Argentna
Argentina.
When I got up and looked out of the window the village was
floating on a cloud. I walked to where the cloud ended and
saw the pampas of Argentine and horses galloping in a circle
around a dead cypress. The horses looked tired and starved,
but could not stop their senseless galloping around the tree.
There were also many dead foals trampled down in the dust.
I was in Buenos Aires once, remember a great ballroom and
a big marble staircase I saw the dictator’s wife walk down it.
She was dressed in white and striking at a distance, but close
up she looked hollow eyed and her skin was yellow. A band
played wiener waltzes, officers and their women danced with
decorum. It was only when thousand guitars struck up a cord,
music born from paucity and dreams to break free and flee,
the dictator’s lady smiled and looked young again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Tango In Argentina
Tango in Argentina
It was eons ago, in Buenos Aires, many of us around a table at a cafe
I can’t remember why I was there think it was something to do with
buying race horses. A woman asked me up to dance I first declined,
shyness is my bane, after prodding I trotted up on the dance floor.
The band played a tango, not that I hadn’t dance before, mother was
a dance teacher, something happened, I forgot about my timidity
just danced floating on a cloud of pleasure. We’re alone on the floor,
when the music stopped, applause. Back at our table dad gave me
a glass of wine, the dream continued. I wanted to marry Dona Juanita,
my dancing partner; dad said no, she was married and too old for me.
But I have never since been able to emulate the magic of the moment
When I see a colt galloping across the pampas I know of the physical
pleasure it feels, once it was me feeling exuberant and timeless in
a world of everlasting youth.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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the Touch**********************1979
i looked up into the deep blue sky
little white clouds were floating by
i looked upon this young girls face
she held it down in disgrace.
i looked upon her cheeks so fair
she looked up to me to see if i care
i looked at her with content
and she knew right there it was heaven sent.
she smiled at me, and our eyes then touched
we knew then, it was much to much.
our hearts entwined and her lips met mine
we felt right there it was a love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
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Galloping Horses
Oh, this is the week when no rhymster may rhyme
On the joy of the bush or the ills of the time,
Nor pour out his soul in delectable rhythm
Of women and wine and the lure they have with 'em,
Nor pen philosophic if foolish discourses,
Because of the fury of galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping thro' the refrain -
The lure and the lilt of it beat on the brain.
Strive as you may for Arcadian Themes,
The silks and the saddles will weave thro' your dreams.
Surging, and urging the visions aside
For a lyrical lay of equestrian pride,
For the roar of the race and the call of the courses,
And galloping, galloping, galloping horses.
This is the week for the apotheosis
Of Horse in his glory, from tail to proboscis.
That curious quadrupled, proud and aloof,
That holds all the land under thrall of his hoof.
All creeds and conditions, all factions and forces,
All, all must give way to the galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping - sinner and saint
March to the metre, releasing restraint.
If it isn't the Cup it's the Oaks or the Steeple
That wraps in its magic the minds of the people.
Whether they seek it for profit or pleasure,
They all, willy-nilly, must dance to the measure.
The mood of the moment in all men endorses
The glamorous game and the galloping horses
Galloping horses - jockeys and courses
They gallop, we gallop with galloping horses.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Galloping Days
Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring;
There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
And paeans of hope Winter's threnody forces
Over the hill-tops; for joy is a-wing.
Joy is a-wing, and the galloping rhythm
Mingles, alack, with a ruefuller rune,
For winners may rug but the losers run with 'em,
On the galloping, galloping tune.
Galloping, galloping, galloping gladly
Round the white railing and on to the turn,
While keeping in time to it, urgently madly,
Pulses are racing, ecstatic'ly, sadly;
Eyes to the thundering eagerly yearn,
Voice, upraising, are praising, are pleading,
Mid rackets gay jackets flash by and are gone.
Then the field in the sunlight, retreating, receding,
Goes galloping, galloping, galloping on.
Galloping, galloping, galloping; streaming
Now in green distances, seeming to crawl,
Like miniatures moving, like manikins seeming,
While o'er hedge and hollow a bland sun is beaming
Casting a benison over it all.
They run to the 'Distance.' The horses! The horses!
They gallop! They gallop! They turn for the 'Straight!'
They gallop, the hoses! Who nurses remorse is
A runagate cringer to galloping Fate.
Galloping, galloping, galloping ever,
Tho' cheering is over, they gallop amain;
Tho' fact and fond fancy reluctantly sever,
The round of that ultimate, straining endeavor
Still buffets and bludgeons and beats on the brain.
They gallop - Wake up, man! What profits regaining?
Luck lurks in the offing. On, on with the dance.
Aw, tear up your ticket! The sun is still shining.
The next race is starting. Who foots it with Chance?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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I looked over and saw this man on the extreme right aisle sort of galloping to the podium. He was tall, he was thin, and the way he was galloping it looked as though he was going someplace much more important than the podium.
quote by Betty Shabazz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Requiem
Well, I saw a bird today --- flying from a bush and the
Wind blew it away.
And the black-eyed mother sun scorched the butterfly
At play --- velvet veined.
I saw it burn.
With a wintry storm-blown sigh, a silver cloud blew
Right on by.
And, taking in the morning, I sang --- o requiem.
Well, my lady told me, ''stay.
I looked aside and walked away along the strand.
But I didnt say a word, as the train time-table blurred
Close behind the taxi stand.
Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window.
Fading in the traffic; watched her go.
And taking in the morning, heard myself singing ---
O requiem.
Here I go again.
Its the same old story.
Well, I saw a bird today --- I looked aside and walked
Away along the strand.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost In Athens
Lost in Athens
Athens confusing in august, what with the heat and pollution I had spent
The night sitting on a park bench, looking at a white wall on a tall building
lit up by moonlight and I had waited for a movie to begin. Forenoon,
staggered into a church, joined a queue, a priest was handing out bags of
sweet cakes, the old lady behind got none since she had been in the line
three times. I ate a cake and gave the rest to the lady. Grateful she ate
the rest blew up the bag and hit it against a tree and we were surrounded
by an anti terrorist squad. The old lady, a known would be terrorist, she had
been blowing up paper bag all over the town, was arrested, they were going
to arrest me too since I had supplied the bag, but since I was a tourist they
let me go with dire warning. Deep in the park I found a grotto, walked in and
saw baby Jesus inside a looked like an aquarium, he looked like a dead
angel as painted by Caravaggio, Jesus opened his eyes smiled like a street
urchin and began masturbating, chocked I took a step back and collided with
two nuns who laughed hysterically. Escaped the park and found a cellar cafe
drank some ouzo served by a women who looked like horse; she was a pony
that had escaped from a Swedish circus. We hit it off I have always been fond
of horses, especially since according to an Indian chief in, an Alice walker’s
poem said that they make the landscape more pretty. Midnight she closed her
bar and we bareback we rode through the moonlit August night.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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You Looked On
You looked on.
As I was being raped.
You were up at a hight.
With others as well as you.
You could of gone for help.
But instead you looked on.
You left me to be hurt.
As you looked on.
But I guess I know why now.
As it wasnt to stop there.
It would seem rape would be all I was to know.
But you looked on when you could of helped.
And I hate you.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Taking Leave of a Friend
Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.
Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each others
as we are departing.
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Bombed Out Butcher's Shop.
On the third day
of the holidays
you met Janice
half way up Bath Terrace
at the entrance to the flats
where she lived with her gran
she was dressed in her red beret
yellow flowered cotton dress
white socks and brown sandals
she smiled when she saw you
and said
feared you might not show
I told you I'd be here
you said
she looked at you
and said
I know
but some people say things
but don't show
I'm not some people
if I say I'll be here
I'll be here
you said
glad you're here
she said
Gran doesn't like me
going out alone
she says there are strange men
out there who take kids off
and do things to them
and murder them
yes
you said
I read about that boy
they found murdered
near here
she looked concerned
don't worry
you're with me
my mum told me
where to kick them
if they try anything on
oh
Janice said as you both
walked up to the top
of the terrace
to Harper Road
where're we going?
she asked
a bombed out
butcher's shop
you replied
isn't that dangerous?
she asked
not if we're careful
where we tread
you said
isn't that breaking
and entering?
she asked
no we don't break in
you said
we walk in
the back gate
it's not locked
oh
she said
looking concerned
we won't get into trouble
will we? Gran said
she'd tan my backside
if I got into trouble
would I get you into trouble?
you asked
guess not
she said softly
you crossed
Harper Road
and went round the back
of the bombed out
butcher's shop
and opened the gate
and entered
into an empty yard
you shut the gate
after you
and she stood gaping
at the back of the shop
you showed her
the large walk in freezer
where meat had once
been kept
now empty
smelling of piss
and damp
what if you got locked in?
she said
the lock's busted
you said
oh I see
she replied
her eyes large
and her mouth open
in wonder
you took her into
the shop now empty
apart from a large table
with a marble top
where meat
had once been cut
and chopped up
it stinks
she said
yes tramps get in
sometime and shelter
for the night
are they here now?
she asked nervously
no they go off
in the day
you said
giving her
a smile
you took her up
the creaking stairs
to the upper landing
where the sky
shone through the roof
where a bomb
had fallen in
gosh
she said
how weird
one of the rooms
had an old bed frame
pushed in a corner
and the roof
was still there
except where a few tiles
had gone
someone slept there once
she said
and now
they're probably dead
you took her hand
and walked her
to the window
and looked out
on Harper Road
people would have looked out
of this window too
you said
sad isn't it
she said
and you sensed
her lay
on your shoulder
her fair haired
red bereted head.
poem by Terry Collett
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Mirroring
I looked through the mirrors
And saw my reflection
What I saw was darkness and suffering
It could chase any bright life away.
I looked through the mirror of death
And saw myself burning in hell
Screaming out in sweet torment
Enjoying this immortal condemn.
I looked through the mirror of hate
And saw myself taunting my enemies
I enjoyed my foes pain and smile in shame.
I looked through the mirror of happiness
And saw myself in love; Laughter filled my face with these
With these wrongful feelings.
I looked through the mirror of envy
And saw myself resentencing my friends
Cracking their hearts open with my words.
I looked through the mirror of fears
And saw myself hiding under a hollow tree,
Not even He could shelter me.
I looked through mirror of sorrow
And saw myself buried in pain,
Having a knife at my wrist,
Ready to end this game
poem by C.F Francis
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The Einstein Man
'Sorrow, ' she said 'sticks to me like flypaper
follows me around, covers everything I try to do,
makes me cry into my beer.'
He said:
Now that don't seem true to me from here where I sit.'
She looked at him sideways and said:
'And how would you know that, seeing as how you don't even know me? '
'A man got instincts for these things, at least some of us do.'
'Men, ' she snorted, 'got instincts and its all below the waist, all.' she said.
He continued ignoring her, And you don't have to teach a bee how to like honey.'
She smiled at him, looking him over.
'What your name honey? '
She looked at him wide eyed and said:
You can just call me honey until I know you better, stalkers and all come in here sometimes.'
'Well.' he said you just might as well call me honeybee then.' he said smiling.
'Which makes me curious.' she said', 'is what are you doing in here anyway, you don't look all beat up like the rest of these jokers. You got a story or what? '
'Yes, I do have a story' he said after looking around furtively with his best spy vs. spy look, 'and what a story it is.'
'If you add popcorn and another beer I just might listen.' she said. I'm not busy now.'
He laughed and then smiled slowly, 'I think I was right about you honey, sense of humor too, that's sexy to a man.'
'Hold your horses cowboy, this here is just conversatin' and nothing more.'
He leaned back and stoked his chin.
'As far as I can remember I never had a home, wasn't even born I think. Just woke up one day on this planet.'
She laughed.
'No seriously.' he said. 'Happened just like that.'
'Now that gets my attention.' she said.
'Hoped it would, ' he said. 'Truth is I am Albert Einstein.'
She spittled her beer, laughing.
'My, my, ' she said you more interesting than a stack of hundred dollars bills, I say'
He looked at her sideways, and said, 'Not joking.'
To be continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Paradise Lost
When i said i'd die tomorrow
My whole family was there
I said i'd go to heaven
And i asked them for their prayers.
I'll admit my hands were sweaty
But i'd practised many times
The dry runs were quite frequent
Behind those hostile lines.
The check point was quite easy
They really didn't look at me
I looked the part, spoke Hebrew
Seemed like i'd got friends with me.
The restaurant was crowded
Women, kids, just having fun
I'd been trained to find the best spot
To detonate the bomb.
So i got close to a table
And looked around - well just in case
Someone might recognise me
And put a name unto my face.
'Well hi there' said this lady
'Say you're looking rather tired
Come sit with us and eat some food
Hey - you two move aside'
She looked just like my mother
The one they killed in that attack
I almost pressed the button
But then something held me back.
I told this to the soldiers
While those lights they shone on me
They looked at me and asked my age
It was then i said 'thirteen'.
poem by David Keig
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 3)
As the door opened, he could see
the room was filled with people.
They looked at him as he entered
everyone smiled saying good evening.
He was ushered to the top of the table
and seated beside a beautiful young woman.
Her smile radiated the room
with light and warmth.
“Hello, you must be Lord Charles
my husband to be.
I am Princess Juliet.”
Her voice flowed through him
like a river of tranquillity.
At first, he was not sure
just what to say to her.
He stumbled over his words
and it made her laugh.
Suddenly he was at ease
and it seemed they were
the only two in the room
and when he looked around,
they were the only two
everyone else had disappeared.
As they chatted he felt at home,
a home he could only have wished for.
They ate and talked
and when they had finished
the food and the dishes disappeared.
Suddenly as if by magic,
an orchestra began playing.
They got up and danced
and danced and danced
into the late evening.
They then took a stroll
into the garden in the moonlight,
walking arm in arm.
They stopped briefly,
where he stole a kiss.
As he awoke the next morning,
he could not remember much
of the night before
only that he had met his princess
and had a wonderful time.
“I am your clothes for today.”
He looked around as the clothes
suddenly threw themselves at him
and suddenly he was dressed.
“I see you are ready M’ Lord.”
“Ready for what? ”
“Your wedding M’ Lord.”
He followed the tall man
down the stairs
and out into the courtyard
where a carriage pulled by six white horses
stood waited for him.
He stopped and looked around
apart from the crowds of people
white doves danced
pirouettes in the sky.
They looked golden
as the sun painted them
with its warming rays.
Flags and pennants of different colours
hung out from everywhere.
From the Cathedral, church bells filled the air
as the carriage moved slowly
along the cobble stone streets
lined with people either side.
He sat and waved at them
through the window of the carriage
as the procession passed.
Within a few minutes,
they arrived at the great city Cathedral.
As he stepped from the carriage,
there seemed a party atmosphere everywhere.
Entering the Cathedral
the serine voices of the choir
rose up to the rafters
as the Cathedral bells
could be heard across the hamlets.
The pews were filled
from front to back.
He stood at the alter
waiting for his bride to be.
He felt that this must be all a dream
and in a moment, he would awake
back to the harsh realities of his life.
Then the organ announced of the brides arrival.
To be concluded
18-19 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Window
I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple tree
translucent in brightness.
And when I looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden with
fruit stood there.
Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of what
happened in my sleep.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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The Mountains On Fire (Fun Poem 94)
Many years ago, my wife and I
went to Scotland and stayed in a holiday chalet.
Behind it stood a mountain
and you had to crane your neck to see the top.
One day my wife awoke
and looked out the window and panic gripped her.
“The mountains on fire! ” She shouted,
loud enough to wake the dead.
I got up and looked out the window.
“Oh Yea.” I said and went back to bed.
“What are we going to do about it? ” She asked.
“What are we going to do? ”
“Come back to bed.” I said.
“When the mist clears you will see the mountain is Ok.”
5 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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Fool To Think
Look at me dreaming of you
All I could hope is to have you
To have you walking with me
Laughing so in love, we two
Almost drunkenly
I did imbibe of this
Fantasy of you and me
Was I a fool to think?
The way you looked at me
I swear you did
But you looked away too quick
Was I a fool, was I a fool to think
That you would take me home
As if I was yours
Was I a fool to think at all?
Ive grown tired of love
You are the trouble with me
I watch you walk right by
I smile, you do not notice me
Treat me recklessly
All you do is toss me pennies out
But the silence in me is screaming
Wont you come and get me?
Was I a fool to think?
The way you looked at me
I swear you did
But you looked away too quick
Was I a fool, was I a fool to think
That you would take me home
As if I was yours
Was I a fool to think at all?
Was I a fool to think?
The way you looked at me
I swear you did
But you looked away too quick
Was I a fool, was I a fool to think
That you would take me home
As if I was yours
Was I a fool to think at all?
You make a mess of me here
I dance a thousand steps for you
If you say yes to me
Ill be whatever gets you through
You make a mess of me here (was I a fool? )
I dance a thousand steps for you (was I a fool? )
Was I a fool, was I a fool to think?
Am I a fool, am I a fool for you?
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Teachers
If we looked to our children,
So simple and pure.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn so much more.
If we looked to our children,
We could rise above.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn how to love.
If we looked to our children,
We could find a way to be free.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn how to see.
If we looked to our children,
Without being so stern.
If we looked to our children,
How much we could learn.
poem by Cindy Kocsis
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A Lonely Cloud.....[Nature Observation; Humor]
I saw a lonely cloud one day.
It looked small beyond the Bay.
I tried to find a second and failed,
even though I looked each way.
Think of it! A single cloud.
It's loneliness spoke to me aloud.
I wonder how it felt up there.
Was it very proud?
A rarity I think it was;
like an active bee with no buzz;
like a single potato chip;
like a peach skin with no fuzz.
Like one firefighter at a fire;
a solitary pigeon on a wire;
a Facebook member with no 'friend';
a single member in a choir.
It's like an Easter basket with one egg;
a basketball star with one leg;
me with just one word to say;
a fraternity party with just one keg.
I guess you've come to realize by now
that when I saw that cloud I thought 'Wow! '.
If I'd been Adam, with Eve at my side,
to that small distant cloud I might bow.
(August 2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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