Editing Same Path
I HAVE walked upon this path
alone
and that was years ago
when i still cry
water the pebbles with tears
they do not grow
flowers
there are no trees there
One day
I come down from the clouds
since i am heavy with
rain in my
heart and decide to
walk back the path
of stones
I have seeds of clouds in my pocket
rainbow shoots in my hands
The path have since then
bloomed with dew
and vapors rise to the skies
in prayers
Trees grow and
bees pollinate
a new world is born
since then
and children come and play
their games
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Secret To Prosperity!
Wandering clouds not so focused,
For where to rain, it not yet decided,
Running from country to country,
Gathering the seeds that can spray,
People look up for rain, but no clouds,
Bright yellow sun and the blue sky,
The tears of rain in their deepened eyes,
The shopping clouds look down at them,
Clumsy they are and hunger rules them,
The proud clouds with the bounty of water,
Hate these poor people and move quicker,
And there are green mountains with flowers,
The running clouds stop all of a sudden,
For it amazed by the swelling of that woman,
Just start to clear what it stores for many hours,
Heavy rain on the mountain and the river sisters,
Flow down to the civilization, the rich people,
All around, as they know how to save water,
People who are ignorant of importance of forest,
Fell the trees for quick money and luxury,
Those who already felled, know the misery,
The clouds in the sky, know this exactly,
The poor will remain poor, if not sorry,
And to replant the trees quickly.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Forest Of Souls
The path was dark and shadowed,
They walked as their children followed.
Through the forest to the feild,
For time they shall not yeild.
Lost souls on their paths to fate,
As the reach eternals gate.
The path was dark and shadowed
They walked on as their children followed
The darkness is overcoming
As if to bow before what they are becoming.
They walk with their eyes ahead,
with nowhere to go but where they are lead.
They walk with family, with lovers,
As the mist lightly huvers
The path was dark and shadowed,
As they walk on with more coming to follow.
Their souls are lost, their hearts are gone,
As they walk through the woods as they walk on.
They carry the memories with them,
They leave all their feelings behind them.
Now they walk as one,
Until all but an empy shell is gone.
The path becomes dark and shadowed,
As more people come to follow.
The souls of men, of people,
As they all come, all the people.
They walk through the forest, through the wood,
Down the path of fate, past where they once stood.
The path is dark and shadowed,
As more and more people follow.
They walk past trees,
And plants and bushes, past all of these.
They walk, an empty shell, their emotions and their being...gone.
The souls walk on.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Downhill Path
Life is never a flowering tree and a hurricane snatched some brutality away-
In one sense of the word freedom would rule and
In another, I can only see the rain. I foresee no future-
Only dandelions grow all summer long and
Leaves fall from the maple trees as autumn sets in.
I grew up in a home in which
I often believed I was living in purgatory-
Far away from stars in the sky, although overshadowed by clouds-
The sun always rose at dawn.
Today rain falls upon the essence of time and
I can feel the heat of the brushfires in hell below me
Searing the road I am trying to walk- all uphill with no direction-
I have yet to find my place in this world, in other words, reality-
It hardly matters because behind me exists a downhill path upon
Which I can turn back and walk back upon to the world of my thoughts;
Life has never been a flowering tree and although rain has been said to
Nourish trees and make them grow- fog is dense and I am locked inside
A chamber of madness where the only sounds I can hear and see are
Monstrous beings and voices that cannot be seen or heard by anyone else-
I would pick a bouquet of dandelions in the summer if I believed that
As a gift they could bring joy to somebody- but flowers die soon after they are
Plucked from their mother stems and when all of the flowers have been picked,
All I can see is rolling hills of grass, that is when cloud cover and fog
Become too impenetrable for me to foresee any destiny?
I often wonder if the stars so many speak of truly exist-
If they do so exist, they are many light years away-
Rain is pouring and I can hear the wind, as I walk down that hill where
The world of my fantasies awaits me- there I can find some freedom ruling.
Inside the world of my reverie I cannot fathom what the future holds-
This gives me hope that there is a chance I may someday sit peacefully
Beneath a flowering tree- at dusk looking up towards the sky seeing the stars, and
As past memories dissolve into nothingness and my future remains a mystery to me-
I shall just keep on watching the rain falling- but I am not without hope, as for
Some reason- I know that there is always an end to rain, I have created a world for myself,
And I am certain that the sun shall rise again- even after all of the flowers are gone…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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A Coloured Print by Shokei
It winds along the face of a cliff
This path which I long to explore,
And over it dashes a waterfall,
And the air is full of the roar
And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep
In a silver torrent over some steep.
It clears the path with a mighty bound
And tumbles below and away,
And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
Are wet with its jewelled spray;
The air is misty and heavy with sound,
And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.
Oh! The dampness is very good to smell,
And the path is soft to tread,
And beyond the fall it winds up and on,
While little streamlets thread
Their own meandering way down the hill
Each singing its own little song, until
I forget that 't is only a pictured path,
And I hear the water and wind,
And look through the mist, and strain my eyes
To see what there is behind;
For it must lead to a happy land,
This little path by a waterfall spanned.
poem by Amy Lowell
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In The Open Fields Of Green Grass After The Rain
i walk in there
i see clouds and clear skies
in the open fields of green grass
after a night of rain
i go close to the little brown birds
feeding on the path
and always i like it when they all fly away from me
they hurry and spread in the skies like my morning prayers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Return Of The Crow
I awoke
With three bullets in my back,
in a dark and cold tunnel
from a time I don't know
I walked for eternity
to find my way home
The spirits of the past
guiding my path
One was called Peter
He tended my wounds
All is life he said he'd seen me
walk this path
Thirtyfive years before I was born
he said he'd seen my soul
He guided me to daylight
and said it's now time to rise
Rise like the crow
Go seek your revenge
Lay three bullets
in their hands
Watch their souls
Turn to sand
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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If all the seeds that fall were to grow, then no one could follow the path under the trees.
Lifes path
There are so many paths in life
I guess I could say
I ve walked them all
The right path
The wrong path
The path of pain
The path of good
The path of bad
Which path do I now take
At this present time of life
The path I take is the path of pain.
The path of hurt
So many paths I have walked
But im lost in the path
The path of pain
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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5: 10 P.m. Along A Narrow Path
late afternoon at 5: 10 i look at my watch.
darkness is coming like a grey blanket to the mountain.
i walk on this narrow path.
Grassy.
It means no one passes here as often.
Secluded path.
Less entered.
Or maybe forgotten.
Or maybe avoided.
Dangerous perhaps.
I walk on it for a time now.
No sound of birds.
Just darkness trying to steal every light of day.
And then i meet you.
My eyes are poor to sight now.
I see a shadow meeting me,
and when we are too near
i see your smile. It is met with my smile too,
like lovers.
I like them.
these smiles to be lovers anyhow.
I am thirsty.
I am hungry, for love.
Or even lust.
I am very hungry.Indeed i am very thirsty.
Then you pass by my shoulder on this narrow path.
You smell like a big basket of flowers,
the champaca that i grow
right in my own backyard that i always smell at night
in my place.Alone.
The cold air carries your perfume inside my nostrils.
It rebounds within the corners of my mind.
It seeps in my soul.It is absorbed like urine to a pamper.
It stays in my heart.
I am reborn.
My heart is restless again.
IT is you that i meet.
It is your perfume pervading on that narrow path
deep down into the bonemarrow of my soul.
I like the dark clouds to rain.Hard, unstopping.
I like to run.
Anywhere.
I like to bathe
under the rain. I like to get wet all over.
I like to play a game under
the rain. I like to be a child again. Hardheaded. Sick.
The ground where i stand is dry. My chest is empty and my
body is fuming with hot lava like a volcano.
I like to erupt.
I like to undress and be naked.
I like to throw my hat to the trees.
Myjacket to the wind.
My shoes to the forest.
My socks to the creeks.
My watch to the farthest skies.
I like to throw away this book of poetry that i keep inside my armpit.
I like to burn it even. I like its pages to be blown like leaves
anywhere. Anywhere. I like them lost forever.
I like to jump into the river. I like to drown. I like to be lost
at the bottom.I like to close my eyes. I like to be carried away.
i do not like to go back to the narrow path.
I do not like to meet you
again and pass me by.
It is always like that.
Meeting. Opposite ways.
Leaving. Departure. Regrets. Silence.
Perfumes that do not leave me.
Where does love live? what is her name?
I do not know you, Love.
Why is it always like that?
Opposite ways. Repulsion. I never felt
what true love is. Obstructed. I don't know.
I was never embraced with the warmth of
its armpits.
I am the air gushing, going and going, arriving at nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Lost Myself
There are those who are forever searching and
After many decades have passed lose themselves to another world-
Although with much certainty and disillusionment
I can hardly remember living much of a life in
This world where people walk with confidence and self-assurance everyday-
Memories of nights as a child so young
Hearing voices others did not hear and
Seeing frightening sights others did not see-
Feeling alone although in the midst of myriads of others, afraid to speak,
Fearful to walk the streets others took for granted-
I was only six years old when voices threatened to kill
Would invade my already troubled mind and
I found myself an outcast for reasons I hardly understood-
The purple tree with golden flowers that grew inside of my bedroom-
As strikingly stunning as it was,
I fell to the floor when I tried to climb,
Because it only existed in the fortress of my mind-
My journey to find myself began when I learned to walk-
I learned to scream before I learned to speak-
Decades have passed and memories are evading me-
Walking the same path day by day-
While others are looking for a place in a world I feel I am not a part of,
My journey to find myself continues-
I walk upon a different path and have climbed many mountains
Seeking purple trees and my own garden of Eden-
Or merely for others that would accept and just remotely understand
The person I am and the world I have lost myself to-
Although my spirit at times evades me,
In the back of my mind I know in reality there must be a place for me and
Although at times my only wish is to climb that phantasmal purple tree
Until I reach the sky and disappear within only a moment’s notice
I will not give up the fight- I was born into this world so there must be a place for me-
Many decades have passed and today I see the sunlight peering through the clouds,
Though an outcast, I have a heart, a mind and feelings as does everybody else-
I continue to walk the streets everyday and my visions of purple trees, and
My dogged determination are what makes me unique- and someday people shall
Respect the person that I am and understand that flowers grow on every tree and
Every flower is unique, has its own special scent and every flower is
In its own way- magnificent and beautiful…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escape
As I lose myself inside of a world of my own-
Perhaps a shadow would pass me by,
Or maybe a fawn would wade in the creek
Along side of the path I walk-
I fear other people, this world’s intruders.
I would break away from reality if only
There was a point of no return and escape towards
A place where I can look down
Upon this path I have walked before-
Far away from all of the people who slight, follow and wish me harm-
Evergreens and maple trees-
Wild rabbits, squirrels and wild geese roam about-
These are the ones I call my true friends-
I would dance in the sky if I could-
Lost inside of a world behind the clouds, as
The sun behind me is casting shadows
Upon the path that I am now walking
Shadows that shall transform to dreams-
Dreams of an eternal life inside this world of my own-
Listen- can you hear the calling of the wild?
Listen- can you hear the gentle breeze rustling the leaves within
The litheness of nature surrounding me?
Listen- can you hear the sound of my heart beating amorously as
My own shadow disappears behind myriads of towering oak trees?
Rain could begin to fall and
A storm could approach and now I can say in all honesty it would not matter-
My mind has finally locked the door to reality and I have tossed the key
To the rapids rushing up the creek beside me-I have finally escaped.
If thousands of people were to approach and cross the path upon which I make my way-
I have lost touch with all that is real and in flight of the imagination
There is no turning back- even if it is only with in a dream;
Nobody needs war, cacophony and disaster,
If one can be in union with nature and fantasy that can be found in
One’s own back yard and a gust of wind can carry away that key to the door of
Pain and misfortune. Follow the shadows cast by the sun, and
Never look back, as this world inside of your dreams could last for an eternity…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On That Path
I'm on that path,
So was my mother,
I'm on that path,
Just like my brother.
I'm on that path,
I didn't know my father,
I'm on that path,
And i am the master.
I'm on that path,
upon the good, straying from evil.
I'm on that path-
There is no cheating.
I'm on that path,
God knows i need him.
I'm on that path,
and i hope i'm never leaving ;)
the HEARTbraker
poem by Madina Morr
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Sonnet: Let Goodness Always Prevail
The mammoth trees are cut for timber's sake;
Large trees along the roads are felled as well;
The smaller ones in wild now grow and swell;
Then clouds to pour the rain, how can God make!
When virtues aren't nurtured in life sometime,
Then vices grow with vengeance in man's heart;
When bells of praise and hymns to God don't chime,
Blessings and grace from heaven can't depart.
When man's good deeds are stopped for reasons much,
His sins grow from a mole to mountain size;
How can the Maker's favours ever touch,
As sins abound and soul afills with vice?
For God to bless, our righteousness must grow,
And seeds of virtues, good deeds, one must sow!
poem by John Celes
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Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
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Children’s Day 2011
The bud that tried to form some way
Was disallowed from doing so;
The bud that sprung out fine one day
Couldn’t blossom like how others do.
The buds that bloomed into flowers
Got plucked or crushed before they grew;
The flowers that found the rain showers
Got withered unseeded by dew!
When children are future adults on earth,
Why parents choose to play God while in womb?
And kill them mercilessly before birth,
Converting their first home into a tomb!
When love of God has formed them healthy, hale,
Should mom or dad decide their destiny?
And if to Maker unborn tell their tale,
God’s rage will rise supporting the tiny!
Let parents love their kids before their birth;
Let unborn see world’s grandeur that’s God-made;
Let human beings be humane on earth;
Let love of life be prime and hatred fade!
Allow all children to be born and fed;
Give them the love and tender care they need;
Bestow the warmth and human touch in bed;
Let children grow like mammoth trees from seed!
On Children’s Day, let love enter young hearts;
Let children not be unwanted on earth;
Let children not be used as man’s spare-parts;
Let every nation feel proud by their birth!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leave the World Something Real
Expectations of excellence
Unveil the gardens of the soul
These flowers given in mystery
Generations spire into a living fire
Hands made of silk angels
Troubadours play on corners
Architecture reveals future visions
These children with eyes of stars
Dross is burned away in sorrow
Pure gold stands in the gallery
Steeples rise in the blowing wind
There in the sky we see a child’s mind
Grow you seeds that become great trees
Find your part - seek to grow
Rise like clouds in the blue
Blossom into the inward realm
Seek your call and listen to your dreams
What is love?
Growth is love
Using what you have been given is love
Everything you become that is real and true
Is real and true love
Being in love should be for all, man is a family
Even your personal life relates to the whole
The celebration that two are growing together
Fly into the world of growth
Become yourself with the color of growth
Michelangelo left us something
Emily Dickinson left us something
Rembrandt left us something
Mary Beecher Stowe left us something
John Lennon left us something
Search, learn, know yourself
Become all you’re meant too
Selfishness takes and takes
Love gives and gives
When a rose blooms isn't it wonderful?
Grow and grow and never stop
Leave the World Something real
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Own Chosen Solitude....
in my solitude i take the walk back to the woods
i go deeper under the trees and it is a world of wanton schemes
i discharge every crowd that resides in my head
i welcome dead leaves falling from the trees that seem to have hands
reaching the dark skies.
i am unloading and i do not stop until i am empty.
each step draws an idea which i fish from the water.
i see what disturbance is. I feel the chaos that wants to escape from
the barks of the trees, from the scales of each fish.
the solitude too struggles like a mouse caught in a trap.
it has learned the trick of calmness, of being steady, of
being still, in its own chosen silence.
the walk has finally taken me like a trap, and i cannot stop anymore.
there, ideas are born. flowers grow. animals talk,
there, dusts have grown the white wings of the doves,
there, man escapes from a hole, stands tall, and finally walks away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What A Wonderfull World
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.
The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.
I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Growth And Trees
Growth
Trees are conceived just as humans are
from seeds the striplings rise
Yet rooted to one place
They grow
No choice where their future lies
Subject to nature’s way’s and whim’s
bearing the brunt of chance
No option, no choice
No vote, no voice
they perform in the wind, their arboreal dance
And they grow
Like young children they blossom with grace and wonder
With litheness, with vibrance
Innocence thereunder
filled with awe and wonder
They grow, oh how they grow!
Tall and stronger, each day brings them closer
To the sky and the clouds
To the smell of ambrosia
like their wee kinfolk, in fields of timothy and clover
Children and trees know nothing of guile
Lies, treachery, deceit
The common, the elite
And yet all the while
They grow
With the approach of Fall winds, the trees sway and quiver
Immodestly dropping more leaves with each shiver and
a blanket of yellow, a patchwork of gold
Shielding the earth from winter’s coming cold
Settles silently,
Yet relentlessly
Shyly, yet bold
Through the winds of winter
Through the ice and the snow
They exist, they persist
They resist, they insist
That they grow
They grow
They awaken like children to springs fresh breath
Limbs green, supple and new
Buds swelling, birds dwelling, life is refreshed
Mother natures, spring time brew
Invigorating
Intoxicating and
Exhilarating too
Children and trees rush toward summer with glee and
Are dressed in new raiment to suit
The trees clad in green, the child’s green knees
New seeds in the ground taking root
Squirrels scratch the bark
The sparrow, the lark
They grow
The young, in nests, creation reborn
New life, new presence on earth
From womb, from eggs, new life is formed
The world as always gives birth
As it was
As it is
As it always will be
They will never cease
To grow.
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Save A Wonder
A child's hand That I held
To show the world anew,
From the wonders that I've seen
To the beauties that I knew.
We walked a country path,
With wonders all around
And the child's grip grew much tighter,
With every sight and sound.
We saw the birds in the trees
We felt an April breeze,
As she came through the leaves
As though to greet, the child and me.
We then saw the April showers
Which cleansed the April flowers
And trees and grass we did see,
As they became our friends.
Then out came a rainbow
And out came a child's glow,
And then the questions, began to flow,
With the answers I'll never know.
With ' how come this',
Or ' why did that',
Kept ringing from ear to ear.
But then the more he asked
The less I laughed,
Happy was I, the child was here.
More wanders had we saw
The further that we walked
Down a wooded path,
Upon the virgin grass.
We saw creeks with her fishes,
And clovers, with their wishes
And then more questions to me were asked.
Then I looked upon youthful eyes
And I heard a worried sigh,
And then the child, he answered please,
Save, a wonder for me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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