It Is The 'ing' Of Things Which Are Real
ongoing, loving, living,
existing, thinking,
agonizing, forgiving,
accepting,
drinking, thirsting,
eating, filling, filing,
reading, writing, singing,
philosophizing, mesmerizing,
sitting, setting, making, carrying,
bleeding, healing, bullying,
touching, merrymaking, seeding, planting, growing
these are the 'ings'
for they are real, and true and beautiful
keep going, keeping, storing, giving, releasing, freeing, seething, soothing, ....ing, , , , , ing....inging...there is no stopping of these 'ings'
moving living singing flying floating diving dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Takes.... (To Be Human!)
it takes sweat,
callouses, bruises,
tears, passion and wetness...
it takes hugs, deep thinking,
the root of anger,
and the bridge of kindness...
dirty feet, dirty hands,
naked hearts,
the stink of bodies...
joining, touching, standing,
falling, getting back up...
cursing, praying, singing,
breathing, fucking, holding close...
smiling, giving, sharing, losing,
giving a damn....
listening, reading, searching,
questioning, believing....
daring, trusting, flying,
sitting in deep silence waiting...
forgiveness walking,
gut wrenching talking,
seeing the beauty living...
touching, tasting, smelling...
you and me...
to be human!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All Women Are Sisters
Learnign for you,
reading for you,
Singing for you,
Eating for you,
Writing for you,
Waiting for you,
Cooking for you;
But, all women are siters!
And, like the joy of your love in the land of the living;
But, you will always look for me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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For The Love Of You
Well, well well well
Drifting on a memory
Ain't no place I'd rather be than with you, yes
Loving you, well well well
Day will make the way for night
All we need is candlelight
And a song, ooh, soft and long
Well well well, like to be
We're alone with a love unlike no other
Sad to see, a new horizon slowly coming into view
I want to be living for the love of you
All that I'm giving is for the love of you
Lovely as a ray of sun
That touches me when the morning comes
Feels good to me
Well, my loving me, loving me
Smoother then a gentle breeze
Blowing from my mind with ease
Soft as can be
When you're loving me, when you're loving me
I love to be
Riding the waves of love enchanted with your touch
It seems to me
We can sail together in and out of mystery
I want to be living for the love of you
All that I'm giving is for the love of you
I know that I'm living for the love of you, oh yes I do
All that I'm giving, giving is for the love of you
Paradise and heaven things can't feel as secure again
You're the key
This I see
Now and then I lose my way
Using words I try to say what I feel
Yeah, this is so real, so real
I might as well, sign my name on a card that could say it better
Time will tell
Cause it seems that I've done just about all that I can do, I can do
I want to be living for the love of you, oh yes I do
All that I'm giving is for the love of you
I wanna be living for the love of you, oh yes I do
All that I'm giving is for the love of you
Each and every day I'm living for the love of you
Said that I'm giving for the love of you
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Ways
What i want you to do is not what you are doing,
What i want you to write is not what you are writing,
What i want you to sing is not what you are singing,
What i want you to eat is not what you are eating,
What i want you to sell is not what you are selling,
What i want you read is not what you are reading,
What i want you to plant is not what you are planting,
What i want you to buy is not what you are buying,
What i want you kick is not what you are kicking,
What i want you to drink is not what you are drinking,
What i want you to kiss is not what you are kissing,
What i want you to build is not what you are building,
What i want you to cook is not what you are cooking,
What i want you to dress is not what you are dressing,
What i want you to bake is not what you are baking,
What i want you to dig is not what you are digging,
What i want you to fish is not what you are fishing,
What i want you to drive is not what you are driving,
And this love is becoming more complex than ever!
For your ways are not my ways.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Who's Living With That Mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Wakes up to give a damn?
Who here,
Demands to give a helping hand?
And who here,
Knows that peace has a chance?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about their fellowman?
Who here,
Gives their neighbor understanding?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Thinks about what is right?
Who here,
Wants to do that day and night?
And who here,
Prays conflicts and fights
Would end!
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?
Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that,
As ambition?
To live to give as a mission?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Sadness Always Stays
running up the street
from then till now
tree to chair to mud
and hanging on is true
survival can’t be counted
friends are for keeping
and forgetting
nice as you are
nice as you were
all the times of rolling mix
with those of singing
and friends and faces fall
distinctly real
a travesty
fishing as for living
hooked on purity
this little distance
this gaping whole
I am writing this
to you who must
carry on and through
in fear and loving
alone but loved
somewhat empty
hurt but trying…
poem by Christian Carbone
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Fingers
I see your fingers
touching tenderly,
reaching out in love
and with great care
plucking at strings and chords
strumming with great skill
and sometimes setting fire
to a tune on your guitar
floating over the piano keys
touching here and there
like a butterfly drifting in the air
tapping keys on the computer keyboard
writing poetry, sometimes songs
singing them along
brushing strokes on a canvass or board
mixing colours to the exact hue
painting images from your head
spreading emotions from the depth of you
magically giving life
dancing along with a rhythm of their own.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Beautiful Dream
Sail down the stream
Such a beautiful dream
Never stopping
Never touching anything
Till dawn awakes you
With a breath of the spring
Far from the crowds
Way above the clouds
We can take you to
The edge of the day
And show you living in
A new kind of way
Well take you floating to
A sea of morning dew
Where everyones the same
And no-one knows your name
And there youll see that you can
Live your life to the extreme
Such a beautiful dream
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Think That Poetry Is Always Better Written?
Contented with the plots
Sagging surges
soothing
In the movement of the minds
Some friends write
Thinking that poetry
Must be an art
For their
Therapeutic consumption
Of for its own
Sake pursued,
A friend writes poems
And tells me to read all
Of them, and I can
Always say
She has concentrated
On some poesies
Not on heresies
Of her life
I told her
Poetry is an art
And it is life
Itself moving
Inside our hearts
Albeit,
I like a certain thing about this
Albert,
And Socrates
Who never wrote a line
But just spoke them
That
There is something sickening about
The usual intimacies towards
Words and phrases
Sometimes on days when
I do not write
But just stand and stare
And listen
Without words spoken
Writing transforms at its best
Without my mind
Doing it. It is more of living
About living
And not drying, dying writing
As it used to be.
And my life is full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Heart
So you’ve given your Heart to me…
Do I keep it or give it back
Do I at all need it
Was it worth the wait
Why did you lose your heart to me?
Or did you give it out of sympathy…
Do you think I deserved it…
Or was it one of your many
Give-aways
As you’ve always done with ‘others’ of my kind
Or were you being sincere, loving and true
When you considered giving me:
Your Heart
And will you take it back from me
Once the ‘rosiness’ is over…
When we’ve had our share of making love,
When you no longer fancy me,
Having ‘felt’ me inside-out…
And then give it to that someone else
who would woo you as I did
Mind you, my love…
If ever you could be loved so much
It has to be me, and only me…
I’ve been true to God and You,
loving Him and loving You…
at peace with my loneliness,
I learned to live, longing for you…
‘merely existing’ – you might say,
Yet still livable than a ‘living death’
Once you snatch your heart from me…
So my love, there is still time,
Tell me it’s not yet true:
That you falling for me
Cannot ever and ever be true…
Let me keep on loving you
Longing for you
Just the way I do
Forever and ever and ever so…
You keep your heart to yourself
for I don’t yet deserve you,
and you don’t have to heed me
just so as I keep asking you.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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A Christian’s Journey through the Lenten Season
Fasting for forty days in various ways
Abstaining from animal products and substances of abuse
Renewing our Baptismal vows
Renouncing Satan and his works
Reflecting on the passion of Christ
Doing the ‘Way of the Cross’.
Examining our Conscience
Atoning for our sins of past
Repenting for our lapses
Seeking God’s forgiveness for our sins
Confessing our sins
Reconciling with the Lord
Amending our lives for the future
Avoiding sins
Breaking the habits of sins
Keeping the Ten Commandments of God
Reminding the commandments of the Holy Church
Praying fervently for a better world
Reading the Holy Bible and delving on the Word of God
Giving Alms
Doing charity
Giving Thanks
Preparing the Soul for the Road to Heaven
Filling soul with new grace of God
Welcoming Jesus into our hearts
Inviting God to reside within you
Loving God, the Father, Son Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit
Uniting with God
Renewing our faith in Resurrection and Redemption
Rejuvenating our lives through the sufferings of Christ
Accepting the Will of God in our life on earth
Communicating God’s love unto all mankind
Loving our unfortunate brethren
Forgiving our brothers and sisters and enemies
Meditating on our iniquities and deficiencies
Contemplating on new resolutions to become ‘Nearer to God through Christ.’
Entering into a dynamic relation-ship with Christ
Living in the Holiness of our Lord, the Good Shepherd
Changing our lives in accordance with the tenets of the Living God
Surrendering and submitting to Providence in every sphere of life on earth
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-9-2008
poem by John Celes
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World is stopping,
World is stopping,
World is stopping all moving,
World is making all destruction,
World is stopping to see a Revolution,
World is stopping to see feigned verses Unfeigned,
World is stopping to see us dead to live,
World is stopping to see burdens Increase,
World is stopping to see us going to Hell,
World is stopping so that we do the Will of Truth,
That the Truth is a lie to many people,
But Truth is living by the will of the Unseen,
Since He does not exist,
He really does exist.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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A Love Letter
OH, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal;
Oh, my; oh, my.
She's my lovely little sweetheart an' her name is Sal:
Oh, my; oh, my.
She writes me dat she loves me an' she loves me true,
She wonders ef I'll tell huh dat I loves huh, too;
An' my heaht's so full o' music dat I do' know what to do;
Oh, my; oh, my.
I got a man to read it an' he read it fine;
Oh, my; oh, my.
Dey ain' no use denying dat her love is mine;
Oh, my; oh, my.
But hyeah's de t'ing dat's puttin' me in such a awful plight,
I t'ink of huh at mornin' an' I dream of huh at night;
But how's I gwine to cou't huh w'en I do' know how to write?
Oh, my; oh, my.
My heaht is bubblin' ovah wid de t'ings I want to say;
Oh, my; oh, my.
An' dey's lots of folks to copy what I tell 'em fu' de pay;
Oh, my; oh, my.
But dey's t'ings dat I's a-t'inkin' dat is only fu' huh ears,
An' I couldn't lu'n to write 'em ef I took a dozen years;
So to go down daih an' tell huh is de only way, it 'pears;
Oh, my; oh, my.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Elders Are Confused
You call us unruly children,
but you confuse us!
First, your cousin came,
eating insects, drinking honey,
preaching re-thinking,
shoving stubborn heads
under cold Jordan's
waves.
Clearly possessed!
Then along you come
laughing, eating, drinking,
with sinners consorting,
singing songs of paradise
to prostitutes.
So what's it to be?
Mourning
to John's dirge?
or dancing
to God's piper?
poem by Steven Federle
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For a short time—Only? !
For a short time—Only? !
Needing—without Hoping...
Wishing—without Wanting...
Gazing—without Looking...
Dreaming—without Searching...
Thinking—without Understanding...
Listening—without Hearing...
Touching—without Feeling...
Sensing—without Knowing...
Healing—without Bleeding...
Growing—without Aging...
Hurting—without Bruising...
Sleeping without—Mumbling...
Feeding without—Eating...
Breathing without—Inhaling...
For a short time—Only? !
Then was I—Truly,
Happy? !
poem by Mark Heathcote
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And What Is Your Wife Doing?
well, she is in the music room
singing the Anne Murray songs
as i make my poems for the day
writing about Anne Murray
and why do you ask? oh i know
it is true we are not talking, precisely
because she is singing and i am into
this poetry writing and yes, i ask you
why do you keep on reading?
every poem that i write, oh my, why?
alright, friends forever there shall be
no denying, and too truth telling, see?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes I Ponder
sometimes i ponder on the useless
things that i think i have done with so much importance
for the day:
1.stopping on a white bridge in Dikayo
and seeing the flood of the brown river
seeing the floating coconuts and
some drift woods
stopping the car.
2. standing beside a bay window
seeing the sea torn into halves
brown on the shore and blue on the
upper portion
stop the reading.
3. setting aside the curtain to
let in the light from the morning sun
turning off the lights and getting
away from the hazards of the
computer screen
stopping, stopping.
stooping.
4. looking over the road from
this two-storey building left by
the Spaniards that once ruled
this old town
aimlessly.
5. stopping for a while. wanting
this world to stop revolving.
wishing.
sometimes i wonder, if all these useless
things that i do can change the world
or just my small world.
I am doing all these. Without thinking much
if the time is wasted.
i sit back on my chair. Staring on a blank wall
that is painted with the color of
the chalk.
Back to writing. The chalk reminds.
The chalk that resembles
the pen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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ing
Now that it is Spring...
You'll find me smiling
I'll constantly be singing
Or at least I will be humming
There will be an extra ring
To everything
I'll have to go for a swing
Because of all of the joy that spring
Does bring.
Now that it is Spring...
I am ready for a fling
More along the lines of a real thing.
I don't wanna bee sting!
So it is necessary to be thinking
Very carefully in being
The crazy spring fool that is singing
[? ] Dancing
[? ] Laughing
[? ] Crying
[? ] Sighing
[? ] Loving
[? ] Caring
and [? ] Giving.
poem by Amanda May Moore
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