Domestic Helper, Singapore Bound
a woman is leaving for
singapore
back there to resume her
work as
nanny
late hours again before
she sleeps
she waits for her flight
at dawn
outside the glass wall that separates her
from the country
there are no more people
the atmosphere is that of a dormitory after a semester break
she opens her i-phone
and watches
her hand with a cotton wiping her baby's mouth
spilling milk from her nipple
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Piece of Glass
If you say I do not do enough...
I do not do enough...
Love is Just like a piece of glass, baby I might break, I might break
Love is just like a piece of glass, baby it might break, it might break....
I can't do much more..... It so much work to be in love with you.....
Can you say I am not doing enough, I only have so much strength..
Stop pushing me to the test....
I just may break, baby I just may break....
I keep feeling the weight of the world....
Trying to carry all the pain...
Oh baby I just may break, holding on to this pain....
If you say I do not do enough...
I do not do enough...
Love is Just like a piece of glass, baby I might break, I might break
Love is just like a piece of glass, baby it might break, it might break....
I can't do much more..... It so much work to be in love with you.....
Evey day is a trying time, fighting to keep our love in line...
Baby I am going to break, One day I am going to break...
Please do not play these foolish games.... Polish my heart and keep me safe...............
Love is Just like a piece of glass, baby it might break, Baby I might break
Love is just like a glass, baby I might break, Baby I might break....
poem by Sita Cabrera
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tried To Be True
From baby to best with no second test
These little storms destroy you
Here is the fame they promised to give you
Taking the place of my hand now
Well did you try to be true
What separates me from you now
What separates me from you
Did you borrow the soul
The soul that you sell now
What does your conscience tell you
Where are the demons
Of your desires
Why does my love destroy you
I said I tried to be true
What separates me from you now
(what separates me from you now)
I said I tried, tried to be true
What separates me from you now
(what separates me from you now)
What separates me from you
(what separates me from you now)
I think its you now
Tell me where is the fame
Where is the fortune
Where is the world that denies you
Who is to blame
When my heart finally forfeits
To a road that will only misguide you
Well did we try to be true
What separates me from you now
(what separates me from you now)
Oh did we try, try to be true
(what separates me from you now)
(what separates me from you now)
It separates me from you now
(what separates me from you now)
It separates me from you
(what separates me from you now)
Its you
Baby
Yeah I bought my love a hunger
(I tried, tried to be true)
More precious than a stone
(I tried, tried to be true)
(where is the world that denies you)
All these fatal flowers
(I tried, tried to be true)
(where is the world that denies you)
Did I misguide you?
(tried to be true)
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My First Flight
My First Flight
The Silkair-flight took off
at Chennai Airport,
where we paid sixty six rupees for two idlies
which cost six rupees elsewhere.
The wide national highways
seemed narrow lanes.
When the flight seemed moving
in snail's pace over the Bay of Bengal,
I told my wife, 'we'd be too late to Singapore'.
Our neighbour asked me if it was our maiden flight
and told the air-hostess to guide us reach
the flight to Melbourne at Singapore Airport
where in dazzling lights, escalators and Skytrains,
people would be missing out during transit.
I was very precautious to write my 'Will'
and handed it over to my daughter,
for dividing my earnings incase anything untoward happened
as there is danger from the terror, lightning and thunder
and also from the pilot's mishandling of situations.
Round patches of cumulous clouds were seen
over the surface of sea and land.
The flight was above thirty five thousand feet
flying in the speed of more than 900 k.ms/hour.
The journey of sixteen hours fled off without boring
as the avuncular hostesses supplied the food-packets,
fruits, drinks, breads, .. to keep us in good humour.
It was a culture shock to me at Singapore
where people of all the Asian nations and others
boarded the flight to Melbourne.
For myself it was a travel from the austral Asian city
to the austral Australian city but in a route different
from the one traversed by the ancient Tamils
from the lost Lemurian continent to Australian coasts.
---
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Hang Up The Phone
I miss those day when you called me late at night,
I know you sleepy but you say its alright,
We talk from night to morn,
Still don't wish to hang up the phone,
You say baby i wanna talk some more,
Even if nothing else to say,
Just wanna stay awake,
Don't wanna take a break,
Oh no baby, Don't wanna hang up the phone,
Just wanna talk some more,
Baby just few minutes more,
Just wanna be with you some more...
I know baby we gotta college to go,
But this is our time, i wanna be with you some more,
I know its too late tonigth,
Dreams awaiting for us to close our eyes,
But i don't wanna dream no,
Just wanna be with you some more,
Ohh baby just don't hang up the phone,
I need you some more,
Baby wanna talk some more,
Just wanna be with you some more,
Baby just don't hang up the phone...
Just wanna be with you,
Just wanna hear you say you love me too,
Just wanna share this night with you,
Coz i wanna stay alone with you,
Coz its the only time, alone i can be with you,
Just wanna share this nitght with you...
Oh no baby, Don't wanna hang up the phone,
Baby just need to be with you, just talk some more,
Oh no baby, Don't wanna hang up the phone,
Coz it's the only way i can be with you some more,
Just wanna hear from you some more,
Baby just wanna be with you some more,
Baby just don't hang up the phone...
poem by Miraj Patel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother and Child
On one of the back benches in church
I see a young girl
unbuttoning the top of her blouse
with slender white fingers
to let her baby drink.
His sleepy blue eyes opens
and his small lips suck
on a swollen nipple
and mother and child
is framed into my mind
like the painting of the Madonna
and milk streams into him
while the congregation sings.
She gazes as through time
with uplifted head,
giving him power, the love of God
as if fixed to the spot while praying
and giving him milk.
She tenderly touch the baby
with every movement
echoing great love
and he settles sleeping
and a smile of tranquillity
is on her face.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delia and The Arts Tutor
Delia who had bedded her
French nanny at fourteen
and had hot sex with the head
girl at boarding school, now
lies beside the arts tutor named
Ms Shopton in college. She has
explored the woman's body from
top to toe. Invaded each orifice
and landed her ninety ninth
plus umpteenth kiss. Sunlight
pours through the high window,
the woman's scent and body
odour invades the bed. She has
kissed most parts that can be kissed,
scanned the woman's skin, taking
in the freckles, the spots, the mole
inside the left thigh, run her finger
along the spine. She watches the
woman sleep, the mouth slightly ajar,
the perfect teeth, the tongue (who
knows where that has been) touching
the corner of the lips. She may well
get a high A for this piece of art work,
the effort put in, the juices taken out,
the fingering and touching, the final lay.
She breathes in the air, runs her tongue
across her own damp lips. She hears
the college bell, the time to get up, the
breakfast call, the wide awake stare.
The woman beside her sleeps on, lying
worn out, out for the count, lying there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Man Under the Bed
The man under the bed
The man who has been there for years waiting
The man who waits for my floating bare foot
The man who is silent as dustballs riding the darkness
The man whose breath is the breathing of small white butterflies
The man whose breathing I hear when I pick up the phone
The man in the mirror whose breath blackens silver
The boneman in closets who rattles the mothballs
The man at the end of the end of the line
I met him tonight I always meet him
He stands in the amber air of a bar
When the shrimp curl like beckoning fingers
& ride through the air on their toothpick skewers
When the ice cracks & I am about to fall through
he arranges his face around its hollows
he opens his pupilless eyes at me
For years he has waited to drag me down
& now he tells me
he has only waited to take me home
We waltz through the street like death & the maiden
We float through the wall of the wall of my room
If he's my dream he will fold back into my body
His breath writes letters of mist on the glass of my cheeks
I wrap myself around him like the darkness
I breathe into his mouth
& make him real
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleeps With Angels
She wasnt perfect
She had some trips of her own
He wasnt worried
At least he wasnt alone (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mind
He sleeps with angels (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
She was a teen queen
She saw the dark side of life
She made things happen
But when he did it that night
She ran up phone bills
She moved around from town to town (too late)
He sleeps with angels (too soon)
Hes always on someones mindhe sleeps with angels
He sleeps with angels
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Louisa And Nanny
“Come on, ” said Louisa to Nanny,
“let’s go for a walk before it gets too hot.”
So off they went towards the forest,
on a path they had trodden a lot.
Without giving a thought about the season
and the beginning of the monsoon.
They walked and talked for an hour
on that pleasant early afternoon.
Without warning the heavens opened
and it poured with driving rain.
A ferocious gust of wind blew them
towards the dense bamboo cane.
It came unexpectedly from nowhere
its ferocity almost swept them off their feet.
Holding onto each other they found shelter
behind a huge tree trunk of teak.
Lightening was flashing continually
in the sky and all around.
A bolt of lightening stuck a nearby tree,
bringing it crashing down.
The branches barely missed them
as the storm continued to rage.
The torrential rain never paused for a second
as they peered through the rainy haze.
They could barely hear each other
above the sound of thunder, lightening, and rain.
The wind suddenly stopped its cruel intensity,
it was possible to see a short distance again.
Because the whole landscape looked different,
Louisa asked, “Which way should we go? ”
“I’ve lost my bearings completely, ” said Nanny,
“in fact I really don’t know.”
As they considered their best options
on the direction they must take.
They simultaneously wiped their eyes
to make sure of no mistake.
Nanny couldn’t believe what she was seeing,
a pregnant woman standing by the fallen tree.
She stood motionless for a minute and said,
“Tell me Louisa, is that a woman that I can see? ”
“I’m sorry Nanny, I can’t see anyone,
but it is still difficult to see.
The lightening is creating shadows,
making things appear as they shouldn’t be.
As soon as they wiped the rain from their eyes
they were filled with rain once again.
“I suppose it could have been a bush, ” said Nanny,
but the woman was still there in the pouring rain.
Their only way out from their hemmed in position
was pass the woman who began to beckoned them.
Nanny couldn’t believe that Louisa couldn’t see her,
and told her that the woman was beckoning them on.
Again she asked Louisa if she could see the woman,
and again she said that she could not.
The woman in white indicated them to follow her,
and Nanny told Louisa the situation they had got.
“If there’s a way out of here lets follow, ” said Louisa.
Nanny took her hand and they followed the woman.
Weaving in and out, over and under the fallen trees,
she led them back to Louisa’s home in the sun.
The woman just disappeared leaving no signs of a storm.
On reflection Nanny realised she’d seen the woman before,
but what her brain relayed to her didn’t make sense,
and she couldn’t tell Louisa that she was the woman she saw.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One More Time
Tell me one more time as I hold your hand, that you dont love me
Tell me one more time as teardrops start to fall
Shout it to me and Ill shout it to the skies above me
That there was nothing after all
Baby, baby, tell me that you never wanted my loving
Baby, baby, tell me that you never, tell me, tell me,
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
Tell me one more time that we never had a thing in common
Tell me one more time as you turn and face the wall
Tell me I should know you were never my kind of woman
Tell me we were fools to fall
Baby, baby, tell me that you never wanted my loving
Baby, baby, tell me that you never, tell me, tell me,
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
Tell me one more time your tears are only sad confusion
Tell me its just been so long and that is all
Tell me one more time that love was only my illusion
You never answered to my call
Baby, baby, tell me that you never wanted my loving
Baby, baby, tell me that you never, tell me, tell me,
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
One more time, one more time, say youre leaving, say goodbye
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Late
It was like yesterday when we was walking on the park.
But in the end she left me in the dark.
At night where on sunny days I never feel so bright.
I guess I was too late to get you back.
I was so dumb I wish our sweet love could last like stride gum.
I was too late to fix the mistake that I break.
I was too late like a baby duck trying to keep up with his family on a lake.
I was too late to get the last cake.
I made a promise that I thought I wouldn't break.
I try my best to try not to make you cry for my sake.
All this pain I couldn't take and I want you back because you was treasure.
And I didn't mean to let our love fall off like a feather.
I want to be able to make you feel better like good weather.
And keep you safe like shelter.
It kills me to not get you back because every girl I see is not like you.
To me you was something special now that I realize.
You kept me up from my lows to my highs.
I didn't really see it, I was so blind.
And now im losing time.
As I'm sinking in sand I just wish I had a chance to hold your hand again.
It been a week and I haven't speak a word
Your voice is so beautiful as a singing bird.
I love the way you had my phone buzzing like a hummingbird.
I wish I gave you something better that you deserved.
But I was too late.
poem by Anteaus Berryhill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Storm...!
My tiny car
Is gliding on
The grey band
Dissapearing into
A white wall
Gelled water
Falling from the sky
Floating across
The windshield
Has transformed
The wiper blades
Into two giant icicles
Swooshing across the glass
Making creepy sounds
The whiteness
Has conceled
The world around
Making me a fish
Swimming in a
Bowl of milk
A fish swimming alone
In a giant bowl of curdling milk
Trying to reach to the glass wall
And press its eye on to the glass
To peek at the solitary face
Gazing at the glass bowl
With her chin resting on her hand
Waiting...
Waiting for me to
Emerge through the milky darkness
To show my face...!
[Ah... glass walls... cruel invisible separators...]
poem by Rowving Smith
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Cotton Fields
When i was a little bitty baby
My mama done rock me in the cradle
In them old cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home
Let me tell you now well got me in a fix
I caught a nail in my tire doing lickitey splits
I had to walk a long long way to town
Came upon a nice old man well he had a hat on
Wait a minute mister can you give me some directions
I gonna want to be right off for home
Don't care if them cotton balls get rotten
When i got you baby, who needs cotton
In them old cotton fields back home
Brother only one thing more that's gonna warm you
A summer's day out in california
It's gonna be those cotton fields back home
It was back in louisiana
Just about a mile from texarkana
Give me them cotton fields
(it was back in louisiana)
Let me hear it for the cotton fields
(just about a mile from texarkana)
You know that there's just no place like home
Well boy it sure feels good to breathe the air back home
You shoulda seen their faces when they seen how i grown
In them old cotton fields back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I teach one semester a year, and this year I'm just teaching one course during that semester, a writing workshop for older students in their late 20s and early 30s, people in our graduate program who are already working on a manuscript and trying to bring it to completion.
quote by Tobias Wolff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Father's Hand
I like to wear a band around my wrist,
an amulet of copper, links of bling,
a hippy weave of cotton or dried grass.
Reminds me of a change my father made
as I grew up from toddler to walker;
crossing the road he stops holding my hand
and wraps his finger and thumb around my wrist.
My bracelet now is like the brag of a teenager leaving home
and flashing his cell-phone where father's number sleeps.
I wear my father's hand around my wrist.
poem by Gerard Rochford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Down Woman
Well, get down woman, before I have to go.
Well, get down woman, before I have to go.
You know, ya hurt me with your bad mouth,
An I just dont wanna know.
Well, slow down, baby, and gimme a little time.
Well, slow down, baby, and gimme a little time.
If you want me hangin round,
Gotta give me some peace of mind.
Oh, get down boy.
Well, get back, woman, before you bring it down.
Well, now, get back, baby, before you bring it down.
Or you can tell it to the wall,
Without me hangin around.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Sake of My Child
The prayer tells me to ask for serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The prayer tells me to ask for courage to change the things I can.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The prayer tells me to ask for wisdom to know the difference.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The actions I need to do for my recovery are just too hard today.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The time I pity myself and doubt if anyone really understands is plenty.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The hands on the clock do not stop for me to catch my breath.
Not even for the sake of my child.
poem by Todd M Davidson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Dawns Light
Grasped in his hand
The source of ones life, ones self.
On the mans grave is where he stands.
Raising lifes container high a glint of lust upon his eye
Everyone chanting, a thousnd bands.
He smiles his risty smile, he blinks his bloody eyes.
He watches as blood runs down his arm, to its pooling lake.
For he knows that on this night it signifies all who will die.
The will die innecent, young, by his command.
And they know he means what he orders, for he never lies.
He opens his mouth as if to speak,
Yet he does not say, he only raises the thing to his mouth
As he pours the blood into his mouth the sun starts to peak.
It is dawn they shall attack.
As he stands, in his hand he holds his drink.
He thrusts his arm up and the battle shall start,
He looks over the man, and he grins, a grin of hate of power,
As he looks at the blood; deaths art
He turnsaway from the mand body, still holding his heart.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Big Hand
The big hand makes all of your favourite things
Like all your friends looks small and all your feelings are gone
And the flowers on the wall
And the words don't fit
But the way the big hand smiles you just won't care about it
The big hand makes all of your favourite things
Like all your dreams go small and all your friends run away
And the flowers on the wall
And the flowers in the sun
I think the big hand sees all the things that you've done
But when the big hand speaks it's like fireworks or heaven
And so you listen and sob
But you're as small as you go
And when the big hand sings it's like fireworks and friends
Leaving alone you said
I'm leaving alone
Leaving alone you said i'm leaving alone
The big hand leaves off makes sure everything's clean
And with a voice like glass looking outwards
Walks past
I dream
It's falling away
I sob
And when the big hand speaks it's like fireworks or heaven
And you listen and sob
But you're as small as you go
And when the big hand sings it's like fireworks or friends
Moving away you said
I'm moving away
Leaving alone you said
I'm leaving alone
Leaving alone you said
I'm leaving alone
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman's Nipple
a woman's breast is exposed
the nipple, pinkish and firm like a pointillist finger
looks over the window of the dress, innocent and
wondering, what the world out there is all about
why it is hidden? it is desire - why is it suppressed?
the eyes of the woman with long curly and soft
hair are so inviting, it says welcome, we have been here
before you came, we have been searching for you
for you are lost, like a ship without an anchor in the sea
of love, in the storms of your lust, in the calmness after
an outburst of desire, -why do you come with shyness?
the nipple smiles, and remembers how is it to be sucked
till it brings forth milk for all thirsty babies of this world
men who miss life, men who love to live because the
pink nipple is hungry for their hands, because the eyes of
the woman are always inviting, because love is still a
possibility, because lust is its initiative, because death is
imposed by the system, that refuses to understand and give.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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