A Little Paradox Spoken Tonight Aroused By Extreme Pressure
the gods of the little nook
universe
has cursed me
not to be happy and not to be able
to say
what i really want in order to live fully.
i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves
the pains are indescribable
but it only my silence that is the clue
to my redemption
i am put in a box
where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores
of my skin
i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble
it is forbidden
i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves
out there in the fields
i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and
immeasurable joy
i am sure if i touch one of those
my back shall grow its wings
i have never done the things i did in dreams
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut
i boast to those who follow me
that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown
both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me
all songs of happiness
they have never seen my heart
they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad
sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Paradox (edited)
the gods of the little nook
universe have cursed me not to be happy and not to be able
to say what i really want in order to live fully.
i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves
the pains are indescribable
but it is only my silence that is the clue to my redemption
i am put in a box where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores of my skin
i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble it is forbidden
i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves
out there in the fields i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and immeasurable joy
the immensity of my humanity
i am sure if i touch one of those little things
sands of diamonds
my back shall grow its own eagle
wings
i have never done the things that i did in dreams
my immense joy immeasurable
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut
when i wake up
i boast to those who follow me that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me all sorts & songs of happiness
they have never seen my heart they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad
sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained i am at war with what i was.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The Wood-Nymph
-After a picture by Burne Jones-
The green leaves, ah, the green leaves cover me:
Would I might lose this unloved human life
And share the happy being of the leaves!
For lo, they live and grow and drink the sun
And sip the nectar of the heavenly showers
And have no sorrow with it; but they grow
Happily, and Pan at even blesses them.
While I, alas me hapless, I am joined
Part to their life, and all in longing to them;
Part to the gods, the bright gods whom I see
Flash through the woods at even or morn, and make
The beautiful familiar trees seem strange;
And part to mortals and their little life.
Green leaves that cover me, to you I mourn,
My sisters, my more happy sisters, ye
Rustle, rustle in the summer air,
With happy cries of birds among your boughs:
Be happy, though I am not happy. Nay,
I am not all unhappy, evermore.
One while a bird sings on the topmost bough
And my heart sings, forgetting life and death
And sorrow: so forgetting I were blest,
And bliss the gods deny me. When they walk
The forest before sundawn--Artemis,
Girt for the chase and followed by her hounds,
Queen Herê or another, ere the dawn,
Or Aphrodite with the rosy dawn--
I may not speak my longings, but they pass,
Pass unregardful to their happy heaven.
They see me not--not me, akin to Gods!
These tears are vain.--When mortals pass at eve,
Treading a delicate path between the trees,
Pale mortal men and women, with their loves--
It pains me that I see them, for I know
I am not as they are, and cannot share
The little love that fills their little life--
Vain, vain; and they too pass and see me not.
Ah me, dear leaves, forsaken of gods and men,
And sad because I cannot live their life,
Will you not love me whom none others love?
Will you not teach me how to live your life,
My sisters, my more happy sisters?--live
In peace and quietness and still content,
And freshen and fade and freshen and have no care
And have no longing, full of peace to live,
Forgetting thus for ever life and death
And Gods and men and sorrow and delight.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
March Mornings
It sings to me
- the tree, the window tree.
Its leaves open as melodies
to the sheen of Spring.
It speaks to me
its words of green,
says now is the time
for everything.
It fills my dreams
with hopes and things,
making me believe
in what is yet to be.
The tree, the window tree,
brings the birds to me.
Songs come fluttering,
sliding on sun beams.
It dances the breeze,
smiles for me
on mornings like these
- absolutely free.
It sings to me
- the tree, the sweetgum tree.
Its leaves open as memories,
like love to me.
poem by W.I. Stoneberger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
A Story To Tell....
the images of light
like needles from the sun this morning
actually, there are no threads
and nothing to sew
actually, there are no significances
except some few
every word must have a story for you
and you may ask me
but always i agree to disagree with you
words have their own lives their own existence
i am only a vehicle
i am only a body to this ghost
for we are nothing but wings of some black birds
that hover on our backs
when they are through they all leave us
and they take all the wings they have given us in our imagination
we fall asleep and when when we wake up
we check if we are still us mirrored in the pond of still waters
our hands touch our faces
sliding through our smooth bodies
then we say, goodbye black bird
and thank you for making us live all over again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Because It Sings....
there is a man inside the cage
but you cannot tell that he is a man
because
by all appearances of it
it has black wings, sharp claws, it is muted
by a beak
it can only sing in syllables
it is wrapped by
shiny feathers
it is a bird, a black bird and by all means
you cannot tell
that it is angry
because it sings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Way I Feel
The way i feel is like a robin
Whose babes have flown to come no more
A tall oak tree alone and cryin'
When her birds have flown and the nest is bare
Now a woman lord is like a young bird
And the tall oak tree is like a young man's heart
Among his boughs you will find her nesting
When the nights are cool she's warm and dry
Your coat of green will protect her
Her wings will grow your love will too
But all too soon your mighty branches
Will cease to hold her she'll fly from you
If i'd wings to fly
I'd follow you
If you'd wait for me
I'd fly away
I'd fly away
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Cant Hold Back
Theres a story in my eyes
Turn the pages of desire
Now its time to trade those dreams
For the rush of passions fire
I can feel you tremble when we touch
And I feel the hand of fate
Reaching out to both of us
Ive been holding back the night
Ive been searching for a clue from you
Im gonna try with all my might
To make this story line come true
Can ya feel me tremble when we touch
Can ya feel the hand of fate
Reaching out to both of us
This love affair cant wait
*i cant hold back, Im on the edge
(I cant hold back)
You voice explodes inside my head
I cant hold back, I wont back down
Girl its too late to turn back now*
Another shooting star goes by
And in the night the silence speaks to you and i
And now the time has come at last
Dont let the moment run too fast
I can feel you tremble when we touch
And I feel the hand of fate reaching out to both of us
Theres a story in my eyes, turn the pages of desire
Now its time to trade those dreams
For the rush of passions fire
( * repeat)
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Invisible Strings
(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Scraps
There's a habit I have nurtured,
From the sentimental time
When my life was like a story,
And my heart a happy rhyme,--
Of clipping from the paper,
Or magazine, perhaps,
The idle songs of dreamers,
Which I treasure as my scraps.
They hide among my letters,
And they find a cozy nest
In the bosom of my wrapper,
And the pockets of my vest;
They clamber in my fingers
Till my dreams of wealth relapse
In fairer dreams than Fortune's
Though I find them only scraps.
Sometimes I find, in tatters
Like a beggar, form as fair
As ever gave to Heaven
The treasure of a prayer;
And words all dim and faded,
And obliterate in part,
Grow into fadeless meanings
That are printed on the heart.
Sometimes a childish jingle
Flings an echo, sweet and clear,
And thrills me as I listen
To the laughs I used to hear;
And I catch the gleam of faces,
And the glimmer of glad eyes
That peep at me expectant
O'er the walls of Paradise.
O syllables of measure!
Though you wheel yourselves in line,
And await the further order
Of this eager voice of mine;
You are powerless to follow
O'er the field my fancy maps,
So I lead you back to silence
Feeling you are only scraps.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Kindness
Things are destined to be lost
To be broken
The leaves fall and rot
At the foot of the tree
The roots soon shrink
And become part
Of the indifference of the
Rocks and the soil
Things move out
And up
Like vapor and then
Change their forms to air
But there are those that weep
And keep
Whatever was lost and destroyed
The leaves they take with their hands
And the roots
They stroke with the toes of their feet
Caress and
Kindness their virtues
That humanity has soon discarded
They grow the seeds in their hearts
They keep the fire of love
Burning
And the earth and the sun and stars
All smile at them
They too grow and scatter and travel
To all the places of this earth
Their forms too many
The gods know
They too must grow and get the world
Of the grass of sorrow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What You Are Saying
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
358
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trapped...
I am as free as an angel in flight,
Yet I am unable to fly to the heavens.
I yearn to tell of the storm in my heart,
Yet each word I speak is stolen in silence.
I long to reach out to you and hold you,
Yet I have become frozen in time.
I need you to hear the song in my heart,
Yet my heart now sings in silence.
I have a burning desire to make you mine,
Yet I just dont know how to light that flame.
I have become trapped by my own fears,
Yet still this dreamers dreams live vividly.
My dreams of being with you seem to have ended.
Yet in all of life, there is no ending...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!