En.Citatepedia^®.ro

When Rivers Run Again Like Children

your doubt
cannot be erased by the loud music from the fm radio
or the non-stop tv
or the addiction that you put on facebook

not even poetry
can cure it completely

there is one thing
about
peregrination

these walks at night under the moon
passing by those owls

the walks following morning
upon grasses still wet with dew
day slowly unfolding
light curtains
blades of rice plants
worshiping the sun
birds migrating and finding
places to feed their young

it is at this moment when you finally
locate those missing items

remembering those that trigger the
finding of meanings

hope in another light
inspiration rushing like a waterfall from the top
of your hair
your head full again with memories

rivers run again
like children

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man Walks Slowly/ When He Has Nowhere Special To Go

A man walks slowly
When he has nowhere special to go-

A man walks slowly
And has the time to look around
The flowers, the trees,
His own memories his dreams-

He walks slowly
And enjoys his walking-

Who knows how much longer
He will be able to go on walking?

He walks slowsly
He has nowhere special to go-

He enjoys the morning light
He is at home with the world and happy-

He walks slowly
And is at home wherever he goes-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing us but only in between us

In finding you
I find me, in looking for you
You look for me, so in finding you finding me,
We finally find out, there is nothing us but only
You and me finding you and me, there is really

No us, just some things between us, always finding
You and me finding you always finding two

Not one, nothing one, but always two, a separate
You finding me and me finding you in this search in futility

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enlightenment

light, there is light,
too light, above my hair,
a little sun floating
above my eyelids,
it settles finally on
my lips as a moon
sits on the the marshes
at night,
the mouth opens
and it enters,
light, swallowed
inside my esophagus
finding its way inside
my heart,
it becomes the steel
core of my being,
a heart so strong now,
ready for another
surrender to love,
so gentle and yet
so objective,
savoring and yet
unaffected.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Metal Beat

Nobody knew me so I bought some time.
An hour or two with a friend of mine.
Somebody lied so I burned their soul.
Somebody screamed and the fire burned cold.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I soothe the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
I booked a small room in a cheap motel.
Somewhere to hide and a cure to sell.
I call it fashion, Ill make them bleed.
No one to love but a ghost to feed.
I was a puppet pulling my own strings.
I cant believe that I did such things.
I was a shadow but God forgives.
Now Im a priest and jesus lives.
- adlib -
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
How can I save you if you dont confess?
Kneel down bitch be truly blessed.

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifes Like Poetry

Lifes like poetry and in my poem bay
Until now theres always been a missing line
You know lifes too short to hide a good thing you feel
And I find the morning after
Is the best time to determine if its real
Baby, finding you gave my whole world reason to rhyme
Cause lifes like poetry and in my poem bay
Until now theres always been a missing line
Lifes too short to think about right or wrong
And the only thing I wonder bout
Is where you been so long
Cause baby finding you gave my whole world reason and rhyme
And lifes like poetry and in my poem bay
Until now theres always been a missing line
Until now, theres always been a missing line

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something that you cannot be accurate about

It happened, the taxi was taken, both of you took the ride
No one wanted to take the front,
Passengers
Sitting beside, no names, just chance,
Together, that moment, there was rain,

Sweat, abundant sweat, the aircon is high
Music was loud and the travel was long
A convention, you did not see malice

Friendship, sweat, abundant sweat
Even when the aircon was set higher
Drink, lots of drinks, until both of you were drunk

You hate to use pronouns now
The verb is untamed, your hair standing, your drunkenness
Suddenly lost, slowly, slowly, caresses,
Bursting you lost everything in your mind

Was the night that long really? Were the curtains
Thick? Were the windows open? Was there a moon
By the window? Were the lights off?

You do not remember, Morning comes, light
Enters the door filtered by the curtains.

You wished you were alone. You weren’t. Last night
Something happened, years ago, you simply could not remember
The face.

It is still horrible. Something you cannot write until now.
Your pronouns are not meant to be visible.
The shadows even not defined.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Could I ever be your hero?

In those desolate nights,
When life is of fright and fear,
The curtains waving dramatically,
The moon darkening slowly,
Could i ever be your hero?

The hours when your heart is slow,
Your mind so much in pain,
Giving up and losing all hope,
Trying to no avail,
Will i ever be your hero

The moments of your last breath,
Your skin becoming cold as ice,
Finding life in lifeless places,
The heart beat slowing down,
Could i ever be your hero?

When life turns back on you,
Seeing no bravery in yourself,
Finding no option or alternative,
Falling in a ditch of hot water,
Could i ever be your hero

poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Walks Slowly

THE POET WALKS SLOWLY

The poet walks slowly
The dream of the world surrounds him
As Light.
He stops to write
And the words open up happily,
As if the morning and the fresh breeze
Were all there need be
Of God’s Soul.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Be Seeing You

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mind embrases
All day through
In that small cafe
The park across the way
The children's carousel
The chestnut tree
The wishing well
And I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summers day
In every thing that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
Oh but
I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summers day
In every thing that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Man Walks In The Morning Light

AN OLD MAN WALKS IN THE MORNING LIGHT

An old man walks in the morning light
He breathes the beauty
Of the cold winter air
He is alive forever.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Is fir MY Lady Irene

My lady strolls to take the air.
The flowers bow as she goes by,
because they know they can’t compare
with my lady, so they don’t try.
The song birds sing my lady’s praise,
sweet music to my lady’s taste.
Here as she walks the woodland ways
They flock to sing to her; in haste
Where e’re she walks a cool breeze blows
plays with the glory of her hair.
It is as if all nature knows
my lady’s more than passing fair
She walks in beauty naturally.
she is as she was meant to be.

01/04/2009

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Voice On The Wind

I

She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

II

Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

III

She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

IV

Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

V

'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rethink

An overwhelming sense of shock and dismay claimed my soul.
I sat and wondered how I can escape the trap I plunged into.
I cried out to God, help me before it takes its toll.
As I thought of what had happened, and ounce was.
Realizing I was making the sadness within me grow.
Stepping back and running forward, I started to rethink just because.
And in the process I learned a few valuable lessons.
I learned I have control! It just takes time to master.

I imagined a place in my life where I loved being alive.
Finding qualities within me, That only I would ever see.
I realized deep inside my mind was a foe.
And rethinking would set me free,
I told myself to learn from all my blunders.
And the seed of sadness would be put asunder
Telling myself that tomorrow is a brand new day.
Thinking positive would be the only way.

Music always eases the mind, kisses of kindness in many ways.
Dreaming of what I want to be, apart from the nightmare that consumed me.
Finding the peace I knew was there within my reach.
Searching for the things that helped me set myself free.
In my quest I found it was there, In my daughter eyes filled with care.
Finding love from those around me, and all it would teach.
Finally learning how to overcome, that horrible trap found myself on.
Deeply breathing can be for the birds, but it helped me with my words.

Finding peace deep within can be hard, I found it is waiting to be recovered.
Planning is the key, putting one foot in front of the other was for me.
Chasing after a dream, it was the only thing to work on.
Besides the torment that forever seemed to be.
Being kind to the heart, turned into the most important thing in my life.
Finding a way to mend, what has been placed forcibly within.
Thinking positive as I slowly walk through all my strife.
Remembering how to help me forgive the way life has been.
Finally finding the control, finally loving forever again :)

poem by Carlene Maddux
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dapper Old Fellow

I know this old bloke in his eighties he is such a dapper old man
A batchelor and one without children he nears the end of his life span
Always well dressed and never unhappy with a full head of silver gray hair
As he walks down the street in the morning he whistles some happy old air
He has lived a life of adventure and to distant places he's been
And all of the World's great Cities and Landmarks of note he has seen
Now too old for distant travel but in him the longing does remain
For to travel roads he has not travelled the highways and the byways again
A dapper old fellow in his eighties for years he has lived on his own
And the good and not so good times in his life he has seen and has known
But time it is running out on him and the clock on his life it ticks on
And the wanderlust it is still in him though his better days are long over and gone
Yet a happier or nicer person one hardly could wish for to meet
And he whistles with the joy of living as he slowly walks down the street.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Destiny's Breath!

the face of my god is dark,
her eyes coal more precious than diamonds.
she whispers to fallen petals,
and mountains and rivers speak forth.
her lips call crows and name them eagles,
her hands are filled with bowls.
she names the darkness morning,
and from the light she weaves the night.
she bathes the human spirit,
in the sweat of tribulation.
she nurses the unwanted child,
and places flowers on unmarked graves.
she gives lost lovers candles,
builds bridges for weary pilgrims.
she forges doubt into the journey,
and plants dignity in fields gone fallow.
she walks with poets in intimate silence,
from grieving she harvests prayer.
from prayer she forms bodies,
filled with destiny's breath!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sun-Woman

Let the sun show
over the hills, I love it so
Life is the sun,
the sun is life
let life rise, brightly, slowly, funly
let life never set.

But it does.

light turns to night, the
darkness comes
my eyes close slowly
sun, please don’t go.
please don’t go.

but wait-in the light of the setting sun
I see some hope
a slender shape
walks over the hills in the distance
the sun halls to a stop, seems
to look at the figure
seems to stare, decide if it’s worthy
then the sun starts flying,
back up into the sky.
the figure keeps walking, closer,
closer.
the sun keeps moving, as fast as light itself,
into the middle of the sky above me.

the shape is hope, hope itself
she is light, and for me, the only
way to avoid darkness.

She is not far now, I see her face.
she says, “Are you all right? ”
“Don’t worry, ” I tell her, “the sun is not
my enemy anymore. He is my ally.”
She smiles at my healing face, and then I say,
“You were my hope, you are my hope. You
are my only hope of avoiding the darkness.”
“And you are the same to me, my love, ”
She says.

I jump up and I take her hands,
and I sing, “My love, my hope,
when you go the darkness comes,
but as long as you come back
light will shed on my weary face.
I owe my life to you, Sun-Woman.
I owe my life to you, my love.
I owe my life to you.
I owe my life to you.”

poem by Llew N. Rmail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Found

It's amazing.
The places we look for ourselves
Without finding;
And the places we find ourselves
Without looking.
So far away
From where I began;
And finally beginning
So far from where I am.

How could I have known
I'd be at the end of a poem;
Why would I have even thought to find
Myself, just outside of time.

Out there. At the far end
Of the pen,
In those old words
That never end.

It is amazing to think
A soul could so completely sink,
Into the depths of a word...
Yet to be spoken, yet to be heard.

But there it is.
There, where we all lie,
Gathered together in the conversation of Life's poetry...
Those ageless words
That never, ever shall die.

poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Heard Santa On The Radio

On Christmas morning you woke up
To static on the radio
Someone must have turned it on
Who...you didn't know
You got up slowly sleepy-eyed
To a tune that stationed in
Turned the dial a little while
Then a voice said "Let the party begin!"
Hey Hey Hey and
Ho Ho Ho and
Now it's time
For the jolly DJ show
I Heard Santa On The Radio
I knew it was Santa on the radio
Mixing up the music like a Santa should
And radio never sounded so good
He was busy finding busting beats
Making it up as he went along
Hip hop, rock, and *****
St. Nick can do no wrong
Turning the rythem inside out
Till the people shook the house
Pretty soon every creature was dancing
Every boy and girl and every mouse
Hey Hey Hey and
Ho Ho Ho and
Now it's time
For the jolly DJ show
I Heard Santa On The Radio
I knew it was Santa on the radio
Mixing up the music like a Santa should
And radio never sounded so good
All the music comes together
All the people just let go
All the world is listening to the jolly DJ show
Hey Hey Hey and
Ho Ho Ho
I Heard Santa On The Radio
I knew it was Santa on the radio
Mixing up the music like a Santa should
And radio never sounded so good
I Heard Santa On The Radio
I knew it was Santa on the radio
Mixing up the music like a Santa should
And radio never sounded so good
I Heard Santa On The Radio
I knew it was Santa on the radio
Mixing up the music like a Santa should
And radio never sounded so good
And radio never sounded so good

song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Walk (Parody)

Full of revenge the animal started walking,
while the wind jerked off curtains down the street
blowing wildly behind clouds of fog,
passing the supermarket, where trolleys stick out
like always bunched together.
Passing tractors, with a lost tooth, going round a drum,
shy, she sneaks past rubble, tin shacks
that is stripped, past a tower next to the street;
a female dog that morning is walking
with twisted teeth.

And in her territory she gradually got loose, became dog again,
crossing the streets without a chain, going right through a fence,
where she walks into a direction without an owner, playing with butterflies
that are hopping up and down to find nectar or are turning above the lettuce;
she pauses, with the smell of meat that drives her on,
while she is half blinded.

Oh, the gnashing and a clatter when the wind
rips curtains off at houses down the street,
capsizing something against a car,
blowing beds and bricks, exposing poverty
at every shack.

She walks inquisitive
over rags, intestines and rubbish bags
that are stringed together,

inquisitive up to the street,
running over the road full of uniforms,
whining with aching teeth,

the wind flies up full of fester
when she shakes her big head -

at this place
the wind is contained

forever.

(With apologies to Louis Esterhuizen/Reference: “Oggendwandeling” (Morning walk) by Louis Esterhuizen.)

poem by Gert Strydom
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Night Of The Wolf

Streets are full of rain
Lightning cracks the sky
Hear a lonely cry, eyes full of pain
Searchin in the darkness
Eyes pierce the night
Calling for her young one
As she walks towards the light
Its the night of the wolf
Hear the cry of the wolf
Streets paved with gold
Night gives out a warning
Theres thunder in her heart
And mother wolf is calling
Searchin in the shadows
For the one she must save
She cries out a prayer
Like a song from beyond the grave
The bells will toll
No one will sleep tonight
While she alone will
Walk the streets tonight
Sun begins to rise
All the streets washed with rain
Still hear her cries
Eyes burnt with pain
Returning to the twilight
Betrayed by the night
Screaming for her young one
As she walks towards the light

song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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