A Thin Curtain Of Gray Silk
between this and that
there is a thin curtain of gray silk
that serves as a divider
between this despair and
that bliss
it is not your hand that
sets it aside
not your your mouth that
finally speaks the word
it is someone else
the mighty one
that one that puts it
this way and that way
between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
But Don't Despair
Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.
But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!
So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Rain of despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Beauty Speaks In Silence
early morning
along the white sands of the shore
there are no people here
most of them are still asleep
the sea is calm as silk
clear as glass
the sun is rising gently
in the gray horizon
it is beauty that speaks
my words are shying away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song
I.
Strive not, vain lover, to be fine;
Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine:
You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought,
To think it may be in a cobweb caught.
What, though her thin transparent lawn
Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn:
Not all the arms the god of fire ere made
Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade.
II.
Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress
In her fair soul's immac'late glass.
Then by reflection you may have the bliss
Perhaps to see what a true fineness is;
When all your gawderies will fit
Those only that are poor in wit.
She that a clinquant outside doth adore,
Dotes on a gilded statue and no more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Strive Not, Vain Lover
I.
Strive not, vain lover, to be fine;
Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine:
You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought,
To think it may be in a cobweb caught.
What, though her thin transparent lawn
Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn:
Not all the arms the god of fire ere made
Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade.
II.
Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress
In her fair soul's immac'late glass.
Then by reflection you may have the bliss
Perhaps to see what a true fineness is;
When all your gawderies will fit
Those only that are poor in wit.
She that a clinquant outside doth adore,
Dotes on a gilded statue and no more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Curtain
They walk with the black curtain over their faces
They gather others with the pain it leaves behind
The people live in darkness nothing in their minds
Their faces are blank no expresion no feeling
Those who have seen know what it does
Those who know weep in solitude and sorrow
They don't look forward to today or tomorrow
They know everything yet they know nothing
The peoples skin all white and sickened
Their voices a raspy mist
All they look for all they long for is peace and bliss
Their cloths worn and tattered
They know there is no cure
They know there is no hope, no place for them to rest
For they know they will soon be one less
They know there is no cure they know they will rot away
They walk through this aweful place
With dread and dispare
Everyone knows, and try not to stare
Yet it is so hard to sheild your eyes, to hold back the tears
The black curtain lays over their eyes
The cloth that shall never be lifted
For it is too far they have drifted
The curtain falls over their faces
The darkness sets in
They know the time has come for them to leave this place
There is no expresion on their faces
As the curtian and sickness leaves
They will suffer no more
They will go home
And will never be alone
For the curtain is lifted and they are in the light once more
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Prodigal
I face the day again
Against the window pane.
I remain your closest friend,
And wish you back again.
You wonder how i feel;
You think you've pushed too far.
If only you could see this pen
Scribbling down my heart.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run when i see you--
I'll meet you.
But still the days drag on.
Why did you decide to go?
Did you only need to see
What only time can show?
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run when i see you.
And even if
You never do return,
Still i will have learned
How to love you better.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run to meet you.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
I'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run to meet you.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music and lyrics
Its music that wakes me up to a shiny day
Even if it’s dull like shades of gray
Its music that makes every day a “special day”
Even for the least unexpected way
Its music that gives me life like the sun
Even if my world refuses to take spun
Its music that wields me to strive and run
Even if my body takes on a million pun
Its music that serves as my “guiding light”
Even through the coldest, darkest of all the night
Its music takes a stand for me to fight
Even if everyone seems nowhere in sight
Its music that serves as my only inspiration
Even if the world doesn’t even bother for such reason
Its music that takes me to a world full of imagination
Even if everyone seems to bliss me off to harsh realization
Its music that permits my love take such progress
Even if everyone seems happy to see me oppress
Its music that I will forever stand up for such prowess
Even if it has taken as a promise to you my Goddess…
poem by Kaizer Phanton
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Despair Of The Early Morning
DESPAIR OF THE EARLY MORNING
Despair of the early morning
Despair of the darkness
Despair of the Despair
Despair of Old Age
Despair of the road closed
Despair of nothing to do
Despair of nowhere to go
Despair of endless errands
Despair of money running out
Despair of the message of Despair
One transmits to those one loves.
Despair that has to be resisted
Despair that the light of the day
Will help me overcome
Despair I will pray my way out of
Despair I will in the course of the day
Sometime overcome.
Not the great Despair
The unending Despair
The final Despair.
The small Despair of who I am and where I am now.
The Despair that still can be resisted,
By the writing of a few awkward lines
Early in the morning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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He that speaketh against his own reason speaks against his own conscience, and therefore it is certain that no man serves God with a good conscience who serves him against his reason.
quote by Jeremy Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despair Is Darkness
DESPAIR IS DARKNESS
Despair is darkness-
Despair is death inside and death in the world and death in one’s own sad soul-
Despair is no way out -
Despair is the place where one is forever stuck -
Despair is the realization that one has done what one could – and one is not going anywhere else-
Despair is the admission of failure-
Despair is no sign of help anywhere around-
Despair is so much lost-
Despair is one‘s life is over-
Despair is regret-
Despair is the sense that one will never have the time to have another chance -
Despair is ‘it’s finished’-
Despair is no way out-
Despair is going down and more down and more dark and more afraid all the time -
Despair is the scream which hurts and does not stop the hurting -
Despair is the understanding that even Death will not save one -
Despair is that the pain will never end-not even with death.
Despair is no way out again and again and again- without end.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Literary Tongue
at first i like the hands
those huge hands to cover the whole of my cold body
and then i begin to like the fingers
those that crawl and make my body warm
those that fill the orifice of my emptiness
those that caress my hair
and travel from my nose to my mouth
to my neck to the last tip of my toes
and then i like the mouth too
with its tongue that speak about gentleness
and make me a little bit heated
and brave
and then i am finally stuck with the tongue
the surrogate part of of them all
it speaks
it licks
it travels from the tip of my hair to the tip of my toe
and then it stops
hides inside the walls of my teeth and gums
and stay in the house of my mouth
it also knows
when to stop and just be alone and silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silk
Passionate touches
Chocolate kisses
Silk perfection
My body and soul on fire
My eyes glow incandescence
My mind and body sway and rock
You slip into my world
Breathing heavy and high
Fly
Bold and black connections
Silk and creamy perfections
Still life
Real love
Here we go
Lets ride
Lets dance
Lets play
Silk romance
You are my…
You are my…
You are mines
Worth more than all wealth
Greater than any king
Finally the real thing
Silk love
My skin
Milk chocolate
Your skin
Caramel
And we swirl and blend
How does it feel?
Silk feelings never end
His scent
My fragrance
Honeysuckle and milk
His power, my vulnerability
my push, his stroke, our affection…..silk…perfection.
poem by Danielle Beechum
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Love Sonnet 160 When Love Remains As Mere Pigment Of Dreams
When love remains as mere pigment of dreams,
Flimsy as silk, or webs that spiders spin,
Yet serves us best, when life's hard crust it creams,
As joys, that might at times, been spread too thin;
Such when too many blooms were in fragrance,
And picky nose, knows not, from which it's blown,
The same when eyes hailed scores of stars at once,
And heart is naught to know, which to enthrone;
How strange of love, yet fickle, as this thing,
That we worry with so much, as with none,
Whilst we collect a lot, even hoarding,
But of many, we only choose but one;
......What is just, in picking a special bloom,
......When, doing so, would leave the rest in gloom?
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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We Go Out From Our Closed Doors
we go out from our closed doors
we watch
from their windows
not just a dropp of rain
a frozen fern
a haggard stone
a cloud of doubt
an iron curtain
a broken tendon
a very thin man
a hard pair of gloves
we shall see birds of the same feathers
men of character
women of passion
flowing rivers
wide mouth of the seas
we shall see a choir of angels
we shall see the face of God
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We are making it
People don't understand
What we feel inside
That I finally found a man
And his heart is all mine
That he found a woman
That he can call his own
Everyone wants us to fail
Needing a hand out
To ask them all for help
But all we need is each other
Together Forever hand in hand
We are making it
Through all the thick and thin
And we know in our hearts
Where we've truly been
Through the smiles and tears
Together we battle all our fears
Our souls are a perfect fit
And together.............
We are making it
poem by Dawn Ellis
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Don't Say Goodbye
We don't have to say goodbye.
We'll just stay here where we lie.
There's no need for this to end.
Eternal bliss is round the bend.
If we face what we both feel.
Then we'll finally know it's real.
Don't say goodbye and please don't lie.
You know it's right and so do I.
Providence speaks without defeat.
Telling us do not retreat.
You both have what each does need.
Tell eachother your secret plea.
We both are scared.
How will it fare.
If it's lost how could we bare?
We'll never know until we try.
So let us never say goodbye.
poem by Michael McParland
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Afternoon Musings 6
(the time is 6: 02 pm
Philippine time)
imagine myself situate yourself
in my own place
i am writing a poem on the ground floor of this house
the brown curtain is laced and tied to a window
that opens beyond this red painted wrought iron fence
outside the mango trees are full of leaves
and the grasses are running wild
on mud where the earthworms are thriving
the sky is turning gray and the horizon turns
pale orange as the sun finally descends to
hand this total darkness on this land of mine
you hear the sound of the strong wind from the
sea moving towards the big mountains that i
see from where i am sitting and writing
i am telling you again, the sound is howling
and i am telling you again, i am just alone staring
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Storm In My Sea Finally Subsided...,
the storm of my sea finally subsides
i am a chinese silk spread on the tranquility of the salty water
seagulls leave because there is no fish to hunt
and take upon their hungry beaks
i have no regret, i have finally seen the sun
across my whiter horizon
i see boats and nets spread on my surface
i am a very calm day
soon the children will come and play
throw balls on my white sands
fill this space with laughter and not one of them will ask
what a storm was, where there was a house here before but was
taken by the rage of the wind
gone,
the children have nothing to do with the past
they are not meant for that
an old man arrives with a grandson, being helped to sit on one of the chairs in the shore under a shade of a big old tree
he is the thinker of this storm this place
he knows everything, but he is silent as a dead leaf on his feet
he rests his head on a pillow puts his feet and hands in the fold
wears his dark sunglasses and stares at the far far horizon
i will join him when the sun finally sets, when the color of the horizon turns into orange and then black
as i turn off the light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Respect the doer of mean works
Respect them who do works
That demand no respects
More than them who do works
That command reverence.
Not prepared for such works
That are held low or mean,
You must at least respect
Them who do men works to you.
As a doctor serves you
A barber too serves you.
As a teacher serves you
A sweeper too serves you.
06.02.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Yesterday's Hymn
(K.J.Garside C.Gray)
Ten planes falling from the sky,
The setting sun leaves no trace,
My name was written in the sky,
But now there is no trace.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
Shadow faces reaching for me,
Pretending they know what's best for me,
But I know that I am their experiment,
I scare myself with paranoid talk.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
I try to keep the whispered words at bay,
For they seem to feed into the mire,
I've lost all ability to make any choices,
I'm teetering in purgatory.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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