Chaos
as one child puts to sail his paper boat
another child stamps his feet on the water
that is the beginning of all the chaos in the world
and we are all these children
these hands these feet
and paper boats and the water
this cycle of creation and detruction will always be there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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Paper Flowers
You seem like a girl who likes to tell her bed is made
You seem like a girl who likes to wear her pearls
Well Im not the type who likes to dwell,
Save my money or kiss and tell, yeah
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
This girl walks up so graciously,
Slips something in my pocket so secretly,
I said: honey, whats this you gave to me?
Oh nothing, water, wait and see
I said: paper flowers, they cant grow!
Just giveem water and let me know,
Giveem water and let me know, giveem water
And let me know
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Shes dressed in black as you can see,
She tries so damn hard to be the enemy,
Shes got big black boots, get outta her way,
She wants to kick tomorrow, punch yesterday,
Kick tomorrow, punch yesterday
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now!
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shalom
water cleanse my feet
as my father weeps
days turn to weeks
with a child left by a creek
answer may he one day seek
in the water my feet i dip
so water cleanse my feet
and in the mids of the beast
let my soul know that am not week
so if a tear runs down my cheek
as gold is splendid like an antique
may the bird song be silenced
so water please cleanse my feet
see me here, see me there
yes i try hear my cries
see me fall, see me rise
as you look in these eyes
the dead tell no lies
so shalom to shalom,
a nod to a nudge
the morning sky see the night sky
so good bye to say hi
poem by Robert Roberts
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The Fog
You see, Im all grown up now.
He said,
Just put your feet down child,
cause youre all grown up now.
Just like a photograph,
I pick you up.
Just like a station on the radio,
I pick you up.
Just like a face in the crowd,
I pick you up.
Just like a feeling that youre sending out,
I pick it up.
But I cant let you go.
If I let you go,
You slip into the fog...
This love was big enough for the both of us.
This love of yours was big enough to be frightened of.
Its deep and dark, like the water was,
The day I learned to swim.
He said,
Just put your feet down, child.
Just put your feet down child,
The water is only waist high.
Ill let go of you gently,
Then you can swim to me.
Is this love big enough to watch over me?
Big enough to let go of me
Without hurting me,
Like the day I learned to swim?
cause youre all grown up now.
Just put your feet down, child,
The water is only waist high.
Ill let go of you gently,
Then you can swim to me.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boat To Sail
Youre up state, up late, and city fed
Im a california label
From the top of my head,
Forever, ah
See a lot of open sky
When the sun goes down
Theres a hot, lot of loving when you come
Around, to free me, ah
In a boat to sail, boat to sail, away, ah
All those letters mailed from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
Bare foot, coconut and supermild
Jamaica take a look
At your own child
Forget not
Brian wilson songs are never left behind
Dont you worry baby, youre a friend of mine
For so long
From a boat to sail, boat to sail, away ah
All those letters mailed, from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
We are riding in a boat to sail
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If We All Were Like Children
Once there came a child approaching a gentle brook,
Dipping his hands into the water, a small fish he took.
It wiggled, and squirmed, freedom it did seek,
It made the child laugh, and squeak.
Then playing opossum it lay still, and pretended was no more,
the child lay the fish upon the rocky shore.
The fish knowing it was almost free,
flipped up in the air with child like glee.
The child tried to grab it back up,
but the fish very quickly kept flipping up.
It hit the water, and off it did swim,
the child shrugged his shoulders, and gave up on him.
Attention being short, the child saw a bug,
ran off to catch it, and give it a hug.
If everyone were in their hearts like children we see,
then the Earth would be Heaven, and life would be free.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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Paper, Pen and Ink
With paper, pen and ink I began to think
of a story that I could write.
Or maybe a verse or two about something new,
something original, fresh and bright.
I sat and thought but thought of nought
a stretched circle full of nothing.
A mist came down and I could hear a sound
that sounded like water lapping.
It was a castle's moat and a waiting boat,
and a figure with a hooded habit.
He took no breath and looked like death
this man so old and decrepit.
A woman in white stepped into sight
carrying her head under her arm.
On the boat she sat beside a brown rat
which disturbed the water's calm.
The boat drifted from sight into the night
like a thought from a weary mind.
The thinning grey mist was instantly mist,
leaving my paper, pen, and ink behind.
poem by Orlando Belo
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At a Mother's Feet
At a mother’s feet is where a child sits.
At a mother’s feet is where a child listens.
At a mother’s feet is where a child hears.
At a mother’s feet is where a child learns.
He ain’t going be no damn good he is just like his daddy.
A child sitting at his mother feet listens and hears those words.
And that child learns that he is unloved at his mother’s feet.
Burnt Paper
it is a cut-out paper
thin
delicate white
sharp
it is my world
apart from yours
i stay away from
rain
put my paper feet
on wood
as you pretend to be
the woman of
my pen
you touch
but what you touch is just
my paper
me
i have no more flesh
no bone
the years have eaten them
all
it cut-out from a shape
of your desire
i am burnt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paper Ship
In the summer of my childhood,
I used to go down to the sea
and sail my paper ship
on each incoming wave.
Often I thought of sailing the sea
its lure always captured me
sailing my paper ship
into the sunset with just my love and I.
To find some deserted isle
where everything in tranquillity lay
leaving all the worries of life
for someone else’s mind.
Oh now those days are gone
and my children have taken my place
to sail their paper ships
to the places in my dreams.
20 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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Shedding a little light on the past for M 'lady Ernestine
A candle in a paper boat
Placed on the water carefully
Then lit before its set afloat
Recalls a racial memory.
Of funeral pyres in days of old
Of longships burning in the night.
The records that our memories hold.
Transformed by the candle light
on paper boats we set adrift.
It’s just a little game to us
But memories can slowly lift
the veil that’s separating us.
Two worlds existing side by side.
Long may these memories abide.
Tuesday,08 December 2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Paper Boats
Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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First Water
The water had its beginning before time began
Before even the first born our God would call earthly man.
The creator knew the value and significance of water
Just as its second human creation we call an earthly daughter.
Man certainly does not live by bread alone
But along side the children who sleep at home.
Man can survive without food for a long, long time
But not for long without water nor drinking wine.
The universal one covered earth with two thirds water
Still not as miraculous as the gift of a daughter.
More bounty in the water than in the soil
How expressive is the holy one when we toil.
A green tree grows on coral with a great deal of salt
A desire of the eternal God who has no fault.
The creator separated the birds from the land and sea
Also for man and woman and their child to be.
Water cleans, heals and provides
Mother nature gives, replenishes and renews with each new tide.
poem by chuck Hurley
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?
Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.
But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.
One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.
How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.
I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?
I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.
poem by David Mitchell
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to connect himself to God
to make this divine connection
from his human
ity
he writes a poem about a kite that a child makes
from sticks and paper
and some paste
to stick them in together
like a symbolism
of body and soul
and the child puts the paper tail
as rudder
of this kite and then he runs to the field
to find the wind to give his kite a lift
to the skies
high spirited like his soul
and his body
wanting to be with
God up there
after this i will ask him,
the child
(or the child in him)
or simply him the man who who writes a poem about a kite
lifting itself up with the wind of his beaufiful words:
do you feel something divine?
was there something divine in this poem about a kite?
did you feel God?
did you see him up in the skies above?
you tell me about angels, now tell me, my friend
about the presence of God
tell me more, about this kite this flight this wind
do not mention anything about power
i am always this suspicious believer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Washed my Feet
Mmmm I know to most this may not seem like much but last night my man washed my feet. He took the sponge and dipped in the water then he held over my feet and let the warm water dripped down on. Woo it felt so good. He then lathered up his big strong hands with soap and began massaging my feet. It felt like ecstasy. Now, he was done with his soap massage he once again wet them with the sponge and when he was done my feet shined like two new pennies. He then dried them and girl that man of mine finished by giving my feet a kiss. I know my man loved me because last night he washed my feet.
Note: This is fictional I wrote this from a woman's point of view.
The Stolen Child
(wb yeats)
Come away, human child
To the water
Come away, human child
To the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand
Where dips the rocky highland
Of sleuth wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There weve hid our faery vats
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries
Come away, human child
To the water
Come away, human child
To the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light
Far off by furthest rosses
We foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep
Come away, human child
To the water
Come away, human child
To the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above glen-car
In pools among the rushes
The scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
We give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams
Away with us hes going
The solemn-eyed:
Hell hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside;
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Around and around the oatmeal-chest
For he comes, the human child
To the water
He comes, the human child
To the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand
Human child
Human child
With a faery, hand in hand
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand...
Than he can understand...
He can understand...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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