Tower
Fade into wooden towers of lovers,
My bench corrodes itself and recovers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Who lends recovers not; or if he recovers, recovers not all; or if not all, not much; of if much, a mortal enemy.
A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Lovers Walk
I wont walk with my head bowed
(be on) beyond caution where lovers walk
My love walks where threes a crowd
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Lovers walk, lovers scramble
Beyond caution where the lovers walk
Lovers step, shuffle and gamble
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Lovers trip, lovers stumble
Lovers dip, lovers fumble
Lovers lip where love has crumbled
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Lovers strut, lovers stroll, lovers leap
Lovers late, lovers wait
Making promises that they cant keep
Lovers link up arm and arm
Lovers slink up, lovers charm
Lovers drink up and come to harm
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Love is gone and its no ones fault
Love has stopped here, lovers halt
Lovers dont walk, lovers run
Will you look what love has done
Will you look what love has done
Will you look what love has done
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Now loves limping on a lovers crutch
Looking for a hand with a personal touch
Beyond caution where lovers walk
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Physical Science
(after Antjie Krog)
Right at the front at the big old green board
the teacher waits with a strong wooden cane
while pretty girls peep at me
and here I am alone in my wooden bench,
where just here I can die in my chair
when the teacher starts to wander around
while the lesson drags on and on
and he is causing great fear among the pupils
before a crooked old finger points at me,
I see scientific formulae in chalk,
how that teacher throws down the board-eraser,
and gives me a hiding until I get all the answers right;
sometimes I wonder from where he comes,
and see the most devious fiend only in him.
[Reference: "Wiskunde" (Mathematics) by Antjie Krog.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Saw a God With a Beard!
That railway station abandon
No more trains stop,
He sits the beggar on a wooden bench
And he shares his scanty cold meal
with a stray dog!
Moon witnessed the strange dinner
with me.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sometimes you get a glimpse of a semicolon coming, a few lines farther on, and it is like climbing a steep path through woods and seeing a wooden bench just at a bend in the road ahead, a place where you can expect to sit for a moment, catching your breath.
quote by Lewis Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Year Zero
Be a hero
Kill your ego
It doesn't matter it's all just a pack of lies
Build a new base
Steal a new face
It doesn't matter it's all just to save you
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
I will stand by your ground
I will tear down myself
I won't fade
Year zero
Another hero
Is anybody alive here across the line?
Buy a new face
Start a new race
It doesn't matter it's all just to save your face
It's all just to save you
It's all just to save your face
It's all just to save you
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
I will stand by your ground
I will tear down myself
I will stand by your ground
I will tear down myself
I won't fade
I won't fade
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away
We'll never fade away (We will never fade away)
We'll never fade away (We will never fade away)
We'll never fade away (We will never fade away)
We'll never fade away (We will never fade)
We'll never fade away (We will never fade away)
We'll never fade away (We will never fade)
We'll never fade away
song performed by by 30 Seconds To Mars from 30 Seconds To Mars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Lovers Plight
Two lovers plight
In the solemn night
To love each other
Till death does part
One from another
From one heart
Where two lovers blight
And fade from sight
As I close my eyes
To dream tonight
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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In Another's Garden
The sun was just about to set
when I happened on the scene:
A small and well kept garden
scented with Magnolia trees.
Someone had placed a wooden bench
beside a whispering pond.
I never knew this gem was here
In New York, most green is gone.
There were seasonals and perennials
competing for my senses.
A most welcome distraction
from my dark and somber penses.
So little time remained before
the light would fade away
and their beauty and their brilliance
would be shadowed, dark, and grey.
I thought about my childhood home
and the fruit trees that once grew there.
of the flowers and the vegetables
cultivated with my parents' care.
Concrete now covers every inch
of my remembered home.
They put a housing project
where, upon a time, I roamed.
I felt a sudden pang of loss,
fought back a foolish tear.
Here, in another's garden,
I had travelled back the years.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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(Hide and seek)
My father gets the wooden stick
he counts from five
i run and hide...
My father is coming with the wooden stick
he counts from four
i close my bedroom door...
My father is looking for me with the wooden stick
he counts from three
as he searches for me...
My father is close by with the wooden stick
he counts from two
my face turns blue...
My father is right next to me
with the wooden stick
he counts from one
now i'm done...
My father finds me
with the wooden stick
he counts from zero
...yes i know, i'm in trouble...
My father says
'there you are!
i found you
now it's your turn to count
and my turn to hide'
...and the game continued...
poem by Allen Steble
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Dust
The Dust fade some things
can fade the people
But can't fade the people heart
can fade the days
but never fade the love
eveything can be fade
but the only the memories
can't be fade
the secrets can take us to the past
but never take us to the future
because the future is fade
till his time and his way
So come on let's take this fade
and try to see the future
because now is the time of the future
poem by Marie Armany
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An Almost Made Up Poem
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Lovers
Written by jackson-yancy-cole
(lovers, lovers, lovers, lovers, everywhere)
Everywhere I go, in every face I see the sign of love
Shining so brightly, its in the air, its everywhere, I can feel it in my bones
People holding hands, making love, really, really getting it on
Im crazy bout lovers, beautiful lovers, everywhere
Yeah, yeah, lovers, beautiful lovers, everywhere
And everywhere I go I hear people say
That they wouldnt mind checking it out, ah getting down
Dont you know that life can be beautiful, life can be wonderful when you
Can always have that special someone around, and Im talking bout lovers, ooh
Beautiful lovers, dont you know that there everywhere, lovers, beautiful lovers
(everywhere) everywhere, (everywhere) in the air (everywhere)
And if you like romancing and you dont want no dancing
Then check this groove out baby youll see
It is the sweetest sugar that youll ever taste
You gotta chase those blues, get over em, dont stop now controlling em
Then youll find youre shaking em, get if all while you can, have a ball
Theres a feeling and its catching, look whats happenin
Take a trip, make it hip, cuz youll dig it, ah lovers, beautiful lovers, everywhere
Lovers, (scat), (lovers, beautiful lovers, everywhere)
Ah lovers (scat), (lovers, beautiful lovers, everywhere)
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Castle-Builder. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks,
A dreamy boy, with brown and tender eyes,
A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks,
And towers that touch imaginary skies.
A fearless rider on his father's knee,
An eager listener unto stories told
At the Round Table of the nursery,
Of heroes and adventures manifold.
There will be other towers for thee to build;
There will be other steeds for thee to ride;
There will be other legends, and all filled
With greater marvels and more glorified.
Build on, and make thy castles high and fair,
Rising and reaching upward to the skies;
Listen to voices in the upper air,
Nor lose thy simple faith in mysteries.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Hatred corrodes the vessel in which it is stored.
Negligence is the rust of the soul, that corrodes through all her best resolves.
quote by Owen Feltham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plague Of Dead Sharks
Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes?
The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet
slough off, in spring, the dead rind of the shoes’
leather detention, the big toe’s yellow horn
shines with a natural polish, and the whole
person seems to profit. The opposite appears
when dead sharks wash up along the beach
for no known reason. What is more built
for winning than the swept-back teeth,
water-finished fins, and pure bad eyes
these old, efficient forms of appetite
are dressed in? Yet it looks as if the sea
digested what it wished of them with viral ease
and threw up what was left to stink and dry.
If this shows how the sea approaches life
in its propensity to feed as animal entire,
then sharks are comforts, feet are terrified,
but they vacation in the mystery and why not?
Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes?:
what the sun burns up of it, the moon puts back.
poem by Alan Dugan
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I respect people who feel things passionately. I do. But when someone is a judge, that is not what they should bring to the bench. It is not really passion, except in rare instances, that serves the bench well. It is, rather, an ability to understand the law and follow it.
quote by Charles Schumer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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