When We Grow
when we grow
we actually change
we are like the sprouts of
a bean slowly crawling
wanting to see and
touch the sun,
we pretend not
to notice because
time runs so slowly
like cells unseen by
us but keen and keep on
gaining length and
width like the way
we grow eyelids
and we extend our sights
and smells, we find
love and we embrace
lust and we mix them
like a kind of
a bloody Mary drink,
or scotch on the rocks
and we face walls and
we mumble as we begin
to meet loneliness,
the spaces that spread
like a disease; you and
i, in all these, after a
lovely night in a
tangle of hair and
intertwining of fingers
we face darkness
and walls and we
begin to ask: what for?
we let the rain fall
our roofs leak and our
windows begin to open
we find separate paths
and we argue and then
we decide to take what
we really want:
i long for this and you long
for that; we take separate
ways, and we say goodbye.
we write letters day to day
until such time when the
silence becomes like a boring hour
and the
letters are unread and
we throw them on the river
of time: floating, all the
letters dissolving in the
cold waters of forgetting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Watch For Me At Midnight
A long time ago, I kissed her
on the step of our front door
then marched away with other men
off to a foreign country
to fight in a distant war.
At first the letters came frequently
slowly diminishing to a few,
which got me thinking and worried
that in my long absence
I was slowly losing you.
Then I got a letter from your brother
that explained things to me
you were sick in hospital
and I should not worry
about our son and you.
The letters then stopped coming
each mail run I looked on in despair
that there were never any letters
from your brother or you
and my heart felt so heavy.
Then in the next summer
that dreaded letter came.
You had passed into God’s hands
in that early spring
leaving one last message for me.
When you come home my dear
I will not be here
I leave in your trust our son
may he grow up to be
a man just like you.
Fear not you will see me again
if you go down to the fairy wood
and find the circle where the fairies play
and watch for me at midnight
under the haze of the moon.
3 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06: Portrait Of One Dead
This is the house. On one side there is darkness,
On one side there is light.
Into the darkness you may lift your lanterns—
O, any number—it will still be night.
And here are echoing stairs to lead you downward
To long sonorous halls.
And here is spring forever at these windows,
With roses on the walls.
This is her room. On one side there is music—
On one side not a sound.
At one step she could move from love to silence,
Feel myriad darkness coiling round.
And here are balconies from which she heard you,
Your steady footsteps on the stair.
And here the glass in which she saw your shadow
As she unbound her hair.
Here is the room—with ghostly walls dissolving—
The twilight room in which she called you 'lover';
And the floorless room in which she called you 'friend.'
So many times, in doubt, she ran between them!—
Through windy corridors of darkening end.
Here she could stand with one dim light above her
And hear far music, like a sea in caverns,
Murmur away at hollowed walls of stone.
And here, in a roofless room where it was raining,
She bore the patient sorrow of rain alone.
Your words were walls which suddenly froze around her.
Your words were windows,—large enough for moonlight,
Too small to let her through.
Your letters—fragrant cloisters faint with music.
The music that assuaged her there was you.
How many times she heard your step ascending
Yet never saw your face!
She heard them turn again, ring slowly fainter,
Till silence swept the place.
Why had you gone? . . . The door, perhaps, mistaken . . .
You would go elsewhere. The deep walls were shaken.
A certain rose-leaf—sent without intention—
Became, with time, a woven web of fire—
She wore it, and was warm.
A certain hurried glance, let fall at parting,
Became, with time, the flashings of a storm.
Yet, there was nothing asked, no hint to tell you
Of secret idols carved in secret chambers
From all you did and said.
Nothing was done, until at last she knew you.
Nothing was known, till, somehow, she was dead.
How did she die?—You say, she died of poison.
Simple and swift. And much to be regretted.
You did not see her pass
So many thousand times from light to darkness,
Pausing so many times before her glass;
You did not see how many times she hurried
To lean from certain windows, vainly hoping,
Passionate still for beauty, remembered spring.
You did not know how long she clung to music,
You did not hear her sing.
Did she, then, make the choice, and step out bravely
From sound to silence—close, herself, those windows?
Or was it true, instead,
That darkness moved,—for once,—and so possessed her? . . .
We'll never know, you say, for she is dead.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Separate Lives
Eric woolfson - lead vocal
Its been a long road
Weve walked the last mile
We reach the same conclusion
And we stop for a while
Together we know
The way we must go
Were leaving an illusion
Thats for us to share
Only for us to share
We live our separate lives
And go our different ways
Cause we dont see eye to eye
And we cant stand face to face
We live our separate lives
While counting all the days
Till the two of us arrive
In another time and place
We share the same thoughts
We read the same lines
We meet on sad occasions
And in happier times
A spoken goodbye
And both of us try
To walk away in silence
Thats for us to share,
Only for us to share
We live our separate lives
And go our different ways
Cause we dont see eye to eye
And we cant stand face to face
We live our separate lives
While counting all the days
Till the two of us arrive
In another time and place
And always goodbye
But heaven knows why
I cant erase the memory
Thats for us to share
Only for us to share
Only for us to share
We live our separate lives
And go our different ways
Cause we dont see eye to eye
And we cant stand face to face
We live our separate lives
While counting all the days
Till the two of us arrive
In another time and place
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Love That Grows
How can all of the times we've had
be forgotten or turn out sad?
We met so long ago it seems
and yet this love we're in still beams.
Time has made us grow much closer.
It's given us memories even rosier
than all the times when we were lost,
forgetting the emotional pain it cost.
Our love is special for we never forgot
how to please each other when we tied the knot.
We kept love alive by doing that
and so we find that where we're at
is how we did begin you know,
willing to change and willing to grow.
And yes we've come a long, long way
and together we start each brand new day.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Without Lip Or Sucking Of Tongue
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And the length of time it took,
For anyone to notice my presence.
Although it was not my presence,
Or reason why...
That I began this journey to be noticed.
I was much too young.
Like a puppy first seeing its tail for the first time...
And curious as to where it came from.
Who knew?
I didn't!
Until I began following an attraction,
That seemed always in my mind.
Of course I 'know' how I arrived.
I first heard my voice.
And my parents noticed it.
I learned if I used it in certain ways,
They were there.
I was a baby them.
Then I connected my voice to words.
I was in awe that letters were attached.
And those letters attached used in different ways,
Made those words I said more or less effective.
Then I began to see those letters change,
As I began to print them by hand slowly.
I was amazed! .
Then I discovered certain words I shouldn't say!
I should never have been told that.
Because even today...
I will use those same words to chase people away.
Of course I know 'how' I arrived.
And I used a lot of cussing along the way.
Trust me.
But I stopped when it was pointed out to me,
I 'seemed' to have had more intelligence than that.
And whoever said that to me,
Had no clue as to how curious I was.
'Ma?
What's intelligence? '
~Someobody who asks too many questions.
And is about to get on my last nerve.~
'You talking about me? '
~Are you or are you not in my face? ~
'Why can't I ask you anything,
Before it's turned into a test? '
~And if you want to pass,
You know what to do.
Without lip or sucking of tongue.
You got that, mister? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Edited
one afternoon when the sun
sinks at the horizon and fades like a face
of my beloved
i begin to write about the fact of
friendship
not in poetic form but
factual
it is all about you
the day you left for america and you never write
a letter at the time
when letters were still in.
it is about a question of not talking
about a silence that still speaks despite the fact
that my hands cover my mouth
it is about a promise
that you will be you despite the absence of everyone
despite the loneliness
that lingers like a leech
on the skin of your feet as you pass the murky waters
of your life
friend, dissolve like sugar to water and be invisible
but still be sweet as ever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Lay Down By The Shore Of Where I Am
I LAY DOWN BY THE SHORE OF WHERE I AM
I lay down by the shore of where I am-
The heavy long waters have already gone by-
Night is coming,
And night may be dark for a long time-
I will not lay down for long
I will rest
And then I will begin again-
Another sea another shore another world-
Who knows how vast the Beyond is
And whether if real it goes on forever?
I have rested enough-
Let the waters roll
I am on my way to another universe
All of you I have loved, Goodbye for now
Let us meet again somewhere else we cannot begin to see now-
Love rolls through all the Universes and it will take us too to another shore and a new paradise.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Begin again
Infant...
Crying, needing, wanting, diaper changing
Playful, tearful, cooing, smiling
Then you grow
Things change
We begin again
Toddler....
Curious, adventurous, laughing, talking
Walking, needing, busy, whining
Then you grow
Things change
We begin again
Child....
Sports, schooling, friendships, sharing
Learning, listening, reading, caring
Then you grow
Things change
We begin again
Tween...
Sleepovers, boyfriends, conflicts, responsibility
Band, homework, joking, growing
Then you grow
Things change
We begin again
Teen....
Not quite there yet
Looking forward to the ride
Who ever, what ever I'll be by your side.
You may grow
Things will change
But I will always be here for when you need to begin again.
poem by Amber Wellman
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My Beautiful Lie
Every time I wake up and find myself in this place
As my hands run up to my face
To rub the drowsiness out of my eye
I find myself wrapped in my beautiful lie
In this warm and cozy home
Where I feel the most cold and alone
Wrapped up in my blanket seeking the warm
As my cold heart begins to do it's harm
Making things vivid to my eye the tears leak out and I cry
Here I begin to weave my beautiful lie
My time of wants and need
The time I'm overwhelmed by a perpetual greed
Can't help but think how I'm pathetically nice
As my cold blood runs through my veins like ice
My body shivers even though the sun hits it as it rises on high
Here I thread the needle for my beautiful lie
As the needle starts in with my sin
The stitching starts to begin
My body goes cold and unfeeling as stone
The wounds deeper then bone
Losing my fear and almost wishing to die
Here I bleed my beautiful lie
I begin to laugh and smile
Lost inside my own guile
Here I find myself wrapped up in my beautiful lie
Rubbing the tears from my eye
As your hands leave my face
Every time I wake up and see you in this place
...Inside my beautiful lie
poem by Kevin Shelley
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Message To The Wind
Hold my hand, so I can hold you in my heart
Hold my hand, so I can guide you through the forest of the night
By the sea upon the raging tide
A message to the wind
I must begin to write of love and rain
Touch my heart for it is beating just for you
Hear my song, as I sing it to the lost and lonely ones
If there were time to spend another day
A message to the wind
I would begin if he could blow my thoughts to you
Hold my hand, now it is time for me to go
Take my love and let it rest
For we must meet again somehow
When youre alone and willows start to bend
And rain begins to fall
At times you will pretend and not pretend at all
Ill be with you again
A message to the wind
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I die
when I'm slowly falling down
I feel my soul wants to fly
when my eyes are getting blur
I begin to draw your face in my head
when my fingers are getting cold
I hope I can still have your warm touch
my tongue hardly moves
I'm even not yet saying I love you
don't cry, don't make me cry
your tears become the smell of salt rain
when I know it's all too late
I will listen carefully my name you call for the last time
why I'm dreaming a happy time
when I should leave you forever
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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All The Love
J. spinks
I cant believe the things that happen to me
I guess that I should have seen a long, long time ago
Letters you write dont help me get through the night
So Ill just turn out the light
And sleep here all alone
(chorus)
All the love, all the love in the world
All the love, Ill be sending you girl
All the love
All the love in the world
Time after time I put my life on the line
But I aint committed no crime, so take what you can find
Forget what I say cos Ill keep running away
I only live for today, but Im one day behind
(chorus)
These are the words that I whisper on every first night
But that day you left me
Those words were on that same flight
I cant believe the things that happen to me
I guess that I should have seen a long, long time ago
Letters you write dont help me get through the night
So Ill just turn out the light
And sleep here all alone
(chorus)
song performed by by Outfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Say Goodbye
when we say goodbye
words never end
and tears never stop
when we say goodbye
kisses never enough
and time never tolerates
when we say goodbye
we caught by fear
though we all smiling
when we say goodbye
we want to stay still
but the road slowly moving
why hard to separate
because love too long
or doubt becomes renegade
why drinks never sated
because memories too strong
or loneliness mates
when we say goodbye
hope we meet someday
in another place we never know
when we say goodbye
give hug once more
till we can endure all sorrow
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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If I Was A Stranger
(wally rathie/tom rathie/ed stevens)
Published by beeg tunes/frankly blond music - bmi
If I was a stranger, lookin for love, standin in the rain
And if I needed some help from above
Would consolation be enough
Would you remember, could we forget
If I was a stranger, would you let me in
Find a place inside your heart, wash away my loneliness
If I was a stranger, would you let love begin
Right from the start, to the end
Ive been waiting all of my life, for love to arrive
Now that I found you, my soul is alive
This dedication will survive
I still remember, that night we met
If I was a stranger, would you let me in
Find a place inside your heart, wash away my loneliness
If I was a stranger, would you let love begin
Right from the start, till the end
Ive been waiting such a long time
For this love to come along
True devotion is so hard to find
Could you give your heart again
Wash away my loneliness
Would you remember, could we forget
If I was a stranger, would you let me in
Find a place inside your heart, wash away my loneliness
If I was a stranger, would you let love begin
Right from the start, to the end
If I was a stranger, would you let me in
Find a place inside your heart, wash away my loneliness
If I was a stranger, would you let love begin
Right from the start, to the end
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Rain
I try to write a song
But I don't find any word to chant
It's been a long night
And the cold starts to numb my heart
You hold me like shadow
Clouding my mind in silence
And no one there's to help
In the dark I slowly fall
After the rain
What's left remain
For me to care
After the storm
Showed its anger
Will you still stay?
After the rain
Can I see the sun
Tomorrow
After the tears
Of sorrow
Will I grow stronger?
Tell me not to fear thunder
That roars loud shaking the soul
And I will fight it till the end
Though frail hope I've only got
After the rain
Can I stop
This agony pain
After the flood
Will mud restrain
Me to move on
After the rain
Will something be
Finally changed
After the game
Was played
Will we learn to love again?
I want to give you smile
Before it's hidden by another rain
Together we'll stand close
Or is it time for us to say goodbye?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Fingers
In that photo of yours
I saw you –
Your face, your shoulders,
Your hands, and then
Your fingers…
My lips quivered
So did my hands
And I felt like touching you,
With my quivering lips
And unsure hands,
Those very beautiful
Exquisite fingers…
Reading your poems of love
And pondering over your letters…
Sometimes I imagine
You writing to me
With those very same
Slender and artistic
Adept fingers…
Very often I feel
And wonder…
If your fingers
Ever do ache
Writing so long,
So nice,
And so very endless,
Day after day…
And if they do, my Love
I feel like pampering them
With tender, loving care
A kiss here, a kiss there…
Holding them,
Caressing them,
Sucking them slow…
Your fingers in my mouth
Taking turns to go
One by one,
I feel them,
Nibble them,
Suckle them,
Make love to them,
Within the deep recesses
Of my oral crevice…
Till they feel pampered
And satiated
And I feel the same too…
Contented and happy
Making love to you
With your fingers
In my mouth…
A wonderful tryst
Of love and lust,
Warmth and arousal,
And then if you wish…
And if I'm also willing,
We can play this game
All night long…
Where you don’t win
And I don’t lose
We both win over together
And lose ourselves
To each other…
I give free rein to
Your fingers…
To touch, feel
And explore
The inner crevices
And every pore
Of my body…
The mouth has had its turn
Now, do you wish to go
Further down..?
And see how it feels
To caress my breasts,
My derriere and my
Yoni,
With those seeking,
Exploring fingers of yours…
You’ve penned a lot of poetry
And your letters intoxicate me…
How about writing
Some letters of love
And a few lines of love ballads
On the spaces and margins
Of my body…
Dipping your fingers,
And drinking into
The juice of my
Dripping Yoni…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I Confessed To You
As I read the old love letters,
you sent back to me.
The ones in which I confessed to you
how I wanted our love to be.
I told you in them
how I was sensitive to your touch,
and how I loved you so much.
It was obvious that you
did not feel for me the same way.
You never answered the letters,
but sent them unopened back to me.
Years have now passed
and I kept each and every one.
I dig them out occasionally
and have a good read through,
and then I sit down
and read them to you.
When I wrote them,
there was one thing I did not know.
You could not have read
the letters even if you wanted to.
You were blind and I did not know,
but that never stopped our love.
Now as we grow older together
with each passing day.
Our love grows a little stronger
in lots of different ways.
Those faded old love letters
we keep, as our reminder
love has no bounds.
4 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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