Assert It!
I have asserted my sentence,
Your ancient nature is a token,
Forming itself woollen, in a shroud,
Opening and closing its scales and gills,
Without the rapidity of fish,
Speaking altogether, in twisted forms
Like lasses of the wind and rain.
Open the shop of integrity,
See your descending steps,
The ascension is near and in closeness
To the bomb that may erupt
For the final display to mankind.
This lie is surrounding us,
Young people clear the fountains,
And bad mountains foreshadow us
In their light and darkness
Of steel and speech from the asserter
Of sentences.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
440
Accept the fact
The fear that you have nothing to tell anymore
To amuse yourself
writers' block, shutting up, windows closing,
doors locked, mind shrinking,
like the fish vendor who sells rumors & rotten stories
To the streets
You go to the fish market today
Not buying any fish or selling any or even touching gills
so you can breathe
You’re looking for some
Salt
Taking notes of the fish scales discarded
Trashed
Some fish bones & broken fins
some fishermen catching
Broken hearts on their small eyed nets
You go back with fish fins
And fish tails, thick lips and round moving eyes
You will start with a mermaid story today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing To Tell, Begin With A Mermaid Story
Accept the fact
The fear that you have nothing to tell anymore
To amuse yourself
writers' block, shutting up, windows closing,
doors locked, mind shrinking,
like the fish vendor who sells rumors & rotten stories
To the streets
You go to the fish market today
Not buying any fish or selling any or even touching gills
so you can breathe
You’re looking for some
Salt
Taking notes of the fish scales discarded
Trashed
Some fish bones & broken fins
some fishermen catching
Broken hearts on their small eyed nets
You go back with fish fins
And fish tails, thicked lippes and round moving eyes
You will start with a mermaid story today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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031010 Food Power
i reach the bottom of fish tank
to touch the bottom dweller
stuck to a rock like suction cup
she let me caress her as if she
know me, she's grown a bit
since i bought her at pet shop
this black big head fish i love
she doesn't move that much
i watch her gills close and open
she is always watching me
sometimes i saw her swim
just to get away from other fish
i used to tap the fish tank cover
before feeding them, amazing
every time i tap, they surface
how's that for teaching a fish
food is really powerful thing
just me i can't stop eating
poem by Manonton Dalan
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She Is There
i see some bamboo poles
lining up
on the shallow sea
she is there
watching some fishes without fins
without scales
she is there on some exclamations
this cannot be!
this cannot be!
the fish i know have fins!
the fish i know have scales all over their elongated bodies!
the fish i know can swim!
why are these fishes dying?
why are these fishes swimless in the sea where they belong?
yes my dear, the fishes and the sea, you do not belong there
the fishes are not yours and you do not belong to them
they have their own salty, slimy, scaly world,
they have gills and fins and round eyes
that do not blink
so you cannot tell them what to do, what to become.
in fact, you are neither fish nor fowl
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On My Own Terms
relating to you must be
on my own terms says the sun to the moon
we don't see each other
neither shall you expect me
to dance your night away
we know the terms of our existence
the closing and the opening
of doors
in such a manner
that when you open i close
what is there
or perhaps that for me to live
so must you die.
it is sad, indeed overwhelmingly
tragic,
nature's laws, our terms of engagement
darkness and light
life and death
you and i.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Steel Citizen
Steel Citizen disappeared on the other side
of the border
and some people thought,
that he was shot to pieces
on the other side of the chop line,
but Steel Citizen was an unconquerable man
and strong like his name
and one day
he just took the road home.
He walked hundreds of kilometres
through the field
and lived from the bush
and didn’t set any landmines off
and one day a hardened man
with a LMG in his hands
and a knife in one of his boots
and a savage beard
walked past me
and his eyes were dead
without any life
and he didn’t want to talk
or wanted anything from me
and just walked on
with bigger steps into the distance.
It was clear that it was Steel Citizen
and that he was fed up with war and death
and more bomb happy than most
and I hope,
that he found his rest somewhere
and are not still
walking along.
[Reference: Chop line= Cleared border line. LMG=> Light machine gun. Bomb happy=> Post traumatic stress disorder.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment.
quote by Andy Rooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Newcomer
'There's something new in the river,'
The fish said as it swam.
'It's got no scales, no fins and no gills,
And ignores the impassable dam.'
'There's something new in the trees.'
I heard a bloated thrush sing.
'It's got no beak, no claws, and no feathers,
And not even the ghost of a wing.'
'There's something new in the warren,'
Said the rabbit to the doe.
'It's got no fur, no eyes and no paws,
Yet digs further than we dare go.'
'There's something new in the whiteness,'
Said the snow-bright polar bear.
'I saw its shadow on a glacier,
But it left no pawmarks there.'
Through the animal kingdom
The news was spreading fast.
No beak, no claws, no feather,
No scales, no fur, no gills,
It lives in the trees and the water,
In the soil and the snow and the hills,
And it kills and it kills and it kills.
poem by Brian Patten
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XXII. -- The Nun Of Nidaros
In the convent of Drontheim,
Alone in her chamber
Knelt Astrid the Abbess,
At midnight, adoring,
Beseeching, entreating
The Virgin and Mother.
She heard in the silence
The voice of one speaking,
Without in the darkness,
In gusts of the night-wind,
Now louder, now nearer,
Now lost in the distance.
The voice of a stranger
It seemed as she listened,
Of some one who answered,
Beseeching, imploring,
A cry from afar off
She could not distinguish.
The voice of Saint John,
The beloved disciple,
Who wandered and waited
The Master's appearance,
Alone in the darkness,
Unsheltered and friendless.
'It is accepted
The angry defiance,
The challenge of battle!
It is accepted,
But not with the weapons
Of war that thou wieldest!
'Cross against corselet,
Love against hatred,
Peace-cry for war-cry!
Patience is powerful;
He that o'ercometh
Hath power o'er the nations!
'As torrents in summer,
Half dried in their channels,
Suddenly rise, though the
Sky is still cloudless,
For rain has been falling
Far off at their fountains;
So hearts that are fainting
Grow full to o'erflowing,
And they that behold it
Marvel, and know not
That God at their fountains
Far off has been raining!
'Stronger than steel
Is the sword of the Spirit;
Swifter than arrows
The light of the truth is,
Greater than anger
Is love, and subdueth!
'Thou art a phantom,
A shape of the sea-mist,
A shape of the brumal
Rain, and the darkness
Fearful and formless;
Day dawns and thou art not!
'The dawn is not distant,
Nor is the night starless;
Love is eternal!
God is still God, and
His faith shall not fail us;
Christ is eternal!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Wind Returns
Return like the wind,
Blow into the wind like air is a space,
While essays are written to display mankind,
When easiness is an issue of wide concern.
My nature has blots of innocence due to air that breathes,
It is inspiration of the mouth and heart,
Speech has never believed the speeches.
Must I wait forever in heaven, or do I die in it?
Return to the winds of the sky,
And laugh forever in union,
In union with the sky.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Role Of A Hero
In this life
In this great life
Nature gave me a role
To play in the movie of life
A protagonist fighting for nature
That mankind may exit forever
Love for all mankind
The animals and all nature
To save my world from the destroyer
To heal the breaches of the humandom
Freedom from the devilish kingdom
Unit mankind against his common enemy
Who rains waters of poverty
I came that there might prosperity
Feel the wind of change blowing
This is my making
poem by Matt Ancient
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The Faithless Shadows.
The faithless shadows of day are running
And high and clear is the call of bells,
Steps of the church are blazed as with the lightning,
Their stones are alive and wait for your light steps.
You'll here pass and touch the chilly stone,
That's dressed in awful sanity of span,
And let the flower of spring be thrown
Here, in this dark, before the eyes of saint.
The rose shadows in misty darkness grow,
And high and clear is the call of bells,
The darkness lays on steps, such old and low --
I'm set in light -- I wait for dear steps.
poem by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
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Some Changes That We Need
we need to fill the cracks on the walls
some trickles of light may hurt
on the roof the rain as always will be bad
for the floor
some leaks must be sealed
the stones on the pavement choked
by the grass that has been crawling
for all the years
i have to pick up so my foot may not
be hurt
and then some goodbyes maybe said
even without the hellos yet
we settle, that is a good word,
we move on, i think that is much better
i am closing a door and so i am opening
a window like what you are doing
i am taking sleep only to be taken by a dream
i am flying only to stop for a while
tomorrow is a new day, as always, i am not closing
my eyes for another view of the sea
there will be new seagulls coming but i have
stopped counting each of them since then
as always they shall feast on my schools of fish
and i do not really mind at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unceasing Rain
Unceasing is the rain, all of pain
And suffering, and mild anger;
Its cold nature is choice
And lasting effects are present
In the dropping rain.
Unceasing is the rain, always some rain
Is absent some of the day,
Opening a sacred time, of special
Leaning, a laugh is heard sometimes.
The showers are sending heavenly sights
Altogether heavenly, how awesome!
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Current
These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their roe and milt
in the pockets of my brain.
But there's one that comes-
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,
closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening
as it holds to the current.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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The First Light
The sun rose in all of its glory for all of us to see
But alas, the hustle and bustle of everyday life
Made us miss this wondrous show of beautiful light
Tomorrow may never come you see
So open the shades to the beautiful light
And remember who put this there for us to see
Can you imagine complete darkness
With no wondrous beauty from nature away from our sight
Please people, take time out to see this wondrous light
Before you fade and see the final light coming from our Savior.
poem by Bruce Horaz
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A World A Universe
to the pebbles below the fish
and the bubbles
the fish is the only
meaning of their existence
its scales are the suns
its tails meteors
its eyes the gods
and fins the winds
the bowl is the emptiness
the water surrounding is the fullness
to all of them
the world is perfect
their eternity is only
this moment
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay
Beautiful Hill o' Balgay,
With your green frees and flowers fair,
'Tis health for the old and young
For to be walking there,
To breathe the fragrant air
Emanating from the green bushes
And beautiful flowers there,
Then they can through the burying-ground roam,
And read the epitaphs on the tombstones
Before they go home.
There the lovers can wander safe arm in arm,
For policemen are there to protect them from harm
And to watch there all day,
So that no accident can befall them
In the Hill o' Balgay.
Then there's Harry Scott's mansion,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Also the Law Hill, likewise the Magdalen Green,
And the silvery Tay,
Rolling on its way.
And the coast of Fife,
And the beautiful town of St. Andrews,
Where Cardinal Beaten lost his life;
And to be seen on a clear summer day,
From the top of the beautiful Hill o' Balgay.
On the opening day of the Hill o' Balgay,
It was a most beautiful sight to see
Numerous bands, with flags and banners, assembled in Dundee,
All in grand procession, with spirits light, that day,
March'd out the Blackness Road to the Hill o' Balgay.
The Earl o' Dalhousie was there on the opening day,
Also Harry Scott, the young laird o' Balgay,
And he made a great speech to the people there,
And they applauded him with cries that rent the air.
The Earl o' Dalhousie made a fine speech in his turn,
And said there was only one thing that caus'd him to mourn,-
There was no profection from the rain in the Hill o' Balgay,
And he would give another five hundred pounds away
For to erect a shed for the people upon a rainy day,
To keep them dry and comfortable on the Hill o' Balgay.
Then the people applauded him with three loud cheers,
For their hearts were all opened, and flowed with joyous tears,
So they all dispers'd quietly with spirits light that day,
And that ended the inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Mystic Blue
Out of the darkness, fretted sometimes in its sleeping,
Jets of sparks in fountains of blue come leaping
To sight, revealing a secret, numberless secrets keeping.
Sometimes the darkness trapped within a wheel
Runs into speed like a dream, the blue of the steel
Showing the rocking darkness now a-reel.
And out of the invisible, streams of bright blue drops
Rain from the showery heavens, and bright blue crops
Surge from the under-dark to their ladder-tops.
And all the manifold blue and joyous eyes,
The rainbow arching over in the skies,
New sparks of wonder opening in surprise.
All these pure things come foam and spray of the sea
Of Darkness abundant, which shaken mysteriously,
Breaks into dazzle of living, as dolphins that leap from the sea
Of midnight shake it to fire, so the secret of death we see.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
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