Gimmicks
A red-headed man of gimmicks
Got a hat of the ancient kind.
Of the messes in his pot,
He clued about the gold and the heads.
Lush vegetation flew in the air
Like the Amazon Jungle.
Go ahead and let the crow fly
To overtake us and cry.
A leg of the eyes spans generations,
As it has another of worthiness;
The springs erupt with pure water
Once the gimmicky man arises.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Amazon Queen
Pounding hellishly the rain has no business destroying me,
My journey is never to end.
Pounding continuously is the water of a scientific kind,
The one we call acid-rain.
Pounding relentlessly are the drops that collect and form floods,
We are too worried of them.
Pounding on us is the liquid I call a storming rain-fall,
In the Amazon rain-forest, where the long river is also.
Pounding on us is the humidity derived from the weather
That never ceases in its changes and profits only.
Pounding heavily and beating the branches is the windy-rain
That lives among the Jungle, that lifts the river
And makes it briefly breath.
Pounding the earth are the Amazonians and their Queen,
Biggest warriors of the undergrowth and canopies,
Huger in conflict than the mercenaries of a war itself.
Pounding on us is the Queen of the Amazon,
The River-Mighty,
The Bleeding-Woman,
A Woman that is Queen and aims to expell us.
We stop and stare to find our heads being shot at from all sides,
Front, Back, Left and Right Flank. We have no chance, and they are
Pounding us with arrows of a different kind -
Poisoned Arrows!
One has hit my ribs and cracked one perfectly,
The other has landed in my neck!
Alas Amazon Queen, your nature is hidden now.
I lay under the trees with the pounding of the rain, in peace.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Thirsty Crow
Have you ever heard this story before?
Of a wise and clever thirsty crow?
Well, if you haven't then listen
The famous tale of this hero, now let's begin,
It happened when in a spell of dry weather,
The poor birds could find very little water,
This crow, when he felt thirsty,
Searched for some water desperately,
But in summer, as it was great famine,
Even a dropp of water he couldn't find,
This unfortunate fellow thought that he must,
In despair surely die of thirst,
Then suddenly he spied an old pitcher,
Filled with very little water,
But oh! The pitcher was so high with a narrow neck,
The little water, the poor crow could never get,
He was unlucky, thought the crow,
His beak couldn't reach the water as it was low,
Then suddenly a brilliant idea flashed into his mind,
Around him some pebbles he could find,
He picked some pebbles and threw into the pitcher,
And finally the water raised its level,
This clever fellow then threw more pebbles
Until the water was higher in the pitcher,
Higher enough for his beak to reach the water,
The thirsty crow now took a sip of water,
Then drank more water from the pitcher,
Until he was no more thirsty,
The genius crow then flew away,
To tell the world about his victory!
poem by Sadia Maqsood
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On The Amazon
There's a danger zone, not a stranger zone
Than the little plot I walk on that I call my home
Full of eerie sights, weird and skeery sights
Ev'ry vicious animal that creeps and crawls and bites!!
On the Amazon, the prophylactics prowl On the Amazon, the hypodermics howl On
the Amazon, you'll hear a scarab scowl and sting zodiacs on the wing
All the stalactites and vicious vertebrae
Hunt the stalagmites while laryngitis slay
All that parasites that come from Paraguay in the spring
Hmm, hmm hmmm
Snarling equinox among the rocks will seize you
And the fahrenheit comes out at night to freeze you
Wild duodenum are lurking in the trees
And the jungle swarms with green apostrophes
Oh, the Amazon is calling me
On the Amazon, the pax vobiscum bite
On the Amazon, the epiglottis fight
On the Amazon, the hemispheres at night all slink where the agnostics drink
All the hippodromes that lie concealed in mud
Hunt the metronomes that live in swamp and flood
Then the kodachromes run out and drink their blood, poor ginks
While velocipedes among the weeds will scare you
And the menopause with hungry jaws ensnares you
Frenzied adenoids infest the hills and slopes
Everyone avoids the deadly stethoscopes
Oh, the Amazon is calling
Yes, the Amazon is calling
Oh, the Amazon is calling me-ee!!
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gentlemen the Queen
A view to see of red and gold
the horses march ahead
and through the great imperial gate
the stately coach is led
With many years of joy and tears
the Queen admires the crowd
she's seen it all her head still tall
a wave a smile a bow
A sea of heads and arms and legs
erupt as she goes by
the banners wave the big parade
the screams the shouts the cries
Only in old London town
could such a sight be seen
oh what a wonder she endows
gentlemen the Queen.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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When The Wrong One Love You Right
(leslie satcher)
Now they all said she was wrong for me
Her tender words were not what they seemed
But, lord, its hard puttin up a fight
When the wrong one loves you right
Its easy to fall, and easy to crawl
When you taste a little and you want it all
You close your eyes and hold on tight
When the wrong one loves you right
But take it from a fool who lost his cool
That girls tricks sent me back to school
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
When the wrong one loves you right
Now boys Im certain it just aint worth it
All that cryin and all that hurtin
And its so hard to say goodbye
When the wrong one loves you right
But take it from a fool who lost his cool
That girls tricks sent me back to school
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
When the wrong one loves you right
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Wrong One Loves You Right
(Leslie Satcher)
Now they all said she was wrong for me
Her tender words were not what they seemed
But, Lord, it's hard puttin' up a fight
When the wrong one loves you right
It's easy to fall, and easy to crawl
When you taste a little and you want it all
You close your eyes and hold on tight
When the wrong one loves you right
But take it from a fool who lost his cool
That girl's tricks sent me back to school
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
When the wrong one loves you right
Now boys I'm certain it just ain't worth it
All that cryin' and all that hurtin'
And it's so hard to say goodbye
When the wrong one loves you right
But take it from a fool who lost his cool
That girl's tricks sent me back to school
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
When the wrong one loves you right
It messes with your heart
It messes with your mind
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Love Of Gold Shining In Their Eyes
gold gold is the fever metal
for the love of gold shining in their eyes
men resort to violent base morals
gold lust will turn men's
hearts to savage beasts
gold is not a beautiful metal
of salvation
curse of death men's
gold haunts
generations of men
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It's A Jungle Out There
It's a jungle out there
Disorder and confusion everywhere
No one seems to care
Well I do
Hey, who's in charge here?
It's a jungle out there
Poison in the very air we breathe
Do you know what's in the water that you drink?
Well I do, and it's amazing
People think I'm crazy, 'cause I worry all the time
If you paid attention, you'd be worried too
You better pay attention
Or this world we love so much might just kill you
I could be wrong now, but I don't think so!
'Cause there's a jungle out there.
It's a jungle out there.
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Environment
The existent sunshine
and shower of rainy season
mother earth absorbing both with a reason
producing the greenery & vegetation
in her hem,
a mother gathering jubilation.
Hopes rise in every home and hearth
all over
in the four directions of the earth
streams & rivers of the country side
singing songs of forestation.
The multitude
getting infused
with fresh aspirations
when mother earth glows
with greenery and lush green vegetation.
(2010)
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Water, The Matter
Water
Is the one source from
Which all living things originated
Our life and living depend
Largely on its availability
Ancient civilizations got established
And flourished near
Perennial water sources
Without water, no need to emphasize,
We cease to exist
Anything we possess
Assumes no significance without water
Our knowledge about the universe
About the natural laws
About the animal kingdom
About the plant kingdom
About the happenings around us
And our dreams over the future
Our means to realize them
Draw a naught if water is not there
Though, we know this for long
We need to do certain things
That we and the generations to come
Do not suffer scarcity of water
Attempt is to make you appreciate
The significance of pure water,
As we have already contaminated enough
And we have jeopardized the
Build up of water sources
In the name of economic growth
And development of living comforts
The person who realizes this
And does something about
Ensuring availability of this life-support
Becomes an established soul
And spiritual person and guide
Not these words are mine
But of Yajur Veda
Which further says
Who knows the origin of water
Knows himself
Do our sciences have a clue
As to when and how
The first molecule of water
Came on to this planet of ours
Probably the one who knows this
Is God
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Crow and The Butterfly
Ever wonder why the Crow chases the Butterfly?
Have you ever heard the Crow let out it's cry?
I think I found out why...
It's quite the interesting story, I had to pry..
The Butterfly's beauty, the Crow's will never match.
The Crow's life is nothing compared the the Butterfly's since it's first hatch.
If you are good enough to get a Butterfly, that is quite a catch.
Get a Crow somehow and it gets thrown right back out to the patch.
The Crow has had it so much easier than the Butterfly.
Straight jealousy from the Crow because they have to share the sky.
The Butterfly's flight is reason to stare, the Crow's just reason to cry.
Everyone stops to get a glance of a Buttflies, a few Crows and people pass by.
So if you ever hear a Crow cry,
Or see a Butterfly being chased by a Crow,
Just think how bad that Crow wants to be a Butterfly.....
poem by Joe Gosart
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The crow flew over the sea but returned still a crow.
The Picnic Tree
The picnic tree
abandoned years ago
in a forest
that was once lush
and full of life and love
I sit beneath it
closed eyes
and imagining
my grandparents
newly wed
sitting in the meadow
full of little white flowers,
lush Kentucky blue grass,
and a picnic
all under a tree
I imagine
a grill getting stuck in the tree
only to rust its way to the ground
to be discovered
by younger generations
on four wheelers
the picnic tree
is true history
poem by Suzie Quincy
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Goodbye Mr Crow
This morning I saw Mr Crow lying on the ground,
he was as dead as dead could be.
Yesterday he was hopping about eating worms,
and now the worms will be eating he.
Mrs Crow was looking down from a branch
of an enormous chestnut tree.
Yesterday she was by the side of Mr Crow,
she knew something was wrong with he.
She then flew down to the side of Mr Crow
and tried to wake him anxiously,
but rigor mortis had taken place,
which left her squawking frantically.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Sea And My Gold
With my deep eye of eyes
when each eye had tak’n to their bed,
my gold, I saw in the oth’r part of the Red Sea,
the Big Red Sea of the man Moses.
At the other side of the sea
where the sea her bank has,
I snap’d to see brave, brave heads
swimming to magnet their own gold,
but I ask’d for mine, they refus’d me.
Long I stood wond’ring why the sea
Refus’d to catch ‘em that troubl’d her;
long I stood seeing heads joyous
after having their own gold,
then I div’d to catch and catch my own gold
and that has giv’n me a forev’r gold.
poem by Eche Ononukwe
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Uncle Albert/admiral Halsey
Were so sorry uncle albert
Were so sorry if we caused you any pain
Were so sorry uncle albert
But theres no one left at home
And I believe Im gonna rain
Were so sorry but we havent heard a thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But if anything should happen well be sure to give a ring
Were so sorry uncle albert
But we havent done a bloody thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But the kettles on the boil and were so easily called away
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Admiral halsey notified me
He had to have a berth or he couldnt get to sea
I had another look and I had a cup of tea and butter pie
(the butter wouldnt melt so I put it in the pie)
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Ooo------------ooo-------------
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Fight To Flee With A Flight To Try
Strayed into the web and stayed,
With no apparent struggle.
Clued to value the sticky tricks of it.
And giving birth to a message relayed,
To exist within limits.
Generations accept as a gift that is exquisite.
And without question against it...
Don't fight to flee with a flight to try.
This life entrapped is envied and despised...
By those who 'appear' to be web free.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Red-headed Woman
Well, brunettes are fine, man.
Blondes are fun.
But, when it comes to getting the dirty job done,
Ill take a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure can get that job done.
Well, listen up, sir,
Your lifes been wasted
Until youve been down on your knees,
Oh, man, tasted a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure gets a dirty job done.
Eh ha ha woo hoo woo.
Ee ee ah ee ah ha ea ha ha woo woo (etc.)
Yeah, little tight skirt, strawberry hair.
Tell me what youve got, baby, waiting under there.
Big green eyes that look like sun
They can see every cheap thing that you ever done
Well, I dont care how many girls you dated.
Man, you aint lived
Till youve had your tires rotated
By a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
A red-headed woman sure can get the job done.
Well, all you girls out there tonight
Sure look fine,
But my heart and soul and this body of mine
Is a red-headed womans, a red-headed womans.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure gets a dirty job done.
Eh ha ha woo hoo woo.
Ee ee ah ee ah ha ea ha ha woo woo (etc.)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If my car could run on pure water
IF MY CAR could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would wander thousands of kilometers in the day,
Driving at roaring speeds through the broad highway streets; drowned in waves of tremendous euphoria.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would stop contemplating the cost of expensive gasoline,
Explore every nook and cranny of the gigantic globe; would prefer to drive; every time I was overpowered with the incorrigible urge to walk.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would evacuate the monsoon rivers of their liquid,
Storing it surreptitiously in my colossal tank; pilfer every droplet of the solvent dribbling from the mountain springs.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would relinquish to travel by the most extravagant of aircraft,
Thoroughly utilizing my incredulous contraption; to transport me wherever I wanted; without the slightest pinch to my pocket.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would never feel uncouth pangs of thirst reverberate in my vocal chords,
As I would devour frugal mouthfuls of the liquid stashed in my fuel jacket; at intermittent intervals while traversing through the streets.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would make frequent visits to the gushing jungle stream,
Swimming rambunctiously in the same; withdrawing as much water as I could while gleefully returning.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would camouflage my automobile with coarse sheets of sprawling canvas,
Would impregnate it with all the amenities indispensable for life; inhabit it unrelentingly all day and night; while rolling on the roads.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would save astronomical sums of money,
Investing the same in diversified arenas of life; gain in insight and loads of experience while transgressing through mesmerizing parts of the world.
If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would get reprieve from obnoxious stench of the elixir,
Instead have the ravishing aroma of fresh water waft into my nostrils; encompassing my persona with waves of enchantment.
And if my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would sleep like a diabolical demon all night; released from the onerous tensions of ruminating over price hikes,
Travel all sunlit day in my luxurious caravan with my beloved in close proximity; now completely oblivious to the hour when I had last filled disdainful petrol.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Ancient Hills Of Toora
The ancient hills of Toora are looking brown today
Yet they were lush and rather green when last I passed this way
But that was last September when the nesting birds did sing
And every where looked greener in the early days of Spring.
To those ancient hills of Toora the Seasons come and go
And where once were thousands of gum trees only a few gums grow
And the Aboriginals who lived and hunted on those hills are not around today
Time brings with it great changes and it's always been that way.
The ancient hills of Toora as old as father time
And they were millions of years old when Christ was in his prime
The oldest human on Planet Earth perhaps fifteen years with five score
But the ancient hills of Toora will exist forever more.
The ancient hills of Toora overlooking Toora Town
From the long and warm dry Summer have never looked so brown
But I recall last September decked in their wildering flowers
Those ancient hills of Toora lush and green after Spring showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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