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A Poem For Impermanence...

even the stones in your
garden
we do not know really
shifted places

do they know how to travel?
we ask

even the sands have learned
the flight of birds
on invisible wings of our
very own minds

we do not ask since then
all these
manifestations of impermanence
the flitting moments
those invincible phantoms of the hours

i am convinced,
me for instance

where am i now? i still ask
the same question
to the moon which had long gone into
the corner
of dawn....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Since You Are Gone

Since you are gone the stones lie differently along the ground
and words that are the same now have a different sound
-and-
sharp and clear in early dawn there is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Since you are gone the path seems steeper still
there seems to be more brambles on our hill
More birds that do not sing
more incests that do sting

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Since you are gone the stones lie differently along the ground
-and-
Words that are the same

Now have a different sound
-and-
Sharp and clear in early dawn

There is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone- since you are gone

Palling winds, blow softly now, I dread
foreboding echos lament beside my bed
How soon the embers glow is lost-
how soon the darkness comes and frost

And sharp and clear in early dawn there is a road I cannot travel on

Since you are gone-
Since you are gone

There is a road I cannot travel on

poem by Isabelle Cooper
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Paradise: In A Symbol

Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.

One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.

On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.

They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.

Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:

Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Innocent Birds

Birds are innocent.
They fly from place to place.
In search of peace and happiness.
Like everyone else.

I wish I had wings.
Flying everywhere and roaming here and there.
All the places and somewhere else.

Their life is like ours.
Like a day of 24 hours.
And a time of few hours.
Birds are hunted for nothing else.
Hunters have them for something else.

poem by Yash Pradhan
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When You Define A Thing

when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest

it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,

but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds

a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ode To Emily Dickinson

hope is the
thing with feathers

to be with onself
can be as productive
as any bird in the sky
as one mind is equipped
with wings that can fly
as far as it wishes to be

give it books, it can
fly to places where the feet
cannot take and beyond

beyond the mountain
where all the knowledge
ever harvested by minds
is logged
invisible and waiting
for minds to fly into them
to take them to places
where they should be

flying in everybody's mind

hope is the thing with feathers

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Marvellous Travel

I travel with my eyes,
Watching those silently cry,
Asking themselves the question why,
Someone left them without saying goodbye;

I travel with my thoughts,
I travel with my pen;
To write about children, women and men;

I travel with my voice,
I travel with my hope,
That something new, would spring into my horoscope,
Whether in Asia, America or Europe,
There'll always be something interesting to scope;

I travel to many different places,
Mix with many races,
Identify tribesmen by their faces,
And little girls by their laces,

I travel without money,
So, please listen to my testimony,
The good, the bad and even the ugly,
Every experience is worth life's journey,

For I'll always be marvelled,
When ever I travel.

poem by Joshua Fernandez
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Leonardo's Legend

he dreamt that a man
given his wings
can always fly
faster than a bird

they dislike him
the church
sees him as evil
for flight is not
intended for men

for men have only
feet to walk
never had wings
as God so intends

then Leonardo
made the wings
and men indeed can
fly like the birds in the skies

the legend lives
the lesson learned
we can always be
what we want to be
if we only try harder
if we only think deeper

now, man beware
do you want to be God?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Travelerz

I travel with my eyes,
Watching those silently cry,
Asking themselves the question
why,
Someone left them without
saying goodbye;
I travel with my thoughts,
I travel with my pen;
To write about children, women
and men;
I travel with my voice,
I travel with my hope,
That something new, would
spring into my horoscope,
Whether in Asia, America or
Europe,
There'll always be something
interesting to scope;
I travel to many different places,
Mix with many races,
Identify tribesmen by their faces,
And little girls by their laces,
I travel without money,
So, please listen to my testimony,
The good, the bad and even the
ugly,
Every experience is worth life's
journey,
For I'll always be marvelled,
When ever I travel.

poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
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Lover's Gifts LVIII: Things Throng and Laugh

Things throng and laugh loud in the sky; the sands and dust dance
and whirl like children. Man's mind is aroused by their shouts; his
thoughts long to be the playmates of things.
Our dreams, drifting in the stream of the vague, stretch their
arms to clutch the earth, -their efforts stiffen into bricks and
stones, and thus the city of man is built.
Voices come swarming from the past,-seeking answers from the
living moments. Beats of their wings fill the air with tremulous
shadows, and sleepless thoughts in our minds leave their nests to
take flight across the desert of dimness, in the passionate thirst
for forms. They are lampless pilgrims, seeking the shore of light,
to find themselves in things. They will be lured into poets's
rhymes, they will be housed in the towers of the town not yet
planned, they have their call to arms from the battle fields of the
future, they are bidden to join hands in the strife of peace yet
to come.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Invincible wings

When you are totally hopeless, do not despair
Just close your eyes and calm yourself
Then imagine you have a pair of invincible wings
That will lift your hope up from the pit.

When you are totally tired, do not despair
Just close your eyes and calm yourself
Then imagine you have a pair of invincible wings
That will give you strength to continue your flying

When you are hurt, do not despair
Just close your eyes and calm yourself
Then imagine you have a pair of invincible wings
That will take you to the sanctuary of healing

With these invincible wings you can survive
Any storm that you will meet in your life
With these invincible wings you can fly
As high as you can imagine in the sky.

poem by Henry Chen
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On the Garden Wall

Oh, once I walked a garden
In dreams. 'Twas yellow grass.
And many orange-trees grew there
In sand as white as glass.
The curving, wide wall-border
Was marble, like the snow.
I walked that wall a fairy-prince
And, pacing quaint and slow,
Beside me were my pages,
Two giant, friendly birds.
Half swan they were, half peacock.
They spake in courtier-words.
Their inner wings a charriot,
Their outer wings for flight,
They lifted me from dreamland.
We bade those trees good-night.
Swiftly above the stars we rode.
I looked below me soon.
The white-walled garden I had ruled
Was one lone flower--the moon.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Long Thin Dawn

That long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again
Ive seen the hills of frisco and the streets of montreal
In every town Ive been to Ive had someone to call
From winnipeg to edmonton, vancouver to st. paul
Ive had so many good friends I couldnt miss them all
And that long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again
Last night I came to denver beneath the snow-capped ridge
I thought about my darlin as I stood beneath the bridge
And there were times I made her cry but I guess by now shes learned
That any time Ive wandered I always have returned
And that long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again
Right now Im on a highway just east of omaha
Riding shotgun on the biggest rig you ever saw
With forty tons of pig iron and a trucker known as bill
All the way to windsor, weve got some miles to kill
And that long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again
While climbin up a hillside, bill drops er down a gear
And the engine sings so sweetly tis music to my ear
I tell him how I long to be just like him if I can
Drivin like the restless wind across this precious land
Says bill the air is clean tonight as he puffs a big cigar
And if this rig keeps rollin, my boy youll travel far
But when you are a trucker youll come to realize
The only thing a man can do is watch the world go by
And that long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again
That long thin dawn
That long thin dawn
Is comin on again

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life’s Railway

Life is a lot like a railway
As we travel along through time
Clickety clacking along our way
A good life we seek to find

We pass through many places
Meet folks both good and bad
Have experiences along the way
Many happy but some are sad

Some of the places we travel
We never plan to return
But others stay in our memory
Good lessons we have learned

We never know what we will see
All we can do is take it day by day
Doing the very best we can
As we travel life’s exciting railway!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Sands Of Time

The trickling of sand has started now
for the moments we shall share.
There will not be enough time for us,
not enough time to spare.

Let's turn the hourglass over and over
so our time cannot run out.
For our love, my sweet is all that counts.
It's all I think about.

The sands of time one by one
are traveling much too fast.
How can we slow them down, my dear?
How can we make them last?

Yours is the heart that beats my life,
one beat at a time.
Yours is the mind that connects with me
one thought at a time.

And as we travel through our lives
those grainy sands still fall,
making me want to hang on tight
and stop them once and for all.

But life is movement and must go on
so take my hand and stay
close by my side through all our moments
as the sands of time fall away.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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My heart shall be thy garden

My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
Up to the sky inclosed, with all its showers.
But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.

For as these come and go, and quit our pine
To follow the sweet season, or, new-corners,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine.
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.

poem by Alice Meynell
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The Secret Language Of Birds

This sparkling wine is all but empty.
Too late for trains and no taxis.
I know the feeling. seems all too contrived.
There was no master plan but the fact is:
You must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
A tentative dawn about to be breaking
On a rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding.
The truth of the matter, yet to be spoken
In words on which everything, everythings riding.
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
Circled by swallows
In a world for the weary.
Courted by warblers; wicked and eloquent trilling.
Lie in the stillness, window cracked open.
Extended moments, hours for the taking.
Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke.
Painted verse with a chorus in waiting.
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wingless Flight

Wingless Flight

I sometime sit and wonder why
There are some birds which cannot fly.
The Emu and the Ostrich too
Remain earthbound as we have to

The penguins clad in black and white,
they too have lost the power of flight.
They do their flying in the sea
I don’t know why it puzzles me.

I have no wings I cannot fly
but if I had I would rise high.
Above the land, above the sea.
Instead of sitting miserably

confined by age to my arm chair.
My aching joints are hard to bear.
Despite my disability
I have the capability

To disregard reality
Immerse my self in fantasy
and fly to where I want to be.
I don’t need wings to carry me.

I travel at the speed of thought
to where the silver dragons sport
I do not need to leave my chair
imagination takes me any where.

15-Aug-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Invisible Tool

I love my invisible tool,
It shapeshifts into many forms and its damn cool,
It follows me everywhere i go,
if anyone asks a trade for it, i'll say 'no, '

I am lucky i used it in the graduation mass,
And hell yes, it saved my ass.
My invisible tool is so damn invisible,
it is no doubt the most invincible!

I believe everyone has their own invisible tool,
and each of us can only feel our own tool,
As for me, my invisible tool is my cour,
I am so happy i wanted to buy a whore!

poem by Greggi Leano
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The Sound Of Wings.....

from the bars of the cell,
i learned freedom from the body.
from the underside of the bridge,
i learned home has not a house.
from forty years of working,
i learned the bitterness of the slave.
from the political lies,
i learned that truth cant be bought.
from the books i read,
i learned to reason and question.
from the heroin needle,
i learned the value of life.
from love lost,
i learned how to love.
from doubt i learned seeking,
in seeking i found god to be more.
from the scars on my heart,
i learned to be a man.
from battles fought and lost,
i learned the need for peace.
from discrimination i learned equality,
from anger i learned forgiveness.
from the mirror i learned responsibility...
from the bars of the cell,
i learned the sound of wings!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Resplendent Realms

The time has come
The Green Man said
A day of reckoning
To count the flowers
By the sea
And trace the foot steps
Of the Queen

The Prince has caused a horrid rift
The Queen she fled in fear
And Natures gifts were set a drift
Those gifts the Queen held dear

The Joker caught a bird in flight
And kept her captive for the night
He gave her such a fitful fright
Shattered by her earth bound plight
She flew away beyond his sight

Then midst the garden, fairies danced
They sang with joyful voices
But Mortal Man hast cast his fate
And as the spirits contemplate
His shallow rooted choices

The wind it howled
And dark clouds loomed
The Light above
Replaced by gloom
As He became a living tomb.

Now if you see a stranger
Cross your path one day
Listen for the Green Man
To what he has to say
Follow gentle wisdom
And you'll never go a stray

Be sure to plant your garden
With cabbages and kale.
In your best endeavors
Always will you sail.

Listen to the thunder
Of primordial hail.
As you count the crystals
You shall never fail

Through the waves of time
Though lost we have become
Onward shall we travel
And never will succumb

Though darkness closes in
Never shall we morn
The moments of eternity
Are but the sacred circuitry
Unharmed within the storm.

One day our mortal eyes will see
And mortal ears discern
The angels will rejoice to know
That mortal man has learned.

Upon this earth there's none so dear
As messengers on high.
They cast out all our pain and fear
And let us know that God is near.
And on the wings of loving thoughts
Our Minds and Souls will fly.

poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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