From The Heights Of Maccho Picchu
Rise up to be born with me, brother.
Give me your hand from the deep
Zone seeded by your sorrow.
You won’t return from under the rocks.
You won’t return from your subterranean time.
Your hardened voice won’t return.
Your gouged-out eyes won’t return.
Look at me from the depth of the earth,
laborer, weaver, silent shepherd:
tamer of wild llamas like spirit images:
construction worker on a daring scaffold:
waterer of the tears of the Andes:
jeweler with broken fingers:
farmer trembling as you sow:
potter, poured out into your clay:
bring to the cup of this new life
your old buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow,
Tell me, “Here I was punished,
Because the jewel didn’t shine or the earth
Didn’t yield grain or stones on time.”
Show me the stone you fell over
And the wood on which they crucified you,
Make a spark from the old flints for me,
For the old lamps to show the whips still stuck
After centuries in the old wounds
And the axes shining with blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouth.
Across the earth come together all
The silent worn-out lips
And from the depth speak to me all this long night
Like I was pinned down there with you.
Tell me all, chain by chain,
Link by link and step by step,
Sharpen the knives which you hid,
Put them in my breast and in my hand,
Like a river of yellow lighting
Like a river of buried jaguars
And let me weep, hours, days, years,
For blind ages, cycles of stars.
Give me silence, water, hope.
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
Stick bodies to me like magnets.
Draw near to my veins and my mouth.
Speak through my words and my blood.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Related quotes
Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouths.
Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.
And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.
Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.
Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech, and through my blood.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Whisper Me Goodbye..... As I Return
let the music softly wind my shooting face up in
the sky i wait, as the night goes bye in the night
of nothingness beautifully shine
carry me in as you wish to fly, thundering those
little clouds surfing the swollen tears i seduces
for the joy i desire witness the falling night in the
eyes i give the laughter now I remember
show me your voice of a waiting dew, the
fogged doodle my whisper of your passing scene,
say that much is not to give for what is brings
return no fear, a passion of servings the last blink
of each eye of your loving heart
make the best than nothing, to remember the real
day of today, to stay with my memory until the
dawn lost the morning sky for another day
may the harvest of tears rejoice the grain of joy in
every return of that day, where every yesterday
comes with a mourning happiness to picture the
beginning of what was the day for today
let the beginning be the point to sharpen the end,
and show the staring pad with the eyes to guide in
the darkest night of the moment......as i return my
dear
poem by Antonio Liao
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Mater Dolorosa
Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
In a rent stained raiment, the robe of a cast-off bride,
In the dust, in the rainfall sitting, with soiled feet bare,
With the night for a garment upon her, with torn wet hair?
She is fairer of face than the daughters of men, and her eyes,
Worn through with her tears, are deep as the depth of skies.
This is she for whose sake being fallen, for whose abject sake,
Earth groans in the blackness of darkness, and men's hearts break.
This is she for whose love, having seen her, the men that were
Poured life out as water, and shed their souls upon air.
This is she for whose glory their years were counted as foam;
Whose face was a light upon Greece, was a fire upon Rome.
Is it now not surely a vain thing, a foolish and vain,
To sit down by her, mourn to her, serve her, partake in the pain?
She is grey with the dust of time on his manifold ways,
Where her faint feet stumble and falter through year-long days.
Shall she help us at all, O fools, give fruit or give fame,
Who herself is a name despised, a rejected name?
We have not served her for guerdon. If any do so,
That his mouth may be sweet with such honey, we care not to know.
We have drunk from a wine-unsweetened, a perilous cup,
A draught very bitter. The kings of the earth stood up,
And the rulers took counsel together, to smite her and slay;
And the blood of her wounds is given us to drink today.
Can these bones live? or the leaves that are dead leaves bud?
Or the dead blood drawn from her veins be in your veins blood?
Will ye gather up water again that was drawn and shed?
In the blood is the life of the veins, and her veins are dead.
For the lives that are over are over, and past things past;
She had her day, and it is not; was first, and is last.
Is it nothing unto you then, all ye that pass by,
If her breath be left in her lips, if she live now or die?
Behold now, O people, and say if she be not fair,
Whom your fathers followed to find her, with praise and prayer,
And rejoiced, having found her, though roof they had none nor bread;
But ye care not; what is it to you if her day be dead?
It was well with our fathers; their sound was in all men's lands;
There was fire in their hearts, and the hunger of fight in their
hands.
Naked and strong they went forth in her strength like flame,
For her love's and her name's sake of old, her republican name.
But their children, by kings made quiet, by priests made wise,
Love better the heat of their hearths than the light of her eyes.
Are they children of these thy children indeed, who have sold,
O golden goddess, the light of thy face for gold?
Are they sons indeed of the sons of thy dayspring of hope,
Whose lives are in fief of an emperor, whose souls of a Pope?
Hide then thine head, O beloved; thy time is done;
Thy kingdom is broken in heaven, and blind thy sun.
What sleep is upon you, to dream she indeed shall rise,
When the hopes are dead in her heart as the tears in her eyes?
If ye sing of her dead, will she stir? if ye weep for her, weep?
Come away now, leave her; what hath she to do but sleep?
But ye that mourn are alive, and have years to be;
And life is good, and the world is wiser than we.
Yea, wise is the world and mighty, with years to give,
And years to promise; but how long now shall it live?
And foolish and poor is faith, and her ways are bare,
Till she find the way of the sun, and the morning air.
In that hour shall this dead face shine as the face of the sun,
And the soul of man and her soul and the world's be one.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Speak Me
Speak Me
Night has awaken water at scarf of river
Air of cold star at fan of sky
The girl who is crying at this deep night hiding face by pillow
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
The river gull looks for starfish at river
As poet looks for word’s procession of azure
What will jingle at foot of stone culture diamond!
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
The petals of flower excluded from her eye
Could butterfly hold up the rainbow in his earth?
His wants and obtains as like that of white ant-
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
Flower bloom at that earth where first step was kept
We have built this earth by that nectar of breast
I find trace of all things exchanging that glance
Speak me which flower I shall string together.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Show Me Love
Show me love
Double up
Won't you show me love
Show me love
Cause it's been grey for so many years
I just wanna what is mine
Your love for me wait and see
I'm not trying to seduce you
Though it's a long and cold dark night
You are the one you are
I would never try to change you
I want to see who you are inside
Show me love
And how to share it
I'll give you double up in return
Life is now and meant for living
Cause it's been grey for so many years
Life will never ever be bad under my spell
Kiss and tell
I feel lonely when I see you
Why don't you give me just a smile
You'd make my day in many ways
Just a fragment of your lifetime
Cause the shine in my eyes will tell
Show me love
And how to share it
I'll give you double up in return
Life is now and meant for living
Cause it's been grey for so many years
Won't you show me love
Show me love
Let me know
Double up
Show me love
Show me love (oh oh oh)
Double up (I wanna know)
I
song performed by by Ace Of Base from Da Capo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
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Response: I Will Follow You
I wasn't gonna write
I didn't plan on losing this internal fight
I really thought I couldn't handle what I could become
I still don't, but it's in those times of greatest pain
Those times where I tend to feel most insane
When I need an outlet, so I guess this time, this is how we'll speak because I'm Your son
I'm sorry if I just failed You
I'm sorry that right now it's hard to trust You too
You gave me a Spirit that is strong
You gave me an unstoppable strength, my joy, my song
This I sing out, with every breath of life
But my body yells and shouts louder than my Spirit
You feel far from me, but my body is me, alas with its strife
It is a deafening scream, even if it were silent... I must admit
The painfulness, the closeness, the selfness make its cries-
LOUD... Loud... loud, it's hard to sing over the yelling as my soul dies
So give me again this life and joy, slience the death and screams
Show me there's more to this situation than it seems
Show me that You're there
Show me that You're here
Show me You're with me now
Show me that You never left, such as you did vow
So amidst the torment, amidst every stab, amidst every scream
Give me Your voice to scream
Give me Your voice to scream your praise
Silence my cries in malaise
I feel the blood, I see the blood, I lose the blood
I feel the pain, I see the stain, it's physical... and spiritual
Sorry I didn't listen, you tried to save me, but please reign down your love like a flood
As I choke on pain, I do not ask for physical healing, but God heal my spirit and make it perpetual
I want to forever hold on to you
I want to see this pain with your view
Dear God, do not let it end here, do not let that be the end of this reponse, not that end
Please I pray you do send
Send more, not just Your view of my pain, send more of You, I want see people like You see them
I want to share Your love and forgiveness to every sin
Thank You already Lord that THIS is my response
Thank You for giving me the words to respond to utmost pain
Thank You for showering me with Your love that does not wain
That never runs out, and never runs dry
I will follow You, I will follow You, I will follow You, I will try
Let me not again stray away
I will follow You, I will follow You, I will follow, now I see Your words that I am to respond with, say:
I will follow You
poem by David Knox
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Blood On The Ground
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my heart I swear
Ive tried everything I could
Within all my power
2 weeks and 1 hour
I slaved and now
Ive got nothing to show
Oh if only youve grown
Taller than a brick wall
From now on
Gonna start holding my breath
When you
Come around and
You flex that fake grin
cause something inside me has
Said more than twice
That breathing this air
Beats breathing you at all
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my mouth
Im earning the right
To my silence
In quiet discerning
Between ego and timing
Good judgment is once again
Proving to me
That its still worth
Its weight in gold
From now on Im gonna be
So much more weary
When you start to speak and
My warm blood starts to boil
Seeing you is like pulling teeth
And hearing your voice
Is like chewing tin foil
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Im fast to a better judgment
By saying less today
I will gain more, gain more
No cheers to you my
My fickle friend
You, you brought
The art of silent war
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chain Of Fools (feat. Pointer Sisters)
Clint Black & The Pointer Sisters
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools
For four long years
I thought you were my man
But I found out
I'm just a link in your chain.
You got me where you want me
I ain't nothin but your fool
You treated me mean
Oh, you treated me cruel.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain of fools
Every chain
Has got a weak link
I might be weak child
Oh, but I'll give you strength.
OOh. OOh.
You told me to leave you alone
My mother said, come on home
My doctor said, take it easy
But your lovin' is much too strong
I'm added to your.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
--- Instrumental ---
One of these mornings
That chain is gonna break
But up until then
I'm goin'a take all I can take, oh yeah.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools, oh yeah...
--- Instrumental with oops till fade ---
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer To The Great Spirit
Great Spirit hear my call
and teach me of these things
I do not know
let me walk free with the wolf clan
so I may learn their wisdom
through the eyes of our sacred
of your creation
Give me strength to protect and preserve
what we have left of our Mother Earth
make me wise to teach others to follow
the path meant for us to take
by your grace
in this world now out of place
from our human race
I am only but one man
but guide me to help save
what we have taken away
with our ignorance and destruction
bring peace and harmony back again
for many generations to come
to end this misery of pain
so our children will live a life they deserve
Let me bring light into the hearts
of the shallow
and show them the ways of long ago
to walk in footprints of my ancestors
that for many years have softly tread
on the beauty of this precious land
Let these river's run wide and freely flow
with the presence of every touch by your hand
bring back what was for so long dead
let this sun shine on this sacred ground
that is covered in blood flowing red
with our hate and greed
Heal these wounds I bleed
make me a warrior a chosen one
to forever stand proud and tall
when times are hard and tears fall
from what we have done
Show me the way when my people forget
our true purpose and meaning here
so that I may bring better days tomorrow
of yesterdays forever gone
in these times of sorrow
one day we will all soon regret
Let me not walk in fear
in this moment of need
as I ask of your guidance on my vision
and my journey
you had given to me
Spiritwind-2010
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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The River That Murmurs
I will ask the river, that flows serene
I will speak to the sky
I will ask the river that murmurs
Not to ask me why
I cannot speak for myself.
That time has long since passed me by.
The river can murmur and sing
Unspent by passion: my voice
Will break like a terribly taut string.
My words will be grammatically and academically
Twisted (like that leafless tree) , unfortunately!
I want the river to speak, to speak
Alone, alone with thee.
The river can, softly and without tears
Tell you my dreams and my fears
I know you will listen:
And while city lights in the water glisten
You wont see the tears that shine on my face
No, that is a serious, sentimental place
That only I know;
Flow, river, flow.
Flow, river flow.
Speak to the only love I know.
Daybreak approaches soon
You and he by the light of the moon
Will murmur whilst I -
Will wait for you to bring me his reply.
poem by Rani Turton
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O Rain!
O rain! Please come
Give away all your wisdom
O rain! Please return
And bring the news of dear ones
O rain! Please come
Wash away all the tears
O rain! Please return
And do away all our fears
O rain! Please come
Bring the blessings of heaven
O rain! Please return
And quench the thirst of raven
O rain! Please come
Make the rivers flow again
O rain! Please return
Make the earth green once again
poem by Prachi Agrawal
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The Desolate City
DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.
A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.
Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters,
Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love.
Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen'd to their chaunting;
Each one sang to his love; only I was alone.
This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure.
Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun,
Each in another's eyes finds light, the light of compassion,
This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love.
Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness!
Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul?
Where are those passionate eyes that appeal'd to my eyes in passion?
Where is the mouth that kiss'd me, the breast I laid to my own?
Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled.
Tell me, where didst thou flee in the day of destruction and fear?
See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven,
See, my desire is fulfill'd in thee, for it fills the earth.
Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turn'd I from the window,
Turn'd to the stair, and the open door, and the empty street,
Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me,
None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears.
Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my beloved's.
There I stopp'd at the silent door, and listen'd and tried the
latch.
Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber,
This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand.
I knew the house, with its windows barr'd, and its leafless fig-tree,
Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street;
I knew where my hope had climb'd to its goal and there encircled
All that those desolate walls once held, my beloved's heart.
There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I loved not.
She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips.
She told me all her pain and show'd me all her trouble.
I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return'd her kiss.
Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them.
Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life.
Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance;
This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise.
Weeping strangled my voice. I call'd out, but none answer'd;
Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door;
See whom I love, who loved me, look'd not on my yearning,
Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show'd me no more her soul.
Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness,
Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day;
Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty,
A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Silent Girl
Silent girl of the river goddess
Why do you speak not my love
Why do give not my love a try,
For in you I rediscovered my name
My name that was burning
Like wild fire in the harmattan.
You are all I ever needed
To attain everlasting happiness.
And your smile;
Shines like the rising sun,
Gave my life light.
My life with you
Has been like a dream
And I don't anymore
Want to return to reality.
When our death comes,
I'll go with you, to somwhere;
Anywhere, and you fate
Shall also be mine.
My aspirations are long lost
In the shadow of your frame
And you all I ever need
To achieve my aim.
For you, silent girl of the river goddess
Will I sacrifice my everything
To be with you,
In your kingdom of nowhere.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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from The Women At Point Sur
XII
Here were new idols again to praise him;
I made them alive; but when they looked up at the face before
they had seen it they were drunken and fell down.
I have seen and not fallen, I am stronger than the idols,
But my tongue is stone how could I speak him? My blood in my
veins is seawater how could it catch fire?
The rock shining dark rays and the rounded
Crystal the ocean his beam of blackness and silence
Edged with azure, bordered with voices;
The moon her brittle tranquillity; the great phantoms, the foun-
tains of light, the seed of the sky,
Their plaintive splendors whistling to each other:
There is nothing but shines though it shine darkness; nothing but
answers; they are caught in the net of their voices
Though the voices be silence; they are woven in the nerve-warp.
One people, the stars and the people, one structure; the voids
between stars, the voids between atoms, and the vacancy
In the atom in the rings of the spinning demons,
Are full of that weaving; one emptiness, one presence: who had
watched all his splendor
Had known but a little: all his night, but a little.
I made glass puppets to speak of him, they splintered in my hand
and have cut me, they are heavy with my blood.
But the jewel-eyed herons have never beheld him
Nor heard; nor the tall owl with cat's ears, the bittern in the
willows, the squid in the rock in the silence of the ocean,
The vulture that broods in the pitch of the blue
And sees the earth globed, her edges dripping into rainbow twi-
lights: eyed hungers, blind fragments: I sometime
Shall fashion images great enough to face him
A moment and speak while they die. These here have gone mad:
but stammer the tragedy you crackled vessels.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Grave Sleeper’s Rest
I who slept... on a grave...
While of tender uncommon age.
Woke from sleep. With silent dead.
To turn mine eyes to heaven.
Tombstone lined neat ordered paths.
They stir not like living alive trees.
Moved not in brisk breath imbued breeze.
Moved not acres. Filled. Field stone piled hearts.
Avenues of possibilities hope. Buried through time.
Chimed their... lost dreams... through mine.
Memories preserved. Ghost imaged. Lives to speak.
Through impregnated. Imprints spectral. To speak.
Purpose dead love. Living requiem retro undefined.
Spoke pinnacles of stone, earth experience outlined.
Repentant city silence. Yearning. Dead so spoke.
Groaned heaven’s divine will. In hope aspiring longing.
Loom will hold your hapless lifeless hand.
Last inflicted tears, tuggingly kiss away.
Locomotive shades, will journey wander forth.
Damned questing, hopeless brighter quieter day.
Numbing shock. Grasp. Unremembered dreams.
Ghoul dark, infested revengeful scenes.
Return a. Sunlit. World possibilities. Where.
Life earth flowers plants animals air...
Breeze stone. More unreal. In contrast...
Than worm eaten, unearthly dead regret scene.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Call From Jolo
the general calls from jolo
he keeps the war at ease like a soldier at rest
there is no exact information
about how many bodies are dumped
into the raging sea
or the ever silent mountain
you see wars are fought like emotions
you keep it inside yourself
the face must not show the struggle
the mouth does not speak
about casualties
the dead are buried on the night
and the missing soldiers are like names canceled on the list
the widows weep and their children look at
their memories but soon the sorrows pass
like a storm
and then it is calm again
children swim in the sea
the fishermen ride on their boats and cast their nets
tonight the general has briefed his men
there is an emergency
and the killing must, as a necessity, begin again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Give me love
Appreciate me for every diamond i'm worth
Never take me for granted or leave me in dirt
Cherish me as i love you
Give me the love love that i give you
Give me love please i beg of you
But not the love for a beggars soul
Give me love that is pure and true
Give me love of more worth than gold
I ask you for love that never grows old
I ask for love that never grows cold
That time cannot kill and words cannot low
I ask for love that can never be broken
That can withstand the world and any of its burdens
Please give me love that no eye has ever witnessed
Or love that no lips have ever spoken
Give me love that the world cannot tear
That can be ganged by darkness and never fear
Love that has more value than this earth
Love more valuable than any worth
For this is the love i give to you
So value me as i value you
Cause if i have no worth to you
Than what worth are you to me?
So please i beg of you my love
Give me the love that i give to you
I cannot love and never be loved
No...
I cannot be a diamond valued with rocks
When value more than this earth alone
But if you cannot return this love
And i have no more value than a rock
Than i shall value you too as so
And spare my heart the sorrow
Fore as i shall never know your love
Is as you shall never know mine.
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter VII)
Is life on earth for man, not drudgery?
Are not his days like that of hirelings?
He is a servant longing for shadow,
A hireling awaiting his wages.
I have been assigned months of misery,
And weary troubling nights wait to seize me.
And when in bed, I ask when shall I rise?
I toss in bed restless until the dawn.
My flesh is clothed by worms, scabs, cracks, festers;
My skin is broken and turned loathsome; .
My days are swifter than weaver’s shuttle,
And seem to end each day, without much hope;
My life is wind-like, without happiness;
The eye of him that saw me sees me not;
Thine eyes are upon me but mine are not.
Like how a cloud will vanish right away,
The one, who goes to grave, will not return.
No more shall he return to his own house;
His place shall neither know him anymore.
Hence, I’ll not stop my mouth from utterance;
I’ll speak my spirit’s anguish wholly out;
I will complain in my soul’s bitterness.
Am I a sea or whale that you watch me?
Why then am I, an object of attack?
My bed shall comfort me, when I shall say,
My couch shall ease my complaints all, when told.
Your dreams and visions terrify me lot;
I prefer death by choking than my pains;
I waste away knowing, I can’t live long;
Set me in solitude, my life is short;
Oh, what is man, you pay him any heed?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-27-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Loved
I loved,
But didn’t speak about it.
I loved,
But didn’t show my feelings.
I loved,
But didn’t expose my soul.
I was speechless
And I was tireless
To listen to your words.
For me they were singing birds.
I loved
And I had seen a wonder.
I loved,
Was not afraid of any thunder.
I loved
And heard only your voice.
You were my only rejoice.
Your eyes sparkled,
They were two shining miracles.
My heart used to sank
As only you touched my hand.
That was long time ago.
My love I didn’t show
As I was only seventeen
And all around seemed blue and green.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
The 5th of April,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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