Nomadic
Nomads roam the deserts shouting that their lord has spoken. This spells disaster, as the sandstorm ruins their mind and thought. A sandstorm works hard. It is harder to withstand than rocks being hurled. The world of dunes is upon them, the mighty sand has blown away from them, the messy weather has arrived straightaway, replacing the land with grass. Then it is a garden of Paradise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sandstorm
Caught in a sandstorm we strive onwards,
The sand is awesome, the sand is massive;
We throw our weapons down swiftly to seal
Our pact with the desert people, the nomads.
They catch us because we are living forever,
Inside us is a soul to matter, more than grains of sand.
The whole storm shall make us proficient in acts
Of innocence, the nomads know us;
We are able to unite and be nomadic
Without the weapons of our choice.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hate Is Like A Sandstorm (Love Is Like A Heatwave Revision)
Whenever I feel bad
Or maybe so sad
My heart is pumpin'
And also raging
Could it be a devil inside
Or is it whispering from side to side
Hate is like a sandstorm
It blinds your eyes
It also changes your form
At the same time as you cry
But you should heal your heart
Before evil domination starts
Hate is like a sandstorm
Whenever you hear their names
And they treat you the same
Like how they humiliate you
And made you bluer than blue
But you should heal your heart
Before evil domination starts
Hate is like a sandstorm
poem by James Ivan Almalvez
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Dance The Slow Music, The Sandstorm Swirls
The sandstorm swirls, pebbles and sand
Hitting dour walls
Dance, dance the slow music
Elements appeasing music
Music appeasing elements
Pulse and body and sand
The music is one with the sand that whirls
Hide, hide the face that burns
Close, close the eyes that burn
Because of the storm in the city
No more passion, no more pity
There were mirages with shimmering paths
There were trodden truths and treacherous theories
And home's horizons far, far away.
Dance the slow music
Cease the howling wind, the phantoms
Of the sand that can speak with strange gifts
The old man on his rope-bed with bleary eyes
Remembers and speaks
Of old forgotten things; some people listen
Waiting for the wind to fall
Sand will, leaves will fall, trees that bend
Life stands still, dance the slow music, the sandstorm swirls
Wait and heed nature's call.
Copyright: Rani Turton
poem by Rani Turton
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A Prediction....
as usual we know about it as
hills know its trees
as grass knows its hoppers
and soil
but we don't talk about it
we dislike storms
it is horrible to see uprooted trees
and blown away houses
we leave things as they are
there is no ripeness yet
but the way you withhold love
and hide second thoughts
very give the signal of the coming days
a desert shall produce its own sandstorm
you prepare the door
i too, keep the windows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sandstorm
I've got a sandstorm blowin' in my head,
I'm seein' many colours but the only one
That's coming through is red,
And it's stoppin' me dead tryin' to make some tracks
But my feet are feeling like lead,
Stop being blead, stop being blead
Oh my things aren't the same,
Anyone could see that if I stayed much longer,
I'd be tamed
We stopped playing games
I'm not pointing fingers but I'm not gonna take the blame
Playin' all your games, taking all your blames
I said oh no, I don't even care,
I guess I'll be seein' you,
I guess I'll be leaving you today,
We're just not a pair,
I know you've been trying but I just can't bear to tell a lie'
Stop tellin' me all your lies
Stop tellin' me all your lies
Let me take you by the hand,
Try to understand, walk me to a land,
Try to understand,
But I ain't nothing but a man
I've got a sandstorm blowin' in my head,
I'm seein' many colours but the only one
That's coming through Is red,
You know how we feel, we can't go on pretending,
And we've just got to fix the deal,
Gotta make it real
Gotta make it real
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forces of Nature
When there is silence outside under the snow
I wish I could be a stone watching from below
The cold masses would provide me with peace
A state of mind I would love to increase
When there is a sandstorm arriving in a big cloud
I want to be able to withstand it alone in a crowd
The sand would surround me and rub against my skin
Like an innocent warm embrace rocking my body within
When there is a thunderstorm with great force
I want to use the lightening as an energy source
The electricity would rejuvenate my tired soul
The loud thunder would chase me out of my black whole
When a hurricane is turning the sky pitch black
I want to be outside and bathe in its violent attack
The winds would carry me to distant lands and oceans
And the rains would nurture my starved emotions
When a storm crowns the ocean with white foam
Swallowed by the water I would never miss home
Crashing waves would destroy every vessel at sea
But I understand the hunger and can't disagree
When the sun shines bright and it's peaceful outside
I could disappear behind large shadows or hide
The tall grass would cradle me until I'm fast asleep
Dreaming of the forces of nature for me to keep
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Prologue 2
it will be sandstorm
that will gather
animal and human
from the east to the west
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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On The Dunes
Drive along the sea
Far from the citys twitch and smoke
To a misty beach
Thats where my life became a joke
On the dunes
On the dunes
(became a joke on the dunes)
Where rents are high
And seabirds cry
On the dunes
As you spoke you must have known
It was a kind of homicide
I stood and watched my happiness
Drift outwards with the tide
On the dunes
On the dunes
(homicide on the dunes)
It wasnt fair
Its brutal there
On the dunes
Pretty boats
Sweeping along the shore
In the faltering light
Pretty women
With their lovers by their side
Its like an awful dream
I have most every night
In the summer all the swells
Join in the search for sun and sand
For me its just a joyless place
Where this loneliness began
On the dunes
On the dunes
(loneliness on the dunes)
Im pretty tough
But the wind is rough
On the dunes
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eat Of This Fruit
Men just think…you've always…
Been close to God…
You are HIS first creation…
The vicegerent…
Over the Garden …now that Garden…
Walks on two legs as you…
Just think of the blessings…
God would bestow upon you…
For respecting, that which HE…
Birth from you…and then gave to you…
Your own Garden of Eden (paradise) …
If you will…you, would have never…
Never abused (paradise) as you have woman…
Which is now your personal Garden…
(Paradise, Eden,) you are to protect, love, honor, and
Cherish Her…
So She may acknowledge good fruit…
Can't you see…THAT She is your…
Blessing of all time…
Wake, walk-up my brother or you will surely…
Die…often…
She is yours to respect and protect no matter what…
Level of life she may live…
God…Left Eden in your control…
My…how the mighty (man) forgets…
How he became so mighty…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Suffocate
The wall of distress is where my boundaries stop to absorb my call -
I am out of breath, by suffocating i breathe -
I want to turn, too late is where i flame, the fires that burn -
The bridge into time, collapsed in my mind -
Pillars of strength, washed by the waves, away without signs -
The dunes of sand, trapped inside the glass, mirrors only display nomads land -
Walk I do, bitter is better, sanity cracks with the animals true to a zoo -
Last to the ladder, next to the wonders of Alice, I wear the dress, I am the Madhatter -
Destruction to perfection, I found success in the motion of corrosion
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Love Sonnet 169 I Have Seen Sadness On The Prestine Sand
I have seen sadness on the pristine sand,
In faded footprints, you have failed to make,
More so that sands were once huge rocks, so grand,
Before this fate, that only sands could take:
To become the dunes, were dwelt my sorrow,
In dire stillness that aggravates my loss,
The craved tenderness, which you did not show,
That spawned a desert, much too wide to cross;
Though minute are the grains that slip my grasp,
Like truths that seep through a mind grief ridden,
Vicious as though rose harboring a wasp,
Thereby, in sweetness lurks its sting, hidden;
......Yet, your footprints did not last till evening,
......As blown sand covered your tracks of leaving.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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My City Of Ruins
Theres a blood red circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church doors blown open
I can hear the organs song
But the congregations gone
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Now the sweet veils of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The hustlers and thieves
While my brothers down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Now theres tears on the pillow
Darling where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Now tell me how do I begin again?
My citys in ruins
My citys in ruins
Now with these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Rise up
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Break
Spoken through the spikes in time, i am chained to be alive - The rise of the tenth to a star, i will fall but not that far - Seeing what is next to come, i lost my believes in believing - The gates to hell mirrors the cracks, the quake rips only for the sake to break - Salt blown by the breeze off the wind, will never by one, to times 2, to equal forever, fill the dunes of sand - I cannot fake in this world, nothing is for anyone to take - one fact that remains perfect, you can never break the breaking dawn
poem by Unic Cjonr
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My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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She Works Hard For The Money
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
Onetta there in the corner stand
and wonders where she is and
it's strange to her
some people seem to have everything
Nine a.m. on the hour hand
and she's waiting for the bell
and she's looking real pretty
just wait for her clientele
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
Twenty five years have
come and gone
and she' seen a lot of tears
of the ones who come in
they really seem to need her there
It's a sacrifice working day to day
for little money just tips for pay
But it's worth it all
just to hear them say that they care
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She already knows
she's seen her bad times
she already knows
these are the good times
She'll never sell out
she never will
not for a dollar bill
she works hard
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right
song performed by by Donna Summer from The Donna Summer Anthology
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flower
How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasures bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shrivl'd heart
Could have recover'd greenness? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
We say amiss,
This or that is:
Thy word is all, if we could spell.
O that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Off'ring at heav'n, growing and groaning thither:
Nor doth my flower
Want a spring-shower,
My sins and I joining together:
But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heav'n were mine own,
Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone,
Where all things burn,
When thou dost turn,
And the least frown of thine is shown?
And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: O my only light,
It cannot be
That I am her
On whom thy tempests fell all night.
These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide:
Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.
Who would be more,
Swelling through store,
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.
poem by George Herbert
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Dispensations
The Lord uses dispensations, to touch the heart of many nations,
This is a specific period of time, within The Lord’s Eternal Design,
When you see The Lord’s hand, working within a peoples or land.
It is during these times when, He’s dealing with the hearts of men.
The first was the Garden of Eden, the one before man knew of sin.
Man was given control over all; this was before Adam had his fall.
They were barred from one tree, but by Satan they were deceived.
For it was in Eden’s Garden, that man’s heart first was hardened.
Next is where things got worse, this is where God placed a curse,
Man was now banned from paradise; for this was sin’s awful price.
With sin now tainting His Plan, God would turn to a righteous man,
He would destroy all life on earth, but Noah, one with special worth.
God would start this world anew, by using Noah and his family too.
And God made a covenant with him, never to flood the earth again.
Next God turned to Abraham, making a covenant for a special land,
This would be the land of Israel, given promises that God shall fulfill.
A land that God would set apart; as it is very special to God’s heart.
It would be through this nation; God would bless and bring salvation.
God would then turn to Moses to, deliver out of bondage every Jew,
Out of Egypt they would come, returning to the land they were from.
Israel was given the Oracles of God, in the land that they would trod,
Moses was also given The Law, beginning redemption for man’s fall.
In the Palestinian dispensation, Israel is dispersed into every nation,
But God will indeed restore the land, by His Mighty Sovereign Hand.
Although it is His special nation, He wants to reach all with salvation,
And bring blessings to the cursed; in the nations they are dispersed.
This brings us back to David’s throne, for God’s nation on the roam,
God promised David one of his own, would always be on his throne.
David’s throne was promised to be, occupied through all of Eternity,
All the nations soon will see, David’s promise by God for prosperity,
This brings us to this dispensation, and this is one for every nation,
For presently in this Age of Grace, for every nation God has a place.
Many blessings spoke of to Israel, The Lord Jesus Christ shall fulfill,
For He is the Son of David friend, whose earthly reign will never end.
This is the New Covenant spoke of, Christ’s New Covenant of blood,
It is through the blood of Jesus Christ, who was God’s final sacrifice.
This covenant provides for every man, a place in God’s Eternal Plan,
It is God’s one and only salvation, not only for one, but every nation,
Redeeming men from every nation, while in God’s final dispensation.
And only through the blood of Christ, can man reenter into Paradise.
(Copyright ©06/2006)
Memories of Summers Spent
For Faizil
I remember the sand dunes of Aniston
Eastwards on the south of the Western Cape coast
The blue skies hanging over
Illuminated by the burning sun
Within the sand dunes concealed
Lies the bones of shipwrecked sailors of yesteryear
Contrast of desert and ocean
Like two dimension woven in one
Dwarfed by the sands of time
I remember how we raced to the top of the dunes
Breathless without thought
Just the absolute carefree bliss of being children
The race down was a running and a tumbling
Our summers spent camping at Arniston
When finally at the bottom, we would lay exhausted
Panting, catching our breath
poem by Persian Khushi
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