A decayed Inn
A skinny vagabond comes from afar,
and he himself doesn't know
where he comes from?
Or his destination.
Perhaps this could be a stopover.
He is only a tenant of the building
and it's belongs to a debutante
who lives in delusion.
Poor fellow needs a tinker to mend his soul
and he is anxiously searching a panacea.
Will he be able to find?
before he enlisted to the run away crowd.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Broken
I'm A Lonely Road Of
Broken Dreams
Its A Boulevard That
I'm Searching For
These Stars Are All
So Dull
Its The Moon That I'm
Searching For
Happiness Is So Angry
At Me
Its Life That I'm
Searching For
There Is A Crowd
Around Me At All Times
Its a Friend That I'm
Searching For
My Life Is Just Like
Path
Its A Destination That
I'm Searching For
Don't Know What Is It
That I've Lost
May Be Its 'ME' That
I'm Searching For! !
poem by Vizard Dhawan
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Still Searching
Im a drifter who has lost his way
And Im still searching for my dream
A wandering nomad with no home to stay
Just like a gypsy or a refugee
Lookin at another sign for another town
Wondering if Im ever gonna settle down
Or am I gonna keep on searchin till my dying day
Chorus:
Still searching, still searching, still lookin, all alone
Till I find myself a home
Still searching, still searching, just like a rolling stone
Destination still unknown
When all my energy starts letting me down
I get this feeling Ill be still wandering round
Still searching, still workin, still lookin
Until I find a way
This world is full of restless souls
Sleeping rough and living day to day
Drifters who left families wondering why they went away
Perhaps thats how I wanna be
While Im looking for some peace of mind
How can I find security?
A restless spirit who cant reach his goal
Cant find a home until Ive found my soul
Still hitchin rides and lookin for a place to go
Chorus
Still searching, still searching, still searching
Until my dying day, oh yeah
Why? yeah
Surprise, surprise
Still searching, still workin, still lookin
Until I find my way
Im a drifter who has lost his way
And Im still searching for my dream
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hit and Run!
A severe damage to my floating soul
You're a haughty the sky flower
Belongs to Paradise,
And how do I proceed for legal obligations
Or contact a Lawyer?
All are in the Heaven
And I am a poor vagabond
An alien to this misery World?
But I would like to have a 'Civil Compromise.'
*People who are resting on their laurels are wearing them on the wrong end.
-Unknown
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Comrade Vagabond
I am just a vagabond, I am just a vagabond! !
Across the globe, I move on….
Seeking not my home….
I am just a vagabond, I am just a vagabond! !
From Luit, through the Mississippi, I saw the Volga’s beauty…
From Ottawa, via Austria, I hugged the Paris City.
From Ellora to Chicago, I spread the splendor of antiquity…
I listened to Ghalib’s couplets in Dushanbe Minaret with gaiety.
Sitting on Mark Twain’s grave, I spoke of Gorky…
Everytime the strangers appear, being tied with a bond….
So I am vagabond, so Iam vagabond! !
With so many aimless vagabonds, I do have a goal…
To share the colours of life is just my goal.
With so many aimless vagabonds, I do have a goal…
To share the colours of life is just my goal.
I have seen so many skyscrapers, so great…
So have I seen homeless poors by their shade.
I have seen evergreen gardens in front of some home…
So have I seen dried flowers dying in blossom.
The bonded labourers across the Nations makes me feel tensed…
Our own fellow beings have been strangers in their home…
So I am vagabond, I am just a vagabond..
Across the globe, I move on….
Seeking not my home….
I am just a vagabond, I am just a vagabond! !
(Originally composed in Assamese as ‘Moi Eti Jajabor’ by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika)
(Set to original tune)
poem by Kamal Jyoti Borah
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State of the Union
When the President “served” in the Senate
He was mostly an absentee tenant.
So I don’t find it odd he’s campaigning for “God”
while our Country is stuck in the toilet.
In the Senate a fellow named Baucus
Believes it’s a one party Caucus
No G.O.P. need apply, this fellow is sly
Nearly nine hundred Billion he’ll cost us.
In the House we’ve got Reid and Pelosi
So I’m viewing our future morosely
If the “tea party” crew doesn’t give them the shoe
“free” health care will likely prove costly.
When I look at our unfunded debt, I wonder how bad it will get.
Will the whole thing implode?
Will our prince prove a toad?
Las Vegas is now taking bets.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Poetics.....
waste of time
but cannot be disregarded
sort of
a stopover island
where this plane
refuels
without which it
cannot
arrive at its final
destination
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Searching For Soul
SEARCHING THE SOUL
Searching the soul strumming the guitar's sullen strings
Making music to resonate the sorrow of the moment
Roaming on the fret with fingers showing the feelings
Trying to blend the tears of grieving heart's sentiment
Searching the soul for the reasons of the event
Hoping to find the answers for what it meant
Searching the soul to find a way to repent
Trying to forget the bitter past of torment
Searching the soul for love of life that slipped away
Helpless victim of the fate of cruelty of the time
Playing the sad tunes with emotions that is in disarray
Crying in silence while playing the guitar twine
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Sonny! One day you too push me when I struggle on my Wheelchair
When I pushed my Grandson's Pram
I do remember now what I told;
Sorry, I have no any regrets my son
I am proud that you're being a Pilot!
And I know that you have a limited time of Freedom
When that Exists suddenly you run to your nest
I understand the Ladybird waits for you.
Your poor Grandma also old now
And she struggles to pass a silky thread
Through eye of the needle!
And I too already threequarter senile
But still I remember your name my son.
If you find a better place in your flying career
Which is not in the given map,
Your poor Grandma and the jigsaw Grandpa
Could have wait for a while at a stopover
Until your pretty Alloy-bird safely lands!
* To the poetess Unwritten Soul [PH] in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Searching The Soul
Searching the soul strumming the guitar's sullen strings
Making music to resonate the sorrow of the moment
Roaming on the fret with fingers showing the feelings
Trying to blend the tears of grieving heart's sentiment
Searching the soul for the reasons of the event
Hoping to find the answers for what it meant
Searching the soul to find a way to repent
Trying to forget the bitter past of torment
Searching the soul for love of life that slipped away
Helpless victim of the fate of cruelty of the time
Playing the sad tunes with emotions that is in disarray
Crying in silence while playing the guitar twine
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Mr James Scrymgeour, Dundee
Success to James Scrymgeour,
He's a very good man,
And to gainsay it,
There's few people can;
Because he makes the hearts
Of the poor o'erjoyed
By trying to find work for them
When they're unemployed.
And to their complaints
He has always an attentive ear,
And ever ready to help them
When unto him they draw near.
And no matter what your occupation is.
Or what is your creed.
He will try to help you
In the time of need;
Because he has the fear
Of God within his heart,
And the man that fears God
Always takes the poor's part.
And blessed is the man
That is kind to the poor;
For his reward in heaven,
'Tis said in the Scripture, is sure.
And I hope heaven will be
Mr James Sctymgeour's reward;
For his struggles on behalf of the poor
Are really vexatious and hard.
For he is to be seen daily
Walking along our streets,
With a Christian-looking countenance,
And a kind word to all he meets.
Besides, he is void of all pride,
And wouldn't feel ashamed
To be seen with a beggar
Or a tinker walking by his side.
Fellow-citizens of Dundee,
Isn't it really very nice
To think of James Scrymgeour trying
To rescue fallen creatures from the paths of vice?
And in the winter he tries to provide
Hot dinners for the poor children of Dundee,
Who are starving with hunger no doubt,
And in the most abject poverty.
He is a little deaf, no doubt,
But not deaf to the cries of hungry men,
No! he always tries to do his best
To procure bread for them.
And at the Sabbath-morning free-breakfasts
He is often seen there,
Administering to the wants of the hungry,
And joining in prayer.
He is a man of noble principles,
As far as 1 can think,
And the noblest principle he has got
Is, he abhors the demon drink.
And, in my opinion, he is right
As far as I can see,
And I hereby proclaim that such a man
Is an honour to Dundee:
Because he is always working
For the poor people's good.
Kind soul, trying hard
To procure for them clothing and food
Success to him and his family.
And may God them defend:
Why? fellow citizens of Dundee,
Because he is the poor man's friend.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Thinkin' Bout My Ex
When I first met you
I swear that I was straight with you
I wasn't looking for nobody new
I just needed someone to talk to
You said you were cool and understood
But now you caught feelings like I knew you would
And you sitting there with a broken heart
Cause I gave you my body and not my heart
Chorus
When I'm holding you late at night
I'm thinkin' bout my ex
When I'm kissing you and look at you
I'm thinkin' bout my ex
And I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you
And I know sorry doesn't mend your broken heart
Verse 2
Baby I have to be
Unselfish and true to me
Cause I'm not where I really want to be
And It's nothing with you
It's all me
I toss and turn all night when I sleep
Wanting and reaching for someone who use to be
Said it must be some kind of comfort thing
Cause I can't seem to let go and love again
Chorus 2
When I lay with you I close my eyes
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
When I'm touching you gently
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
And I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you
And I know sorry doesn't mend your broken heart
When I'm listing to music I'm thinking' 'bout my ex
In a bubble bath with the candles lit
I'm thinking 'bout my ex
And I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you
And I know sorry doesn't mend your broken heart
Bridge
You're beautiful
I don't wanna take the space from someone else
So let me go
And do a little soul searchin' for myself
I'm so sorry that
I pulled you in and let it get this far
You know I never meant to break your heart
Chorus 3
At the shopping mall or movies
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
At the restaurant while I'm eating
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
And I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you
And I know sorry doesn't mend your broken heart
While you talk to me I drift away
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
When you ask me what I'm thinkin'
I'm thinkin' 'bout my ex
And I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you
And I know sorry doesn't mend your broken heart
Repeat till fade
You know it's not who you think it is
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salvation
if reincarnation
be true, how many
men, women, dogs, cats
pigs have to die before
a single soul is saved?
i would say Poor cats,
poor dogs, poor poor animals
and lucky you soul...
there is a crowd to work
for your salvation
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Phat
The word 'fat' is a term,
That 'skinny people' use,
Because they don't know what else to say,
When they see a 'fat person.'
No one has to be so rude about it,
When they see a 'fat person' eating ice cream,
Or sitting around watching others,
But some 'skinny people' don't understand to just dropp a conversation.
The word 'rude' is what 'fat people' use when someone makes fun of them,
'Fat people' are all over the world,
And yet - 'skinny people' don't want to accept the fact that 'fat people' are in this cruel world,
So some 'skinny people' have to act like they're all that and be mean to others.
There are people in this world that are 'low class' and are different from the people in the 'higher class, '
Because some people in the 'lower class' goes into depression and eat,
Because of the events happening in their life,
And so they become 'fat.'
But what 'skinny people' explain,
Is that they are slobs and can't eat normal instead of shoving food down their throat,
But what 'fat people' explain,
Is that they try to lose weight, but some of them can't because it's hard.
'Skinny people' make fun of them and 'fat people' let them,
Because some 'skinny people' don't know how it feels like to be 'fat, '
And some 'skinny people' call 'fat people' ugly and of course 'fat, '
But what 'skinny people' don't know is that we all are phat.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Why are butterflies free?
A butterfly goes thru one of lives greatest metamorphoses.
It starts its life as a caterpillar going thru life eating and waiting for that moment to begging its life’s journey. It cocoons itself until it is ready for its last steps in life.
Spring forth from its cocoon, it frees itself and flies off into the light. It is its begging and ending all at the same time.
It doesn’t care about what the future brings
It doesn’t care about lesser things
It doesn’t care about the rain
It doesn’t care about the pain
It doesn’t care about where it belongs
It doesn’t care about a silly love songs
It doesn’t care about right or wrong
It doesn’t care about the road being to long
It doesn’t care if the sun sets in the east
It doesn’t care about war and piece
It doesn’t care about the world in helter skelter
It doesn’t care about a warm shelter
It has no idea about mass destruction
For that takes too much contemplation
For politics it has no reaction
It needs no constitution
Just being is its satisfaction
It looks to no one for absolution
No homeland for repatriation
It has no skin for condemnation
It has no time for recreation
It has no room for damnation
A butterfly lives its life like there is no tomorrow
For a butterfly there is no tomorrow
A butterfly just wonders the earth sapping up life as it goes by
It owes nothing to anyone
Fly butterfly, fly and be free
Be free to be free
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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From an Iceberg to a Desert
In your Igloo
My frozen thoughts
Never melts
And we go to a desert
I give you my old Camel
To find your precious dreamy Oasis,
Would your Mom & Dad give permission
For this vagabond Nomad?
* When I was a kid I grumbled with my poor Mom that I want ice cubes,
Then she said; 'We are poor darling and your Papa left for Aladdin's wonderful lamp.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Meaning Of Your Smile
When I looked at you casually
You smiled by your shining eyes
and made me nonplussed.
I try to gauge the meaning of your smile
being sleepless for several nights.
Only my eyes look at things
but my mind is always probing
to understand that smile tip-toed on your lips.
The conductor shouts at me
as my destination has come.
I forget to alight
as my mind is always searching
to decipher the purpose of your smile.
My colleagues rail at me
for I fail to do the work
I am asked to do.
They are not aware that
my mind is sailing on your smiles
to find its depth.
My mother consoles herself
that I am delved deep into the subjects.
She doesn’t know some bud has
let itself open its petals to wet my soul
which has never so far faced
the onslaught of a bewitching smile.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Psalm 41
v.1-8
L. M.
Charity to the poor; or, Pity to the afflicted.
Blest is the man whose bowels move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow saints endure.
His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of gen'ral grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels too.
His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.
Or if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiv'n;
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heav'n.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Eternal Kingdom Of The Soul
Wordly kingdoms emerge, rise and eventually fall
but there's one kingdom that does outlast them all.
It is eternal which means it has no beginning or end
though most people in the world don't comprehend.
It has been written and talked about in so many scriptures
yet in the external world doesn't form part of any fixtures.
No matter how grand a structure or building is erected that it may represent
or how many people daily, under its roof for worship, they devoutly frequent.
The kingdom of the everlasting Soul is to be found within us all
and doesn't really have any roof, floor, pulpit or containing wall.
Its own image and essence is all of a glorious Eternal Supreme Being
that with Its own grace, knowledge, light and love one can be seeing.
All we have to do is to acknowledge Its presence and look within,
live our daily lives in accordance with the Truth which is Its Twin
that the highest practical wisdom is based on known to mankind
and has been handed down from ages past for humanity to bind.
This doesn't mean that It belongs or is particular to just one religious belief
but encompasses them all through which people seek to find worldly relief;
because of Its glorious Eternal nature It also has unfathomable or infinite attributes
and beyond the limited mind of man to comprehend though philosophy contributes.
Even the laws of every country or state are based on the Truth;
though due to age old corruption is hardly discerned from youth.
As people have a strong tendency to seek and satisfy there own selfish interests
that go against the universal principles inherent in the wisdom the Soul bequests.
These universal principles are really the backbone of all spiritual aspiration
that have to be adhered to if there's to be any further evolution or realisation,
of mankind's true nature and individual or collective higher moral development
which is a unified and wholistic existence that by the Truth of the Soul is vent.
--------------------
poem by George Krokos
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Unwanted Headaches
One embittered with resentment,
And pretends...
Is not a student of forgiveness.
A self assessment done,
To cleanse and leave behind an anger felt...
Is one who can mend and move on!
Yet doesn't.
Someone ego driven,
And determined to have their way...
Suffers humiliation that comes one day.
To stay!
And there is nothing that can be said,
To one with this kind of thick head.
But a choice to leave them in their delusion,
Prevents the invitation of unwanted headaches.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Humble Pen
What dreams we have
We share with the pen.
What love we find,
We share with the pen.
What happiness we find,
We share with the pen.
When our soul bleeds,
We find solace in the pen.
When our hearts are broken,
We find comfort in the pen.
When all hope is lost,
We find salvation in the pen.
And when we leave this mortal coil
We will leave the pen,
For our Children to pick up.
For the pen, is a rainbow,
For our dreams, hopes and fears
Where the heart and soul has a voice
Where love resides for your fellow man,
And where beauty is found everywhere
It confirms our existence, our beliefs.
And though our lives are brief
It is a noble quest,
A gift of love to the world,
And a seed of hope,
So Let the children plant and nurture this hope
And they too will see the rainbow.
Let this legacy nourish their lives
With love and beauty,
And let the humble pen go on,
To find the next voice,
The next chapter on this wonderful planet, we call Earth
poem by Steven Cooke
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