High Noon (2)
something happened
on high noon
the world stopped
spinning
the hands of the clock
become
a single line
pointing to the cause
of the death
of her innocence
petals falling off
sepals dismembered
a man cuts a stalk
and leaves the roots
mourning upon the
bitter, sticky sap of loss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Innocence Again
Do you remember when
You were way back then
You held the world inside your hands
When you told me love
Was the strongest stuff
Your strength was innocence
But, oh man
The signs of the times are omens
You're starting the day in
No man's land again
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
You should know by now
That your darkest hour
Is when your broken heart goes down
It's a bitter end
When the sweet begins
Grace is sufficiency
But, oh dear, we'll never deserve it
No dear, we never could earn it
Now, here the choice is yours
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
Grace is high and low
Grace is high and low
Grace is high and low
We'll never be the same
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
oh, oh, oh...
You've been given innocence, innocence, innocence.
Who are you gonna be...
You've been given innocence.
song performed by by Switchfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Flowers Bloom
when the flowers bloom
do not wait
till they wilt
their petals falling
on your feet
do not take much of the time
witnessing such death
for at the end
of this cycle
when all the petals have fallen
and what is left to see is just an empty sepal
and a very lonely stalk
you shall be reminded of your own
you shall be next, the season waits
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time-Watch
Wrist-watch on your arm
Time on your hands
Watching the clock tick
Trying to understand -
Day after day
The hands just go round and round
Spinning in circles, where
Nothing's lost... nothing's found -
Going here
Going there
It's all the same
Everywhere -
Until winding down
We come to find
Our swirling lives
Have run out of time -
Then, the madness
Will stop;
Time to get off
This crazy, spinning clock -
(and fly away, from this crazy, spinning rock...)
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The innocence of War
The innocence of war is a lie
there is no innocence in killing people
there is no innocence in destroying part of the world
murder of plants animals and many people
where is the innocence in that
More crimes and violence in this unholy cruel world
influenced on war
Death and Karma will come to all who
support this evil devilish thing, sport, crime!
The blood of many men drip on your hands
my hands
our hands
Familys departed over politics
new borns lifes already taken away by men they don't even know
its not there fault
its yours and mine because we don't
Listen! Hear! Speak!
save the life of the real innocence
poem by MeganOlivia Maxwell
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A Leaf
to a non-poet a leaf is just a leaf
and when it falls
on the ground, there is nothing but a
fall
but to us who claim this art
a leaf is not just a leaf
but it can be you or i
falling and when i reach the ground
you feel the heart of the leaf
beating
for its falling, its failure as a leaf,
its surrender to a certain death
its claiming a portion of this earth
to rest and be part of this
world, it rots, and it speaks some line
before it rots
a poem, a valediction on an anthill,
an eulogy of the other leaves that
fell before the great falling
it can be a story of humanity written
on the lines of its face, it will have flesh
on its layers, some mouths on its
seams, and it will tell too
about the tree where it comes from
how the clouds drifted so close to its stalk
how the sun kissed it on top of everything
a leaf is a world. just as a poem is.
we live inside it. Through it. Even
outside it. Even in circles.
we make understanding so complicated.
yet we are so simple as you see us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Redmption Of The Self
when i stand there
there was a dark cloud of shame
above my head
the cloud is heavy
and it poured
dismay
i am drenched with
humiliation
i fell like i am a tree with
wilted leaves
that keep on falling to
the ground
until i become nothing
but twigs
mere fingers of the hands
skeletal to the sky
i do not have those roots
that keep me strong
but then there is always that
redemption
ally to the sun
shall i be when tomorrow comes
i grow my leaves again
spread my roots
deeper than the
hands of the rivers
to the cracks of the earth
where gold resides
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Works - Exits
Exits, shame, gone again
the flower of life extinguished.
A blight, a plague
some horrendous wave
beauty of beginning
disfigured in leaving,
but what about the in-between.
Burrowing brows, crowning frowns
head spinning, spinning
time of life lingering on
oh what we pass.
No more tears staining eyes
doubts are faultless
exits, shame, now cease.
Revolving world, around, around
gone it goes spinning wild.
Fragrant flowers smelling pretty,
disappearing rapid sights.
Danger prompts bitter tears
something fine, something gone
exits, shame, who’s to blame.
Fiery suns of mourning clouds
burning fingers stretch forth,
dark crisp falling dust.
Bitter seeds of burning doubts
memories shrink in heated scorn
remembers voices stern, sharp
exits, shame, no longer.
25 September 1979
poem by David Harris
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Nightfall In The Rose-Garden
Ashes to ashes,
Meal to roots of roses:
One-way street in petals falling,
Dust to dust.
The lowering sun sucks
From blown blossoms,
Their colours that go
At last to dust.
Death is in the seed
Bud, root and leaf
Which have no choice
But dust.
From death to death,
The cycle onward blindly
Rolls its endless way
From dust to death.
I, in the falling dusk
Go slowly blind to all.
And shall too, eventually,
Be dust.
poem by Roy William Gotaas
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It Is The Details, Be Aware, And Then Be Creative
he could not believe you
when you enumerated all the parts of the flower
what he meant perhaps was only a petal
how it smells at six o'cock in the evening
when you are with him but you said, in all completer
scientific details as follows:
the flower is made of its:
1.Petals are used to attract insects into the flower,
they may have guidelines on them and be scented.
2.Stigma Is covered in a sticky substance that the pollen grains will adhere to.
3. The style raises the stigma away from the Ovary to decrease the likelihood of pollen contamination. It varies in length.
4.Ovary This protects the ovule and once fertilisation has taken place it will become the fruit.
5. The Ovule is like the egg in animals and once fertilisation has taken place will become the seed.
6.Receptacle This is the flower's attachment to the stalk and in some cases becomes part of the fruit after fertilisation e.g. strawberry.
7.Flower stalk Gives support to the flower and elevates the flower for the insects.
8.Nectary This is where a sugary solution called nectar is held to attract insects.
9.Sepal Sepals protect the flower whilst the flower is developing from a bud.
10.Filament This is the stalk of the Anther.
11.Anther The Anthers contain pollen sacs. The sacs release pollen on to the outside of the anthers that brush against insects on entering the flowers. The pollen once deposited on the insect is transferred to the stigma of another flower or the same flower. The ovule is then able to be fertilised.
he could have been sad. He wants the poetic sense of things
not the scientific, realistic approach
to something, like a flower,
the symbol of his love for you.
You busy yourself, without feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Flower of Death
The life is all we have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our mind
And its stalk will sprout and wind
Death will take blossom, and it shall never fade it shall stay bright
And oh it shall be a beautiful sight, as it holds its petals into the night
And the leaves shall spread as green as green can be
And if you look close you will see
It's roots shall grow deep in the pot of eternity, in the dirt of the mind
The flower shall shine, so magnificent so kind
It's pollen will fly, will sour
And wait at the front of someone's door
The sun of the next world shall shine and nurture, the rain shall fall
Thanks to that the vines shall grow, and overcome the wall
The minerals of the soul will strengthen the warmth shall grow
This process shall grow, like snow falls, fast at first then slow
For the life is all we have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our minds
And its stalk will sprout and wind
For now the flower shall bloom
The darkness shall leave, take the gloom
It shall leave us and we shall follow in the light of what's to be
Only then, we shall see
The flower of forever
As it takes root, you use it as a lever
Lifting you to the flower
And now you shall not cower
For you know this will spread and the flower shall grow shall thrive
And then you will know you are truly alive
As it takes root in your soul, and it shall becomes the power
For this is the blossom, this is the flower
The life is all our have; the death is all we need
It sets in our souls as an unfertilized seed
We know it will root soon, and take over our mind
And its stalk will sprout and wind
Bethany Hill
(This poem is not supposed to make you contemplate death, and I would not like to have people think that it is. It is just meant to show you that you should not fear death yet you should not reach for it but to take it when it is meant to come. Thank you)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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High Noon
A leather life from the prairie to the blue, blue ocean
A one horse town of promised gold and western fortune
Oh, token slug of bourbon
Time after time
High noon - riding a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
But it only happened in film
Hot dust and lust, a dawn to dusk can lead to danger
I bought a lover locket - a barroom dolly -
Bathtub stranger (swear to me calamity again!)
Sasperella
Red neck fella
Lace umbrella
Be my girl!
When I find the west is won
Got to keep on rolling on and on
Time after time
High noon - riding a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
Mile after mile
High noon - building a dream
Lie after lie
High noon - not what they seem
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sky Is Falling
The ground shakes,
Stars pour down like tears, like rain.
Amongst the roaring earthquakes,
We hang our sorry heads in shame.
The voice that cries out is small,
But it's strong.
A flicker of hope-
Before it's already gone.
The sky is falling,
And so am I-
Can't you hear me calling?
Cover me with the sky.
I bask in your glow,
All though it's ten below.
I'll be with you, wherever you go.
The sky is falling, the sky is falling.
Don't you cry,
Little bird.
The sky is quite soft-
Or so I've heard.
So, keep your hopes held high,
Then reach up and touch the sky.
And kiss the bitter world goodbye,
Kiss the bitter world goodbye.
The sky is falling,
And so are we.
Can't you hear that I'm calling?
Pour my tears in the sea.
I bask in your light,
All though it's dark as night.
And everything will be all right,
Everything will be all right.
The sky is falling,
The sky is falling.
The sky is falling, the sky
is falling.
poem by Katty Livingston
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Petals
Shes the angel on top of the tree
Sugarheart, here she comes
Shes going to fall on me
Innocence was our fire
We told the truth
I miss the sweet boys
In the summer of their youth
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
They will make you so
So cynical
The fire burns, the flesh destorys
The past that made us old
Shes the grace of this world
Shes too pure
For the likes of this world
This world is a whore
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
I wait till mine and
Hey, its all mine
Hey, its all mine
Never knew what I could be
All the darling buds of may
They fall with no sound
They carry you down
They carry you down
Ooooooooo, ooooooh
Ooooooooo
All the lillies bloomed and blossomed
Wilted and theyre shivering
I cant stop their withering,
Oh, this world is a war
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
Tear the petals off of you
Make you tell the truth
Tear the petals off of you
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evil of rivalry
Be it a root, shoot, bark or leaves,
Be it sepals, petals, ovary or seeds.
No rivalry, no infighting, no usurpation.
Their goal is to live their parts and die.
They have no sixth sense to rival.
22.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Autumn
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.
We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.
And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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They're Noticing
I sit
An average day
I roll my arm over
He notices first
What happened to your arm?
I look at the cuts
That are freshly there
Nothing my cat attacked me
I say
He smiles and turns back around
But it's not my cat's fault
It's my fault
I made the cuts
With my old scissors
Next, She notices them
What happened?
I look at my arm
With the healing scars
Nothing, My cat
She smiles and laughs
I smile a little, too
But that poor cat
Taking the blame
When it's really me
And my scissors
Then, She tells me
You need to put your cuts
Some place else
People are noticing
Your cover is falling
Your cat won't last forever
I nod and cry
She tries to help
But what can she do
To make me stop
They're noticing, Darling
They're noticing
poem by Alyssa Ray
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Our Choices...
IF, only we are alone,
just you and me in this island,
IF, you only care for me
and I for you,
IF, there are no other
creatures, no other species,
no other person
distractions of this
love just between
us, pure bond, roots
and twigs, all of our
own leaves,
our skies and
shores,
our rivers and
mountains,
IF, and Only IF
this love could have been
but ours to share,
BUT my dear,
we live in this world of choices,
oceans of desires,
islands of partings,
we are crazy for change
and benefiting from
varieties,
AND so we decide,
which way to choose,
This of That
Do we drift away or
do we stick it out
like sugar solution?
sweet and sticky,
or charred and
bitter?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Though a tree grows ever so high, the falling leaves return to its roots.
Walking Wounded
Somewhere, sometime, you were Wounded
Maybe as early as infancy when you were denied
All the essentials of the bonding experience
Perhaps the wounds were inflicted
When another toddler refused to return the toy you readily shared
Or by the mean girl who broke your favorite colored crayon
Or the bully who pushed you on the playground
Or perhaps it happened that first time
Someone more sophisticated, though lacking empathy,
Assailed your ears with a course laughter,
Aimed at you like a lethal weapon
Contrasting the cheerful chorus of joy laughter had always been
Maybe it happened the day you ran home crying
Mother revealed a secret: “Not everyone you meet will like you”
Unwelcome words that wounded and wound their way
Like strangling ivy around your core
Taking root in your heart of hearts
Passing years provide a scale of scar
Yet you are Wounded still
Somewhere, sometime, your Innocence was lost
Maybe it happened when your missing bicycle
Was spotted in the driveway on the next block
Or the day that special pebble found on the playground
Mysteriously vanished from your backpack
Maybe it was the first time you witnessed another’s tears
And yet perceived no evidence of physical injury
Perhaps it was the initial instance when you caught someone in a lie
Betrayal became a biting sting instead of just a word
Maybe it was on the day the friendly neighbor invited you in for a visit
Closed the door, pulled down the shades
And the most sacred shelter of innocence was shattered
At the unworthy hands of one of life’s lowest thieves
You learned another bitter truth
The knowledge of good and evil force-fed like bitter fruit
Time having done all it can to repair or bury
Yet Innocence is lost still
Whatever time, whatever place, or in whatever manner
Those who contributed to your loss of Innocence
Or at whose hands you were first Wounded
Do not hold the power to heal you
And they never will.
Even should they acknowledge and repent
You would still be walking through life wounded
Your initial Innocence still lost
Only you can sooth the hurts,
Bind the wounds, reclaim your rightful share of Innocence
Only Your Indomitable Spirit Can Prevail
Yours the choice to reject surrender and to overcome
You, accepting the role of Hero of your own life,
Who, in casting off from the past,
Becomes the Captain of all future voyages
Becoming one with the rest of us
We, the “Walking Wounded”
poem by Mary Havran
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Deftly Running
Running from life
trying to keep up
with the Lord
of death.
Waiting for
a line to grab
a hold of
deftly,
stealthily,
I stalk death
waiting
for the appropriate
time to grab it
by the tail
Death cannot see
nor can it hear
but it can feel
It can feel breaths,
presences,
and people
behind it
so to stalk death
one must
be fearless
and one must
be sneaky
and fast
So I am deftly
running after
death