Be Not Like The Frogs And The Clouds
be not like the frogs that copulate in the rain
on those nights where others cannot sleep
be not like those that croak without meaning
on the murky ponds, on those rivited rivers
be not like the clouds that drift east to west,
and have not known what is fidelity to permanence
or what colors to choose as they change shapes
for the seasons that come and go like the wind
be not like me, for i know not what is there to be
a perfection not attained in any form of my poetry
do not follow me for my ways are not theirs
those who pave the easy & wide paths to destiny
just be yourself my dear, use the light inside your soul
stare at the flicker of your own wisdom your own goal
scroll your own choices, take the path of your loneliness
speak the language of your heart then feel your wholeness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Do You Really Want to Know Me?
if you know what a river is
perhaps you will know a man
i am a man and you will say to the river
i have known a man and i have known a river
there is no way that i will never you in full
you shall brag to the clouds in your mind
they drift
there is no permanence
permanence is an illusion
a river
a cloud
water
air
and this is where we must start
educating air
if you step upon my heart and tell me
i have know everything about you and you must not change and that is what you are
you are wrong
for i am a river that encircles a mountain
but i know a path but the paths do not know me
and so i keep on moving
changing paths and what path was it that you have seen yesterday
is no longer the path now
you must accept you have never known a river
because a river is man
and man is not forever man
he is a river that always escapes the hold of your mind
that frame that has walls
without even the possibility of another opening for stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Path of Hope
The Path of Hope
The Path of Life is layed before you
Life is like a novel…It has elements
It has Characters
It has Settings
It has a Plot
It has Ideals and Morals
Like Friendship and Love
Like Faith and Sacrifice
Like Fate and Destiny
Like Hope and Despair
There are Paths…Paths of your destiny
The Path of Good or The Path of Evil
The Path of Darkness or The Path of Light
The Path of Hope or The Path of Despair
Only you can choose your path
But chose wisely…For you can’t turn back time
You must follow your heart…For it will guide you
Never give up on your dreams
Always Believe…Trust your heart
Don’t let the bad people get you down
Just Believe,
Trust your Heart,
Have Faith in your Dreams,
Have Hope in the Despair,
Follow the Light in the Darkness
Find the Euphoria in the Sorrows,
Trust your Friends,
Follow the Stars…They will Guide you
May the Stars be a Light for you when all other Lights go out
Life is like a Novel…
poem by Bleeding Heart
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Indian Summer Sky
In the ocean
Cut, swim, deep the sky
Like there, I dont know why
In the forest, theres a clearing
I run there towards the light
Sky...
Its a blue sky
In the earth a hole dig deep, decide
If I could, I would
Up for air to swim against the tide
Hey, hey, hey
Up toward the sky
Its a blue sky
To lose along the way
The spark that set the flame
To flicker and to fade
On this the longest day
So wind blow through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind blow through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind blow through to my heart...
You give yourself to this the longest day
You give yourself, you give it all away
Two rivers run too deep
The seasons change and so do i
The light that strikes the tallest trees
Will light a way for i
Will light a way
Up toward the sky
Its a blue sky
To lose along the way
The spark that set the flame
To flicker and to fade
On this the longest day
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
So wind go through to my heart...
You give yourself to this the longest day
You give yourself, you give it all away
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being Left Out
we arrive here together
when the moon was full
for what reason i am left out
i am alone
and you who are all my friends
like sparrows
flew away from me
together
i am like a tree without leaves
and the rocks from the cliff
stare at me in silence
the rivers have their tryst with the sea
the clouds in reunion with the wind
all in their ecstasies
bursting
the fire of sunset amazes me
i want to go near and be burned
there is something lovely
in that red and orange blaze
soon the black bird comes and hovers
on the land that i walk
soon the silence of the stars shall shoo away
the madness of my heart
i may cry and be like the rain and flood all
the paths that you have left me
i may topple some bridges and witness
the fading colors of the rainbow
the dissolving mist of the mountains
these are the utilities of futility
someone has cried and no one listens
i have a dream for many nights now
i have become the moon owning my own light
i speak to my heart and my ears listen
i shine my own light and i am now silent with a hundred stars
you all left me and now i must thrive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ride with the Angel wings
you can choose to die in many ways,
but not life to die in eternity, the cascading
truth of perfection, Lies in the absent of
wisdom in believing the eternal words of
God
transcend my ways in the light of hymn
for the melody have power my ride like a
wagon of grace fuel to the destiny of forever
time, a lasting memory of between you and
me, dear God
touch dear angel, the humble soul turn
to purple of heart for your great ride, make
my day wonderful, soon the dream of passing
day finally woken the best of the best things
happen in me, drugging the angel speed as I
catch the wings ride for free
the pace have going to turn back home, just
woke me up until the morning sun, rise in
the East …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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My Life, My Colors
Elders hear me loud and clear
I have my rites, you hear
Many paths created
For me to choose from
I will decide which one
Liberated before conception
I am not weak, I have a voice
With all due respect wise Elders
I nearly let you waste, my life and his
Created with love
I have the rite, to love and be loved
To you dear elders
My path may seem grey
Only I will colour it
With colours I choose for my life
In short...
I choose to be who I am
I choose which risks I will take
I choose the colours to pave my path
My life is all about the liberated choices I will make
poem by Persian Khushi
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How Ordinary Language Becomes Poetic
do not worry about images
leave it to the wise imagination of the reader
do not insult his powers
of extending the meaning of your ordinary language
beyond what you
are thinking or saying with utmost intention to drive your point
the poetry of indeterminacy
the meanings hidden in such plain words
as wolf and sheep
shepherd to this staff
river to stones
and clouds to rain and rain and rain and rain
and yes the trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrainnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,
do not be too concerned
with form, the form comes and takes the shape desire before your eyes
what i am driving at is that
ordinary language becomes too poetic when
you shake because it is a very cold rain pouring in your roof
and you have no one
and you have no other place to go and you cannot call him because
he is too busy with other
matters of equal importance
i could be him and you could be her, in this ordinary language of
disappointments
why we met and why we regret the meeting and union
oh, why speak about something too poetic when ordinary language
can be so poetic
about pain, and hypocrisy, and mendicancy
of emotions, She herself is one of the few constant
features
on that landscape.
Wary, as always,
of holistic paradigms for the literary history
of poetry
dynamic, interactive condition of experimental poetry today
i cannot think
of any other recommendation,
Christian Boltanski's simulated documentaries,
I cannot think of a better introduction
to contemporary
poetry, this, oh,
so you understand a thing?
alright, how do you do?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stranger In West Lothian
As I walk alone in the Rain
Where I go, is a Lonely path
I feel alone, lost and cold
If you were me right now,
Ask yourself this...
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
Kids just won't leave be Be
they bully me day in and Out
They break Me, Belittle me
I Fell from grace, and into tears
Wish they'd leave me be
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
I feel like I am an No-One
I look to a song for solace
I feel at peace Listening
To 'Stranger In Moscow'
By Michael Jackson.
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
Like I'm A Stranger
In West Lothian
Cos I am Autistic
It goes on and On And on
It makes me feel down
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
Like Stranger in West Lothian
They see me as a danger, a nobody
How does it reaaly feel?
It makes sad and Lonely,
It really does
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
No sunny days for me
Just sad gloomy rain
I cry alone with the wind
It so sad to even bear
Baby, I am so lost inside
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
Like Stranger In West Lothian
Yeah, Stranger in West Lothian Baby
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
I only want love, and friendship
But this is harder to find,
My Autistic Way restrict me
friends of the earth, dogs, are
all I have left. call me.
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
Like Stranger In West Lothian
Yeah, Stranger in West Lothian Baby
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
The rain is serene
I get soaked,
my boyfriend left me
For someone else
here I am Abandoned without love
Like Stranger In West Lothian
Yeah, Stranger in West Lothian Baby
How does it feel?
How do you feel?
Shivering alone in the rain
How does it feel?
Cos I'm Alone
And Cold Inside
poem by Ashleigh Leona Mellon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winds Of Seasons With Hands Of Hope
i hear the wind
by the wind sound
talking to the waves
with a wind sound
mounted upon the leaves
on the ground
to wind through
and around the leaves proudly
as it runs through me so loudly
and mannered towards me so gladly
to sing a song
by the winds of seasons
as they change in seasons
and cheer in different joy
i feel the wind under me
i can see the sun shine over me
i can walk along the path to sober me
and sleep around the hands on me
to hold me with hands of hope
as all hands do matter
to hold each soul
with hope
today and the days ever
to let the hands of hope
touch my heart
and cleanse me for yet a season
in winds of seasons
opn17082012/2305
'winds of seasons with hands of hope'
'hands of hope' book no.9 of 2012
aug.2012
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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West End Girls
(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys
And west end girls
And west end girls
And west end girls
East end boys
The west end girls
The west end boys
And west end girls
The west end girls
The west end boys
The west end girls
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shroud of Destiny
Destiny
A foretelling
Your purpose in life
Stray away
Must not
Follow your dreams
Disregarded
Only one path
Destiny provides
At birth
Failure this
Concept is
Truth be told
Many paths
Lay in front
Hiding in the
Shroud of destiny
One purpose
One goal
One path
In life
No decisions
For you only the stars
Decide
poem by Tommy D'Attore
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Poetry is? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
What is poetry is like asking,
'Why is the sky blue? '
There is no answer to What or Why?
but, in any event,
I shall try.
Poetry flows from my heart through my pen,
down through
its neb,
Like a fly struggling in the web of a spider, waiting
to be free.
What is poetry-who knows-could be as simple as the
morning dew on a rose,
children’s laughter,
a baby’s cry,
a mother crooning a lullaby,
bells chiming loud and clear,
the voices
of those that we hold dear.
Poetry is the language of the soul
It gives us the courage to afford life’s many streams
It expands our horizons to realize our dreams.
To summarize the above
Poetry is the Language of Love
Poetry is the Language of the Soul
Poetry is the Language of Life
over which we have
no control.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Clouds
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Horse running free.
Camel walking desert dunes.
Ship sailing blue sky.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Winged dragon take flight.
Rabbit passes.
Tulip, petals falling.
Imagination growing.
Daydreams flowing.
Finger outlines shape.
One eye closed, now concentrate.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Collide, take form.
Breezes blow, rearranging.
Never knowing what materializes next.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see.
Shapes in clouds follow me.
poem by Gary Kedron
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Only Despair And Hopes
Where there is only despair and hope
I deny such things and refuse to stand as flop
May be so uncertain world to live
Yet I firmly adhere to and believe
I must choose straight line
Rest all to be side lined
May be little dangerous
But relentlessly I should walk continuous
If I know for sure
Where lies future
I shall never dare
But I need to somewhere
I may not know what is best
As it can be crucial or acid test
It should be “tryst with destiny”
Whether the goal may be big or tiny
It is all supposed to be not smooth
But there lies naked truth
Who gets better side?
If one prefers to be so wide
I follow nose direction
Look straight and take action
That keeps my head high
Easy to take deep breathe and sigh
Will any one say no to my thought?
Goal is never attained without being fought
I might have leisurely made an attempt
But after all it all depends on concerted act
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Gipsy Trail
The white moth to the closing bine,
The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood
Ever the wide world over.
Ever the wide world over, lass,
Ever the trail held true,
Over the world and under the world,
And back at the last to you.
Out of the dark of the gorgio camp,
Out of the grime and the gray
(Morning waits at the end of the world),
Gipsy, come away!
The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp
The red crane to her reed,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
By the tie of a roving breed.
The pied snake to the rifted rock,
The buck to the stony plain,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
And both to the road again.
Both to the road again, again!
Out on a clean sea-track -
Follow the cross of the gipsy trail
Over the world and back!
Follow the Romany patteran
North where the blue bergs sail,
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray,
And the masts are shod with mail.
Follow the Romany patteran
Sheer to the Austral Light,
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind,
Sweeping the sea-floors white.
Follow the Romany patteran
West to the sinking sun,
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift.
And the east and west are one.
Follow the Romany patteran
East where the silence broods
By a purple wave on an opal beach
In the hush of the Mahim woods.
'The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,
The deer to the wholesome wold,
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,
As it was in the days of old.'
The heart of a man to the heart of a maid -
Light of my tents, be fleet.
Morning waits at the end of the world,
And the world is all at our feet!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Never Could I Be That Independent
My breath!
Depth of thought with meaning.
And what I choose next,
To think.
That brings an understanding.
Has been commanded by My Father.
And I follow.
Faithfully everyday,
With each step I take.
Has been commanded by My Father.
And I follow.
Sometimes with my head up in the clouds,
I follow.
Sometimes with doubts that come and I allow,
I follow.
Sometimes in the rain to get soaked with regret.
Feeling I have not accomplished enough.
Or that I've done my best.
Sometimes staying awake!
Not to refresh with the dawn...
But remaining upset all day long,
Until the Sun sets.
And yet knowing...
My breath!
Depth of thought with meaning.
And what I choose next,
To think.
That brings an understanding.
Has been commanded by My Father.
And I follow.
As I look for that place,
Inside my heart that takes me...
Away from the fear,
My Father decides...
His guidance someday I believe I wont need.
Although I am strong.
Never could I be that independent,
Or alone...
Without His vision.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Frogs in Love
The bogs are damp with almost too much rain -
By night, the frogs have returned once again,
For November; it is the time they mate,
But why O why our backyard populate?
Perhaps they feel it's romantic: the smoke,
The chill, the wet; relentlessly they croak!
Dear God! Why let the bogs with tall grass grow?
Or teach a colony of frogs to Love?
poem by Dinesh Sairam
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The Gypsy-Trail
The white moth to the closing bine,
The bee to the opened clover,
And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood
Ever the wide world over.
Ever the wide world over, lass,
Ever the trail held true,
Over the world and under the world,
And back at the last to you.
Out of the dark of the gorgio camp,
Out of the grime and the gray
(Morning waits at the end of the world),
Gipsy, come away!
The wild boar to the sun-dried swamp
The red crane to her reed,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
By the tie of a roving breed.
The pied snake to the rifted rock,
The buck to the stony plain,
And the Romany lass to the Romany lad,
And both to the road again.
Both to the road again, again!
Out on a clean sea-track --
Follow the cross of the gipsy trail
Over the world and back!
Follow the Romany patteran
North where the blue bergs sail,
And the bows are grey with the frozen spray,
And the masts are shod with mail.
Follow the Romany patteran
Sheer to the Austral Light,
Where the besom of God is the wild South wind,
Sweeping the sea-floors white.
Follow the Romany patteran
West to the sinking sun,
Till the junk-sails lift through the houseless drift.
And the east and west are one.
Follow the Romany patteran
East where the silence broods
By a purple wave on an opal beach
In the hush of the Mahim woods.
"The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky,
The deer to the wholesome wold,
And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,
As it was in the days of old."
The heart of a man to the heart of a maid --
Light of my tents, be fleet.
Morning waits at the end of the world,
And the world is all at our feet!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain (Ya-du)
Every where croak
came the frogs out
earth soaked water
saw in morning
first rain was heavily raining.
Filled ponds and tanks
river banks lost
fields sank in water
excess of rain
flooded whole terrain.
Glided farmers
saw better rain
there hoped for good
vegetation
they can grow in the season.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sleep of Dreams
Travelled road ~ rough and worn
I've walked with ease on many morn
Down your path of known delights
I've trodden through on many nights
To sleep a dreamless sleep
My footsteps echo not within
Within the paths where I have been
Oh, how I crave my soul's respite
To dream of life within this night
To sleep a sleep of dreams
Oh, travelled road ~ you're all I've known
But fever deep inside has grown
To walk the walk that others might
And realize a dream tonight
To sleep a sleep of dreams
This trodden path is worn and long
Each day does bring a seasoned song
That's sung till light has turned to night
And dulls the life with no delight
To sleep a dreamless sleep
I see a field of emerald green
No foot has passed ~ nor ever been
Down unseen path toward dawning light
I'll stay until the sweetest night
To sleep my sleep of dreams....
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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