Unrequited Love: A Metaphor
early that morning
the sun shines spreading
itself
warmly upon an island
in the middle of
nowhere
the water is dark and
deep and
so cold
and you shall see
black birds flying away
until
they are all gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Black Bird Dead
three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings
i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened
they continue flying away
from that hill
a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Black Birds High Up In The Air
three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings
i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened
they continue flying away
from that hill
a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of songs
It’s early morning
and the sun hangs like a large orange
Just above the hillocks
Three teenage girls
undress at the clear water
of a Brooklet.
The are shy for others,
but like to bathe together and walk
with bare feet into the rocky little stream.
Everyone of them is still young and pure
and splash and frolic while the sun
shines hotter and brighter.
The water is still cold
and their nipples are hard and black
on their round breasts.
While they wash each other
it sparkles shiny and rows of drops
are on their brown skins
The water runs of in little streams
down arms, stomachs, hips and thighs
and they stand and talk and laugh.
Something quivers in the reeds where is grows in a thicket
deep into the stream and they see
a dark green water monitor going into the water.
They run screaming and stark naked
and try without any clothes, to get direction
to the shacks of the village where they stay.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Under The Water
The bird was
Flying
Under the water...
Under the water
Fishes and frog
Also swmming...
How the birds
are flying...? ? ?
It is not qustine...
You also
Go and see
Any lake...
Sincerly watch it..
Natualy
Birds are flying sky;
Shado will be
Seen under
The water...
Sky also there:
Only way its true
Shadows...
The birds are
Simply flying
Under the water......
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Early Morning Rain
In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand
With an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand
I'm a long way from home and I miss my loved one so
In the early morning rain with no place to go
Out on runway number nine big 707 set to go
But I'm stuck here on the grass where the cold winds they do blow
And where whiskey was and bars and the women they were fine
There she goes my friend, she rolling down at last
Here the mighty engines roar, see the silver bird on high
She's away and westward bound, far above the clouds she'll fly
There the morning rain don't fall and the sun always shines
She'll be flying over my home in about three hours time
This old airport's got me down it ain't no earthy good to me
Because I'm stuck here on the ground, cold and drunk as I can be
You can't hop a jet plane like you can a railroad train
So I'd best be on my way in the early morning rain
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Cold Taxi
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
With lifes best side on the downward slope,
Its in my own hands, I know Ill cope,
My girls with me and all my friends can see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Done it before, do it again,
Know from experience its not in vain,
Shes the best Ive had, I cannot see, what someone else can do to me.
Its a long way home but loves so warm, youll see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monday Morning
I love to sleep all day,
Or play all night.
But I must get all ready,
For Monday morning so tight.
I have to go to school,
On this very cold early morning.
Perhaps I wish was a fool,
Who would sleep till tomorrow?
But I am no fool,
On this very early morning.
Hence I must go to school,
So my friend will not be laughing
Waking up this day,
Drives all joy away.
The little ones play,
With gladness all day.
Monday morning it is,
For I have to wake up early
So I would not be caught,
Pouring cold water on my body so dry.
Today is Monday morning,
The most boring of all days.
Which bring back all sorrows,
Running to school so noisy.
Yet I sit in class,
And listen to the teacher.
Who come in a pink dress?
As the pastor preaches.
My face I bury,
Deep, deep in my books.
Which I take no delight in,
Yet still I must read or I would not eat.
How can I be born for joy?
Yet still sit in this cage.
And listen to the other boys,
Who I despise as much as dirt.
Today is Monday morning,
I have to go to school.
For I would not sleep till tomorrow,
Because I would be acting as a fool.
poem by Samuel Donkor
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The Island poem.
The Island was there surrounded by sea,
Where the family stayed, so much to see;
The birds flying in the sky, and on the water too,
Yes! They were enjoying their holiday, it's true.
The Island stretched for many a mile, they could see,
With plenty of shells, and sand, the sunsets so pretty;
The Coconut palms, and date palms, to walk in the cool,
And the children enjoyed it all, for there was no school.
The husband enjoyed to go fishing each day,
The children loved to run on the sand and play;
The wife, she enjoyed it too, to rest under the tree,
Then she called them all at night, it is time for tea.
The Island holiday soon came to an end,
The children said, our holiday we can pretend;
That we are still on our lovely holiday retreat,
And remember the birds, and the birds so sweet.
Have you ever been to an Island, for a holiday?
Maybe you travelled far, to Queensland, is what you'd say;
Or was it somewhere in the Islands of the south see?
You'll know it was a holiday to feel so very free.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Dark Creatures
I'm calling to you
The creatures of the deep.
The creatures of the dark.
A creation of an ark.
Riding out the storm.
With only you as company.
The powerless feeling.
Watching all my friends and family drown.
Am I'm not able to save them.
One by one they disappear into the expansive blue ocean.
The doctor tells me it was only a dream.
But I know a nightmare when I have one.
Screaming out in the middle of the night.
Where is the shining light.
The heavenly delight.
Isn't that the way I'm suppose to feel?
I'm calling to you
The creatures of the deep.
The creatures of the dark.
A creation of an ark.
Riding out the storm.
With only you as company.
I give you my hand only to slip away.
Continuously falling.
The bottomless pit.
I was dragged in it.
All these corpses souls are looking at me.
Whispering of my guilt.
Screaming out in the middle of the night.
Where is the shining light.
The heavenly delight.
Isn't that the way I'm suppose to feel?
I'm calling to you
The creatures of the deep.
The creatures of the dark.
A creation of an ark.
Riding out the storm.
With only you as company.
Blood starts dripping out of my nose.
And I don't know how it it happen.
For I just woke from this horrible dream.
A splash of cold water to wipe my face clean.
But I still don't feel as if I'm really here.
An outer body experience.
An astral projection of my reflection.
Looking at the second one of you.
Is that really me?
Screaming out in the middle of the night.
Where is the shining light.
The heavenly delight.
Isn't that the way I'm suppose to feel?
I'm calling to you
The creatures of the deep.
The creatures of the dark.
A creation of an ark.
Riding out the storm.
With only you as company.
Screaming out in the middle of the night.
Where is the shining light.
The heavenly delight.
Isn't that the way I'm suppose to feel?
I'm calling to you
The creatures of the deep.
The creatures of the dark.
A creation of an ark.
Riding out the storm.
With only you as company.
With only you as company.
Only you as company.
My dark little creatures.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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12. Moonlight River
Black horse, strolling alone, to the river
He lowers his neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, shading the rays from the sky
White horse, treading alone, to the river
She lowers her neck and drinks the water
Black clouds, fusing the shadow into the night
Gradually the clouds disperse, and the moon
Shines warmly on the black horse
It lifts up its head and looks around
The white horse has disappeared.
(Aug 23,2004)
poem by Eugene Issaus
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Invitation to Miss Marianne Moore
From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
please come flying.
In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,
please come flying,
to the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums
descending out of the mackerel sky
over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water,
pl ease come flying.
Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The ships
are signaling cordially with multitudes of flags
rising and falling like birds all over the harbor.
Enter: two rivers, gracefully bearing
countless little pellucid jellies
in cut-glass epergnes dragging with silver chains.
The flight is safe; the weather is all arranged.
The waves are running in verses this fine morning.
Please come flying.
Come with the pointed toe of each black shoe
trailing a sapphire highlight,
with a black capeful of butterfly wings and bon-mots,
with heaven knows how many angels all riding
on the broad black brim of your hat,
please come flying.
Bearing a musical inaudible abacus,
a slight censorious frown, and blue ribbons,
please come flying.
Facts and skyscrapers glint in the tide; Manhattan
is all awash with morals this fine morning,
so please come flying.
Mounting the sky with natural heroism,
above the accidents, above the malignant movies,
the taxicabs and injustices at large,
while horns are resounding in your beautiful ears
that simultaneously listen to
a soft uninvented music, fit for the musk deer,
please come flying.
For whom the grim museums will behave
like courteous male bower-birds,
for whom the agreeable lions lie in wait
on the steps of the Public Library,
eager to rise and follow through the doors
up into the reading rooms,
please come flying.
We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping,
or play at a game of constantly being wrong
with a priceless set of vocabularies,
or we can bravely deplore, but please
please come flying.
With dynasties of negative constructions
darkening and dying around you,
with grammar that suddenly turns and shines
like flocks of sandpipers flying,
please come flying.
Come like a light in the white mackerel sky,
come like a daytime comet
with a long unnebulous train of words,
from Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
please come flying.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Happiness
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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The Water Is Wide
The water is wide I cant cross oer
And neither I have wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row - my love and i
Now love is gentle love is kind
The sweetest flower when first its new
But love grows cold and waxes cold
And fades away like morning dew
There is a ship she sails the sea
Shes loaded deep as deep as can be
But not as deep as the love Im in
I know not how I sink or swim
The water is wide I cant cross oer
And neither I have wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row - my love and i
And both shall row - my love and i
------------------------------------
The water is wide
Original lyrics
The water is wide. I cannot get oer
And neither have I wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row my love and i
I leaned my back up against an oak
I thought it was a trusty tree
But first it swayed and then it broke
And so my false love did unto me
Oh love is handsome and love is kind
And loves a jewel when it is new
But love grows old and waxes cold
And fades away like morning dew
Morning dew
Morning dew
Like morning dew
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart Is Like An Ocean
my heart is like an ocean
cold, dark, deep and black
with strange, dark, mysterious things
hidden in the depths
as men get lost at see
so does the rhythmic beatings of my heart
and like the waves of cold and salt wash over the sandy beaches
so of waves of sorrow and despair wash over my cold lifeless heart
my heart is like an ocean
cold, dark, deep and black
an as little creatures slowly eat away at the depths
so do my secrets, hopes and desires, eat away at he depths of my heart
poem by Zooey Lichty
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On The Same Day I Was So Happy
ON THE SAME DAY I WAS SO HAPPY
On the same day I have been so happy
Deep Loneliness comes in the night -
A dark dark cold cold world comes
And I feel more all alone
Than in a long time-
Our worlds inside are endlessly changing moods and minds-
I now am so alone
And anxious
And afraid also-
And I was so so happy today
So so happy in the morning
Far far
From the cold cold dark dark dark night
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Free
Birds flying free
where can you be going?
I just wish knowing
would help me be free.
Flying south in winter,
no more cold for you.
Ample berries on the trees
under skies so blue.
Flying north in summer
where the nests you'll build
where twigs and feathers
will do fine
'til your nest is filled.
Birds flying free
never will there be
escape from the landscape
like yours, for me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Stuck On An Island
When I was young
I crashed the car
I tried to bend it back into shape
With a rake for a crowbar
I wasnt dumb
But I was so naive
I saw the signs
But I didnt believe them
Now its dark
And Im tired
All my messages got erased
And I dont know where my friends are
Tell me, who can I turn to when things are so blue?
Youve got me crying over you
Dad was home
It was getting lighter
I knew he had to take it to work
In about a half an hour
I wasnt thinking clearly
It was like a panicking sweat gripped my body
And I was stuck on an island
On a cold november morning
Doing coke with henry
And I totalled my car
Yes, I was stuck on an island
Wondering where my mind went
Getting a cold, wet shower
If I could just black out this hour
From time
Aloha, doctor phair
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Across The Red Sky
Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice,
Spilling it over the evening sky.
When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes turned to the red sky
And the restlessly seeking birds.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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