En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Marriage Is A Package My Dear

marriage is a package my dear
not much of a box of chocolates
you take all, the good and the bad times
you stick it all, the worse and the better,
you are two together from the start till the end,
body and shadow, boat and rudder,
kite and string, hand to mouth.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Floating Boat Needs a Rudder

You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.

And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.

You're afraid to row,
A boat that stays on shore!
And advice you're given...
Your are quick to ignore.

Any boat that you'll use will need a rudder.
That boat you use will need a rudder.
Any boat you will use will need a rudder,
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.

That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder...
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.

You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.

And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.

And you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.

No you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.

That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.

That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.

No matter what druthers suffered...
One day you'll agree.
A floating boat needs a rudder...
To get to your destiny!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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to connect himself to God

to make this divine connection
from his human
ity

he writes a poem about a kite that a child makes
from sticks and paper
and some paste
to stick them in together
like a symbolism
of body and soul

and the child puts the paper tail
as rudder
of this kite and then he runs to the field

to find the wind to give his kite a lift
to the skies

high spirited like his soul
and his body
wanting to be with
God up there

after this i will ask him,
the child
(or the child in him)

or simply him the man who who writes a poem about a kite
lifting itself up with the wind of his beaufiful words:

do you feel something divine?
was there something divine in this poem about a kite?
did you feel God?
did you see him up in the skies above?

you tell me about angels, now tell me, my friend
about the presence of God

tell me more, about this kite this flight this wind
do not mention anything about power

i am always this suspicious believer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kite Song

I flew a kite, I held on tight to its string.
Each time I go anywhere, I held on tight.
In the middle of the night I woke up in fright,
Thinking maybe in my dream I let go of my kite.
When I was in a restaurant, talking to my friends,
Watching their mouths move faster and faster.
I thought of the kite that was flying in the sky
And made sure that my hand was holding the string.
That was a long time ago,
Many skies went by since then.
Now my hands stopped holding anything
And Ive learnt to take a walk instead.
Then one day in the evening light,
I saw something strange shining bright.
The sky was dark, with swarms of larks,
And in the midst of it all, yes, it was my kite.
How did the kite get there, Ill never know,
Floating away among the clouds to where nobody knows.
I held my gun with both my hands,
Slowly aiming at the shining dot.
The shot went off, the dot blew off,
Since then Ive never seen the kite again.

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flying High

My oh my!
What a gorgeous day to fly
Let's release that puffer kite
High in the crystal clear blue sky

We're running out of string
Send that kid on his bike
To the hobby shop to get more
What do you mean, what for?

Why, to fly that kite
Beyond the clouds, earth and universe
The wind is perfect today
We can do this beyond the moon and stars

oops! string broke over passing cars
Where is it now?
Where the past kite fliers now fly
My, oh my!
How high, this kite did, fly

poem by Matt Mondschein
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The Kite The Wind Took As If A Poem

You bought the kit,
couldn’t wait for Mum to clear the table
to spread its bits and pieces out

didn’t your Dad help you? Yes, of course –
those were the good times..
‘your Dad’… do we ever really realise
they had a life of their own,
not merely extras in the drama
of your life?

the wooden struts cut to length,
the careful, don’t hurry Michael cotton wound
around the glue, and then more glue,
put the top back on again Michael
or you’ll be sorry when you come to use it again…
what’s again, in a boy’s life? …

that special waterproofed paper
finally in place; Mum’s hair-dryer
cautiously used to tauten
the bright kite’s sail
not too near Michael,
read the instructions…

it’s alive now, the kite,
the two of you waiting
to learn about wind, even
what you thought a mere light breeze…

what strength! on that first outing
on the beach or in the park;
the mere light breeze
which as your kite sailed up there in the sky,
dipping, soaring around the other kites
like a half learned, half graceful dance
which the wind wrote

but you did not listen fully to:
a sudden pull of wind, a parting
somewhere between string and kite…

no longer your kite; now
it’s the wind’s kite
sailing off into the blue
to meet the clouds perhaps

was it your Dad, after
he too had been silent-sad,
or was it Mum as she wiped your face who said

the wind, the sky, loved it too much
to give it back

and so with poems.
Throw away the box and stuff
but keep the glue, it may, like memory,
come in useful
next time

and so with poems.
The wind, the sky,
deserve them for their own;
they can go further, faster, they’re more strong
than you;

let go the string, now, as it falls to earth;
watch the bright kite
till it's out of sight;
was it ever yours?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fly my lovely kite in the rain

wet cloth me in the night, dress me with a
mink that feather my skin; warm my day
with joy in the lucky sky, return the smooth
of the mouth that sweating my tongue of
the fresh dew lips i return as you

fly little kite in the rain, the tail that guide, hide
it with the wind, cut it short as it dance in the
turmoil breezing skies with dazzling wiggle; just
parting each part with the tearing tail it fall, come
wash out the waiting wet tail in the high above
the land it fly the night may fall, but the rain it
speed up in the tailing sky, as far in a distance
light beneath the horizon of a different
Heavenly skies

rain. rain; touch my tail in the body it fell, thread
lost as far it could stood, hold where nobody should
fold, in the string the wet kite brings, the neon of
fresh, steer me to find the genuine face where
everybody wish to tie my hand to stay goodbye

soar high my dear kite the sky is wide, easy to
fly, as you surf the heavenly sky, leave no one to
remember that the past has something to say
of how to make it easy, with a heavy tail in the air

weight balance my speed, in the wet it rise,
to the spectrum of the clouds, where you want stay
high......fly my kite, the wet tail seem it easy to
carry as the sky goes high

poem by Antonio Liao
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String, Kite

i complete something today
dawn, there is dawn searching for
the door to morning
and it is closed

i look at an inspiration
it is not really good for me
but it completes me
this morning
the words that lay open and
never shut
to a conclusion
the one that makes me happier
to another day

there is something like a flesh
and it is pressed like a cloth between two iron sheets
there is heat
and it is not burned

there is a string in my hand
that holds a kite
i will cut it now and release
what all i had
to the air

it falls down
helpless to the ground
and no child ever
picks it up today

Monday, the second day of the year
the kite is free and it has no power to fly again in clear skies

separated from the string
nothing is noted to be significant
the way you see it

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is A Boat

this is a boat and it is in my hand
the hand is the sea
and my fingers keep it wavy

this is the boat and it is wooden
and it is loaded unevenly on its left side
and so it leans on the heavy
edge like it is a man
with a shorter left foot
and walks like the
floor is uneven
and imperfect

this is my body and it has become an ocean
and the boat sails on without the sun
my eyes the moon and stars
and they are closed

this is the darkness where the boat sails
and this is the silence
of its journey

this is my mind
and everything: the boat, the sea, the ocean
the tilting, the weight of the load,

things exist because i let them so
this is my hand and this is the sea of waves
these emotions

this is the mouth speaking
without any sense at all like a woman nude
running for life away from the atomic bomb

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Is A Box Of Chocolates

love is a box of chocolates,
white chocolates,
milk chocolates,
dark chocolates,
mixed chocolates,
each chocolate gives you a different experience.

poem by Keelie Morgan
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My grand son's pastel drawing

Siluna! Who sent me a drawing.
'Grandpa here's you! .'
A little house
By a Coconut tree
An old man with a beard
And he holds a string
A Red kite in the sky.
I replied him;
'Thank you very much for your lovely drawing my Sonny!
And I was searching in the pale sky
Your departed brother who left us
Without saying a Good bye!
And I added one more kite in Orange color
Flies in the mysterious sky without a string!

*To our deceased loving Grandson Prabashwara, one day we too come to that reserved place and definitely we bring this poem for you!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Kite Fight

Kite to kite
Fly the sky...
Suddenly
Kite to kite
Fight the sky...

One kite cut
Another kite...
with out nife...
One kite flying
Another kite...

Pass away to fly...
Not for kite
Life also same...!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Kite

Come up and be a kite
Beelzebub is aching in my belly-o.
My feet are heavy and Im rooted in my wellios.
And I want to get away and go
From all these mirror windows.
I look at eye level, it isnt good enough.
And then I find it out when I take a good look up.
Theres a hole in the sky with a big eyeball
Calling me:
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!
I feel a rush along my body, like a bullet.
Im 2-d after a push-and-pull feeling.
And I want to get back to safe home:
I love the homeland dome.*
I got no limbs, Im like a feather on the wind.
Well, Im not sure if I want to be up here, at all.
And Id like to be back on the ground,
But I dont know how to get down--down--down!
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A blank page for the Self

‘About the Self, dear seeker,
nothing can be said..’

say the bright-eyed sages with
a chuckle and a wink;
a chuckle and a wink..

granting, later, that if you
can spare the timeless time,
you could start listing (for your self-same self)
that which Self is not..

well I’m not satisfied with that..

I’m going to start a list
for you yourself to add to,
of those times when… so, so nearly…
you almost, almost, saw yourself -
(when of course, not looking for yourself…)

as you passed that mirror in the cloakroom,
the shopwindow that’s been newly washed;
looked into the rockpool,
in your childhood’s waking dream..

when you hear – not the first note,
but the second, of some Mozart piece:
and something tells you that the mind
that knew what chord must follow from the first
has heard, has known, its self;

the moment that the playful wind
makes plastic bag into a jellyfish;

just as you see a kite tail-twisting over the rooftops;
before you wonder whether there’s a string;

just as a taste you never met before
meets several places in your mouth at once;

the moment that the scent of summer field
is sweeter to the nose than any flower;

these, like messages to say,
you’ll never catch me; but you’ll know

that I’m around..

And now I’ll leave the remainder of this page
for you to add to; or to rest blank,
as the remainder that is perfect evermore;

or for you to gaze some moments at…
contented; asking nothing
when there’s nothing left to ask;

knowing that you know your present self..
and need to know no more right now;

yet know that there, beyond,
is where all stillness smiles.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sweet Memories

Those were really good times
When we were taught Nursery Rhymes,
Mummy catching our little fingers
Taking us together wherever she lingers,
We crying aloud innocently
When Dad scolds us accidentally,
And Mom taking us in her lap
Saying 'Dont cry dear, take a small nap',
Days when we cried for chocolates and ice-creams
Harassed everyone by our noise and screams,
Days when we were out teachers pet
Howsoever we torture them yet,
Those were really good times!
Those were really good times!

Now we do miss our childhood days
Those really good and naughty ways,
Now that we are grown-up pets
There is not at all any fun left,
How sweet are those memories
When we not at all had any worries,
I wish I go back to those days again,
Is it possible for me to regain? ? ?

poem by Kavita Iyer
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I Have Dreamed of You so Much

I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real.
Is there still time for me to reach your breathing body, to kiss your mouth and make
your dear voice come alive again?

I have dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown used to being crossed on my
chest as I hugged your shadow, would perhaps not bend to the shape of your body.
For faced with the real form of what has haunted me and governed me for so many
days and years, I would surely become a shadow.

O scales of feeling.

I have dreamed of you so much that surely there is no more time for me to wake up.
I sleep on my feet prey to all the forms of life and love, and you, the only one who
counts for me today, I can no more touch your face and lips than touch the lips and
face of some passerby.

I have dreamed of you so much, have walked so much, talked so much, slept so much
with your phantom, that perhaps the only thing left for me is to become a phantom
among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadow than the shadow the
moves and goes on moving, brightly, over the sundial of your life.

poem by Robert Desnos
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Maiden Flight

The wind on top of the mountain
Is just right for flying my kite.
No, it’s not a store bought item
I made it from old newspapers,
Elmer’s glue and old balsa wood
Spine and spar sticks from last years kite.
Now here I am again ready
To launch it on its maiden flight.
I hope the tail isn’t too long;
The bridle string is sufficient.
Well, here goes! Come on baby fly!
That’s it! You want more string? Up! Up!
Easy does it! Straighten out babe!
That’s it! That’s it! You’re on your own.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Abstience

I am sorry
For loving myself
I am sorry
For the respect I have for myself
I am sorry
For keeping myself till marriage

But you don’t love me and you don’t respect
So why must i give body away to you
So you can break my heart after you get what you want from me
I will admit that was sold by your charm
But your charm don’t worth anything like my body

My body is mine
Just as your body is yours
So what ever you choose to do with your body that’s your problem
But I know in the life to come you will always remember me

So let’s not do something we’ll regret
Instead let’s respect our bodies
And wait till marriage
So at time there will be no regret
And there will lots of love

poem by Raven Mohammed
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And For All My Questions My Friend Has An Answer

you have seen the kite flying in the air
and you believe it
you have not seen the wind but you feel it just the same and you name it
as the wind
and you accept it as the wind that exists in reality
because it lifts the kite

i feel God like the wind, i see myself like the kite
there is this divinity that sticks on the stick and string and paper
lifting me up
like a child to the skies above

i do not have power
it is the wind which has it and the wind has it because the owner of the wind
has bestowed up it the power
yes the wind that you do not see but you just feel

my friend, i am not ashamed to tell you about angels
neither am i ashamed to tell you about the existence of the owner of the angels

He is our God and He loves us
why do you insist on flying away like a bird?
why?

believe and be loved
love and learn to love some more, and be a believer forever

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolate!

Chocolates, Chocolates, Chocolates,
Milk- chocolate, Mint-chocolate and semi-sweet,
Yummy dark chocolate is such a treat.
Chocolate yoghurt, sauce and chips,
And the chocolate dips,
One can have lot of sips.
Some are hard, some are smooth,
But at times give you saw-tooth,
Chocolate-shake, Hot chocolate are some drinks,
Which makes you wink.
Chocolate to express your love,
Which makes you feel above,
Chocolate to say sorry,
And then no worry.
So is chocolate healthy?
Or is just a mystery?
Or is chocolate a delight?
But, chocolates are just so right.

poem by Anju Addanki
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New Times

New times. new times. new times.
Good morning. good morning. good morning.
Im the guard. at one time
This was rather pleasant
The poets they still had to muse
Over the classicism of clean shoes
But who today still knows a button stick
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
The girls would lie down before us
First one went dancing, then behind the bushes
Today you have to run through twenty places
Get drunk on saccharin and methyl
And then you still dont get them that far
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
Now take it easy there in the early morning
Who arrives but the brethren from the press
If somewhere there lies a cadaver
Or something is foul in the state
You can be sure that a writer is not far behind
With his excellency I only say:
Hands off the literature
The laurel wreath one gets today
Second hand so to speak
>from the old empires stories
Sold underhand at the alexanderplatz
With all the wigs and costumes
Twitching from the shoulder one is informed
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
New times. new times. new times.

song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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