Origami Me....
the way you fold a piece of paper
to make those cups and flowers and cranes
never stops to amaze me,
you know how to make use of mere scraps
into art, into something as useful as a cup
into something more meaningful as
those hundred cranes flying in the skies
on the minds of excited children
origami me, make me more artistic,
more useful
i am a mere scrap of paper flat on the table of this universe
Oh God...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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88
i just had the number
88
inside my head.
it is not a grade
not money.
it is a mark of what i have done
on the other side
of my life.
i outlive 3,000
going on to 4,000
i clap my hands, give myself a toast
of red wine
when i had my first 1,000
you must remember my 1,000 cranes
paper cranes
paper poems on cranes and other creatures
like butterflies and birds and wind and dust
they have taken upon themselves the burden of flight
they promise me
and i have it now.
88, is my new number now.
i am inside an elevator and i am going up with you
to the nth floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Recalling The Thousand Cranes
if you recall i made a thousand
paper cranes too
hoping to save a soul
from the body of the burning
flesh
the ten thousand cranes
were useless
she died.i live.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Scrap of Paper
"Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?" -- Question
of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador,
August 5, 1914.
A mocking question! Britain's answer came
Swift as the light and searching as the flame.
"Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight
Till our last breath, and God defend the right!
"A scrap of paper where a name is set
Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt.
"A scrap of paper holds for man and wife
The sacrament of love, the bond of life.
"A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ
With God's eternal word to hallow it.
"A scrap of paper binds us both to stand
Defenders of a neutral neighbor land.
"By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight
To keep our name upon that paper white."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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I think I have already signed some scrap of paper for every man, woman, and child in the United States. What do they do with all those scraps of paper with my signature on it?
Journey From A Small Place
I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar,
Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star.
I make a journey in a paper
A contemplation ink in white field
I make a journey inside the book
Traveling my imagination in the word ocean
I make a journey under the table
A furious food battle on the ground
I make a journey on top of the roof
Transforming myself among the cloud in the sky
I make a journey outside the glass
A different possibility faces on the transparent canvas
I make a journey at the bridge
Clearing the dark shadow with the water current
I make a journey above the tree
An adventure child who never stops to grow
I make a journey over my pillow
Bringing a piece of dream to reality world
poem by Selam G. Sekuar
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The White Of The Paper
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask such
a simple task from me
write as you wish
think as you want to
or dont want to
I feel a white dove
flying amongst wondrous
cumulus clouds
meditate as much as i wish
so that the white becomes
a mere plane of zen,
a vibration of existence
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask just
such a simple thing of me
to swing myself and exercise
my thoughts so that i let loose
clouds, birds, stars and moon
in the minds of men
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they always
are my best friends,
open an infinite plane
for me to act out my antics
for the good of men,
exercise their minds and
let their humours flow
i like the white of the
screen and the paper
because they are always
there to accommodate me
to let the gift from heaven flow
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Jar of Origami Cranes
In rooftops, in trellises
People strut like an alley cat
Gyrating their flamboyance
And trying hard to enthuse
The blasé of the spectators below
In gardens, in sea shores
People will prod for a gazebo
And conceal their precious jewels
Screen them from the thorns and tides
And from the sweltering sight of the sun
In planes, ships, or trains
People would doze in the expedition
And rest their lethargic heads
To miss the motion picture
Playing outside their windows
In bedrooms, in churches
People would utter a prayer
Before looming icons and candles
To deliver them from all evil
Such blinded greedy pleas of fanatics
In bookshelves, in bar corners
People would careen over the macabre
And sulk in inebriated isolation
Titivated by loquacious melancholy
A feigned scream of brazen idiosyncrasy
In poems, in letters
People, like myself, errs
And dispense everything into angst
Rasped by an ineffable trance
Of lackadaisical sycophancy
In simplification, in surrealism
People would lose the rhythm
And reduce the pulp into a gravy boat
Of cheap, mentholated or carbonized,
Gaudy and squalid hedonism
If I would stumble on a place
Where I can make origami cranes
I would pawn a lifetime and craft a sunset
From a folded paper and keep it in a jar
Like a fallow secrecy of a Pandora's Box
If I could build such a place instead
I'd settle to the places where the sun
Rises its head and sets back in attrition
So that all the people, sybarite or saint, could muse
The jars of origami cranes and fondle each other's laments
poem by Norman Santos
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The Unseen Butterfly
Folding the last edge of the paper
he pointed the folds
into the palm of his hand,
closing it in a clockwork swirl
he forms a fist.
Turning to the children,
He spoke…
‘What do you see? ’
‘A hand…
…a fist’, said the other.
Without acknowledgement
He asked, ‘Do you see the butterfly? ’
As if to turn,
and search the skies
The children shook their heads.
Slowly, gently
Unfolding his fingers like petals
He tenderly placed his finger
On the square of paper…
‘Do You see the Butterfly? ’
wide eyes and indignant laugh
revealed the children’s Puzzlement.
‘It’s a piece of paper’
became their mantra
Raising his eyebrows,
quiet finger to lips
he recaptures their attention.
‘Look, do you see the Butterfly? ’
the slip of paper pinched
between finger and thumb
‘Do You see the Butterfly? ’
Restless, the children
Shuffled from foot to foot
Peering around and about
As if looking through
the finger and thumb
‘It’s just a piece of paper! ’
mocking adult indifference
the children say again
‘it’s a piece of paper…’
Then let us see, he unfolds
The first edge opened
doubles the dimension
of what is visible
With his thumbs he expands
the dimension a step further
‘Do you see the butterfly? ’
with taut Patience
the children snap
‘it’s hidden…it’s hidden….
How can we see
What is hidden…’
Until it is unfolded?
Do You see the Butterfly?
poem by Adrian Wait
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Journey From Small Place
I make a journey in a paper
A contemplation ink in white field
I make a journey inside the book
Traveling my imagination in the word ocean
I make a journey under the table
A furious food battle on the ground
I make a journey on top of the roof
Transforming myself among the cloud in the sky
I make a journey outside the glass
A different possibility faces on the transparent canvas
I make a journey at the bridge
Clearing the dark shadow with the water current
I make a journey above the tree
An adventure child who never stop to grow
I make a journey over my pillow
Bringing a piece of dream to reality world
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Paper Thin
Rich and wealthy canvas
Clustered up in jewels
Finding all your heavyweights
Are featherweights and fools
Broken all your promises
Broken all your paper plates
Clustered in gold
Crusted in gold
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
In origami cities
In nations build on sand
Love got bend right outta shape
Things got outta hand
Polystyrene skylines
Papier mch smiles
Rusted and bruised
Tarnished and frail
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering why
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering, wondering why
Paper buys the men
The men that make the bomb
The bomb that makes this world
Paper thin!
Money markets crumble
Gentle as a drum
But if you see me stumble, im
Paper thin!
Life is but a fragile thing
So delicate and pure
An accolade bestowed on us
Paper thin!
So contemplate the skull
The skull beneath the skin
One day we all die, were
Paper thin
Bury your destruction
In your last battle hymn
The barriers between us, make em all
Paper thin! paper thin!
Paper thin! paper thin!
Underneath the paper moon
The sky is paper thin
Torn into a thousand shreds
So let the solar system in
Rich and wealthy canvas
Clustered up in jewels
Finding all your heavyweights
Are featherweights and fools
In origami cities
In nations build on sand
Love got bend right outta shape
Nothing ends as planned
And its all-paper thin
Paper thin. paper thin
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Paper
Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck
up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe
the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,
to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with
glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then
if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge
in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving
the long time wished for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Piece Of Paper
A diploma hanging on the wall
is really not you at all.
It's just a piece of paper.
A marriage certificate in your file
of when you two walked down the aisle
is just a piece of paper.
A birth certificate, signed and sealed
made you legal but concealed
that it's just a piece of paper.
A death certificate proves you're gone.
The truth is you've just moved on.
It was just a piece of paper.
All these papers that yellow with time
were really not worth one thin dime.
They were just pieces of paper.
Your life was never all those things.
Your life was when you took on wings
and soared with love for all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Paper
Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Master Of Origami We Honour
master of origami folding many coloured
pieces of paper into objects of appealing interest
animals people flowers mysterious artifacts
respect and honour are given master creator
in Japan an artist is honoured respect is due
no cretin comments “imagine a grown man
sitting around all day folding pieces of paper”
this is not New Zealand where a master poet
is ignored condemned by creatures of contempt
master of origami we honour wonder in your eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ball And Chain
(Colin Moulding)
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Don't want demolition,
Don't want your compensation,
It's not just bricks and mortar,
We are lambs to slaughter.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Must we live in fear,
From those who shed no tears?
Our one and only shelter,
Your games, your helter skelter.
Motorways and office blocks,
They're standing on the spot
Where stood a home,
Crushing on the memories of people,
Who have since turned to stone.
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone,
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cranes carry this heavy mystical baggage. They're icons of fidelity and happiness. The Vietnamese believe cranes cart our souls up to heaven on our wings.
quote by Mitchell Burgess
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dread
dread is such a
nice word upon the
mouth of someone
whose life depends
on the mere signing
of a pen and upon
a stroke his life
vanishes away
upon a mere scratch
of a signature
dread is such a word
that i write only on paper
because saying it
makes you panicky
i dread to do this
but sooner a name
is written on paper
by you my Master
if you must today
please write my nickname
sort of final affection.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Experience
Experience
Is like line making in origami
It helps to fold a form of paper
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Upon this paper my life is written
Upon this paper my life is written,
a tree doubled over in pain.
The red ink flows over the skin,
full stops and commas are hair and stars:
eyes of sea left on ships,
destroyed houses, rusting girders.
This paper is as black as the storm,
destroyed villages where there is no fiesta.
This paper burns as reason does,
lightning in the sky flashes in its millions.
This paper is a sky where there is no God,
this paper is alone…
this paper does not fly…
this paper… it is I.
poem by Menotti Lerro from The Poetry of Menotti Lerro (2011), translated by Andrew Mangham, Maria Rosaria La Marca
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