A View Of Samal Island
between Samal Island
and myself
a moon sitting
on the sea
a golden sheen
spread
like a pedestal
of light
and then
a big ship passes by
marring
my view
i hear no sound
absent minded
i am always thinking
about someone else
always far from me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Even Without You
perhaps i have to ask myself
why i mumble
like no other restless bee
that i can be
in the twilight years
of my life
do i refuse to see light?
have i fallen in love with my
own darkness?
do i wish the blindness of
wisdom?
is wisdom blind?
is there light at the end of this tunnel?
am i in this tunnel?
i am in a room with only one window
and it faces the road
where everyone passes tonight
this is the only passage to their homes
and they simply pass by here
i make no sound
when i open these windows
when i close them
repeatedly
perhaps i exist and they know it
perhaps they only have respect for my silence
perhaps i am to blame for all these
perhaps i have chosen silence
its golden sheen
its private space
i am thinking, and that is the most important thing that is happening
in all my life
even without you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sounds in Mind
This mind is full of sounds…
like Shakespeare’s island; though
no mind is like an island…
where are all those sounds stored,
indexed, waiting tidy on their shelves?
Only when a sound returns
do you realise that it’s been missing..
hasn’t deprivation always been
the Creator’s pointed message to us?
just now, sitting with a teacup,
after a ‘testing’ week…
a gentle, sweet and reasonable
woman’s mother voice returns
to mind's uncatalogued fine inner ear;
reminds me it’s been absent for awhile..
and the world that seemed so alien last week
surrounds me with its mellow sound of care.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Mermaid On A Dolphin's Back
It was midnight and our ship was in mid-sea,
All were asleep, none there on deck except me.
The sound of the sea water, blowing wind I heard,
I was thinking then, when to go homeward!
Suddenly a musical note passed into in my ear,
Dulcet I might call it, but that put me in fear.
In the semi darkness, I noticed a very queer scene,
A mermaid with half fish body sitting on a dolphin!
A gossamer robe was on her glossy fair skin,
Glyptic band on her golden hair was vividly seen.
They rose up and down and almost touched a rack,
She was the beautiful mermaid, on the dolphin's back!
They were whispering in a very low sound,
I could hear as, there was no roaring waves around!
Her long cloudy locks were swaying in cool air,
Dumb stuck I stood as there was no crew to share!
The mermaid with her fish like bright, tinkle fin,
Embraced earnestly the neck of the cute dolphin!
The moon was walking, with his shiny silver shoon,
The flakes of the clouds wrapped the moving moon.
The sky then got covered with a gauzy dark shroud!
They dived into the sea, remained, the sea kissing cloud!
By Nilakshi Das
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Absent-Minded Rabbit
Take me into the forest and,
Show me an absent-minded rabbit who wears seven pairs of gloves;
Take me to the zoo and,
Show me an absent-minded rabbit who wears seven pairs of gloves;
This will sound like fun at bedtime but,
What kind of fundamental rights do i have on this earth?
For i have to defy nationality and culture boundaries for this love.
It is funny when you are not globally competitive,
But i have to listen to the lecturers at times;
And with seemingly irreconcilable differences,
For i have to show them my status.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Father’s Son
Once
when I was still a baby boy
obsessed, thrilled with dark night sky
father said, shut your eyes tightly
then sailed I into dark night sky
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.
But
i fell like lead
just before hard ground
to my father’s arms- veinated, calloused
his chirped nails safely grabbed
then
i opened my eyes
stretching my empty arms, pink nails
for a earnest glimpse of
a dip of deep, dark-blue velvety
golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatched twinkling stars.
and I felt sad.
Then-
father buried his head on my nape
his grizzly beard tickling my face
making little ‘blurp’ ‘blurp’ sounds
my shrill laughter
accosting his deep throaty laughter
echoing my disappointment into dark night sky
before sailing me into dark night sky
back to his rough-gentle arms
again
again
and again
to dip in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpate golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars.
“Drink all Ma’s omena* soup
to be taller, reach the dark night sky”
father said, following my gaze
into the dark night sky
static radio bleating reggae
golden full moon bathing us in golden sheen
just me and my father
sleeping in his rough-gentle arms
dreaming of my arms
dipping in deep, dark-blue velvety
palpating golden sheen of the golden full moon
snatching twinkling stars
poem by Manuel Odeny
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The Moon and The Old Willow Tree
Sitting under the silver light of the Moon
Leaning on the Old Willow tree
Watching as the world passes by
Reflecting on our lives
Watching the stars as they remind us of our hopes and dreams
Our triumphs and our loses
Wishing we could go back
To the days when
All
Was simpler
When our lives
Were filled with innocent
Bliss
But we cannot change the past
All that matters now
Is living
In this moment
Sitting under the sliver light of the Moon
Leaning on the Old Willow tree
poem by Autumn Winds
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Moon's Enduring Magical Spell!
When Jules Verne wrote, ‘From the Earth To
The Moon’, in eighteen hundred and sixty
five,
Little did he realise that a century later,
His created work of fiction, will get transformed
into reality!
Though his work was praised and eulogized,
As a triumph of his imaginative mind,
And as a great fictional write!
Later, on the twentieth of July,1969, astronauts
Neil Armstrong and Aldrin,
Landed their spacecraft ‘Eagle’, on the barren
lunar surface, -
Which was lifeless and desolate!
Though a technological feat in mankind’s
history,
The conquered moon continues to retain, -
Its pristine magical spell and mystery!
When our poets, the artists and the romantics,
Gaze at the full moon during the night,
They become inspired by the shinning golden
orb,
Which sheds its sheen of mystical light!
They wonder how the moon transforms,
Those scorching rays of the furious sun,
Into such soothing radiance of golden sheen!
A mysterious form of alchemy, which has never
been heard or seen!
And while the moon revolves round the earth,
It displays only a single side always,
While the moon’s far side, remains hidden from
our face!
The full moon’s magic on the ebb and flow of
our ocean tides,
And the spell it casts on the lunatic mind,
Remains as mysterious as its dark and unseen
side!
And now I pause to recall, those bedside stories
of my childhood days,
My grandma use to lovingly narrate and say, -
About an Old Lady sitting on the moon,
With her silver and golden colored yarns,
Holding a magical spindle in her hand, -
Weaving dreams of many colors and shapes!
Even till this day, our old lady on the moon,
With her magical strands of gossamer threads,
Weaves sweet dreams for our little children, -
Getting ready on earth to go to bed!!
poem by Raj Nandy (20 September 2008)
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In An Island Of Light
some people have always loved
the island of light
and they do everything to be
inside
that island of light
to a certain extent of disregarding
civility and forgetting courtesy
and setting aside
the reservation that the island of light
is too small and cannot be
the place for all
some people have to live outside
the island of light
for that is what is meant to be
in the word of
destiny
and there will be time for all
a season for some
luck for the other
fate for four
disaster for more
the island of light soon dissolves itself
for the light of day
the sun of mercy
and it is for free.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Isle of our Delight
Hallowed moon- Blessed moon- Beloved moon.
Winged moon aloft in the crucible of the night.
Traveler’s moon, the dreamer moon- the starlit songster of time.
Sing your songs of years unending- dream your dreams of roads unbending.
Listen, yes, and listen now- the star-filled silences called across the seas.
Light our way hence to Ynis corgis- the island of “No Hopes fading.”
Guide our footsteps true-to the island of “Time’s walking.”
Leading us though this pure night of island of “No Love’s parting.”
poem by Katarina Bowman
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Manhood
in the center of my garden
of paradise
i stand alone
naked facing a mirror pool
where i see my
own image
i raise my hands to touch
the moon
it is golden on a sheen of fingers
touching my body
i squirt
too much light
so many seeds of light
some tiny hungry grass forms
have mouths
open
drinking some dews from the leaves
of my body
this is the cycle of my
solo existence
squirts of light
when the moon fades in a universe of dark space
it is so silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I was writing a chapter of Beautiful Evidence on the subject of the sculptural pedestal, which led to my thinking about what's up on the pedestal - the great leader.
quote by Edward Tufte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Opportunity
(ian hunter)
The kids are ok
Theyre telling you now
But youre letting them down
Cause you just dont know how
And its a golden opportunity
Im spinning in space
Im laughing away
Your so pathetic
I can just hear them say
Its like a golden opportunity
You better hear it
See hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
Get near it
Its a golden opportunity
We reckon theyre rats
Now see how they run
My house is so common
And were dumb were so dumb
And its a golden opportunity
Scream all you suckers
Scream all you can
Im losing my bluff
Its a scam its a scam
And its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it hear it
Its like a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it hear it
Its like a golden opportunity
Alright!
You better hear it hear it
Hear it hear it
Its a golden opportunity
Hear it
Hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it
Its a golden opportunity
You better hear it
You better hear it
Its a golden opportunity
(fade)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballerina Style
Lift me down again
that always feels new;
Twirl me down again
to cure my dizziness.
Turn my pedestal upside down
finding me with Humilities Smile
on my upside face.
Can a man walk on one leg?
Can you hear the sound of one hand clapping?
Can you hear a butterfly sing?
You can.
Can anything compare to
the lift me down,
the dizzy cure
the upside down pedestal
and the one legged man walking
one hand clapping
the butterfly smile?
Yes, that would be you;
You're my dance partner
lifting me down
twirling me
upside down
on the pedestal
on one leg
ballerina style.
And now
you know
how dancing feels
when loved
and being loved:
twirled upside down.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Long to See Home
I sit here and listen
to each story told
and hear of tropical island breeze
that make the palm trees
sway in its wake
and white beachs glemming
Where the waves
lap against its shores
I long to see
were I can place my hand
and run sand in my hand
seeing the deep blue lagoons
that hide the oceans life
Taste the fruits
that are abundance galore
to see the colours of rainbows
of flowers that spread
across its shores
I sit and sigh
and think will I see
those wonderful sites
Will I see the beauty
of the home were
my parents use to roam
as children of old
and hear the legends
being told by the camp fire site
Will I ever get to see
the moon shine its light
by the beautiful shores
of my parents home
Will I ever see their home
I sigh with a dreamy eye
thinking one day I just might
poem by Kaila George
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Sonnet: The Haloed-Moon
God shows a moon with aureole sheen,
Full-round haloed with greenish-pinkish light,
A phenomenon I have rarely seen!
The unseen sun still makes the moon look bright.
A pitch-black cloud just stands above the moon;
The latter sails behind it to vanish;
The eclipsed moon is back in full view soon;
My heart is filled with joy that can’t perish.
The cloud looks like black month of September,
The end of which will bring new hope again;
This glorious vision, I will remember,
For like promotion delayed, so is rain!
God speaks to me so strangely from the sky;
I pray He must do so until I die.
poem by John Celes
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Moon Over Bourbon Street
Theres a moon over bourbon street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
Ive no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can only show my face at noon
And youll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
Ive the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
She walks everyday through the streets of new orleans
Shes innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Echo Of The Night
When silence is persistent
And the shadows lie in wait
When the sun steps aside for the moon
You can hear the music of the night
At the break of dawn its hides
It fears the burning golden light
It favors the moon as its ally
One who isn't blind with pride
As the shadows of the day finally dissipate
And the sun recedes in the mountains
When the moon cast its shadow over the land
Once again comes the music of the night
It seems strange to call it music
When no sound is actually there
But like a choir in a cavern
Its voice echoes throughout the land
When you finally abandon your thoughts
Kneel silently before the land
Its echo can finally reach you
And you can hear the music of the night
poem by Logan Fulk
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Apostolic
Cast in an island
Far away from one’s conscious mind
Isolated in somewhere with no one
Lonesome man drifted by the ocean
He sees the blue skies and thinks for a while
The world shifts without his consent and passes him by
Just when he finally can inquire of himself about why
A raven lands on his shoulder, mocking him with a cry
And the afternoon gets in behind his eyelids
Sitting down with his dreams, frozen as time bids
Trees grow as the moon slips behind the night wings
Say the man, “Goodbye my love, to the eternity.”
poem by Alexander Foald
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Moon Moon
When Moon Moon says
In case of me
To be a quite poet is possible
In addition, I have to be a cool.
When Moon Moon says
The days have to face
Good ways
To begin its first hour
To get its special power.
When Moon Moon says
I cannot hear anybody’s voice
When Moon Moon says
I can realize my age
To do something better
Not caring any matter.
When Moon Moon says
I can guess
She says something special
Those are needed for all.
When Moon Moon says
I have to face
Some case in any case.
When Moon Moon says
Sometimes, no case can be found
Without she says, like
“Hi! How are you
For the few
With your near dear
Are there any tears in your eyes?
When she says…”
Man can be silent
Ocean can be island
He can be brilliant
Even
You can be toys
When Moon Moon says.
When Moon Moon says
All guys are nice
To play with their lives.
When Moon Moon says
Everything seems to us
Like a touch
Of heart,
And
That is a part
Of our life
To survive.
When Moon Moon says
Man pays attention much
Because, what she says, is a touch.
If Moon Moon doesn’t say anything
Then for her not saying
All will be dying.
When she stops saying
Everything seems to me lying.
When she will say
I may
Wait for her
Than other
For sine-dine
Even until I die.
poem by Manir Hossain
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What Asylum!
Come and meet me in chamber of death
where the tempest comes every night.
I start disrobing the anger
to find the eye of the moon.
Where do I get that ink that
writes an unwritten poem on water
of eyes when the ship was
burning after a rare landing.
Come and meet me in sleep of an infant.
It was time to start a dialogue
with golden death sitting on the
greed of man. The lips were extracting
the other honey from frozen moon.
Come and meet me in merciless sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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