For My Peers Who Made It Good In The Big City
it was with a sad heart that i left all of you
from that big city that promised to give me all the glitter
of the neon lights
an island of fame where my body
and my face shall take
the center of the stage
where i may wallow in the deafening
sound of clapping hands
and a shower of flowers
as i sing and dance
and be the star of all your
dreams and wishes
i am twisted
you all write me a letter
i am hardheaded
you condemn me for i broke the promise
of what i could have been
i choose the little town by the sea
where the waves all speak of sorrow
where the trees grow unprecedented and without pruning
the ugliness of their branches speak of ill-will and
pronounced unfashionably
nature's untrammeled simplicity
the newspapers speak of your breakthroughs
all your names in bold letters and colored
your cars and mansions your latest creations
your glory and victories
my day begins in silence and it ends in silence
i sleep with nightmares i talk my walks at midnights
how can i be so stupid? all the leaves ask me, and all the trees
when i begin to speak, run barefoot away from me
the eggs of little birds on the nest on branches falling and broken and wasted
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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If Only The Hills And Trees Could Speak
if only the hill and trees could speak
it could have told you, how stupid and foolish have you been
waking up too early and doing all the things that others could have done for you
feeding the lazy ones, giving flowers to the uncaring, writing letters unanswered
loving much where they love you not, writing poems to cyberspace, thinking that
the stars too distant from you glisten to listen
and you speak to all these trees and hills that do not speak to you
and you write all these inanimate silence a letter: i know what love is and i keep on loving no matter what, for unlike you i am animated with love itself,
for love touches and speaks and cares and always wanting to be infinite.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Silence
My silence is now broken.
I can speak the words.
I can Just begin to speak the words.
But painfull it still is.
At least I can.
Now begin to speak.
I was silent for so long.
never could brake the barrier.
To allow me to speak.
Now my silence is broken.
I can speak about it very little.
But at least the
Door is open.
The journey
I can take.
But can I face it?
Soon I shall no.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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I Listened to the Silence
I listened to the silence
and wondered why 'twas there?
I listened some more and hoped
that words would fill the air.
For words left unspoken
left me in despair.
To me the silence was deafening.
It seemed beyond repair.
I waited, but still no sound
and finally I spoke.
'Speak out, speak out and talk to me
and then the silence broke.
'What is it that you wish to hear?
What is it I should say? '
Silence was better than these words
for they'll never go away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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If Trees Could Talk
If trees could talk, what would they say?
That would definitely be question of the day.
They'd say, "Help us! Help us! We're being chopped down! "
That wouldn't help as our oxygen would frown.
They'd say, "Help us! We're being turned into furniture! "
That doesn't sound like much of an adventure.
They'd say, "Help us! Our branches are losing leaves! "
That shouldn't be the case until Christmas Eve.
If trees could talk, what would they say?
They'd say, "We watch the children who like to play."
There are some nice things too that trees would utter,
Like, "We're as important to life as bread is to butter."
Sadly, trees are like some of us; they speak in silence.
But do they really deserve to be treated with violence?
poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Em 3
about you
what shall i say about you?
ah, i prefer my
silence
this is my cure about
you
yes, my silence
it shall speak about
you my silence
my very own silence
to speak about your
long silence
now we are at peace
in our silence
both shall speak about
us yes our silence
our marital silence in
the silence of our bed
the root of all our
troubles freud say is in
the silence of our beds
two beds now
four meters apart
speaking in silence
the silence of the house
and the chairs
and the staircases
and the carpets and
the ticks and the
empty glasses or those
cold coffee and
frozen butter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Silence
We talk in silence
We speak in exchanging breath
We argue in silence
We battle with our stare
We think in silence
We travel in our mind
We promise in silence
We create the secret better
We sing in silence
We smile in radiant melody
We enjoy in silence
We move with our body
We share in silence
We stay in each other arms
We love in silence
We grow the hope of warmth
We hate in silence
We shake in every fiber being
We pray in silence
We enchant the words in heart
We long in silence
We drown in loneliness
We break in silence
We flow soundless tears
We walk in silence
We tell our story in footprint
We listen in silence
We could hear numerous voices
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Do You See My Truths? .....
naked shall you see me
dressed in twilight
do you see the truth in me now?
you are wrong
for my thoughts are still covered thickly
and each letter
still tries to conceal what my words
shall try to speak
everyday i write the words
the poems that you read
do you claim to see the truths in me now?
you are wrong again
for what i am still belongs to those
unspoken
and in my silence i shower you
with its emptiness
do you see my truths now?
you are wrong again
my silence does not speak everything
there is still the hush of the wind
the chimes of wood and metal
this silence runs and does not stop
and you flag it
and talk to it
do you hear my truths? do you see them now?
you are wrong again
for i have buried all of them in their niches
when you open each
you will find no door
when you go over the windows
you will see what truths might still be there
those dried petals of a rose
those letters with words faded like sunsets
those broken pieces of porcelain and glass
those jigsaw puzzles still
unfilled
those chains with missing links
those buttons that do not fit
do you see my truths now?
i agree, on those dusts, they have now become yours
visible to the caution of
your heart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Your Silence
I have spoken long enough
I have spoken well enough
Now let me be silent
And see how Silence speaks
Hear the words unspoken
For you could never speak
And whenever I asked you
All I could ever hear, was:
Your Silence…
Yes, that very Silence of yours
Which sucked all my life out
making me feel miserable
day in and day out
Still I kept holding on,
hoping on and hanging on…
If you could ever speak
Yet you never spoke up
Instead, offered me a challenge
A challenge to a broken heart?
A challenge to a defeated soul?
Oh! How Ruthless you could be…
And still you ever want me
To keep hearing your silence
And make some meaning of it all
I told you long before
Silence never works for me
I am a woman of words…
It might work well for you
So be it, my love…
If that is what you call ‘friendship’
Let you be silent
And me be too
And we can still remain ‘friends’
For if you speak
And I speak too
Who knows, One day
We might become foes…
And I would rather die
A Friend of yours
Than choose to be a Foe.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Sonnet: Grow Trees
The branches cut the wind fierce to a breeze;
The leaves break sunlight into chequered beams;
The shade of trees affords all travelers peace;
The wearied ones sleep ’neath the trees in dreams!
And birds too build their nests on branches high;
The squirrels eat their berries with great joy;
The trees make verdant all landscape near-by;
And attract rain in which children enjoy!
Trees make the earth greener and beautiful,
Adding oxygen to the air we breathe;
Preserve its trees, man! Nature is grateful;
The leaves and flowers can make us a wreath.
Trees are so useful to mankind always;
’midst good trees, men have spent their earthly days!
7-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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How Do You Speak To An Angel
A son who is cursed with a harridan mother
Or a weak simpering father at best
Is raised to play out the timeless classical motives
Of filial love and incest
How does he speak to a
How does he speak to the prettiest girl
How does he talk to her
What does he say for an opening line
What does he say if hes shy
What do you do with your pragmatic passions
With your classically neurotic style
How do you deal with your vague self-comprehensions
What do you do when you lie
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to her
How do you dance on the head of a pin
When youre on the outside looking in
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
You just say, hello, (hello) baby (hello)
...
Baby, angel, how do you talk to the prettiest girl, you say
Hello baby, hello baby, angel, angel, pretty little girl
Angel, angel ....
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speak A Bit Of That Moment
Speak a bit of that moment,
A moment that contains centuries,
A moment that halts time,
A moment when someone sees
A route leading beyond the cosmos.
Speak a bit of that moment
When water and clay mingle,
And in a moment of union,
Sprouts a bud of flower.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When eyes become a heart,
When heart becomes eyes,
A star of dream, a rain-bow
Dither on the lashes.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When the Sun places its fire
On the bank of a lake,
And water becomes gold,
Miracles begin to happen.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When Love begins to blather metaphysics
When chest becomes hollow,
And heart dwells in each particle.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When sunbeams begin to fade,
The sights become vague,
The Sun dives down into puddle,
And the forms begins to muddle,
The earth beckons,
The desire of long sleep places her fingers
On the lids of eyes,
Speak a bit of that moment,
Speak a bit of that moment.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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We Speak Of Liberation
we speak of liberation and shudder...
yet birds leave the nest for the last time
without so much as a tear.
trees shed their leaves
without falling to their knees.
rivers run for the sake of running.
the wind comes from nowhere,
bound for nowhere...
never murmurs or complains.
the snail crawls into infinity,
leaving only a trail for the sake of memory.
our grandparents long dead,
still speak to us in our dreams.
and the ocean that twas our mother,
is at peace that we have gone.
as god crawls out of the box,
that we put our name on...
much as clouds wink without a face.
what is there to be afraid of?
we are so much more than what we've lost!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Speak The Word
Unsettled hearts
Promise what they cant deliver
Bring me the wine
And the cold night air to clear my head
Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
These weakened knees
Have not touched ground or pew in ages
I havent bowed my head
I offer thanks to any God or to ask for favors
But watch me now
Im falling down
Praying
To speak the word that precedes bliss
To speak the word
To speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Happy World
in a happy world we do not just speak about laughter
neither do we speak about flowers blooming when we speak about beauty
or we simply talk about our persons when we speak about truths
happiness and sorrows, ugliness and beauty, truths and lies,
you must have seen them how they all danced last night holding hands
and swaying and stomping their feet on the dancing halls of life
they are sisters, they are lovers, they are even parents and children
you must have learned how they go together like a woman with two faces.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This 1 S 4 U
be a model
when you speak
of suicide
be brave
and be a man
when you lecture
about suicide
be cool
and be strong
and be candid
when the theme
is suicide
be truthful and be
kind when you lecture
about suicide
do not leave
us all guilty
be fair and be just
when you write a poem
about suicide when you say
there is nowhere to run
there is nowhere to hide
be clear and be not hardheaded
when you speak
about this goddamn suicide
be sympathetic
have a little empathy
compassion
and be honest when you
begin to touch
on suicide
have faith
and be specific about it
when you speak of suicide
say who
fix when and what means
what end
and be reasonable about
why........
then do it, if you will
if you won't
don't ever speak about it
again
if you speak
then you will be
dead
and if you are silent
then you
are damned
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The River That Murmurs
I will ask the river, that flows serene
I will speak to the sky
I will ask the river that murmurs
Not to ask me why
I cannot speak for myself.
That time has long since passed me by.
The river can murmur and sing
Unspent by passion: my voice
Will break like a terribly taut string.
My words will be grammatically and academically
Twisted (like that leafless tree) , unfortunately!
I want the river to speak, to speak
Alone, alone with thee.
The river can, softly and without tears
Tell you my dreams and my fears
I know you will listen:
And while city lights in the water glisten
You wont see the tears that shine on my face
No, that is a serious, sentimental place
That only I know;
Flow, river, flow.
Flow, river flow.
Speak to the only love I know.
Daybreak approaches soon
You and he by the light of the moon
Will murmur whilst I -
Will wait for you to bring me his reply.
poem by Rani Turton
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