Little Paths to Take
A little path digests new hearts,
Heat stabilises the environment
For it kept peace for the next generation,
Lulling the minds of hearers.
Sight has enjoyed our mentality,
Sparks spray paint and pain of mortality;
The electric charge overpowers
Us in our treachery, in our chase.
Tall leaves invite parties,
Trees of a little path beautify me,
Like the pleasures of life
And death shall speak like musicality.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lifes path
There are so many paths in life
I guess I could say
I ve walked them all
The right path
The wrong path
The path of pain
The path of good
The path of bad
Which path do I now take
At this present time of life
The path I take is the path of pain.
The path of hurt
So many paths I have walked
But im lost in the path
The path of pain
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Prometheus? Mon Frere? ?
Why you think of reversing the wheels
when life has stopped moving?
The time has fled from your hands
and settled on the body of death.
You are not intact and whole inside.
Where the path betrayed us?
Broken windows let in the dirt, smut and
heat.
The winter will be harsh, barren and cold
One by one swallows have departed.
The pain in neck does not go
an astringent blast overpowers
you become giddy, stagger for a while
and then become blind.
Your tragedy is mine, we suffer
for the sake of light.
poem by Satish Verma
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This Path
In the very path I trod, words were sung,
Learning them was my business, around the trees.
But I kept to the path of life, not of destruction,
For peace was another avenue, one I took.
I find it easy for lovely-me to see your actions
And then praise or reject them according to laws
That my deity has illuminated for sound faith to appear.
Their hearts are many, they carry acts of strangers,
But the love of peace stings us with its reply.
We shall indeed be pleased when even this reward is duplicated.
poem by Naveed Akram
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On That Path
I'm on that path,
So was my mother,
I'm on that path,
Just like my brother.
I'm on that path,
I didn't know my father,
I'm on that path,
And i am the master.
I'm on that path,
upon the good, straying from evil.
I'm on that path-
There is no cheating.
I'm on that path,
God knows i need him.
I'm on that path,
and i hope i'm never leaving ;)
the HEARTbraker
poem by Madina Morr
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a Path to Take
A path can lead you in many directions like love or death.
So let the tears rain from the ones in pain
and yet he still walks a path filled with sorrow
so he trys to drink the pain away even his daughter stands in the back trying to save the one that gave her life.
Now she crys in pain while he drinks himself to death.
And all she can do is stand and whatch unless he changes
and lets go everything for the daughter that he once loved.
poem by Cody Christiansen
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The Wood-Nymph
-After a picture by Burne Jones-
The green leaves, ah, the green leaves cover me:
Would I might lose this unloved human life
And share the happy being of the leaves!
For lo, they live and grow and drink the sun
And sip the nectar of the heavenly showers
And have no sorrow with it; but they grow
Happily, and Pan at even blesses them.
While I, alas me hapless, I am joined
Part to their life, and all in longing to them;
Part to the gods, the bright gods whom I see
Flash through the woods at even or morn, and make
The beautiful familiar trees seem strange;
And part to mortals and their little life.
Green leaves that cover me, to you I mourn,
My sisters, my more happy sisters, ye
Rustle, rustle in the summer air,
With happy cries of birds among your boughs:
Be happy, though I am not happy. Nay,
I am not all unhappy, evermore.
One while a bird sings on the topmost bough
And my heart sings, forgetting life and death
And sorrow: so forgetting I were blest,
And bliss the gods deny me. When they walk
The forest before sundawn--Artemis,
Girt for the chase and followed by her hounds,
Queen Herê or another, ere the dawn,
Or Aphrodite with the rosy dawn--
I may not speak my longings, but they pass,
Pass unregardful to their happy heaven.
They see me not--not me, akin to Gods!
These tears are vain.--When mortals pass at eve,
Treading a delicate path between the trees,
Pale mortal men and women, with their loves--
It pains me that I see them, for I know
I am not as they are, and cannot share
The little love that fills their little life--
Vain, vain; and they too pass and see me not.
Ah me, dear leaves, forsaken of gods and men,
And sad because I cannot live their life,
Will you not love me whom none others love?
Will you not teach me how to live your life,
My sisters, my more happy sisters?--live
In peace and quietness and still content,
And freshen and fade and freshen and have no care
And have no longing, full of peace to live,
Forgetting thus for ever life and death
And Gods and men and sorrow and delight.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Build For Pain
DEATH IS WIND AND I BREATH IT IF SOMEONE FORCES ME 2 OR IF IM TIRED OF LIFE MYSELF.
PAIN + PAIN IS DEATH
MISERY + UNHAPPINESS IS SORROW
SORROW + PAIN IS TEARS
AND I SHED SO MANY FOR PEERS
THAT GOES DOWN THE PATH TO
WHEN DEATH THEY DODGE
TO WHERE SOME STRIKES WITH
VENGENCE AND LEAVE US DEAD IN THE
STREETS OF OUR HEARTS
DEATH SHED NO TEARS OF ITS OWN
BUT IF I HAVE TO HOLD MY BREATH TO KEEP
DEATH AWAY FROM ME I WONT BECAUSE
IM ALREADY BUILT FOR PAIN
poem by Used2Pain mopbfnl2d
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A story …nothing to say
Flying in the sky wasn't enough
I choose the path to have which was rough.
Dignity and pride moving along with me,
I was the brave one whom all want see.
Like the sky was not enough as much as I thought,
I choose the path but soon the path trouble me too.
Now I am helpless neither I am in sky nor in the path,
What could I do except to survive, cry or die.
Answer
Oh! Little fellow sorry to hear you
But your mouth is not the only mouth to listen,
And your ear is not that which only listen what you speak.
Can you tolerate all of them as you are,
nor in the sky and the path you choose.
I m sorry I can do nothing coz in sky difficult to fly,
In path difficult to survive.
Do what you like, return alone in the sky or choose the next path as you like.
But thing about those dam dignity and pride,
Which will kick you through out the life.
poem by Amar Ghimire
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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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The Lonely Path
One one lonely Lonely lonely one Lonely lonely Londoner I am very very lonely Loneliness is killing me in a lonely path I am frustrated Lonely at heart At the lonely path of London street, i walk on a lonely path The path that is wide is noisy very busy The lonely path is the narrow path very peaceful We all want peace
poem by Olayemi Ayo
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Knowing Not what’s Ahead
I don’t know what lies ahead, so I look to my Savior instead,
The One Who bore a cross for me, to die a death at Calvary,
He, Who did that for me friend, knows how my path will end,
And so I’ll fix my eyes on Him, as He gives me peace within.
On every path that we trod, we must trust our Lord and God,
For on the path He has us go, our Lord’s desires shall show,
Where that path will end for us, as we follow our Lord Jesus.
And what the outcome will be, within the plan we cannot see.
The Plan of God we must embrace, while living out our days,
As children formed of but dust, an Eternal God we can trust,
For our Lord makes no mistake, on any path He has us take,
As all things work out for good, in His ways not understood.
Whether my path is bright or dim, I must always trust in Him,
He, Who knitted me in the womb, has set up, for me a room,
In His Father’s Home above, where Christ leads by His Love,
Love, He guides me in each day, even upon the darkest way.
Even if I choose my path in life, my way’s directed by Christ,
And upon every path taken, by my Lord I am never forsaken,
Who continues daily leading me, from this earth into Eternity,
Where all things will fall in place, when I see my Savior’s face.
(07/2011)
Why Do You Think That This World Is Not Interesting?
everything has a reason, that is the tenet, nothing happens by random
that is a restatement, perhaps an accent, and emphatic stress for those who still doubt.
every reason explains itself, whether you know it or not, they have mouths and minds.
though they do not speak to you, or think of you, they think, they speak. A premise.
the fire tree blooms today, and there is fire all around the wildlife part. Warmth is intentional.
Fire for summer. Warmth on a hot day. There is a reason. The petals speak for themselves.
an old pedicab under the mahogany trees, the driver pedals its way on a dusty path.
a child wearing an orange shirt sits restlessly wanting to jump screaming. Noise in stillness.
the trees are shedding off yellow leaves and the ground accepts a good cover. There is no sound.
the grasses are starting to wilt and the moss on the pebbles are dark brown. Time to die.
the joggers are here feeding an activity to this oval the silence of which is finally broken.
Summer. This is rest for most. The holy week and time to reflect. Meanwhile the sun shines
on top of the world, the clouds are cottony and so white. The wind blows on my face.
There is a reason for everything. That is tenet and i know nothing happens by random.
I scribble some notes on my mind. Stating what is not spoken by the sun, the trees, the mountains, the joggers, the dusty path, the child in orange shirt. The pedals squeak and
I am watching and listening. There are too many reasons wanting to be written. Anger, and
pain and bliss and company and solitude. Why do you think that this world is not interesting?
Are you not amazed with what we still do not know? Did i not tell you the color
of the daffodils? Or that the man pedaling its way under the mahogany trees
is an old man feeling so useless and that the child in orange is his grandson?
Life need not be what we think we do not have.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sam Loves Joann
(tia sillers/john tirro)
Joann was is an awkward position
Very unmarried and starting to show
Joann had wanted to be a beautician
She thought it looked like a good time to go
Got on a greyhound to ride up to macon
No one is new brunswick would quite understand
She wouldnt look at the side of the highway
Where written in spray paint said sam loves joann
Joann, joann, how could you leave your man
Im yours forever in big old blue letters
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Sams on his way to the state penitentiary
He doesnt know hes a father to be
Sam only wanted to borrow a chevy
But the state locked him up and they threw out the key
Sam hoped to take her away to get married
But he never asked her, so much for big plans
Now the prison bus takes him on down that same highway
Where written in spray paint sam loves joann
Joann, joann, how could you leave your man
Im yours forever in big old blue letters
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Funny how things from the heat of the moment
Like making a baby or getting tattooed
Last a lot longer than ever expected
Feelings might fade but the facts never do
Its all the same in the small towns and big towns
The names might change but across this great land
Just take a ride along any old highway
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Joann, joann, how could you leave your man
Im yours forever in big old blue letters
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Joann, joann, how could you leave your man
Im yours forever in big old blue letters
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
Its written in spray paint sam loves joann
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lava Flow
Lava deluge from the mountain top
A cascade of sparks you can’t stop
Annihilating everything in it’s path
Behold the fear of her wrath
Don’t get to near, the fires intense
You better run use common sense
She feels no remorse nor empathy
Knows not the meaning of sympathy
Like a match trees burst in flames
What’s in her path she does claim
Each footprint is simply vexed
Oh wait a minute! it’s just my ex; -)
poem by T.James Becker
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Walking In The Shadows, Where The Path Wasn't For Me
tired of walking in the shadows,
down a path not for me,
i made a new path,
but, it was set for death,
i thought it was for me,
never seen the years i had to come,
plus everything i can be,
never felt good enough,
always thought,
it was the path for me,
finally i opened my eyes,
and stopped placing blame,
on people who mad my life,
a living hell,
woke up to find,
i was to blame,
for how my life was going,
nobody but me,
for the mistakes i've made,
in my life until this day,
i changed little by little,
because i will no longer,
just linger in the shadows,
where the path isn't for me,
i'm stronger than ever,
as i tackle my problems,
and find the path,
that i've made for myself,
because i take control,
and become the leader,
instead of the follower,
watching life pass me by,
i know what i want,
now it just time to get it,
without being in the shadows,
and walking down a path,
that i learned,
just wasn't for me.
Copyright © 2009
11-17-09
poem by Mona Martinez
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On Death
1.
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.
2.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
poem by John Keats
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Path Of Peace
Path Of Peace
By Paul Mc Cann
Peace is an easy path to tread
Peace is where our fears are mislaid
Peace is beginning to restore
Peace for each man, woman and child
Peace for the troubled streets gone wild
Peace is for the old and the young
Peace in the end will overcome
Peace builds trust into a lifestyle
Peace is a friendly open hand
Peace is a place to understand
Peace in the end will overcome
Peace is for the old and the young
Peace is a legacy to leave
Peace is when we don't have to grieve
Peace is and end to all the hate
Peace is why we negotiate
Peace for all the victims of war
poem by Paul McCann
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Shadows And Tall Trees
Back to the cold restless streets at night
I talk to myself about tomorrow night
Walls of white protest
A gravestone in name
Who is it now
It's always the same
Who is it now
Who calls me inside
Are the leaves on the trees
Just living disguise
I walk sweet rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Shadows and tall trees
Life through a window
Discoloured pain
Mrs. Brown's washing is always the same
I walk street rain tragicomedy
I'll walk home again
to the street melody
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
(Out there)
Do you feel in me...
Anything redeeming
Any worthwhile feeling
Is love like a tightrope
Hanging from the ceiling
But I know, oh no
But I know, oh no
But I know...
Shadows and Tall Trees
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Early Morning
under the trees
you tread upon a heap of leaves
only a few feet walked on this path
the winds came and gave a hush
it has been this way
since
meanwhile some rays of light
begin to pierce crevices between
touchy
the leaves fall like a confetti
you remember
once when freedom first arrived
in the streets of the city
you hear the shouts of joy
for liberation
you remember opening hands
some fists
it is over now
and what you have are the sounds of footsteps
on the heaps of leaves
on this path
where no one likes to tread again
you are
alone again but stronger this time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Entire Surrender
Peace has unveiled her smiling face,
And wooes thy soul to her embrace,
Enjoyed with ease, if thou refrain
From earthly love, else sought in vain;
She dwells with all who truth prefer,
But seeks not them who seek not her.
Yield to the Lord, with simple heart,
All that thou hast, and all thou art;
Renounce all strength but strength divine;
And peace shall be for ever thine:
Behold the path which I have trod,
My path, till I go home to God.
poem by William Cowper
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