The Ripe Sound Of The Gecko....
sorrow is not fond
with words,
it sticks like a gecko
on the
old wall of the house
and when everyone
retires for
sleep
it starts to create
that sound
where you soon shall
start
counting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Start Counting
(basil kirchin / jack nathan / james coleman / patrick ryan)
This year, next year
Sometime never
Paper dreams tied up
With bits of string
Darkness comes
Flowers grow
No-one knows
I start counting
I start counting
Sitting by myself in a secret
Chasing thoughts through rainbows in my mind, yeah
Changing time
Tomorrows dream
In between
I start counting
Counting, yes I do
Counting, counting, counting, counting, counting
Ooh-hoo-oo, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve etc.
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gecko Meets Me
I told a gecko telepathically
“I wish I could once touch thee,
I looked at my hand and instantly
gecko was there,
really soft and light as air.
Gecko was very smooth and cool,
like water in a swimming pool.
Then gecko jumps off my hand
just like that as fast as he can,
Hopefully gecko is safe at home,
over by the flowers and gnomes.
Written By Christina Sunrise on December 30,2011
www.suechevalier.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Gecko
Today, I found early in the morning
A small gecko was struggling to come out from the porcelain bath tub.
I remember that I had a phobia of geckos in my childhood
As my mother always say when I skip my meals and play with ants.
'You never become a big man if you won't take meals properly'
And she points out a gecko on the wall, 'Beware! It will bite you'.
I made a mistake by pulling out its tail.
Oh! It was broken and gecko was no more.
I am so sorry my dear.
I cannot do anything,
This sorrowful incident would torment my entire life.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Going Out To The Garden
Going out to the garden
this morning
to plant seeds
for my winter greens
-the strong, fiery mustard
& the milder
broadleaf turnip-
I saw a gecko
who
like the rest of us
has been
reeling
from the heat.
Geckos like heat
I know this
but the heat
these last few days
has been excessive
for us
& for them.
A spray of water
from the hose
touched its skin:
I thought it would
run away.
There are crevices
aplenty
to hide in:
the garden wall
is made of stones.
But no
not only
did the gecko
not run away
it appeared
to raise
its eyes
& head
looking for more.
I gave it.
Squirt after
squirt
of cooling
spray
from the green
garden hose.
Is it the end
of the world?
It seemed to ask.
This bliss,
is it Paradise?
I bathed it
until we were both
washed clean
of the troubles
of this world
at least for this moment:
this moment of pleasure
of gecko
joy
as I with so much happiness
played Goddess
to Gecko.
poem by Alice Walker
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I'm Not Losing Sleep
Yes, I've read the morning papers
Telling me that you've made money
Do you think I'm gonna crawl, then think again
Though I'm dressed in rags, I'm richer
Though I eat from tins, I'm healthier
Though I live in slums, I'm purer than you, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Don't look down your nose at me
'Cause I won't ask your sympathy
I won't be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that you're wearing on the ground
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I can't get my satisfaction
Knowing you won't get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
It's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, it's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Not Loosing Sleep
Yes, Ive read the morning papers
Telling me that youve made money
Do you think Im gonna crawl, then think again
Though Im dressed in rags, Im richer
Though I eat from tins, Im healthier
Though I live in slums, Im purer than you, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Dont look down your nose at me
cause I wont ask your sympathy
I wont be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that youre wearing on the ground
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I cant get my satisfaction
Knowing you wont get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
Its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sweet sound of sorrow
I have had my share do not despair
the sweet sound of sorrow
Sorrow so deep I could not sleep
Thinking this must all end tomorrow
If your looking for another that understands your sorrow
Drop me A line and I will fallow
And I'll show you some time
how when I can not sleep I weep
The sweet sound of sorrow
© By Stone
poem by Mark Stone
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Listening To The Clock Ticking
that last servant of the house
finally leaves
she also had to go to sleep with her mother
it happens this way sometimes
he is left alone and as he tries to sleep
he feels that the big mouth of the house is eating him
swallowed his body listens to the sound of the clock on the wall
ticking and ticking as if time is running out.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I love you this holy words I want to say
My eyes start walking on tiptoe
To follow wherever you go
My ears start stealing your every word
To listen to the words I haven't heard
My heart starts beating like drums
When you come closer like chums
My brain start dreaming sweeter dream
When I think of you as ice-cream
My body starts warming up like midday
When you touch me when you want me to stay
I love you this holy words I want to say
When you make out what's inside me like X-ray
poem by Asif Andalib
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Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones, might break my bones
And words, shall never harm me,
I was told that story, when I was a Boy
Along with the birds and bees, I believe
So I lived my life, through that advice
That was given to me in my youth,
That sticks and stones would break my bones
And words could do no harm was true.
So I stayed away from sticks and stones
And tried never calling anyone names
But the sticks still arrived, in my life
And also the words of hate and pain.
But then I had healed from broken bones
And bruises and all the nasty cuts,
It made me stronger, then I thought longer
About the words of hate and such.
Because the words of hate, I couldn't escape
As I noticed them around everyday
Destroying ones soul, until life they'd let go
Or asking GOD for vengeance as they'd pray.
Sticks and stones had broke my bones
And words of hate had really harmed me,
As I look around, I can still hear the sound
Of hate, and belittlement, and bigotry.
There are still broken bones and nasty cuts,
As I see as I enter every day with a walk,
But doctors heal then, as they are new again
But the words of hatred never balks.
In my life I have made many choices,
And I hope with one I don't stand alone
Never to ever use any word of hate
As I don't mind getting hit with sticks or stones.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I'm Counting On You (feat. Johnny O'Keefe)
I'm counting on you
Ever since we met darling I've been keeping score
Everyday I count your charms
Every day I love you more
It's plain to see why you're the lover I waited for
I'm counting the diferrent ways you melt me
Your smile your voice your touch
I'm counting the little things you tell me
That move me oh sdo much
I'm counting your kisses and caresses
And cause I thrill as I do
For I'm counting on you
I'm counting the hours since I found you
The days and nights divine
I'm counting the dreams I built around you
Because your love is mine
I'm counting on happiness forever
Oh lover always be true
For I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
I'm counting on you
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Walking Dead
I don’t sleep too well anymore.
I’m usually awake in the morning by 4: 00
I look at the clock and say “Oh no! ”
Should I stay in bed and lie awake
or start my day early with a coffee break?
I’m ready for a nap in the morning by 10: 00.
But then I’d have to start my day all over again.
I’m not a good napper. I hear every sound.
I’m like a ball of string that’s tightly wound
but coming loose at the end.
Now REM sleep, what’s that about?
That’s something I think I’ve done without
for too darn long. It’s a female woe.
A man hits the pillow and off he’ll go.
He’s asleep before you can say goodnight.
It’s obvious it gets worse the older I get.
There’s a clock in my head that must be set
with an alarm that goes off at 4: 00 in the morn.
I wish I could sleep like when I was born.
But that’s not gonna happen soon.
So here I am deprived of sleep.
I’ve tried everything, even counting sheep
but the darn fleecy things keep on comin’
and in my head I hear a drummin’
sayin, ” get up, get up, and get out of bed.
Most times I feel like the walking dead.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Sound Of Your Cry
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
The clock by the bed is ticking too loud in the quiet night
I lie in the darkness thinking I must go before its light
Before you open up your eyes and you beg me to stay
Ill leave cause I cant stand to see you hurt this way
Sleep my love as I kiss you goodbye
Then I wont hear the sound of your cry
Though I knew the time was coming and our love would end somehow
I just couldnt bear to tell you exactly just when or how
I know we cant go on, that it was wrong to start
But if you wake up crying now, you know youll break my heart
Sleep my love as I kiss you goodbye
Then I wont hear the sound of your cry
Sleep my love as I kiss you goodbye
Then I wont hear the sound of your cry
Ohhhh, sleep my love as I kiss you, kiss you, kiss you goodbye
Then I wont hear the sound of your cry
Ohhhh, sleep my love as I kiss you
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Many Rooms
The sound of the clock ticking
How this old house creeps
Another storm tonight approaches
So restless I can't sleep
Dark filled big long rooms
Portrait of a lady in view
Corridor that never seems to end
From a distance I thought I seen you
House Of Many Rooms
The sound of heavy rain falling
Feelings sourround of another place
An oval mirror hangs on the wall
And there I thought I seen your face
The smell of wild flowers
A gentle breeze blows from outside
Heavy laced dark curtains
A vision of you before my eyes
House Of Many Rooms
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Counting On You
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two
One of these days Ill be back with you
Counting the ways that I love you
Through and through
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine
Tentatively you put up the signs
Letting me know you are mine
And Im counting on you
To be here through it all
Im counting on you
To catch me if I fall
Whatever you do, remember
Im always counting on you
Flight six, eight, one, gate forty-two
At seven fifteen Ill feel ten feet tall
Knowing you care after all
And Im counting on you
To be here through it all
Im counting on you
To catch me if I fall
Whatever you do, remember
Im always counting on you
Counting on you
To be here through it all
Counting on you
To catch me if I fall
Remember Im always
Counting on you
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonfire
stoke the fire!
sticks of prejudice
and hatred...
sticks of greed
and apathy.
sticks of profit
and loss....
sticks of capitalism,
and oil....
sticks of guns,
and patriotism.
sticks of sexual abuse
and addiction...
sticks of oppression,
and slavery....
stoke the fire!
build it up till
it's all gone....
maybe we'll find
...tomorrow..
in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Gecko
The Gecko lying on his stone
Is always very much alone,
Nor is the reason hard to trace
By those who've seen its form and face
It's hard to realise a mite
Can be so venomous a sight,
Or in its little frame compress
Such concentrated ugliness.
Now wonder other creatures fly
Each time a Gecko ambles by.
No wonder that its chosen mate
Recoils from the connubial state.
Yet underneath its skin, we're told,
There beats a heart of purest gold.
Its children do not know neglect;
It treats its mother with respect.
It never, ever beats its wife,
And lives a most unblemished life.
Its aspect is its sole defence
Against the world's malevolence.
So when you see a Gecko stay
Uncharitable thoughts and say:-
'The gruesome are not always gross-
even a reptile bears its cross!'
poem by Leon Gellert
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We Are Afraid To Ever Tell This Story
we are here upon a page of a book
like ears, marking a restful minute since the eyes are aching,
we are in this room of a space filled in the order of words
systematically placed by a careful writer whose reputation is respected by all
his colleagues at the university,
we are wary, aching ears, rough skinned faces,
drooping eyes, lousy hands, hanging feet,
the chairs at the other northeastern part of this room are restless
but cannot speak what they feel
and they cannot be stopped
as they start running towards the balcony jumping into the ground floor
of this very silent nook
the table starts an exhibition of a circus act
tumbles like an acrobat and shouts to the wall and the ceiling that it can fly
like a winged fish that no one has ever seen
the ceiling fan loosens its neck and falls to the ground screaming
the pillow cases escape from their pillows saying it is all over now
the carpet rolls upon itself like a man rolling its sleeves now ready for a fistful of bouts
it is midnight and the light bulbs are blinking like an ambulance
there is an emergency but everyone in the house is asleep
and must not be disturbed
we are afraid we are witness to this unruly behavior of things that should not
move or scream or tumble or run or jump or brag about some imagined wings
we are very silent and the following morning when they all wake up
we keep our mouth shut afraid that they will call us crazy
or if not, paranoid because the whole night we guarded the house
and never for once close our eyes and taste the sweetness of sound sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not Counting You
When loving turns to parting
Im always the first to leave
Cause when it comes to heartaches
Id rather give than to receive
Ive never cried myself to sleep
Just praying Ill get through
Ive never lost at love not counting you
(chorus)
Not counting you Ive never had a heartache
Not counting you I never have been blue
Theres no exceptions to the rule
Ive never been nobodys fool
Ive never lost at love not counting you
Ive never got down on my knees
And asked the lord above
If he would only bring to me
The one Im dreaming of
Begging to be taken back
And swearing Ill be true
Has never crossed my mind not counting you
*chorus*
Theres no exceptions to the rule
Ive never been nobodys fool
Ive never lost at love not counting you
Theres no exceptions to the rule
Ive never been nobodys fool
Ive never lost at love not counting you
No, Ive never lost at love not counting you
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House of Sleep
When we have laid aside our last endeavour,
And said farewell to one or two that weep,
And issued from the house of life for ever,
To find a lodging in the house of sleep -
With eyes fast shut, in sunless chambers lying,
With folded arms unmoved upon the breast,
Beyond the noise of sorrow and of crying,
Beyond the dread of dreaming, shall we rest?
Or shall there come at last desire of waking,
To walk again on hillsides that we know,
When sunrise through the cold white mist is breaking,
Or in the stillness of the after-glow?
Shall there be yearning for the sound of voices,
The sight of faces, and the touch of hands,
The will that works, the spirit that rejoices,
The heart that feels, the mind that understands?
Shall dreams and memories crowding from the distance,
Shall ghosts of old ambition or of mirth,
Create for us a shadow of existence,
A dim reflection of the life of earth?
And being dead, and powerless to recover
The substance of the show whereon we gaze,
Shall we be likened to the hapless lover,
Who broods upon the unreturning days?
Not so: for we have known how swift to perish
Is man's delight when youth and health take wing,
Until the winter leaves him nought to cherish
But recollections of a vanished spring.
Dream as we may, desire of life shall never
Disturb our slumbers in the house of sleep.
Yet oh, to think we may not greet for ever
The one or two that, when we leave them, weep!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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