us like fragrant pieces of velvet.
Look behind for a moment and see
How my tongue the tribute bears,
And eyes carry the weight of tears.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Life's Slacker
The saddest sort of death to die
Would be to quit the game called life
And know, beneath the gentle sky,
You'd lived a slacker in the strife.
That nothing men on earth would find
To mark the spot that you had filled;
That you must go and leave behind
No patch of soil your hands had tilled.
I know no greater shame than this:
To feel that yours were empty years;
That after death no man would miss
Your presence in this vale of tears;
That you had breathed the fragrant air
And sat by kindly fires that burn,
And in earth's riches had a share
But gave no labor in return.
Yet some men die this way, nor care:
They enter and they leave life's door
And at the end, their record's bare—
The world's no better than before.
A few false tears are shed, and then,
In busy service, they're forgot.
We have no time to mourn for men
Who lived on earth but served it not.
A man in perfect peace to die
Must leave some mark of toil behind,
Some building towering to the sky,
Some symbol that his heart was kind,
Some roadway where strange feet may tread
That out of gratitude he made;
He cannot bravely look ahead
Unless his debt to life is paid.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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4 The Tears In Your Eyes (live) (feat. Wendy & Lisa)
4 the Tears in Your Eyes [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1985]
------------------------ [From "We Are the World"]
Long ago, there was a man
Could change stone to bread
With one touch of his hand
Made the blind see
And the dumb understand
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Many people came from all around
To hear this man preach
The glorious sound
He spoke of man in harmony, and love abound
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
Faith is word, we all should try
In describing a man
Who willingly died
Believe that your sorrow, hunger, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
(your eyes) (your eyes)
Less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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[Remember the broken soldiers (ANZAC DAY) lest we forget]
Broken soldiers,
Tread with fear
Through this concrete land
Frayed hearts unravel
And slowly fall
Like empty shells
I sacrificed my life
For a world that doesn’t care…
In return for an ounce of peace
To calm this mental head.
When you stare at me,
You see my eyes weakening
Tears foster,
Instead of beaconing
The fire inside,
Burn my memories,
These withered old hands
Shake and start trembling…
Years have passed,
And I can still hear
The children scream
Women were raped
And freedom was just a dream
History pages turned
So fast the warrior
Fades away…
You read so much
You forget the struggle,
We fought to save this land.
Next time when you stare at me,
Remember who I am…
A person who fought for you…
Never gave up on you…
Zealous in battle to fight for your freedom…
And willing to sacrifice my soul for a…
Cause that doesn’t even seem to matter anymore…
poem by Empath In flames
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Genesis BK XVIII
(ll. 1082-1089) And there was also in that tribe another son of
Lamech, called Tubal Cain, a smith skilled in his craft. He was
the first of all men on the earth to fashion tools of husbandry;
and far and wide the city-dwelling sons of men made use of bronze
and iron.
(ll. 1090-1103) Then to his two beloved wives, Adah and Zillah,
Lamech rehearsed a tale of shame: "I have struck down a kinsman
unto death! I have defiled my hands with the blood of Cain! I
smote down Enoch's father, slayer of Abel, and poured his blood
upon the ground. Full well I know that for that mortal deed
shall come God's seven-fold vengeance. With fearful torment
shall my deed of death and murder be requited, when I go hence."
(ll. 1104-1111) Then another son was born to Adam in Abel's
stead; and his name was Seth. He was a righteous son and
blessed, a solace to his parents, his father and mother, Adam and
Eve. And he filled the place of Abel in the world. Then Adam
spake, the first of men:
(ll. 1111-1116) "The eternal God of victory, the Lord of life,
hath vouchsafed me another son in place of my beloved whom Cain
slew. So our Lord hath stilled the sorrow of my heart. To Him
be thanks!"
(ll. 1117-1127) Now, when Adam begat another son to be his heir,
that sturdy man had lived an hundred and thirty winters of this
life in the world. The writings tell us that Adam increased his
tribe on earth, begetting sons and daughters eight hundred years.
And all the years of Adam were nine hundred and thirty winters,
and he died.
(ll. 1128-1142) And Seth succeeded Adam: at his father's death
the well-loved son possessed the treasure, and took himself a
wife. And Seth lived an hundred and five winters in the world
and increased his tribe, begetting sons and daughters. Enos was
first-born of the sons of Seth; and he was first of all the sons
of men to call upon the name of God since Adam, first a living
spirit, set foot on the green earth. Seth prospered, eight
hundred and seven winters begetting sons and daughters. And all
the years of Seth were nine hundred and twelve winters, and he
died.
(ll. 1143-1154) And after he went hence, and the earth received
the body of seed-bearing Seth, Enos was warden of the heritage.
Dear was he unto God! He lived for ninety winters in the world,
and begat children. And Cainan was first-born of the sons of
Enos. Eight hundred and fifteen winters the man of wisdom lived,
at peace with God, begetting sons and daughters. And all the
years of Enos were nine hundred and five winters, and he died.
(ll. 1155-1166) And after Enos Cainan ruled the tribe as lord and
leader. He lived seventy winters, and begat a son. An heir was
born unto his house, and his name was Mahalaleel. Eight hundred
and forty winters Cainan lived, and increased his tribe. And all
the years of the son of Enos were nine hundred and ten winters,
and he died, and his appointed days beneath the heavens were
fulfilled.
Hiroshima
Mother oh Mother
our bark has blistered
our bones weep fire
our branches melt
Mother our eyes
are burning birds
the sun hangs bleeding
beneath our lids
Mother our earth
sucks back its foliage
Mother the sky
is split with pain
in every stone
our fire weeps
in every eye
your children burn
Mother Mother
I am a weeping hand
your breasts
are bone
poem by John Garth Raubenheimer
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This World Is Magic
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
Rainbows in the sky
This world is magic to me
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
We need peace on earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is magic
This world is magic to me
This world is magic
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
We need peace on Earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is what we share
The nature and the air
Life could be paradise
Eternal peace is what we need
To live in harmony
For human history
Pray for a better world
When you close your eyes again
Planet Earth, that's the name of my place
I'm born in this world, in the entire space
Planet earth, is my home, is my face
Follow your trace embrace this human race
In case, there's a new decade in human history
I'm talking about respect this is my destiny
Feel free, and stop running away
From the doubt in your mind,- never fade to grey
Planet Earth, gentle and blue
Then cold as a rock, or ice without a hue
Planet earth, made out of dust
A big ball of metal, condemn to rust
Pray, let your soul be free
Find out how to heal a bleeding wound don't stand around
Life could be paradise, peace on earth is what I found
All around in a magic world from the air to the ground
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes of Death
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes of Death
I killed for those eyes to look into mine
Into my eyes of pain and guilt
I dared to walk into your path
I dared to take your hand into mine
And I dared to tell you my darkest secret
I stared into your Eyes of Death
And I lost my soul to them
When I looked into your Eyes of Death.
To this day, I am still dead
To this day, I can no longer live in the mortal world
To this day, we shall not die of fire, water, or love,
But of our Eyes of Death that rein our souls
I stare into your Eyes of Death and I cringe at the sight
I look into your Eyes of Death and I am no longer alive
I looked into your Eyes of Death
And I died again, before I could run from them
For I cannot stand to be around you to this very day again
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes…of Death
poem by Jade DragonHeart
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Ask Any Mother
No man would hesitate to lay down live?
If he really thinks of motherland and believes
What else can be holier than earth?
Everything else can be secondary even the death
Ask any mother of what she thinks of holy land?
Would she ever stop her sons from going on field by hand?
Will she hold them back for the sake of her own safety?
She will not as she has been considered as holy and equal to deity
What else she will do and witness?
How many more deaths to see and face?
What her inner soul may react?
These are all unanswered questions and acts
War does not spare any one
The territory is annexed and amnesty to none
Daughters, sisters and mothers raped for no reason
No sensible human being may like it as reasonable person
What is to follow later on the scene?
The plight, misery and poverty totally unseen
How many years it may take to reconstruct?
Where as it may take only seconds to destruct
You ask any mother for her comment
She may not utter a word but only lament
How can she prefer to be pregnant again?
When she has to accept total loss as gain
Even though sacrificed children for noble cause
There may be vacuum in life with little pause
Who will come in night and wipe the tears?
She has to spent sleepless nights and bear
That is how we rate the mother
Who can compete with her?
Let all deities come on earth and perform
The role played buy mother in any form
I would salute to mother first
The pray to God last
Even almighty owe their place in her womb
We all do a curse on her by destroying her dreams with bombs
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Replacement
Amid the village is a deserted house,
That gives depressing impressions to the onlookers,
The windows and doors are shabby broken
There dangle bats on the walls at nights, and crows caw
At noons in the branches where nightingales sang,
And often at nights mysterious sounds we hear.
Ah! Four decades ago it was inhibited,
Noise of the children spilled out of its walls,
They all played hide and seek with the befriended kids.
I too played believing in the innocent notion
That time and tide could not part us asunder,
Whether rains rain and clouds thunder,
But my self-assumed belief proved fragile,
Then the shocking moments approached,
And occupants departed to a better dwelling abroad.
I often recall the moment when they departed,
The whole village gathered, men, women and children wept,
Their eyes were red as if blood would dropp soon;
They were kissing, embracing the departing fellows,
I wept too stealthily, and felt as if my soul was being torn apart.
Now after many years their descendents come and go,
Nobody receives or bids them farewell, nor do they bother anyone,
And each time they visit, they replace on the gate,
The rusty lock with the new one.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dusty Springfield
The music of the Dusty Springfield still lives on,
Even though she, herself, is now dead and gone.
Every day, her songs are played on the airwaves.
About her music, many people still really rave.
When I hear her songs played on the radio,
Deep in my heart, I feel a really warm glow.
To her talent, many artistes still pay tribute.
Many a singer, her style of song, does suit.
She had massive hit after hit over her many years:
The sentiments, of which, still bring me to tears.
If she were still alive today, I think she’d be amazed,
How popular she still is and how much her songs are played.
She was just a normal, ordinary, middle class girl,
Who became one of popular music’s precious pearls.
She never let fame and fortune go to her head.
She chose to remain friendly and down to earth instead.
Her songs are ones which you can sing along to,
And you experience such a feeling of joy when you do.
There are a few songs, for which she’s very well-known,
And, in the world of music, these are set firmly in stone.
One of her most famous songs has to be,
‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me.’
‘I Only Want To Be With You’ and ‘Son Of A Preacher Man, ’
Are also really firm favourites amongst her many fans.
When on stage, she really gave it her all,
And always appeared to be having a right ball.
She had a real presence whenever on stage,
And with her audience, she really engaged.
She battled serious illness. She was so very brave,
And over ten years on, her fans still visit her grave.
Whether the day brings bright sunshine or showers,
Fans still make their pilgrimage to bring her flowers.
On ‘Dusty Day’, once a year, her fans come together.
In our hearts, she and her music will live on forever.
An entire day is dedicated to the precious memories of her,
And fans recollections of Dusty, once again, are stirred.
Many of her songs are famous world wide,
And when she passed away, many fans cried.
Her music unites fans from across every nation.
She really was a special lady and a real inspiration.
For her iconic style, she was very well-known -
A style which was exclusively hers and hers alone.
Her songs are still as popular today,
As the day she sadly passed away.
She died at the age of fifty nine, so never reached old age.
I wonder if she was alive today, she would still be on stage?
Since she passed away, over ten years have gone by,
But memories of her live on and will never ever die.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Genesis BK XIX
(ll. 1167-1180) And after Cainan Mahalaleel possessed the land
and treasure many a year. The prince lived five-and-sixty
winters, and begat a son. An heir was born unto his house, and
his kinsmen called him Jared, as I have heard. Mahalaleel lived
long, enjoying bliss on earth, the joys of men, and worldly
treasure. And all the years of Mahalaleel were eight hundred
five-and-ninety winters, and he died, and gave the land and rule
unto his son.
(ll. 1180-1196) A long time Jared dealt out gold to men. He was
a righteous prince, a noble earl, dear to his kinsmen He lived
an hundred five-and-sixty winters in the world, and, when her
time was come, his wife brought forth her first-born, a goodly
son. And his name was Enoch. Eight hundred years his father
lived, and increased his tribe. And all the years of Jared were
nine hundred five-and-sixty winters, and he died, and gave the
land and rule unto his son, the wise and well-loved prince.
(ll. 1197-1217) And Enoch ruled the folk, led them in ways of
peace, and no wise let his sway and power lessen, while he was
lord over his kinsmen. Now Enoch prospered and increased his
tribe three hundred years. And God, the Lord of heaven, was
gracious unto him! In his natural body he entered into heavenly
joy and the glory of God, dying no mortal death as men do here,
the young and old, what time God taketh from them wealth and
substance and earthly treasure and their life; but with the King
of angels he departed still alive out of this fleeting life, in
the same vestments which his soul received before his mother bare
him. He left the people to his eldest son. And all the years of
Enoch were three hundred five-and-sixty winters, and he died.
(ll. 1217-1224) Then Methuselah held sway among his kinsmen, and
longest of all men enjoyed the pleasures of this world. He begat
a multitude of sons and daughters before his death. And all the
years of Methuselah were nine hundred and seventy winters, and he
died.
(ll. 1224-1236) And Lamech, his son, succeeded him and kept the
treasure. Long time he ruled the land. He lived an hundred and
two winters, and begat children. And the lord and leader of the
folk lived five hundred five-and-ninety years, enjoying many
winters under heaven, ruling the folk with wisdom. And Lamech
increased his tribe, begetting sons and daughters. He called the
name of the first-born Noah; and Noah ruled the land after the
death of Lamech.
(ll. 1237-1247) Now Noah, the lord of men, lived five hundred
winters, as the books say, and begat children. The first-born
son of Noah was Shem, and the second Ham, and the third Japheth.
And the folk grew in number under heaven, and the multitude of
the race of men increased throughout the earth. The tribe of
Seth, the well-loved prince, was still exceeding dear to God, and
blessed in His love!
Mater Dolorosa
Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
In a rent stained raiment, the robe of a cast-off bride,
In the dust, in the rainfall sitting, with soiled feet bare,
With the night for a garment upon her, with torn wet hair?
She is fairer of face than the daughters of men, and her eyes,
Worn through with her tears, are deep as the depth of skies.
This is she for whose sake being fallen, for whose abject sake,
Earth groans in the blackness of darkness, and men's hearts break.
This is she for whose love, having seen her, the men that were
Poured life out as water, and shed their souls upon air.
This is she for whose glory their years were counted as foam;
Whose face was a light upon Greece, was a fire upon Rome.
Is it now not surely a vain thing, a foolish and vain,
To sit down by her, mourn to her, serve her, partake in the pain?
She is grey with the dust of time on his manifold ways,
Where her faint feet stumble and falter through year-long days.
Shall she help us at all, O fools, give fruit or give fame,
Who herself is a name despised, a rejected name?
We have not served her for guerdon. If any do so,
That his mouth may be sweet with such honey, we care not to know.
We have drunk from a wine-unsweetened, a perilous cup,
A draught very bitter. The kings of the earth stood up,
And the rulers took counsel together, to smite her and slay;
And the blood of her wounds is given us to drink today.
Can these bones live? or the leaves that are dead leaves bud?
Or the dead blood drawn from her veins be in your veins blood?
Will ye gather up water again that was drawn and shed?
In the blood is the life of the veins, and her veins are dead.
For the lives that are over are over, and past things past;
She had her day, and it is not; was first, and is last.
Is it nothing unto you then, all ye that pass by,
If her breath be left in her lips, if she live now or die?
Behold now, O people, and say if she be not fair,
Whom your fathers followed to find her, with praise and prayer,
And rejoiced, having found her, though roof they had none nor bread;
But ye care not; what is it to you if her day be dead?
It was well with our fathers; their sound was in all men's lands;
There was fire in their hearts, and the hunger of fight in their
hands.
Naked and strong they went forth in her strength like flame,
For her love's and her name's sake of old, her republican name.
But their children, by kings made quiet, by priests made wise,
Love better the heat of their hearths than the light of her eyes.
Are they children of these thy children indeed, who have sold,
O golden goddess, the light of thy face for gold?
Are they sons indeed of the sons of thy dayspring of hope,
Whose lives are in fief of an emperor, whose souls of a Pope?
Hide then thine head, O beloved; thy time is done;
Thy kingdom is broken in heaven, and blind thy sun.
What sleep is upon you, to dream she indeed shall rise,
When the hopes are dead in her heart as the tears in her eyes?
If ye sing of her dead, will she stir? if ye weep for her, weep?
Come away now, leave her; what hath she to do but sleep?
But ye that mourn are alive, and have years to be;
And life is good, and the world is wiser than we.
Yea, wise is the world and mighty, with years to give,
And years to promise; but how long now shall it live?
And foolish and poor is faith, and her ways are bare,
Till she find the way of the sun, and the morning air.
In that hour shall this dead face shine as the face of the sun,
And the soul of man and her soul and the world's be one.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreary Night
What happened on that day before the sun set?
Has anyone ever seen a star in the sky on a dreary night?
Has anyone ever ridden upon the tail of a shooting star?
Too hard for me to believe, as I cannot fathom reality-
I would go in my father’s garden trying to find myself- though
All I can see are the roses-
My eyes see clearly and I look all about but all I see are roses.
Yesterday I was walking home terrified of people walking behind me.
I saw a daffodil in full bloom, in all of its glory.
But I wept, though unobtrusively- tears of destitute fear.
It cannot be spring on the fourth day of February,
Although I may long for it to be-
I cannot sing songs of love and hopefulness, as
I have never been in love, or never wished to be.
I ask myself- have you ever seen a star on a dreary night?
Did you ever ride bareback upon the tail of a shooting star?
My sanity is buried beneath tons of stones upon
Which I have fallen, while running, trying to escape the pathway of my delusions-
I am strong inside, I have been told, and I rarely scream aloud.
When I close my eyes all I can see are roses-
As those growing in my father’s garden-
It has been years since he has passed away.
I hear voices early in the morning threatening me.
They cannot be silenced. It is still dark outside.
But when I close my eyes I can still see the roses- yellow, red and white-
I ask myself- what happened on that night I recall, twenty years ago?
My father died and his garden remains-
My mother died soon afterward, leaving nothing but memories behind.
I remember the daffodil I saw yesterday-
I should have picked it for my mother and placed it in a vase-
But she would never see it because she left this world- without saying “goodbyeâ€.
I am a stranger to this world and am still trying to find my way through the darkness.
I could take a ride on the tail of a shooting star and close my eyes and dream, as
I am searching for a new place in time, even though mysteriously-
When I close my eyes- all I can see are the roses dancing in a gentle winter’s breeze,
Though they are now withering away and dying.
It is a dreary winter’s night - but the stars are out and the moon is full.
It now illuminates the path I walk and I would give my soul to the world for
Some peace of mind and all I can do is close my eyes and
Follow the pathway of my fantasies and pray-
My wish would be to see the light shine upon the world of my delusions.
As I close my eyes and wish upon a star I weep- though
All I can see are roses, their petals to the wind- dead to the world outside.
Darkness prevails but I believe I see a star on this dreary night, silencing my tears.
And while that daffodil looks striking beneath the light of the full moon-
A night has never looked so beautiful, not even in a dream.
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spiritual Realm
Friend, what your eyes cannot see, for all this world is a reality,
A spiritual plane above the sky, that stretches down to you and I.
Though God reigns high above, He reaches down with His love,
Into this world as dark as night, He reaches down with His Light.
Upon the earth is a darker realm, one with a dragon at the helm,
The prince and power of the air, who leads this world to despair.
But some men just don’t believe, or they simply cannot conceive,
A spiritual world of an evil kind, vying for a man’s heart and mind.
Darker forces invading this life, filling men’s hearts with evil strife,
Forces opposing God’s Only Son; darkened forces of an evil one,
Filling men with hate and pride, to oppose God’s Lamb who died.
What other reason would you say, would make men act this way?
The enemy’s not flesh and blood, but dark spiritual forces above,
Once God’s cherished cherubim, now leads men to death by sin.
Lucifer, cast to earth by God, now leads rebellion where we trod,
As forces of Satan’s evil might, oppose God’s Pure Eternal Light.
Battles our eyes just cannot see, over men’s souls for all eternity,
Satan wanting the souls of men, lost in sin, eternally condemned,
Knowing the battle’s already won, through the cross of God’s Son.
Since his destiny is certain friend, Satan wants Hell to be your end.
(Copyright ©10/2006)
On The Grave Of My Brother
The spot where now I sand was empty,
Undisturbed for the years, only tufts of grass swayed,
But now filled in with a heap of fresh dug earth:
The grave of my brother.
The memories of the past have begun to emerge
As panic fishes come out upon the surface of the sea.
We slept on the same bed for a decade,
We played in the same yard together
Through the years of childhood,
We played hide and seek, ran after the butterflies,
Yes, together in the mustard farms,
We ran through the streets while monsoon rains rained,
We stood under the spouts to have the most delicious bath.
O! Brother you explained to me
The mysteries with the childish wisdom,
“The stars are the shinning rivets,
The moon and the sun: the loaves of gold and silver,
And twilight the crimson particles of dust.”
O! Brother you laboured, you toiled a lot
Against the odds of life, at last you lost the race
Trudging through the quagmire of misfortunes.
O! Brother you are fortunate for you have got
The place in the feet of your mother,
You have been entrusted to the grave
Amid the sobs, shrieks and cascades of tears,
With all religious obsequies, all threw handfuls of earth,
And some performed the obligation with shovels.
I see into future we who remain behind are not sure
What fate we shall meet, whether we shall have graves
Or our bodies will lay unburied with the scavengers around;
Who knows when itchy leprous fingers will activate
The nuclear or chemical devices, the world will change into
An amphitheatre of corpses rotting in the hot sun.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cambodia
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Well he was thailand based
She was an airforce wife
He used to fly weekends
It was the easy life
But then it turned around
And he began to change
She didnt wonder then
She didnt think it strange
But then he got a call
He had to leave that night
He couldnt say too much
But it would be alright
He didnt need to pack
Theyd meet the next night
He had a job to do
Flying to cambodia
And as the nights passed by
She tried to trace the past
The way he used to look
The way he used to laugh
I guess shell never know
What got inside his soul
She couldnt make it out
Just couldnt take it all
He had the saddest eyes
The girl had ever seen
He used to cry some nights
As though he lived a dream
Ans as she held him close
He used to search her face
As though she knew the truth
Lost inside cambodia
But then a call came through
They said hed soon be home
She had to pack a case
And they would make a rendez-vous
But now a year has passed
And not a single word
And all the love she knew
Has disappeared out in the haze
Cambodia - dont cry now - no tears now
And now the years have passed
With not a single word
But there is only one thing left
I know for sure
She wont see his face again
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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