On The Second Day
I went through
This busy bazaar
Yesterday;
Here sat a man
With the wares of bangles,
And fake ornaments,
Who chanted with a melodious sound,
Echoing, mingling,
Into the evening gale,
And around him sat some damsels,
With overflowing emotions,
Selecting the ornaments
Trying them on fingers,
And delicate wrists.
There sat an old man:
A fruit-vendor selling oranges,
And claiming them the rarest in the land.
I can recall the beheld smile on his face,
And shine in the eyes.
There beside the electric-pole,
Lay a man with amputated legs,
And each passerby threw a coin or two,
In the begging-bowl,
Place in front, and went on with penitence.
I n the middle
There stood a steak-seller,
Who fanned fire of coals,
And with agility turned over
The spicy steaks,
Forked on the iron-spikes;
A few men gathered around,
Ate them with relish, and I too
Passed by with a drooling mouth.
Beside him stood a toy-seller,
The kids dragged behind the parents,
When they passed by,
With a wish to afford them
Balls and balloons.
In that corner
There sat a fortune teller;
Around him sat the young boys
Spreading their palms,
Anxious to know about their future,
And the palmist described to them,
Stars and crosses, and hair on
The lines of life, heart and mind.
Ah! Today the spot is lamenting,
Just a few hours ago,
Have been gathered,
Human shreds, bones and skulls,
Limbs and legs,
Placed jumbled, indiscriminate,
In the ambulances.
A few remains left behind
Of destroyed vehicles,
Of blackness of soot mingled
Into redness of human blood,
Of explosives: a pungent smell.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Abstract Images
Blood and bones of fifty bodies,
Laid mixed and mingled,
Legs here arms there
Of men: young and old,
Shreds scattered all around,
Skulls laid asunder
As if melons on the farm,
Over-ripe and flattened,
The stems lay with ragged bellies
And with no extremities,
Brains splattered on the walls,
Red-essence splashed
As if a skilled artist sketched,
A piece of abstract images.
Yesterday indiscriminate scrap
Of human bodies was consigned
To the collective grave.
Mr. America has planned today,
For peace and prosperity,
And well-being of humanity,
To launch more Drone Attacks,
On troubled pole of the world.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Game Of Butchery
Bomb blast then holocaust,
Blood here, blood there,
And blood all around
Is the fate of my countrymen.
The down trodden are crushed,
The rulers just condemn the deed on T.V,
Sitting in the warm chambers in winter,
Air conditioned in summer,
And ask us to be patient a little more,
Till we reach ashore,
On the ship with no pilot.
Human shreds scatter,
Amid the burnt destroyed vehicles,
Legs here, arms there,
Pieces of heart splatter on the walls,
And skulls lay on the roofs,
All jumbled, unrecognizable.
The game of butchery is played every day,
At the busy spots,
But only the play ground is changed,
And the bodies go to different grave-yards.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Hear Sound Of Bread Seller
Hear song of approaching bread seller
music theme familiar to sell his wares
music to announce his approach teller
music to advertise his meal time wares
but speed racer is far to mobile to purchase last
on his bike he pauses not free cycling rapidly past
down hill in front of customer houses far too fast
his chance of customer sales daily speeds on past
he is a simple Simon selling not his wares
upon this street all his potential customers
cannot catch his corner soon turned retreat
such a salesman swift young foolish athlete
around the corner customers may gather
as up hill he must energy traverse pass slower
but his sales are constantly customer fewer
other salesmen daily pass downhill slow wiser
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Who is a beggar and who is not
Take your coin, I am no beggar
In our country
Beggars are less uncommon
They are there anywhere
Except
Cemeteries
Burial ground and
Cremation yard
They beg you so pathetically
That you are forced to dropp a coin
Pavements invariably
Irrespective of the city
House beggars
You can make out them
By the way they look
Women beg
Pointing to us the little child
They carry on their waist
Old ladies too beg
And they station themselves
Against you in your path
Making it difficult for you
To step ahead further
While you are on a wait
Either bus stop
Rail station
Park or beach
Some one or the other appear before you
Begging
Truly speaking
It hurts me to turn away someone
Asking for alms
Without getting them something
Some hold the view
That they need not help beggars
As they are not the one
Who made beggars beg
Begging should be discouraged
And to do that
Beggars should not be helped
Is some others’ view point
I am not quite sure
Whether to help beggars or not
I normally dropp a coin of least denomination
In the begging bowl or in the opened up palms of a beggar
Provided I have the coin
If I do not have a coin to part with
Or if I do not have the mind to help
I muster the strength
To tell the beggar
That I have no changes to spare
This morning
I was rushing to the office
After getting down from the bus
I saw a middle aged male
Who was rolling down on the tar topped road
Sitting on roller-fixed wooden plank
Pushing with the help of has hands
It appeared he had no legs
I decided to help him with a coin
As I got nearer
I came to understand that he was polio affected
Both his legs becoming non functional
Of late, thin and feeble
I ran my hand through my left pant pocket
Got hold of a coin of a better denomination
Than the one I normally prefer to drop
Stood by his side
As he was enjoying a puff of a lighted cigarette
On his lips
He did not lift his face
Having waited for some seconds
I decided to dropp that coin
I did the same
And started going towards office
I heard the rolling of wheels
When I looked back
The person on the wheel-fixed plank
Pointed his right index finger
Towards the dropped coin
About four metres on the backside
And said curtly
Take your coin
I am no beggar
As I reached the spot
And picked up the coin
I felt too small of me
And in fact, beg for the knowledge
As to know
Who is a beggar and who is not
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Chain
Nets dropping from rumours cold sky, star lives
Like burns falling fingers, of trusted hands from the sun.
Slow and distort.
In this place, of crispy bones
I belong where I stand.
Step by step, the shadow I felt.
Dome of pouring life, looking from the outside
Of my lonely life.
Sun reflected sins.
Places where I have never been.
Seller of prophesy lien scare.
Death passing away.
Like a child crying corner.
Faithful turn.
Dragged on winging embrace.
Fake chain, lying down, feeding away
By my desire, constantly.
Filling to down. Repeatedly
Heat of greed.
Hammers & nails on wooden chairs
Chain, cross away.
Shape of steaks, all I want is a place.
Above the winter wind, cold and steel
Poor people screaming, I don't want to die.
Not on my pillow your breathing life.
Bounce under the grave,
Teeth chewing chain.
poem by Luca Menin
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I Was So Lucky
Its no secret Ive been waiting
But I didnt expect this
Nothing will remain
Nothing stays the same
After you came
Its no secret Ive been starving
I never felt anything for years
I sat up all night
Just to watch your smile
When youre sleeping
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
Come on and sail the sea with me
Come on, lets go around the world
Maybe find a flat
Or a canyon house
For the season
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It couldve been someone else
You had in mind
I was so lucky you found me
My rags turned gold and silver
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
What would you make of this, my baby?
The sun through the trees
Is there a better place to be?
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It could have been someone else
You had in mind, oh my
I was so lucky you picked me
My trash turned to silver
Yea, I could have been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldbe passed by
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Protocol
Whistles of the wardens blew,
The highway was vacated
From the vehicles,
Three bikes went away hooting,
Two jeeps passed in a blink
With the uniformed men,
Pointing Kalashnikovs
To all sides around,
Then five imported Mercedes
Headed in formation,
One ahead, one at the rear,
One left and other on the right,
Protecting that was in the center,
Afterward passed
Two fully armed vehicles,
With alert
Professionally trained personnel,
At last passed swishing
Two Mitsubishi Ambulances,
Tracing the track.
Who had the protocol?
You must not be worried to know
He was neither
The Secretary General of U.N.O,
Nor the King of Great Britain,
Nor the President of U.S.A
Nor U.S.S.R,
But one of the ministers
Of my motherland,
Yes! The minister of a robbed nation,
Who had a fake degree of graduation.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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First Love
I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pick Up The Bones
Collecting pieces of my family
In an old pillow case
This one has a skull
But it don't have a face
These look like the arms of father so strong
And the ring on this finger
Means my Grandma is gone
Here's some legs in a cloud
Where my sister once played
Here's some mud made of blood
And these teeth are decayed
The ear of my brother
The hand of a friend
And I just can't
Put them back together again
Pick up the bones
And set them on fire
Follow the smoke going higher and higher
Pick up the bones
And wish them goodnight
Pray them a prayer and turn out the light
There are stains on the floor
Where kitchen once stood
There are ribs on the fire place
Mixed with the wood
There are forces in the air
Ghosts in the wind
Some bullets in the back
And some scars on the skin
There were demons with guns
Who marched through this place
Killing everything that breathed
They're an inhuman race
There are holes in the walls
Bloody hair on the bricks
And the smell of this hell
Is making me sick
Pick up the bones
And set them on fire
Follow the smoke going higher and higher
Pick up the bones
And wish them goodnight
Pray them a prayer and turn out the light
Pick up the bones
And set them on fire
Follow the scope going higher and higher
Pick up the bones
And wish them goodnight
Pray them a prayer and turn out the light
Now maybe someday
The suns gonna shine
Flowers will bloom
And all will be fine
But nothing will grow
On this burnt cursive ground
Cuz the breathe of the death
Is the only sound
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Brutal Planet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Love
lucky age
at least
now it leaves
a space
to remember
first love
for romantic verses
this age
young girls
and boys
senses triumph
over love
the old days
it took months
for that first letter
to be written
today, the bedroom
for courting
is just days away
from that first meet
the more adventurous ones
took liberty on first meet
exploring each other
the way a blind man
makes out his way
on the street
lucky age
i was born in
the pauses,
the rapt intermission
in a piece of music
the door to someone's heart
always gentle as the flower blooms
First Love
I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start -
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Jostling Crowed
Upon the edge of a deserted wide road,
Placed I was to see the dismal vision,
From the distant corner of the upper side,
Turned a procession, following rushingingly,
A coffin of the dead faith, wrapped in shroud,
Advanced it ahead as opaque floody water,
Passes through the banks, on the dry bottom.
In the jostling crowed I did find to see,
The men neither young nor too old,
Of all races, forms, colours and sizes,
With harrowed grisly faces jostling ahead,
Their rebellious legs hastened against their wills.
The crowed passed and passed by unendingly,
To fill the spacious belly of the infernal land,
Stood I stunned, horrified, engrossed in thoughts,
Indecisive, thinking upon my own plight,
“I am an observer or a member of the crowed? ”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dark Overcome
Dark, the man festered and rescued horror
From actionless thought
he krept on his knees fingernails first
Smelled for blood licked the dirt
With his black tounge
It was fate that grabbed the innocent child
Plucked each hair took light
And with Dark stuffed any light in the air
Childless parents 'wake in terror
Childless now night
Clutched their child
And returned a still-life doll
Hate enraged the parents gaze
To spit the murderer on his grave
Now the man awaked
And forgot his name
Forgot the number of days depraved
Begged the parents to forgive his ways
And the childless father rushed
To stab his nave'
But the judge prevented
For he thought with his eye
Took the darkless man
And ripped out his eyes
Threw him in the street
And told him to cry
Then with the childless man's blade
Slit the feet
For each hair he plucked
On that fatefull day
In one dark action
All men of humanity became defamed
The darkless man awoke the next morn'
For he could not see
But knew the scent of
Pityless boys on the street
His hair was drenched in
How many boys' pee?
And how many parents pointed
In the direction of the darkless
Man for their children to tease?
Every morn' the darkless man
awoke in mourn like this
For three years have past
And the childless father's anger
Grew even more fast
So he took the darkless man
And cut off his ears
Re-slit his feet
And brake all his teeth
Dark stood at the darkless
Man's crown
Stood with a fruit
And smirked at every frown
Pleased at his creation
Of this dark town
Three more years passed by
Each day with new paser-byers
Stuffing the darkless man's mouth
With feet passifiers
Alas
The man died in the seventh year by fire
Now Dark looked for a
New man to brier
To the horror of Dark
The darkless man came
And by his side was the innocent child the same
The two together with Love and Light
Became one or a perfect twain
The Light so bright drove Dark insain
And dredged in shame and judgement
Dark will forever no more remain
And
Light turned to that dark town
And judged mightily every man according
To every mercy they gave
I give you this parable
Seek forgiveness and forgive the same
poem by Deci Hernandez
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I Cheated Death.
Suddenly all went cold
And of my mother's hand I took hold
I held on like a drowning man would a lifeline
For I knew this might be the end of my timeline
And there in the corner he stood
Bright silvery robes, a golden cord around his waist, there he stood
Shoulder length hair as golden as the sun's rays
Eyes bluer than the Caspian, bronze skin that hath no flaws
His feet shod in sandals
His presence brightened the candles
I felt a hope build inside
A fire rekindled inside
But as quickly as it came
The hope left and with it the fear came
As I looked in horror to the other corner
There she stood, crowned by darkness in the left corner
Her eyes the colour of blood
In a black robe of death she was clad
As I focused on her, I felt the life leave me
Just as the anaconda squeezes the life out of its prey, the life left me
The odour of burning Sulphur filled the room
And with it an impeding gloom
I squeezed my mother's hand ‘til it hurt
Every breath I took hurt
I tried to tell my mother I loved her
But all that came out was a croak
Slowly the woman in the left corner removed her cloak
Revealing a crown of long fiery hair
Her eyes fixed on me in an evil stare
Her blood red lips parted in a smile
A smile so evil it shouldn't be called a smile
I turned to the other corner seeking comfort from my angel and this evil evade
But woe unto me he had slowly began to fade
And with him, the light
Impeding my sight
I felt my body consumed by a cloud of darkness
And at that moment, I felt the presence of death in the darkness
Funny how in the movies they tell you to stay away from the light
How I longed to see a light
For I knew the darkness would only lead to more pain
I shut my eyes hoping that when I opened them again
My angel would be there telling me it's alright
Bringing back hope and light
But lo and behold as I re-opened mine eyes
There I lay, in my hospital bed my mother looking on with wet eyes
She told of how I almost died
Of how my breathing stopped but her hope never died
I sat up in wonder looked to the right and there my angel stood
In fear, I turned to the left, and she too in her shroud of evil, stood
Her eyes blazing with anger
For death had been cheated and left with a deep hunger
And I knew, she would be back
And then it struck me,
Death never leaves empty handed
That's when I saw the nurses covering the old woman's body across
With a white sheet and a priest making the sign of a cross
Once again, death did reap
And it is inevitable that she will return to reap
Her taste of fruit, the unripe fruit...
poem by Esperanza Chilupula
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Only The Bowl!
i am only the bowl!
i am not the rice.
i am not the fire.
i am not the rain,
nor the sun that gave.
i am not the fertile earth.
i am not the human hands
that gathered, that prepared...
i am not even the hand that offers.
i am not the table, not the chair,
i am not the spoon.
when day is done,
and my place is known...
i am only the bowl!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Traffic lights shinning in my eyes,
And here I am standing in the rain
Counting every dropp that fell in my palm.
The Cold breeze frozen my body
Like yesterday when you left me in vain
On were I can’t stand from all the pain.
That was yesterday I could still remember.
Yesterday, I was stood under the burning rain.
Were my heart was freezing under the sun
When all the blue and woe has passed my way
And those autumn leaves are my shelter
On the broken tree house of memory
That my heart is getting weak,
And it’s hard for me to breathe.
That was yesterday, I was dazzle in lights of lies.
And today,
The sun grimaces in the early morn
Were the world embrace me from the past
That beauty blooms here inside my heart
Spring’s blossoms comes only a second of time
For today, loves grown deep in the heart of me
Voices tell me I should carry on
To hold the stars up in the sky
And see the world will smile again.
Today, my heart will dance again
For tomorrow,
Love will bloom like flowers in spring
A sweet smile will curve in my lips
Tomorrow, I’ll be strong as a wind
Dance on a game of love,
Swaying on a battle of life.
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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The Deposition
Dust storm, we thought, a brown swarm
plugging the lungs, or a locust-cloud,
but this was a collapse, a slow sinking
to deeper brown, and deeper still, like the sky
seen from inside a well as we are lowered down,
and the air twisting and tearing at itself.
But it was done. And the body hung there
like a butchered thing, naked and alone
in a sudden hush among the ravaged air.
The ankles first—slender, blood-caked,
pale in the sullen dark, legs broken
below the knees, blue bruises smoldering
to black. And the spikes. We tugged iron
from human flesh that dangled like limbs
not fully hacked from trees, nudged
the cross beam from side to side until
the sign that mocked him broke loose.
It took all three of us. We shouldered the body
to the ground, yanked nails from wrists
more delicate, it seemed, than a young girl’s
but now swollen, gnarled, black as burnt twigs.
The body, so heavy for such a small man,
was a knot of muscle, a batch of cuts
and scratches from the scourging, and down
the right side a clotted line of blood,
the sour posca clogging his ragged beard,
the eyes exploded to a stare that shot
through all of us and still speaks in my dreams:
I know who you are.
So, we began to wash
the body, wrenching the arms, now stiff
and twisted, to his sides, unbending
the ruined legs and sponging off the dirt
of the city, sweat, urine, shit—all the body
gives—from the body, laying it out straight
on a sheet of linen rank with perfumes
so that we could cradle it, haul it
to the tomb. The wind shouted.
The foul air thickened. I reached over
to close the eyes. I know who you are.
poem by B.H. Fairchild
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The Last Envoy
THIS wind, that through the silent woodland blows,
O'er rippling corn and dreaming pastures goes
Straight to the garden where the heart of spring
Faints in the heart of summer's earliest rose.
Dimpling the meadow's grassy green and grey,
By furze that yellows all the common way,
Gathering the gladness of the flowering broom,
And too persistent fragrance of the may--
Gathering whatever is of sweet and dear,
The wandering wind has passed away from here,
Has passed to where within your garden waits
The concentrated sweetness of the year.
And in your leafed enclosure as you stood,
Training your flowers to new beatitude--
Ah! did you guess the wind that kissed your hair
Had kissed my forehead in this solitude--
Had kissed my lips, and gathered there the heat
It breathed upon your mouth, my only sweet--
Had gathered from my eyes the tender thought
That drooped your eyes, and stirred your pulses' beat?
You only thought the sun's caress too warm
That lay upon your bosom and your arm;
You did not guess the wind had brought from me
The unacknowledged fancy's fire and charm--
You only said, 'Too strong these sunlit skies,
More dear the moments when the daylight dies!'
And then you dreamed of meetings by your gate
In sanctity of sunset and moonrise.
To-night, when he shall come and meet you there,
To kiss your lips and hands and eyes and hair,
To light with love and hope youth's waiting shrine--
Think of my love, and my assured despair!
To-night the wind will rob the languid flowers
Of secret scents kept close through daylit hours;
It will blow coolly over dewy lawns,
Where the laburnums fall in silent showers.
I, too, shall learn a secret then--shall wrest
Life's hidden things from out her languorous breast,
Shall learn the way that leads away from life
Into the land where nothing lives but rest.
You will not know that the cold air you prize,
After the stormy sweetness of his sighs,
Is cold from blowing through a moonlit wood
Over the hollow where a dead man lies!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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New Way To Be Human
Every day it's the same thing
Another trend has begun
Hey kids, this might be the one
It's a race to be noticed
And it's leaving us numb
Hey kids, we can't be the ones
With all of our fashion, we're still incomplete
The God of redemption can break our routine
There's a new way to be human
It's nothing we've ever been
There's a new way to be human, new way to be human
And where is our inspiration
When all the heroes are gone
Hey kids, could we be the ones?
Cuz nobody's famous, and nobody's fine
We all need forgiveness, we're longing inside
There's a new way to be human
It's nothing we've ever been
There's a new way to be human
Spreading under my skin
There's a new way to be human
Where divinity bends
It's a new way to be human, new way to be human
I'll find your love across my impossible space
You've created me, take me out of me into
A new way to be human, to a new way to be human
You're a new way to be human
Where my humanity bends
To a new way to be human
Redemption begins
You're a new way to be human
You're a new way to be human
You're the only way to be human
You're a new way to be human
song performed by by Switchfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Of The Unfair Sex
She stood at the ticket-seller's
Serenely removing her glove,
While hundreds of strugglers and yellers,
And some that were good at a shove,
Were clustered behind her like bats in
a cave and unwilling to speak their love.
At night she still stood at that window
Endeavoring her money to reach;
The crowds right and left, how they sinned-O,
How dreadfully sinned in their speech!
Ten miles either way they extended
their lines, the historians teach.
She stands there to-day-legislation
Has failed to remove her. The trains
No longer pull up at that station;
And over the ghastly remains
Of the army that waited and died of
old age fall the snows and the rains.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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A Dream
Alongside the wide gray road stood I,
To watch a procession passed by,
Of the damsels, rather all in teen,
Of the same size height and colour,
The bulk and body; dressed in green,
But all bore the features quite different.
Drenched them the incessant rain;
They passed and passed by jostling,
In silence in rows long, unendingly,
Numerous, countless were they all,
Neither worried, nor did seem happy;
Glanced they at me with stealing looks,
And I stood silent with lowering eyes,
Peeping into innerself like a criminal,
When brought among the fellow men.
It confounds, troubles me when I think,
Whether their plight was shown to me,
Or mine to them, I could not decide.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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