The Trail
the trail to the secret house
she marks with stones
she is old and depressed
she has no home and there she hides
from what? i ask
she murmurs
how can i ever understand
what is thought from what is done?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Depressed (2)
I am depressed and no one knows.
I am depressed but won't let it show.
I am depresed because of lies.
I am depressed but won't cry.
I am depressed because of my families crap.
I am depressed because of my dad.
I am depressed because I can't live with my mom.
I am depressed because I'm all wrong.
I am depressed because of what I do.
I am depressed because I can't tell you.
I am depressed and no one knows.
I am depressed but won't let it show.
poem by Jean Pullman
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Depressed With Love
Sometimes I am so depressed with love!
Yes.
Depressed with it!
Some folks don't have it at all to give.
Negative and selfish takers...
Collecting waste and making heartbreakers.
That's what is done,
When someone dumps upon another someone.
For fun and stupidity.
Being as ignorant as they can be.
Oh I can't explain how that gets to me.
But it does.
Sometimes I am so depressed with love!
Yes.
Depressed with it
Instead of throwing kisses...
I'd like to split a few lips with my fists.
I know that's not 'politically correct'
To handle those I view as misfit.
But it sometimes gets difficult to express...
I'm feeling deep warmth and happiness at best!
When I know I expose an anger on my face,
That hides a glowing love kept depressed...
In public I'd like to erase.
But honestly...
Am I the only one that wishes to spank a few butts?
Because a mess spreading has fed many of us up?
And no one wants to RECOGNIZE LOVE for what it is?
This is what gets me livid and pissed.
Yes.
Sometimes I am so depressed with love!
Yes.
Depressed with it
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Venerable Stones
In the great house of the master stones
are venerable, and those we cast are often
cast only in a brave attempt to soften
the blows cast on our house, our pride, a clone.
The correspondences to all are clear
because our stones, just like our paradigms,
are copies of the master’s, as sincere,
but little more than prose we gild with rhymes.
David Orr reviews Helen Vendler’s “Our Secret Discipline: Yeats and Lyric Form” (“Vendler’s Yeats, ” NYT Book Review, May 11,2008) :
If “Our Secret Discipline” isn’t as strong as it could be, it’s because Vendler has thought deeply about Yeats’s use of form, but not about form apart from Yeats. And this isn’t surprising, really. Her great strength has always been her close reading of individual poets. If that causes her occasionally to find correspondences that don’t exist, well, what steward hasn’t wanted to find a world perfected in the venerable stones of the master’s great house?
5/11/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Hidden Poem With In Us
Poetry hinds behind the very tears we shed
It hides in the very pain we feel
It hides deep inside our locked emotions
When you feel confused there a poem hiding with all the answers
Poetry hides in the shadows that follow you around
It hides in the mumbling sound of our depressed voices
it hides in the locked up anger we all have
Poetry hides in the voices in our mind that is put on mute
Poetry hides behind the secrete window in our minds we painted black
But the thing about poetry is that it seems to be playing a game of hide-and-seek
But in reality it just waiting to be unleashed and told
It lies dormant locked up in chains we created our selves
We just got to let it free and let it tell its story
poem by Stephen Merced
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I am..
i am depressed and lonely
i wonder if poeple care
i hear voices
i see shadows
i want to try my hardest
i am depressed and lonely
i pretend to be someone i'm not
i believe in true love
i touch the heavens
i feel alone
i worry to lose him
i cry for the things i lost
i am depressed and lonely
i understand if i'm crazy
i say dreams will come true
i dream of falling into darkness
i am depressed and lonely
poem by Kristyann Celello
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Secret mirror
This mirror has no soul
No thoughts or feelings
This mirror has a secret
A secret that hides true view
It hides everything pure
And shows everything ugly
This mirror
Has no rule
Has no sense of emotions
This mirror is a secret
poem by Joelstine Gonzaga
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Lady Nina
(fish, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley)
You pick out your credit cards and check into the night
A dozen tequilas and youre feeling all right
So you swim to the disco, out of your depth jaded gigolo
Your lucky charms are tarnished so you leave alone
But theres one place left to go before the taxi home
After all youve made your marks
One night youll play elizabeth taylor
The next night youre marilyn monroe
Forever kissing frogs that think theyre princes
Oh, lady nina, where did all the romance go?
Your little sister babysits, your husband picks you up at six
The make-up hides the bruises and the tears so they never show
cos your beauty is the only thing youve ever owned
Its the only way youve ever known to make your marks
You made your marks, you made your marks
We believe its for real
Ich liebe dich, liebst du mich
Lady nina, Id love to take you home with me
But I love my wife and I love my family
Ive got a good job, responsibilities
And I need to keep respect from society
I know youll never act with me, I know that youre in love with me
So how do I compare to the sailors of the ships of the night?
Was I all right?
Did you come tonight, lady nina?
You made your marks, you made your marks
Ebony flowers pinned to a velvet cushion in a red light
And edith piaf sings a lullaby for the night
Just making marks, just making marks
Just making marks, just making marks
You made your marks
Ebony flowers pinned to a velvet cushion in a red light
And edith piaf sings a lullaby for the night
Just making marks, just making marks
You made your marks
And you made your mark
Just making marks
And you made your mark
Just making marks
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home is much more
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Where I could lay naked without a blouse
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Playing cat and mouse with my spouse
But home is much more!
Much more than a place you lay your head
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is deep rooted in ones soul
Home is empty if your heart has a large hole
Home is rebirth from childbirth to death
Home is when you make peace with thyself
And return back to earth!
I thought of home
As a bed with a respectable foam
I thought of home
As a place we feel we belong
Recharging our bodies to be strong
I thought of home
As living in no chronological order
With father, mother, sister or brother
I thought of home
Associating it with family
Affiliating it with ones country
Contemplating with the idea
As where one spends Christmas, Easter and New Year
O! dear
But home is much more!
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is thy inside twin
Your spiritual interior environment
No one dares enter without thy consent!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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There Is Something In Her
something that i cannot understand
her own emptiness
she felt it when the old house burns itself
for no cause at all
at the other side of the road
i can't help but hum a song
whistle within
for i own nothing
and then i dance my way back home
along the paths of sharp stones
this is my poverty here
that no one shares
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the theater, while you recognized that you were looking at a house, it was a house in quotation marks. On screen, the quotation marks tend to be blotted out by the camera.
quote by Arthur Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daddy Won't Be Home Anymore
(Dolly Parton)
As I look around the little house we were so happy in
I think of all the happy times we'll never see again
Then I break down and start to cry, the children ask what for
I can't find a way to tell them that Daddy won't be home anymore
Each night before they go to sleep they fold their little hands
And say a prayer for Daddy fighting in their far-off land
So tonight I'll help them say their prayers like I've always done before
God give me courage to tell them that Daddy won't be home anymore
But honey as for me there'll never be another man
And I'll bring our children up the best way that I can
You died for what you thought was right that much I know for sure
But the children just can't understand why Daddy won't be home anymore
No the children just don't understand why Daddy won't be home anymore
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's a rebirth that goes on with us continuously as human beings. I don't understand, personally, how you can be bored. I can understand how you can be depressed, but I just don't understand boredom.
quote by Dustin Hoffman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose house is this?
whose house is this?
silence crawls on night slowly like bugs
I stretch my limbs under warm woolen rugs,
a shrill cry of the moth and whistle of house cricket
dueling under my bed to have their accounts set,
The sound of feasting ants from a slit of wall
half sleepy I hear lover flea's invitation call,
two pigeons making love near ventilation hole
my existence feels affiliation with nature's whole,
a spark of the firefly in the black night
reminds a fall of star once shining bright,
a mosquito murmurs a secret in my ears
an expansion of universe my eager heart hears,
a house within the house within the house I live
mine is not mine this foolish mind can't believe
poem by Mukesh Raval
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Alive And Killing
I once knew this boy
Who was in his teens,
A dog tag around his neck
A pair of low waist jeans
A ragged shirt, streaked hair
Branded shoes, the thuggish stare
It all fitted him very well
Yet his darkest secret he would never tell.
There was one little piece
The jigsaw was missing
That one thing that seemed out of place
That one thing that didn't fit in.
He had everything,
Yet he seemed depressed
'Is it your marks? Your studies? '
'Why are you looking so stressed? '
His parents would give him
Everything he needed and more
Yet his wasn’t as bright
As the clothes he wore
He was always missing from class and home alike
No one knew where he went
Except his little brother
He had followed him that day
To see where he went alone
He followed him to a house
He followed him back home
He saw what his brother did
He saw his brothers near death
He knew he had to stop him
He would fight till his final breath
Seven years of mystery
Was uncovered that day
But only his brother knew
When his motionless brother lay
His brother was dead
Dead of drugs
That seventeen year old
Had been dealing with thugs
The brother didn’t reveal
The information he had
He knew his brother wasn’t the only one
What he knew was driving him mad
He was going to do something
About these killing things
Going to take action
Going to spread out his wings
He was only thirteen
What could he do?
Nothing was in his hands
That he knew
Then he decided to take his stand
For his brothers sake and all like him
He knew what power lay in his hands
He knew how he could inspire a change
He knew precisely what he had to do
He walked to his brother’s room
And picked up his pen
And with a firm mind
And an urge to make a difference
He began to write....
Alive and killing.
poem by Abhishek Vishwanathan
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Poetry
Only place where I feel at home is poetry
Everywhere else I am always lost
Nothing seems proper, when verses of English poems are not present
All that I feel like doing is write and write
Sometimes, I do admit that I do get lost
However, I really belong only with poetry
Still, I always feel that nobody ever does understand my feelings
A blank space is always present within my heart
As sometimes I start to feel that things which I express are not good enough
I do not really know why?
This is just how I feel sometimes
Since, often the mode of being depressed comes to my life
Then, I become a depressed poet who has only past memories
Nothing else I have as remaining to love or care
However, still I keep on penning things, only to still remain alive
Otherwise, I would be dead without words
Only place where I belong is poetry and here I feel being at home.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hairfall And Photocopies
You will chance upon
The secret black and white codes
Of my being
Lying anywhere
In the bedroom, or the kitchen or in the lavatory
In the classroom, in the train compartment
Between the keys of a keyboard
On the mouse-pad
In the staffroom, in the caves on the moon
In the snake hole
In our house, in their house
In his house, in her house
In my home, in your home
In the gaps between the words
Among the pages of a book
That makes you scratch your head
Anywhere just anywhere
Obviously I know
Where this road leads
But don't forget
That in my every hair
Is my DNA
Or whatever
After thousands of years
In some rocks
A scientist will discover
My fossilised hair
He can generate
Yet more photocopies of me.
poem by Sachin Ketkar
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Looking For Sugar!
following the trail of the ants,
past empty factory buildings.
past fields not planted.
past vacant store fronts.
past cars up on blocks,
and signs yelling 'for rent'...
following the trail of the ants,
looking for sugar!
following the trail of the sun,
from day unto night.
from family to forsaken.
from home to the road.
from god to the faces
that ring like haunted church bells,
following the trail of the sun...
looking for sugar!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Hide From Them Your Soul
Oh the tangle weaves of life
Make us as human beings
So unworthy in our lives
To others who think
It’s just all a bad dream
We stand upon the edge
Of life’s calculated risks
Wondering can we be
What others can see
All they ever see
Is the shell that hides your soul?
They poke, prod and question
What kind of life you lead
You hide from them your soul
The journeys of life’s mystery
They think they know you best
But in reality all they see
Is a shell of a being?
That holds your soul to be
One that hides the ghost of pain
That is dormant in your heart
One that’s learnt to live and breathe
Behind a painted door
They often knock to see
If you are still here in reality
Little do they know?
Of your secret life of woe
Only once in while
You let them in your life
Then firmly close the door
That hides your secret life
poem by Kaila George
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Secret Garden
Shell let you in her house
If you come knockin late at night
Shell let you in her mouth
If the words you say are right
If you pay the price
Shell let you deep inside
But theres a secret garden she hides
Shell let you in her car
To go drivin round
Shell let you into the parts of herself
Thatll bring you down
Shell let you in her heart
If you got a hammer and a vise
But into her secret garden, dont think twice
Youve gone a million miles
How fard you get
To that place where you cant remember
And you cant forget
Shell lead you down a path
Therell be tenderness in the air
Shell let you come just far enough
So you know shes really there
Shell look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
Shes got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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