Paper Boats
Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Related quotes
The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Paper Boat
by this way
each new day
I let float
my paper boat
down a fast
running stream
that holds no dreams
poem by Frederick Kesner
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S.a.d
I feel sad right now, three small letters
Inconspicuous, three small letters in a row
But they seem to hold all my depth of feeling these past months
Over you, and what you do to me when you cannot see
I've tried hard, just like those three letters
To add more
But nothing changes
Add a ly, and I'll add a lie
But still it's only 'sadly'
Add mascara, and all you get is a stream
A stream of black watercolour tracing
Down my cheeks, over my chin
Wait awhile, let the sad wear out
Stretch a bit, stretch me a bit
And all you get is an end
I'm saddened
I want more than sad
poem by Lillian P.k
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With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend
Here is paper, pen, and inke,
That your heart and seale may sinke
Into such markes as may expresse
A Soule much blest in heavinesse.
May your paper seeme as fayre
As yourselfe when you appeare:
May the Letters which you write
Looke like black eye-lids on white.
May your penne such fancies bring
As one new puld from Cupid's wing:
That your paper, hand, and seale
His favour, heart, and Soule may steale.
poem by William Strode
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Is Hope Of
A word perhaps to me is hope
and hope you used to use a lot.
Without perhaps it being hope for naught.
A lot of hope about the things you are,
and you are all the things I hoped about.
You of hope at night the moon the light I write about.
And you write about the thoughts of hope,
and make them come to pass and write of that.
Ardently your mouth of hope, not going over there.
You who are without to be and I am crossing over.
Green bushes hold within my hope, blue open flowers.
Afterwards through fog or loam a stream flows slowly after.
I saw so bright the torch of hope from here to there beside us.
So there are we.
And are we there, for loving it sits about us.
Me I simply am, you and I, comes hope a certain thing.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Let There Be Hope
Boats afloat,
across an ocean moat
Sailing away,
a tyrants torment
With joyous rapture,
T'ward a life content.
rickety, leaking boat
Let there be hope.
Boats of hope,
human tragedy afloat
Sailing away,
a homelands fear
On terrorful waves
Closer now, sanctuary near.
listing, ailing boat,
Let there be hope.
Boats without hope,
Human misery, afloat
Sailing away,
from a life content
With sorrow filled hearts.
recapitulated, now their torment.
Scuttled, sinking boat,
let there be hope.
Boats nae float,
beneath an ocean moat
Sailing away,
a savior of deception
An islands hopeless souls
shattered dreams of redemption.
Fractured, sunken boat
let there be hope.
Stop the boats afloat,
across an ocean moat
Sailing t'ward,
asylum signed veracious
People who pride, 'fair go '
ah, but leaders are mendacious.
Rickety, Leaking Shattered Boat
please, let there be hope.
poem by Phil Charters
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The Chronicles of A Criss Crossed and Broken Heart part 4 Poem after Poem
some written as medicine
some poems inveigh about consequence of sin
some don't rhyme
some i just don't have time
others negelected, just left to waste
away, like butter spread over too much bread making strange paste
i just write and write
to keep feelings to let them out without explosion
i just have to fight
myself, write myself all on a paper, hear implosion
going, going, coming to an end slow motion
not enough life to pass by
by through my eyes too much life withheld
i hope i havent begun to die
not yet not here...
poem by David Knox
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In Inevitable Absences...
sometimes confusion laces
the mind and sometimes
visible green dots
float across the puddles
like directionless paper boats
sometimes diffidence
sits on its haunches
weighing a ton on the
fringes of the heart
sometimes fear sets ripples
like the grandfather's clock
after striking into the wee hours
sometimes stars flicker
beyond my reach
sometimes full of confidence
i float in the weightless
spaces within...
a fountain of emotions
spring forth in your inevitable
and eternal absences
04sep2009
14.53hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Invisible Raven
The words i put on paper is what i live with every day;
Even though i write them down the feelings always seem to stay;
The more and more i write them down the more and more i cry;
I wish my pain had wings so i could make it all just fly;
If it flew away i wouldnt have to hide it anymore;
My life is like the raven and soon it will be never-more;
Tears always stream down my face and yet u never see;
Well i guess its because im invisible no one ever see's me;
I am the invisible raven, u just look right through;
But dont u worry about it im still looking at u;
poem by Melissa Broomhead
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Old Before I Die
She's taking me places
I should never have been
She's showin' me faces
I should never have seen
Well these are strange days we're livin' in today
Cest la vie I say
I hope I'm old before I die
I hope I live to relive the days gone by
I hope I'm old before I die
But tonight I'm gonna live for today
So come along for the ride
I hope I'm old before I die
She's not feeling stable
She's unable to breathe
Her heart's beating faster
So I'll ask her to leave
These are strange days we're livin' in today
Am I straight or gay
I hope I'm old before I die
I hope I live to see the day
The pope gets high
I hope I'm old before I die
Well tonight I'm gonna live for today
So come along for the ride
I hope I'm old before I die
Well these are strange days we're livin' in today
Cest la vie I say
song performed by by Robbie Williams from Life Thru A Lens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
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The Further Bank
I long to go over there to the further bank of the river.
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with
ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the
riverside pasture;
Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the
jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferry when I am grown up.
They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank.
Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and
thick reeds grow round the margins where water-birds lay their
eggs;
Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny
footprints upon the clean soft mud;
Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with while
flowers invite the moonbeam to float upon their waves.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank, and all the
boys and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are
bathing.
When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon,
I shall come running to you, saying, "Mother, I am hungry."
When the day is done and the shadows cower under the trees,
I shall come back in the dust.
I shall never go away from you into the town to work like
father.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Words on paper
Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Running...
Running4Christ.
Running to race.
Running to live.
Running to stay fit.
Running to find myself.
Running to save lives.
Running to heaven.
Running for Christ.
Running for faith.
Running for Love.
Running for God.
Running for Life.
Running for Records
Running for Russia.
Running Till The End..
poem by Joseph Fuller
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Tunable Sound of Nyai Panjang Mas
I am the village women,
can only read and write Java script,
Javanese
not the letter Pallava and Sanskrit
rather than the Latin alphabet, Arabic and Chinese
if every person who comes to my house
Should replay pronunciation sounds the letters
Although my eardrums vibrate by a strange hum,
vowel pronunciation of foreign languages
swirling around my body style
difficult to flourish
in the garden a sense of my life
let alone love
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Losing
Oct 2012
Losing
My love for you inspires me to write poems of love, yet mixed with sadness and sorrow.
Loss and gain of finding and losing, of regret and fulfilment,
happiness and the denial of enlightenment in reality, that I was ment to write for you.
Love, yet not to posses, or to touch.
Only to write of loss and to live in reality, to write of what I may of had...
To write how I sabotaged love.. yet still.. and how I'm too hard to like never mind to love.
Its all written down on paper, in my mind scarred and seared into my heart, im just too out of reach
for anyone to want to....
Loving you, allows me to see this... I have failed...and I thank you for this...
I hope, I'm sure, love will never come my way again.
I write it all down for you,
using red ink.
poem by Jill Laughlin
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Live Life on Hope
Strange is our life to live
No idea where it leads
But still live on hope
Where is it going to take?
Meet new people in life
May be just for once
But still live on hope
Will we meet them again?
We make new plans for life
No idea how to manage
But still live on hope
When is it going to attain?
Great effort we make family
Bring up kids to best
But still live on hope
What would be the result?
Children fly when big and built
Again we remain alone
But still live on hope
When will they be back?
All of us live on hope
And it should never end
Until we leave this earth
Always hope for the best...
poem by Sreekala Sukumaran
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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