Judge Distance
It was impossible to judge distance,
They were professionals, but weird.
But a beard banged on, careers were few,
Never the angers, never the brains of fear.
Volunteering a badge we judged,
And we condemned the few who threw it.
Spears found in the head were taken,
And they abhorred the sheer slopes.
Forcing a mountain and valley
The judgement remained clear
And the steep slopes caused the morning.
The meandering path came to an abrupt hill
And veered into general happiness
After so much mistiness and longing.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Eyesight
It was May before my
attention came
to spring and
my word I said
to the southern slopes
I've
missed it, it
came and went before
I got right to see:
don't worry, said the mountain,
try the later northern slopes
or if
you can climb, climb
into spring: but
said the mountain
it's not that way
with all things, some
that go are gone
poem by Archie Randolph Ammons
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Judged
Will they judge me by the color of my skin
Instead by my soul and whats deep within
When I am greeted by either women or men
Will they even ask where I have been.
Will I be judged because I am a man
With my heart and feelings will they understand
Will I be greeted with an outreached hand
Will they hold it against me when I make a stand.
Will I be judged because I am old
And not wanting to do the things that I am told
Will they remember the good deeds that I sowed
As onto truth and honesty I will always hold.
Will I be judged because of the way I was
Once I found happiness and also love
But then I found out it was hate and also lust
So please tell me, how will I be judge.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I seek a Mountain
Gazing the mountain from my windowpane
A green monument seen estranged
Sandwiched in between clouds
Echo of thunder cried aloud
At the eastern peak, where misty morning
Climbed over the cliff, scaling
Birds glided across, like rainbow rising
Spreaded their wings, streaming
Through the sheer rock faces
Leaving trails in phases
The pinnacles and crags are mouth watering
Tempted and lured climbers, a reckoning
Up above the northern peak
Zephyr marching oh so weak
Forming an adiabatic
Submontane filled with organic
At the bottom, river terraces
One of the mountain multi faces
The crystalline steep slopes
Decorated with climbing ropes
Heavenly as seen from above
A sign of a divine love
You flowed, like an Andean Amazon
Our love grown full-blown
I desire a woman
I seek a mountain
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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B: X: Hope Concern
Fear by hope was eased,
Requiring that easing plight
Came and went at random,
Polishing fear's might.
Fear was much too proud
And that caused hope concern:
Hope had all the brains,
Fear no hope to learn.
Hope concerned its brains with fear,
Expressed fear so well,
Surprise hope found at any turn
Kept hope out of hell.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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A Poem to a Taoist Hermit Chuanjiao Mountain
My office has grown cold today;
And I suddenly think of my mountain friend
Gathering firewood down in the valley
Or boiling white stones for potatoes in his hut...
I wish I might take him a cup of wine
To cheer him through the evening storm;
But in fallen leaves that have heaped the bare slopes,
How should I ever find his footprints!
poem by Wei Yingwu, translated by Witter Bynner
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Cop With No Badge
Cop with no badge jumps out at me,
as I rode my bike to safety.
He had no lights flashing on his car,
thinking he was going to capture me
and take me far.
Then another one did cross my path,
he also gets out with no badge.
First cop asked me questions
“Have I ever killed anyone? ”
“No, I replied, I live in the ghetto
just for fun.”
What, the ______ kind of question is that?
I showed him my Barnes & Noble badge.
Then he got cocky
and called in another One,
She had to search me for a gun.
Then to top it all off,
writing a ticket like an anal cop.
A ticket for not having headlights
on my bike,
Well, they kept me so long,
it became night.
In court the judge laughed
with everyone else,
judge said he was sorry and
put the ticket on the shelf.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.7,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Misty Mountain Mirage (An acrostic)
Mountainous terrain steep
In the Tibetan plateau, where the
Sky almost
Touches the horizon
Yonder, with the
Mist moving up from the vale below,
Over the tall pine-trees and thick foliage,
Uniting the clouds from above
Naturally, and blocking the visual acuity of
The tired, trekking mountaineers on their
Arduous route down the mountain slopes,
In the intense heat of the rising sun,
Notwithstanding the many
Miles of shrubs and undergrowth that lie ahead, looking
Impossible to even the expert climber, who is momentarily
Relieved and excited by the mirage of an old castle
Appearing suddenly from nowhere,
Giving a ‘de ja vu’ feeling to all up there
Eyeing the beauty of the ancient masonry.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-26-2008
poem by John Celes
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Song
Soon as the glazed and gleaming snow
Reflects the day-dawn cold and clear,
The hunter of the west must go
In depth of woods to seek the deer.
His rifle on his shoulder placed,
His stores of death arranged with skill,
His moccasins and snow-shoes laced,--
Why lingers he beside the hill?
Far, in the dim and doubtful light,
Where woody slopes a valley leave,
He sees what none but lover might,
The dwelling of his Genevieve.
And oft he turns his truant eye,
And pauses oft, and lingers near;
But when he marks the reddening sky,
He bounds away to hunt the deer.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Emerald Isle
The Emerald Isle
Sailing into Cork I saw green hills, the sea was jade,
I understood why Ireland was called the emerald island.
On the sheer slopes sheep grazed; chancers I thought
the slightest slip and they will fall into verdant waters.
Why not graze on the plateau be happy with modest
fodder if not as succulent as grass too unsafe to get at?
Sheep do fall sometimes they are rescued by a passing
voracious fishing vessels, and end up as Irish stew.
Cork was pretty port it had a no hasty feel back then,
it became a busy place ignoring the hazardous slopes,
but holy is economic progress, lush living for everyone.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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There are times when hope
There are times when hope,
when the belief in what can be
is the only thing staying with me
and however life slopes
up and down mountains and dales
there are far too much unsaid
and the painful goodbyes
at times leave tears,
are full of fears
and of misunderstandings
that people suffer silently
and when I am judged by other people
may my actions, my words,
my motives and intentions
lead others to true conviction,
to happiness and how things should be.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Seeker
I sought for my happiness over the world,
Oh, eager and far was my quest;
I sought it on mountain and desert and sea,
I asked it of east and of west.
I sought it in beautiful cities of men,
On shores that were sunny and blue,
And laughter and lyric and pleasure were mine
In palaces wondrous to view;
Oh, the world gave me much to my plea and my prayer
But never I found aught of happiness there!
Then I took my way back to a valley of old
And a little brown house by a rill,
Where the winds piped all day in the sentinel firs
That guarded the crest of the hill;
I went by the path that my childhood had known
Through the bracken and up by the glen,
And I paused at the gate of the garden to drink
The scent of sweet-briar again;
The homelight shone out through the dusk as of yore
And happiness waited for me at the door!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Distances
distance. space.silence.
what is the distance between
your nose to my eyes?
it is the kiss that seals it.
what is the distance between
our silence for days?
it is the distance of longing.
what is the distance between
these miles and miles of separation?
it is this knowing a little bit of ourselves
that sews the torn pieces of cloth
i keep a little distance
between my heart and my head.
i keep this distance between
you and myself, you know why?
i want to see you more.
The farther you are, the more
i can see you the more you
can see me.
IT is the farthest star
that we long much.
IT is the love that is gone
that we want to recover.
IT is the broken heart that we
want to mend.
It is this certain distance
that makes us more human.
This longing. This pain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sestina: Here in Katmandu
We have climbed the mountain.
There's nothing more to do.
It is terrible to come down
To the valley
Where, amidst many flowers,
One thinks of snow,
As formerly, amidst snow,
Climbing the mountain,
One thought of flowers,
Tremulous, ruddy with dew,
In the valley.
One caught their scent coming down.
It is difficult to adjust, once down,
To the absense of snow.
Clear days, from the valley,
One looks up at the mountain.
What else is there to do?
Prayer wheels, flowers!
Let the flowers
Fade, the prayer wheels run down.
What have they to do
With us who have stood atop the snow
Atop the mountain,
Flags seen from the valley?
It might be possible to live in the valley,
To bury oneself among flowers,
If one could forget the mountain,
How, never once looking down,
Stiff, blinded with snow,
One knew what to do.
Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu,
Especially when to the valley
That wind which means snow
Elsewhere, but here means flowers,
Comes down,
As soon it must, from the mountain.
poem by Donald Justice
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I Hung My Head
Early one morning with time to kill
I borrowed jebs rifle and sat on the hill
I saw a lone rider crossing the plain
I drew a bread on him to practice my aim
My brothers rifle went off in my hand
A shot rang out across the land
The horse he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I set off running to wake from the dream
And my brothers rifle went into the stream
I kept on running into the salt lands
And thats where they found me, my head in my hands
The sheriff he asked me "why had I run"
Then it came to me just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Here in the courthouse, the whole town is there
I see the judge high up in his chair
"explain to the courtroom what went through your mind
And well ask the jury what verdict they find"
I said "i felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I beg their forgiveness, I wish I was dead"
I hung my head, I hung my head
Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain
Hes come to fetch me to see what they done
Well ride together til kingdom come
I pray for gods mercy for soon Ill be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hung My Head
Early one morning with time to kill
I borrowed jebs rifle and sat on the hill
I saw a lone rider crossing the plain
I drew a bread on him to practice my aim
My brothers rifle went off in my hand
A shot rang out across the land
The horse he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I set off running to wake from the dream
And my brothers rifle went into the stream
I kept on running into the salt lands
And thats where they found me, my head in my hands
The sheriff he asked me why had I run
Then it came to me just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Here in the courthouse, the whole town is there
I see the judge high up in his chair
Explain to the courtroom what went through your mind
And well ask the jury what verdict they find
I said I felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I beg their forgiveness, I wish I was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain
Hes come to fetch me to see what they done
Well ride together til kingdom come
I pray for gods mercy for soon Ill be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Him I Know Not: XVII
I floated
Across oceans
I scaled
Mountain ranges
I rolled down
Verdant hill slopes
I roamed
In virgin forests
I was drenched
In crystalline rain
I sat
By warm fireplaces
I challenged
The war-lord
I walked past
The milky-way
I set
My foot on the moon
I stopped
For a while at Jupiter
I approached Mercury
I dared
Every nook and corner
Of the earth and space
I absorbed
The earth, planets,
Stars and sky
Nowhere have I found
My peace as when
I hold his hand
Yes, I belong to him
I know not!
On 30th day of Sep,2011 at 06.59hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Judgement Seat Of Christ
What will be your fate
for eternity
on the Day of Judgement? 2 Peter 3: 1-7.
Judgement
“He that exercises faith in him
is not to be judged.
He that does not exercise faith
has been judged already,
because he has not
exercised faith
in the name of
the only-begotten
Son of God.” John 3: 18.
The Judgement Seat Of Christ
“For we must all
be made manifest
before the judgement seat
of the Christ,
that each one
may get his award
for the things done
through the body,
according to the things
he has practiced,
whether it is
good or vile.” 2 Corinthians 5: 10.
As we sow, so shall we reap.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Coloured Print by Shokei
It winds along the face of a cliff
This path which I long to explore,
And over it dashes a waterfall,
And the air is full of the roar
And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep
In a silver torrent over some steep.
It clears the path with a mighty bound
And tumbles below and away,
And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
Are wet with its jewelled spray;
The air is misty and heavy with sound,
And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.
Oh! The dampness is very good to smell,
And the path is soft to tread,
And beyond the fall it winds up and on,
While little streamlets thread
Their own meandering way down the hill
Each singing its own little song, until
I forget that 't is only a pictured path,
And I hear the water and wind,
And look through the mist, and strain my eyes
To see what there is behind;
For it must lead to a happy land,
This little path by a waterfall spanned.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)
Passing through a long stretch of woodlands
and fields above the hills,
we saw a terrain with knolls in circles,
where the mountain-rat Shivaji held sway,
with a drawn sword when the Moghuls ruled India.
When we were going up, the shining bunds of lights
one above the other on the slopes of the hills,
made our jaunt fascinating!
A fine morning drizzle fell to make the hills smile
and the spreading mists tried in vain to veil the hills
from our ravening looks.
The mists were wreathing upwards
while our eyes were scaling down the slopes.
And it was a vertiginous dropp to the vales below!
Sparkling sparks of teachers, my friends were,
taking neck or nothing risks
and travelling in routes unheard of
to retreat into hills and forests,
not as jungle bandits with prize catches
or as bogus ascetics with all delicacies
but with passions unbridled
to get wet in the breeze of the hills
and be shrouded in the all pervading mists.
------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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