Inconsistent Lifestyles
in the lines of a dialogue
we put some markers
of a page of life,
some borders of our
past tolerances,
all commas actually
never a period
and we stop for a while
like a cease and desist order
to look
at all those words from a little
distance
because sometimes
what the microscope of details
says is no longer
important
we still love the forest
but we still cut
some trees
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Words Are Meant For You
So there is no confusion let clarity clarify here
these words on this page are meant for you;
you.
Strung along these lines are precious intents
longing longings from down deep where souls converse,
floodings of sentiments traversing time and distance all
forming a straight line to you.
Gratitude is the staff that allows me to walk and write-
bread given me by you
sustains;
for clarity's sake
understand
these words are meant for you;
you.
Time and distance, acquaintance
and daily externals and such
mean less than these
soul exchanges proffered.
These words are meant for you;
yes you.
In the interstices words allow
in the hurried moments
where emotions and ideas fly
there is only I you and the written page
and that is enough
These words are meant for you-J
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Tonight I Can Write
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
translated by W.S. Merwin
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Markers
Whenever something wonderful
happens in our lives,
we mark it with a special memory
we can call back any day.
Through the years, we place
many more markers there
to recall in times of despair.
They flood back the good times
we’ve had
in order to help us
back on our feet.
The little markers filled
with love and joy
we store inside our head.
30 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Price We Pay
(08/21/11)
The days are getting longer and
the nights are getting shorter.
The economy is scaring
And the tempers are flaring.
So many people struggling to survive
And many on the unemployment line.
Military people are losing their rights
And still expected to stand and fight.
Social security checks are getting smaller
And the welfare lines are getting longer.
Yet we still throw millions of pounds of food away
And millions are starving every day.
People are crossing our borders every day
Looking for jobs with a bit more pay.
You no longer have to wonder
Why banks are going under.
The world is going through the same things as us
But in GOD we must put our trust.
If those words are imprinted on our currency
Then in that you must believe.
If we could only go back to the past
Where we could afford a gallon of gas.
Where jobs offered retirement benefits
And health care too, and we didn’t have
To worry as to what to do.
We all know that life never stays the same
And we all must go through these aches and pains.
Is this the price that we must pay
So the politicians can get their way?
poem by Louis Rams
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Borders
Past the borders that divides us
of seeing, feeling, hearing and tasting
past thoughts, sensations of you and me
the ways how
we experience each other, the reality,
I want to go deeper to you
so that somewhere there
my inner eyes, my thoughts penetrate
to that which is the essence of our humanity
and in simplicity I do not want to wait longer
past the empty and vain game with a deeper meaning
not heeding the shallow things of the world
so that we can be aware of that which is holy,
more splendid and base love on eternal light.
[Reference: Borders by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Think Twice
Words once spoken
Can never be erased
Though when written
Can be deleted from any page
The thought you once said
Can be for a lifetime
Resulting to a distance
Between someone’s life
The only thing then we will regret
Is how to change
The things we have said
Hurting words no one deserves
Soars bitterness
How can we mend
Is there a second chance
To right a wrong
How can you heal a wounded soul
The reality of life
Is we can’t undo the past
So think twice of the words
That come from your mouth
So you won’t break someone’s heart
poem by Rose de Ramar
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Cease-fire
It is difficult to serve someone,
Who has been provoked by another...
With a cease and desist order
Of a retaliation done
Initiated by the provoking one!
A cease-fire may be desired,
But who should be supported...
To abort what has been inflicted?
Should it be the ones who did the striking first?
Or those who sat...
Putting up with this?
Especially when all players on the field...
Have clearly expressed the feeding of deceit.
Flying high and comforted,
On a merry-go-round of lies...
All choose to see end,
In a victory of a peace complete.
When every ego behind the scenes,
Have already divided into greedy pieces!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Changeable
he looks at the picture again
some details that used to attract him
he does not see anymore
the definition of love
even lust,
he looks at the sky again
thanking God
for this experience: nothing lasts forever
something frees us
after a time of blind love
you mourn only for a while
and then you find joy again in those other details
those that you have discarded
in fact
becomes more important
so you go over again
life and its basics
love and its reminisces
you move into another stage
of survival
now there is comfort in strangers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friends of the Forest (Memories of Clayoquot)
A small band of protesters
gathered in the forest.
Together their voices growing,
rising on the wind.
A Chorus.
'Stop cutting the tree's'
they cry.
'Stop raping the land.
Our Mother Earth gives us life,
touch her with a gentle hand.'
No Help
from government officials.
'Just pass the tax.' they say.
And the workers in the forest
don't want to find another pay.
So the Friends of the Forest
take a stand to show us how
the power of our words and actions
can start a change
here and now.
The future's in our human hand.
Reuse the trees.
Replant the land.
Show the world a better way
as the forest's guardian.
We are God's
each of us
in a small way,
creators of a future world
with each choice we make today.
poem by Angela Michel
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It Isn't Everyday One Makes An Order, And Throws Out The Past
It isn’t everyday one makes an order, throws out the past
Goes through the piles of old papers
And sees here a missed opportunity there another time of life
Which one has long forgotten
Throwing most of the business papers away
And holding on to most personal things
One finds letters one did not answer
And dreams one did not begin to realize
Pictures are most painful
People no longer here
Loved ones in youth
Oneself as one was and will never be again
A life in these things
And almost gone
Cancelled bank books
Money one had once and no longer has
Love and people who were once one’s whole life
And are now strangers
The children
In so many different ages and times
The children no longer children
The past too too much past
Weighing me down with grief and despair
Asking myself how I can go on and for how much longer
Before someone else has to deal with the mess
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The fear...
Yet another blank page I see before me,
Waiting to be bathed in my words,
Emotions spill out like a fountain of feelings,
The emptiness scares me for what if I may not fill it,
What if I cannot bring the light of life to my dreams,
The loneliness of a barren heart failing me,
That I may fall deeper into complete nothingness,
Shall my dreams ever cease to be?
Will my words dry up and my heart wither?
Yet once again my story springs to life upon the page,
And my fear is but a memory...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Forest For The Trees
When youre a young man, down and out
You really need someone to help you out
It looks like life or death is your only choice
Its really hard to see
The forest for the trees
The forest for the trees
And when you get angry and everythings black or white
You should know that it isnt that simple, no ones always right
You know that youre life it worth living
You gotta start taking if no one else is giving
And if youre not afraid to open your eyes
You may be pleasantly surprised
Thigs are never as bad as they seem
You just gotta learn to see
The forest for the trees
So if you need somebody, tell them please
If you want someone, get up off your knees
Things are never as bad as they seem
You just gotta learn to see
The forest for the trees
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
Soshana
i have spoken my lines
that is what i am told to do
and you have spoken your lines too
and that is what they are telling you to do
you cannot be my comfort
distance are not arms and distance is cold like ice
your words are mere words like faces without names
i have spoken and you have spoken
now i am going back to sleep
it is done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friends, Not Friends
A friend will be a friend
comfort is comfort
borders don't exist
lines don't have to be drawn
lines were never drawn
lines were only placed
A friend will be a friend
Love is love
and feelings don't lie
lines come from the lies
creating borders to hide secrets
A kiss will be a kiss
magnified by a feeling
torn down by a lie
behind a line
over the border
Exclusivity
Desensitizes Sensitivity
Raising relationship Toxicity
A kiss will be a kiss
A friend will be a friend
A girl will be a girl
A girl will be your friend
whether or not you kiss
poem by Electric Tripp
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Raising children is an enormously important part of life. I think one of the most important, or the most important, period.
quote by Eric Braeden
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Parts In Relation To The Whole
the parts in relation to the whole are hard to muster
i get lost somehow
confused on this seemingly unrelated part to another part
like seeing the legs of this millipede
when it would have been easier to think of it
as a worm,
i remember being lost in a forest of trees
wild growing trees where i can no longer figure out the shape
of a single leaf
because it is too dark
and damp
too many little things, too many details, that hinder us
from grasping the wholeness of
things
and people and daily events,
i get tired of all these, parts and parts and parts and some more
miniatures of parts, a letter to the word,
speaking in cut phrases
how can i ever understand this and that?
show me the whole
be whole to me as i am whole to you
touch the parts later
relate it always to me
this love is whole, it was never meant to be chopped
like some garlic and onions
this love is an apple that you see and pick from the tree
take it first
in its appleness, then start to bite
every part is sweet, every part is me,
this love
this me, this whole world is me
it must be first to you
then love becomes us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The written word is the basic of everything. Most important, the idea, and after that, the dialogue. You can rehash the dialogue as you go along, it 's disgraceful to have to do this, but now and again you have no choice.
quote by Terence Fisher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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