With All Humility
i accept
i am empty and i am a cup without any tea
i am a sack
without sand
a house without a child
a monitor without
the colors of landscapes
but i am just a man
and it is God that makes me full
the call for the divine
the movement out of the bovine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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House Of Sand
(words & music by grant - baum - kaye)
Oh you can take a whole lot of sand
And build a castle on the beach
And though you mold it and you plan
Still you got nothing in your reach
One little slip and it tumbles down
One wrong step and it crumbles all around
Like a house without love, thats sure to fall apart
A house of sand is an empty work of art
You can build a tower of clay
But if you ask my advice
Well it is worthless as I say
I got no heart its cold as ice
One little slip and it tumbles down
One wrong step and it crumbles all around
Like a house without love, thats sure to fall apart
A house of sand is an empty work of art
One little slip and it tumbles down
One wrong step and it crumbles all around
Like a house without love, thats sure to fall apart
A house of sand is an empty work of art
A house of sand is an empty work of art
A house of sand is an empty work of art
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An empty sack can't stand up; a full sack cannot bend.
Virgin Islander proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Colors
Features babyface
You with the sad eyes
Dont be discouraged
Oh I realize
Its hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness, inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And thats why I love you
So dont be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
Show me a smile then,
Dont be unhappy, cant remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And youve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know Ill be there
And Ill see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And thats why I love you
So dont be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow
[intru part]
So sad eyes
Discouraged now
Realize
When this world makes you crazy
And youve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know Ill be there
And Ill see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And thats why I love you
So dont be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors, true colors
Cos theres a shining through
I see your true colors
And thats why I love you
So dont be afraid to let them show
Your true colors, true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Beautiful, like a rainbow
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting In An Empty House
Sitting in an emtpy house
Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting in an empty house
Wanting someone to call about anything
Sitting in an house
Just a cat for company
Sitting in an empty house
Will someone please take time for me?
Sitting in an empty house
No one knows I'm so alone
Sitting in an empty house
The pain I feel remains unknown
04/29/06
Outside
They took away
my money and bag
took away my
house and land
lay me on the sand.
I am here
near ganga
and in empty stomach.
I am here
near mahodadhi
and in empty stomach.
I am here
looking Nilachakra
alldays always
in empty stomach.
They snatch away
may language
They thrown me out
from the sky
they are my nearby.
who is there
outside my house
where is my earth
where is my worth.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Thou it is empty it is full
empty hands clap so deeply, as a full hand can’t
never produce a single fun and while the mouth is full,
It can never say a simple call, got to be easy to tell
but hard to feel
come my hardliner of thought, digest of what
laughter shows, even in the greatest shot, the
whole grain squeeze to puff, what more than a simple
voice empty handed clings to pump
trail as always it goes in every full thought begins
and end for a cause, the dried land pose for a springs
for things gone will always come back again to dance
in a little pebble the sand runs
poem by Antonio Liao
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Monk And Mother
One who devoids himself from worldly life
Always engaged in the pursuit of noble divine
By changing the curtain of reality to the heaven
Eager to wash away all the memories of grief
Makes you smile by taking you away for a brief
Goes away as a speedy flash unattached, is a Monk
The one who makes the weeping child smile
By supporting its balanced growth when it is fragile
Initiates the child to live with the spirits of Divine
But always binds the child with both- earth and heaven
Smiles with the child, cries with the child and always dearer
Closer, Trust-worthy, ever devoted to stand as a shade attached is Mother!
poem by Rekha Sathya
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True Colors
This evening really came as some surprise
It showed me just how little faith
I think back when you couldnt criticize
You sure were glad to see my face
True colors, giving away your lies
True colors, seeing them in your eyes
True colors, giving away your lies
True colors, seeing them in your eyes, eyes
For you the tables turned full circle now
And all those people you call friends
See who defends you when youre down again
Dont count on money-spinners then
True colors, maybe youll see them then
True colors, twisting the knife again
True colors, maybe youll see them then
True colors, twisting the knife again
You did what you wanted to do
I lived to fight another day
I know that I want you to do
Just pack your bags and get away
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Man, Empty House
old man, empty house...
it struck me when he
left the hospital
that he didnt want
to go home to
an empty house
full of ghosts and
memories...
to die alone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Children Of Silence.
it is the unresolved conflict that will make us all
restless. No one wants a solution.
Solutions can be judgments. Do you react about
something terminal?
what will you do when you wait? Think, Think,
it is tiresome, it makes the body a very useless structure.
It shrinks like a deflated balloon.
it is this restlessness actually that makes us creative.
we thank God for this. Our house is incomplete. Who has a house
without stairs?
When i visit an old place, there is this shock
that the river is gone.Where did the river go?
Again, the hands of man, let it go.
Disappointed. The child stays in the house of his mother forever.
HE has no dreams. His fingers hold upon a needle and a thread
creating once again a heart of silk.
it is the unresolved conflict within us that makes us whole.
we are so restless, we dream of sand and shore and waves and foams.
we travel with the ocean, we drink its depth.
we are the children of silence. We are destined to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Picture Of Colors
A picture of colors
A purple forest of colors
A balloon of colors
A blue fantasy of colors
This is what our planet should be
A whirlwind of colors
A white world of colors
A resting place of colors
A red hideaway of colors
This is what it should look like
A ‘yes' world of colors
A yellow rainbow of colors
A graced hill of colors
A green meadow of colors
An overflowing basket of colors
An orange bowl of colors
This would be a perfect place
Check it up......
Break the leak and take a pick, hold on to the
end until the whole grain fall to the sack and
repack; always full your strength ready for
another cup for rain to drain
look the sack is empty ready to be pulled, bag
to full standby in the corner, as the needle
wait to sew the fully boggle sack of grain in the
ground
check your face and look up and see the log
in the different eyes, and always believe that its
easy to tell, dirt’s passed in the swollen face of
an enemy
be not like the falling star, thousands and
millions of eyes watch it fall from the heaven,
shouting its beauty, balls of fire reflected in the
tail, waiting to sink in the ocean of the universe
it display
now the moment of the falling star, has started to
glow check it's shine, fun until it become full and
bring it back to shine in the foreign land where
everybody can see
give to no one and leave it not, but take to
every one for you to go and shine; a real star
never evade only it fades.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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From the Ten, Laminated Minutes of the Early Morning
I found my body
Rubbing up against a coral reef,
My skin peeling off like cheese
In an aluminum grater,
Leaving little red holes, or
Empty pockets of air
That resemble little red holes
Where my flesh once was,
And I feel myself
Looking at myself
And I turn away from what I see,
But I'm not sure that's me—
How can I see myself?
How can I see myself?
I look back,
And nothing is there.
I thought I was there,
But now there is an empty space
Where I was lying down,
Submerging a thin stratum
Of invisible blue and white-
Washed reflections.
I wonder where my crumpled body has gone,
Where my consciousness
Or some Earthly force
Might've heaved
That heavy sack
That I was—in that puddle:
A bag of broken bones,
Serrating through the muscle
To breathe one breath of
What seems like air.
Then that ocean before me
Dries up, and all I see is sand.
It stretches for miles and miles
Around me, behind and forward—Completely encompassing.
Suddenly, I feel lost and embarrassed without any reason
To feel that way.
I feel as if I'm a grain of sand carried by the breeze,
Scattering the ground to new,
Yet similar landscapes,
Traversing me to where I began…
Which, to me,
Seems like nowhere at all.
Then, I start to like nowhere,
And I ponder about if nowhere likes me,
And I postulate that we belong together
If we commit to each other
In the way we pretend married people might.
Time begins to funnel in on itself,
And the world drains from where I came from,
And I come back to the surface,
Sunken through eyes that couldn't see,
And a cold sweat bathes my body
In the hot, summer swelter.
I'm curious to know what the night should mean to me,
But forget what it does,
And remembered something else instead,
Decided that epoché seems appropriate—
And that I create my dreams to dream new dreams.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Like that
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when the song came during washing-up?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when the tourist outside the school door
glanced as if expecting nothing but the good?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything,
when there was nowhere else but here?
Was it being empty of everything
or being full of everything
when there was no when or where
or why or what or how or who?
Who is to say? It was like that. Like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Oh House! So Empty
Oh House! So empty.
My love was wasted.
Oh House! So empty.
No joy was tasted.
Oh House! So empty.
No children within.
Oh House! So empty.
No God just sin.
poem by Saint Eule
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Markus
Do not eat the eagle, vulture, kite and the falcon;
Do not eat the buzzard, raven, ostrich and the owl;
Do not eat the seagull, stock osprey and the hawlk;
For they are all unclean to your health.
Of an emission of semen to the love of an ovary,
Thereafter comes a baby into this world;
But try to teach your child the truth about life.
Do not eat the mole, large lizard, gecko and the monitor lizard;
Do not eat the chameleon, sand reptile, sand lizard and the snakes;
Do not eat the snail, turtle, frog and the pig;
For they are all unclean to your body.
Forty days to a male child and eighty days to the female child,
For she who has given birth knows the rules;
And you shall not have sexual relation with an animal.
Markus, you are the son of my sorrow;
and i have to borrow to keep you up.
Markus, you need to learn from your father always;
And do not eat the heron, hoopoe, bat and the rodent!
For they are all unclean to your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Low-Tide
These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down
Will show again when the tide is high
Faint and perilous, far from shore,
No place to dream, but a place to die,—
The bottom of the sea once more.
There was a child that wandered through
A giant's empty house all day,—
House full of wonderful things and new,
But no fit place for a child to play.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Colors Of Your Heart
Colors of your heart
Like the colors on a pinwheel
Spinning around, turning away
Colors of your eyes
Tell me youre changing
Tell me your leaving
And that its too late to try
Colors of your heart
Like the places youre going
Theres no way of knowing
What did I do so wrong
Diamonds and sand
Slide through your hands
Like youve done through mine
Did I look away
Or did I never say
How I needed you
Colors of your eyes
Like the blues in a bottle
Taking you down
Let them wash you away
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See bends, forget ends
A child builds a house on sand,
Not bothering about its end.
You too build a house of mortar,
Its permanency being the matter.
More than you did, the child enjoyed.
Romance is worth any end.
Failure is not failure
When procedure is happier.
31.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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