The Secret Pond
you know the way to the secret pond of my heart
meet me there
and stay there for a while
do you not notice the wild grass growing there?
think of me as the unintended
think of me as the wanton beauty of the grass
that plans nothing to spread anywhere
think of me as a free vine
bringing soon a flower to you lips
do you notice the grey stones blunt and the pebbles black?
think of me as a certain hardness uncracked by the pain
of infidelities, think of me as pebbles that you through
after some sweet confidences after some utility
think of me as a stone that may kill a mocking bird
do you notice the stagnant waters there?
still, and quiet, and not flowing
it is what my love is all about, no noise, no words, no transfering
from one brook to another
do you notice my absence? be patient, wait for a while.
soon i may come but like a cloud above that secret pond
i may just be a drifter, a passer by, a vagabond, a wisp of air, a hush
a ghost, a phantom, an image, a shadow, a mirage.
yes, it will still be sad and lonely.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When this started to happen
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I just let it begin
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The change in anythin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When we stopped talkin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
We weren't letting each other in
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
That sad, sad trend
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The beginning of the end
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
You were no longer my friend
But believe me, now I notice
And it hurts deep within
Now that I notice
I hope you'll be again
poem by Dylan Burkhart
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I've Come to Notice More Now
I've come to notice more now,
The falling snow.
I've come to notice more now,
A certain purpose...
I had disavowed.
I've come to notice more now,
The core of my being with more meaning.
A joy I can express...
With less emphasis on things collected.
And a happiness I always had,
But somehow did not allow.
I've come to notice more now,
I can.
I've come to notice more now,
I will!
I've come to notice more now,
My needs are basically fulfilled.
Without desire to seek approval,
Sought to identify my peace of mind!
I've come to notice more now,
Thoughts like that I have left behind.
And notice, I do...
My blessings!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You 'Have' To Notice It
Lets...
Discuss,
Racism.
And how it affects you daily.
'It doesn't.'
Comeon.
You have to notice it?
'I do.'
So...
You are affected.
'No.
I am not.'
Of course you are.
You are obviously black.
A black man.
'And? '
If I were black I would notice that.
Everywhere I would notice it.
Everywhere I went...
It would be on my mind.
In my consciousness.
I'd be full of resentment.
I wouldn't be able to sleep,
Knowing I stood out amongst all people.
I would feel insecure.
Emotionally tormented inside,
With wishes to be white.
I would be...
Are you done?
'Yes.
But I just wanted you to know,
How I would feel...
IF I were a black man.'
Sorry to disappoint you.
Perhaps my commitment,
To having an identity with purpose first...
Has not prioritized my being black.
As much as you have.
Are you hoping one day I will feel inferiror?
'You don't? '
By what or who?
'Those who feel they are better than you.'
I don't fantasize.
But I realize there are many who do.
And I notice them everywhere I go.
You have to notice it too?
'I don't.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Neglected Pond
i may have neglected this pond
some fish are no longer swimming
eventually die in the water
their same burial place
some moss float and the lotus
has not borne any flower since
that day of mourning
someone as i leave may take
notice of this pond
and have pity and pour
everything there
to revive it or
take more perhaps for the
replacement
a new koi or
a gold fish
white pebbles and
a janitor fish
it does not matter for i still grieve
and grieving does not know what hope is
what a new house means
the trails to San Antonio
what are they? but same vomiting mud
and i won't take it
for an answer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing
The light along the hills in the morning
comes down slowly, naming the trees
white, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate.
Notice what this poem is not doing.
A house, a house, a barn, the old
quarry, where the river shrugs--
how much of this place is yours?
Notice what this poem is not doing.
Every person gone has taken a stone
to hold, and catch the sun. The carving
says, "Not here, but called away."
Notice what this poem is not doing.
The sun, the earth, the sky, all wait.
The crowns and redbirds talk. The light
along the hills has come, has found you.
Notice what this poem has not done.
poem by William Stafford
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The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.
quote by R.D. Laing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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about Anthony's poem
quite a gem
gold in luster
gleaming
amidst the mud
the sun sighs
saying: how can
they ever not notice
the beauty of his poems?
what a gem i too said,
and then i feel so light like a tiny white bird
and i fly near the nugget
of wisdom
so smooth is the color so like the golden sheen of the sun
the peace and quiet
the contemplation i still remember
beside a pond
underneath a lotus flower
is a charming koi.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Landrail
How sweet and pleasant grows the way
Through summer time again
While Landrails call from day to day
Amid the grass and grain
We hear it in the weeding time
When knee deep waves the corn
We hear it in the summers prime
Through meadows night and morn
And now I hear it in the grass
That grows as sweet again
And let a minutes notice pass
And now tis in the grain
Tis like a fancy everywhere
A sort of living doubt
We know tis something but it neer
Will blab the secret out
If heard in close or meadow plots
It flies if we pursue
But follows if we notice not
The close and meadow through
Boys know the note of many a bird
In their birdnesting bounds
But when the landrails noise is heard
They wonder at the sounds
They look in every tuft of grass
Thats in their rambles met
They peep in every bush they pass
And none the wiser get
And still they hear the craiking sound
And still they wonder why
It surely cant be under ground
Nor is it in the sky
And yet tis heard in every vale
An undiscovered song
And makes a pleasant wonder tale
For all the summer long
The shepherd whistles through his hands
And starts with many a whoop
His busy dog across the lands
In hopes to fright it up
Tis still a minutes length or more
Till dogs are off and gone
Then sings and louder than before
But keeps the secret on
Yet accident will often meet
The nest within its way
And weeders when they weed the wheat
Discover where they lay
And mowers on the meadow lea
Chance on their noisy guest
And wonder what the bird can be
That lays without a nest
In simple holes that birds will rake
When dusting on the ground
They drop their eggs of curious make
Deep blotched and nearly round
A mystery still to men and boys
Who know not where they lay
And guess it but a summer noise
Among the meadow hay
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coppies
I sit and I hear them,
I see them,
But they sound the same,
They look the same.
I sit and I think about them,
Coppies of the same person,
All the same walk,
Same look,
They're all naive, all ignorant bastards!
I sit and I notice everything,
I notice the sounds,
And I notice the birds,
I notice the screaming of the city,
I notice the blindness of THEM.
I sit and wonder,
When will they see themselves,
In the mirror of the other's faces,
When will they tear eachother into pieces,
When will they remove their fake masks? !
I sit and I see the world,
I see it for what it is,
A great black pit,
Filled with people,
Who are filled with shit!
Oh, when will the great castrophony end,
Mm, when it does the sky's shall cry,
The mountains shall erupt with inevitable anger,
When this happens there will be fire! And then...
Nothing.
I sit and I wait,
For that fire to consume the Earth,
I wait for individuality to explode,
I wait for this firery Hell to engulf their minds,
I wait for their sameness to become different!
I sit and writhe in my own skin,
My heart screaming,
I can't live as one of them,
I shall not live that way,
I would rather slit my own damn throat!
I sit and I crawl in my skin,
As if the agony of America were my own,
And still they remain the same,
I scream, I cut, I rip at their minds,
And they remain the same!
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Words Like Pebbles
Words like pebbles
Thrown down a pond
Will cause some ripples
That go around.
Words like pebbles
Never come back
They sink in people
That they attack.
Words can create
A thousand circles,
Pain resonates
As hurts unfurl.
Words released
Like pebbles drown;
The friendships cease
As they go down.
Hold your words
Hide your pebbles
You cannot afford
To cause the ripples.
The pond is calm
So be blessed
Be friendship's balm
Speak what is best.
'Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise
brings healing.'
Proverbs 12: 18
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Written May 11,2009 Tarlac City Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A Desparate Song
Mockingbirds are the only
birds to sing all the colors.
The most beautiful of them all
is the saddest, and she sings
her lonely song to him,
but he does not notice.
He does not realize that
they are the same.
He only has eyes
for the bluebird.
The very same bluebird
that has tortured the mockingbird
with her songs many times,
claiming to be his only love.
As the mockingbird sings
her sad songs, she is careful
not to sound like the bluebird.
She sings only to him,
only for him,
but he is the only one
that doesn't listen.
Everyone sees her beauty,
except for him.
They see her as a broken heart,
but he doesn't see her.
He doesn't notice whether
she's there or not.
He doesn't notice
the love in her eyes,
or the pain in her voice.
He only knows the bluebird,
and sees her alone
as the beauty of Life,
although he will never
know true beauty:
the beaury of the mockingbird,
or the love that she
would give to him.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Confused
A girl at 15 sits in her room and begins to write in her journal.
I just started to notice certain people in a romantic way.
I notice their scent as they walk by.
I remember the sound of their laugh.
I notice ever muscle tone in their body.
And I daydream about their lips kissing mine and taking my breath away.
But I’m confused because those who I have romantic feeling about are the same sex as me
Without Given Notice
Next time you remove something of mine at your liking.
Without given notice.
For it is my right as the author.
The reason behind the reasons.
Things do not just happen.
With a grievance I will make you aware of just how offended I am
I am not the son of sam.
My works are not evil in intent.
They are as I feel, as I am.
I say to you judges and juries
What gives you the right
Without given notice
Like a contract I feel it has been broken.
What has been under copy write has just been stolen.
I think not I own the original.
It in a note book and on my computer
So good luck and god bless.
I wish you the best
Without given notice.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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World Were Living In
I cant go out no more
I just better stay at home
I just better stay all alone
cause what am I gonna do
If I see someone Id like to do
Something to
What am I gonna say
If I see someone Id like to say
Something to
If I see someone whod like to do
Something too
I cant help being careful
Did you notice the world
That were living in
Did you notice did you see
Something might happen to me
Did you notice a chill in the wind
People are dying
Just because they had a little
Girlfriend is not my girlfriend
My neighbor is not my lover
Boyfriend is not my boyfriend
My brother is not my lover
Behavior is not my behavior
My neighbor is not my savior
Didnt you notice the world
That were living in
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass
Victor delorenzo: drums
Recorded at carriage house, stamford, ct
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blind innocence, _ excitation in the Mirage
There, at top,
Lonely poplar sublime in a Mirage, _
Naked letters without a metaphor,
The eremite did not notice beauty of a cypress,
And in it there was a pleasure …
Blind innocence, _ excitation in the Mirage,
Squeezed out love juice of the moon …
poem by Gioom Galen
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Teach Me How to Eat
If you notice I stay hungry,
Teach me how to eat.
If you notice no baloney,
Teach me how to eat.
More discipline I may be needing.
Teach me how to eat.
More seriousness I may yet miss.
Teach me how to eat.
No medications do I take,
To keep a pace that irritates.
No longer young with dumb ideals.
Teach me how to eat.
I wish a peace that keeps me feeding.
So teach me how to eat.
I see in you more than in some.
The ones who can not overcome.
I see some stumble as others run.
But you,
Know how to eat.
Success you've reached and still you seek.
Teach me how to eat...
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.
Success you've reached and still you seek.
Teach me how to eat...
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.
If you notice I stay hungry,
Teach me how to eat.
If you notice no baloney,
Teach me how to eat.
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.
Teach me how to eat.
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Look At Me
Look at me
Look at my mouth,
the little up-curve at the ends;
Look at my hair
the way I flip it when I talk;
Look at what I wear
some of it is for you.
Notice how I smell.
Notice how I look,
and how I breathe
when you are near;
come close to me;
lean in when we talk.
Touch my face sometimes.
Notice the brown specks
in my green eyes;
touch me
when I walk by;
And laugh a little
for no reason
when you say hello.
Look at me
at odd times
from across the room.
Back into me at parties
expecting a hug
from behind
And thank you love
cause you do all this
all the time.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Will you notice?
Will You notice when I'm gone?
Will you no when the phone just rings out?
Your sure to have no doubt.
Will you just think I'm sleeping?
Or in another mood.
Will you prejudge me again?
I'm guessing you'll just think.
I'm not near the brink.
But let me tell you this.
You are wrong plain wrong.
Death is taking my hand.
My life I am about to take.
But I only wonder this
Will you even notice I've gone.
But some how I doubt you'll care.
You allways made me feel small.
You never notticed my dipair.
But you'll have to notice my suicide
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Discipline Of Love
You naughty girl: so sharp and dry
Don't fill yourself with foolish pride
You wanted me to notice you
But when I came, you cut me
Why did you do it?
Why did you go and spoil the fun?
Why did you do it?
You need the discipline of love some discipline
You wild child
How sweet you smile
Your crystal ball it's broken
Why did you do it?
Why did you go and spoil the fun?
Why did you do it?
You need the discipline of love some discipline
Take notice now: my turn to talk
The gate of love it's narrow
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charms
She walks as lightly as the fly
Skates on the water in July.
To hear her moving petticoat
For me is music's highest note.
Stones are not heard, when her feet pass,
No more than tumps of moss or grass.
When she sits still, she's like the flower
To be a butterfly next hour.
The brook laughs not more sweet, when he
Trips over pebbles suddenly.
My Love, like him, can whisper low --
When he comes where green cresses grow.
She rises like the lark, that hour
He goes halfway to meet a shower.
A fresher drink is in her looks
Than Nature gives me, or old books.
When I in my Love's shadow sit,
I do not miss the sun one bit.
When she is near, my arms can hold
All that's worth having in this world.
And when I know not where she is,
Nothing can come but comes amiss.
poem by William Henry Davies
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