A sad Letter on the Altar
Hey! My haughty red Rose you are still in secured with the brother thorns.
Why is the favoritism on the boisterous Hornet, Wasp, and Bee?
You always give highest marks for them but the harmless black ant last in the class.
Please do remember this humble letter,
As far as the delicious nectar remains
Those selfish lovers flutter around you but they never bother
When you wither, only the poor ants live on withered flowers.
To Sandra Fowler, I take this opportunity to wish you
'Many happy returns of the day.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Ruby-Throated Hummingbird on Your Parapet Wall
Sorry, Did you wake up to my morning call?
And before you go to school
You see that strange flowers in your empty jar.
While sitting in your religion class
When you open your book of prayers
Please do not get excited
By seeing the new poem remains there,
If you prefer leave it as a bookmark!
(For Sandra Fowler in gratitude!)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Birthday My Dear Brother
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother!
May you be my brother
Every time I am born.
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother
You are my Hero,
and my inspiration
You have made me proud Sister
in the entire Universe.
May you keep making me prouder.
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother
You have given me the courage,
to dream the most impossible,
and given me the strength,
to fight the greatest disasters,
and win the battle of my Life.
May all the Sisters have a brother like you.
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother
You have granted me the opportunity,
to leave the hell,
and live in the heaven,
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother
You stole your dreams,
To fulfill your families need.
Yet you reached the top of your aim.
Your victory is a lesson for the ones who,
Give up on their dreams.
Happy Birthday to you! !
Happy Birthday Brother
You have given a little Girl,
a beautiful life,
Without you,
Which might have been just a dream.
poem by Pratisha Karki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Birthday Sandra
For Sandra Fowler
Here he goes again
old Dodgy Dave forgetting
his poetry friend’s birthday,
only remembering at the last minute.
Happy Birthday Sandra
I hope you are having a wonderful one
with family and friends around you
to wish you all the happiness you deserve
for all the kind comments you plant here and there.
If you had a wish,
I wonder what it would be for,
to live a long life of happiness.
Well that I wish for you
and for you to make new friends
to mingle with the old ones everyday.
I will also wish you good health
and love to last you through the years,
and all the happiness you so rightly deserve.
Therefore, from this dodgy fellow in England
let me wish you a Happy Birthday
and may you always be my friend.
Happy Birthday Sandra.
4 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hold You in The Lyric Of My Thoughts
In memory of Menke Katz
I hold you in the lyric of my thoughts.
No, never mind that mist that hurts the eyes.
Tomorrow in Jerusalem, my friend,
Our dance beguiles the autumn of its grief.
I have you still with all my treasures kept,
Poor scribbles and the pencil-colored flowers.
Write me new letters on the windowpane.
Sign them as always with your shadow name.
Frost memories give me courage for today.
Just taste October with me, find it good.
The time is poignant like a Yiddish tune,
As bittersweet and smoky as old leaves.
Previously published in connection with my interview entitled, 'Letter Friends', Skylark, Purdue University, Calumet
poem by Sandra Fowler
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A rose I am no more
If roses are the colors pink, red, yellow & white,
What happens if my rose is the color of black.
If all roses have their thorns,
What happens if my rose has lost its thorns.
If a rose that has no color & no thorns is no longer a rose,
Then a rose of color & thorns I am no more.
A rose I am no more, A rose I am no more.
poem by Beating Tree
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pondering upon the Rose on a Sunday Morning......
The symbol of love
When giving in love a rose speaks for itself
The beauty is picturesque
The scent it gives lasting for ever
The rose never seen without her thorns
Still who can not feel happiness when a rose is seen or given?
Even for a brief minute, a second the rose brings a smile
Or perhaps a small sigh of delight
If one were to think upon a rose…
The thorns… the beauty…
The petals that carry the essence…
That lingers even after it is withered
If one were compare to our Lord…
He held thorns upon his precious head; the head of the rose is above the thorns
His love was known for its beauty and compassion, the rose noted for love
His words and Spirit lingers for eternity much like the scent of the rose
My Lord created the Rose
Perhaps he created it for remembrance of His son
Looking upon the rose I see it all so clearly
The meaning of love
The beauty
An essence that shall always be with me
poem by Patricia Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Roses Have Thorns
Of all the flowers I've ever seen,
The lovely rose holds the most mystery.
Almost queenly in majestic beauty,
A thing of perfected artistry.
It comes in so many varied colors,
Its fragrance unique among all flowers,
A floral gem you'd enjoy for hours,
An exquisite rose is the flower of lovers.
But like a lady of wondrous charm,
Such beauty can cause a little harm.
The rose has thorns that make one bleed,
And hurts the hand that crushes it.
Some women like the rose have thorns,
When in their hearts true love is born.
The love you pledge do not forfeit-
A woman can bleed your heart....
and
crush it.
Copyright 2008 - Cynthia B. Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gray Music
You wrote your Yiddish signature in rain.
I could not match it in a thousand years.
Old words are classic to my memory.
Because of you, my feet have wings this day.
Gray music paints a picture of rare worth,
A Slavic image of an April mood,
Breaching the barrier of your last breath,
I should not wonder, Friend, you said it would.
'For a poet who was born in April and died in April'.
Copyright,2009, Sandra Fowler
poem by Sandra Fowler
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Where was my brother
Where was my brother when I needed him there?
Does he think I don’t notice or assume I don’t care?
Where was my bother it was once him and once me?
But now at some bad times it’s him I don’t see.
Where was my brother who’s back I once had?
You were the brother to count on the good times and bad.
Where was my brother by my side he should be?
He should be right here why can’t I see?
Where was my brother when I needed him most?
Now when I look to my side all I see is his ghost.
Where was my brother did I bring shame?
Does he remember me now, does he remember my name?
Where was my brother waiting to long for his call?
So I put up a brick on my emotional wall.
Where was my brother, its his court its his ball?
Guess my brother has proved he’s no brother at all.
poem by Empty Shell
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I saw what you did?
Oh! My harmless
Black Ants!
Granules,
One by one
You have taken
From my opened
Tiny brown sugar bottle
Within the whole night
And it's empty now.
I peeped into your little World
And it's a big sugar mountain
But I cannot climb
As I am a diabetic!
*It's approximately forty years ago, myself and brother Lalith we watched together a detective movie 'I saw what you did' a matinee show, Oh! That beautiful childhood never comes? Remember a filter cigarette 'Four Aces' we pulled together the smoke up to the Heaven!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Nectar Sweet
My humming bird heart
beats for you
faster still with you in sight;
but you my flower
elude me.
I flutter
mid-air in flight
above other flowers
but no nectar drips from my beak's visit;
no matter how far I plunge
toward some flower's-center
it's not yours, and I retreat.
I pause,
flutter away
without that sweet juice of yours
I crave.
Possessing it is my Obsessions' Obsession.
Nothing deters my eye
from my flower-mission;
neither cat
nor rival bird
challenge me
when they espy my determined ire,
as I put my sharpened beak on display,
exhibiting to them my humming bird speed
and my reckless need.
No, they shrink
away
with second thoughts
and leave me to my nectar quest.
Some flowers are beautiful,
but none so beautiful as yours;
this is set in me for all time-
even if I,
nectarless,
become weak and falter-
no longer able to fly
and plunge spiraling to the ground;
I will have you my sweet
or no nectar at all.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose Intoxication!
Queen of flowers rose is always a fascination!
Rose is symbol of passionate love cheers mood!
Rose lady gives great pride to be with anywhere!
Special respect to rose never changes anywhere;
Red rose, pink rose and even blue rose are there
Occupying a pride of place none can have ever!
Bouquet of rose flowers elates anyone to dizziness!
A special gift indeed rose flowers makes to all!
A single rose is enough to make one grand to look
Instead of a big cluster of flowers of jasmine or lily!
Scent of rose remains fresh in mind wherever one is;
Such a unique flower rose how can anyone ignore
Whether it is in the garden or lies on a wayward side!
Now after seeing rose and read on rose I am intoxicated..!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Joss stick and fragrant flowers
In front of your statue
I burn on the same altar
With a smell of incense
Among these soft tiny flowers.
And I realize that I convert into ashes very soon
As the flowers wither.
We never live together for a long,
And I hope we meet again someday
Somewhere beyond the sky?
A humble dedication to the poetess Sue Ann Simar
*Remember the sorrows of earth.Look with kindness on those who suffer, who struggles against difficulties, who drink of the bitterness of life.
-Prayer in time of need.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If God Could Give Us A New Brother?
If God could give us a new brother?
What type of broyher would he give us?
Would he be a very friendly brother?
If God could give us a new brother?
It would be nice to have a brother that listens to us
If God could give us a new brother?
Could he be our friend?
Could he share his feelings with us?
If God could give us a new brother?
Could he stop to put us down?
Could he show us his love?
If God could give us a new brother?
It would be impossible
Because there would had to be our mother and father
They would be the ones that could do it through God
Now it is history for us
Unless it is a friend that is humble
A friend that has some feelings and understanding
He could be our new brother
Brothers we can never change
Or get rid of
They are a part of us
Weather we like it or not
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I found your old Christmas card in my bookshelf
I love that water color painting
printed on your precious card!
In 2009, far away Salem church appears
with snow flakes
and a woodpecker rests
on a cypress branch.
Your boisterous flowing hand tells
' Thinking of you as Christmas
and wishing you only the best
in the New Year! We keep you in our prayers
Take care! '-Sandra & family.
Yes Madam! I am really worried of your long lull
And thank God! Your prayers worked out.
My colonoscopy results were good
The polyps they found in my large intestine were benign tumor
and not Malignant?
I am happy as I could scribble further
If my old friends appear soon?
Neighborhood birds started singing
in the absence of Virginian nightingale?
And I kept a bowl of rice & water on the window sill.
Hope you're well and please give a little shout
from Lie-Ving road, West Columbia!
[Kindness is a language the dumb can speak and the deaf can hear and understand.]-Christian Bovee
for my life-school teacher Sandra Fowler in gratitude!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Plight or Hunger
It is not plight or hunger
People are burning with anger
With decades and centuries passing over
They have yet to find shelter or cover
They have no means to find square meals
Someone is there at the top to steal
Their means of livelihood
Their only hope to live nicely in the neighborhood
We have stooped so below
We can’t see others happy or allow
We thrive on coffers business
No worry lines even on face
They have enough patience to tolerate
They know it is futile on their part to relate
Who has time to care for human values?
Their only aim is to deny the legitimate dues
Even sun does not spare them from burning rays
They have to toil hard with hard ways
Their babies cry for the want of milk or food
What else is there to feel so good?
Yet they have lion’s heart
They stand erect and look smart
They have high respect and honor for others
Except few essential things they don’t have to bother
No noise or flutter is created
Babies are silently cremated
River washes their remains silently
They watch it go quietly
I will give full marks to their tolerance
They deserve all kudos and praise hence
Poor are not burden on anybody
They are pulling on this earth for somebody
We may err if they are under estimated
Their position is not understood and clearly stated
They need proper care and attention
If basic values are realized and needs retention
It is not plight or hunger
People are burning with anger
With decades and centuries passing over
They have yet to find shelter or cover
They have no means to find square meals
Someone is there at the top to steal
Their means of livelihood
Their only hope to live nicely in the neighborhood
We have stooped so below
We can’t see others happy or allow
We thrive on coffers business
No worry lines even on face
They have enough patience to tolerate
They know it is futile on their part to relate
Who has time to care for human values?
Their only aim is to deny the legitimate dues
Even sun does not spare them from burning rays
They have to toil hard with hard ways
Their babies cry for the want of milk or food
What else is there to feel so good?
Yet they have lion’s heart
They stand erect and look smart
They have high respect and honor for others
Except few essential things they don’t have to bother
No noise or flutter is created
Babies are silently cremated
River washes their remains silently
They watch it go quietly
I will give full marks to their tolerance
They deserve all kudos and praise hence
Poor are not burden on anybody
They are pulling on this earth for somebody
We may err if they are under estimated
Their position is not understood and clearly stated
They need proper care and attention
If basic values are realized and needs retention
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Will
I've made my Will. I don't believe
In luxury and wealth;
And to those loving ones who grieve
My age and frailing health
I give the meed to soothe their ways
That they may happy be,
And pass serenely all their days
In snug security.
That duty done, I leave behind
The all I have to give
To crippled children and the blind
Who lamentably live;
Hoping my withered hand may freight
To happiness a few
Poor innocents whom cruel fate
Has cheated of their due.
A am no grey philanthropist,
Too humble is my lot
Yet how I'm glad to give the grist
My singing mill has brought.
For I have had such lyric days,
So rich, so full, so sweet,
That I with gratitude and praise
Would make my life complete.
I'VE MADE MY WILL: now near the end,
At peace with all mankind,
To children lame I would be friend,
And brother to the blind . . .
And if there be a God, I pray
He bless my last bequest,
And in His love and pity say:
"Good servant,--rest!"
poem by Robert William Service
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The stamp Black Heritage of Anna Julia Cooper
I received a letter from my Attorney saying the case is now scheduled for merits hearing next year,
I relaxed totally but the stamp on the envelope pushed me into some kind of research?
I love History though I am not a Historian.
She must be a prominent figure of the land of opportunity.
I know nothing except the Sun rises in the West and sets in East?
Anyway I hope my spiritual Teacher Sandra Fowler would supply me some ingredients into this void.
I have an old poem here 'The color of my dream' which I dedicated to Maria de Jesus the Brazilian authoress for her 'Child of darkness'.
And I decided to add there Julia's name too.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Rose With Thorns
The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns
poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
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Flowers
Do you not say
I’m omnipotent,
Omnipresent?
I created you,
Your family
And the nature
Around you.
Would I not be able to
Smell and see the flowers
That surround you?
Why pick them up in lots,
Pluck them off their
Lives, sew them with
Needles, and gift them
As garlands to an image
Of me: your temple deity.
What joy I get, tell me?
If I see my creations
Being ravaged by man’s
Ruthless hands. Like you,
They would love to live
A carefree life of freedom
And sunshine.
Why smother them
Prematurely, wither them
With your plucking fingers?
Don’t crush them to offer me
Pushpanjali.
Let them breathe in the
Breeze of the garden
Where they belong…
Let the bees savour their nectar.
Do not give me bouquets
Of dying flowers…
I’m just as happy
To see them
Blossom :)
In the branches of
The swinging trees.
Why make them bare and barren?
They look so naked without their
Adornments – the beautiful flowers
That drape them in beauty…
Listen to me, my dear devotee.
You happen to see me everywhere,
Don’t you?
You talk of my omnipresence,
So why don’t you see
That I don’t need
Flowers from thee
To please me.
They are there for nature to show us
How flowers look beautiful in their
Natural beauty…don’t pluck, please.
Won’t you heed me?
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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