After Many Days
The mist hangs round the College tower,
The ghostly street
Is silent at this midnight hour,
Save for my feet.
With none to see, with none to hear,
Downward I go
To where, beside the rugged pier,
The sea sings low.
It sings a tune well loved and known
In days gone by,
When often here, and not alone,
I watched the sky.
That was a barren time at best,
Its fruits were few;
But fruits and flowers had keener zest
And fresher hue.
Life has not since been wholly vain,
And now I bear
Of wisdom plucked from joy and pain
Some slender share.
But, howsoever rich the store,
I'd lay it down,
To feel upon my back once more
The old red gown.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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A Golden Day
The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."
Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart,
Today is joy undimmed, complete;
In tears or pain we have no part;
The act of breathing is so sweet,
We care no higher joy to name.
What reck we now of wealth or fame?
The past--what matters it to me?
The pain it gave has passed away.
The future--that I cannot see!
I care for nothing save today--
This is a respite from all care,
And trouble flies--I know not where.
Go on, oh noisy, restless life!
Pass by, oh, feet that seek for heights!
I have no part in aught of strife;
I do not want your vain delights.
The day wraps round me like a spell
And every breeze sings, "All is well."
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Eatting Fruits
Eat fruits
Eat...
Every day...
Each
Break fast...
Lunch...
Dinner...
Eat...
Fruits...
Fruits is
Good for health...
Fruits is
Good for Taste
Fruits is
Good for mind...
Fruits is
Good for god...
So...
Fruits is
Good for hole and
Hoe body...
Any fruits...
Any time...
Eat eat eat...
Avoide all all
Disease...
Thats all...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Childrens Lullaby
Little girl was down by the waterside
The sun so hot and the roses so red where she lie
As little boys sit and watch as she twirls all around
Sunny smiles not a raincloud could bring that girl down
But now....
Whats behind those big brown eyes
Do you dream at night
Without your lullaby
Little boy sits alone as he sings in the dark
Wondering if his own dreams had pulled them apart
He sings a song of tomorrow he never can see
Mostly sings of a lost little girls memory
And now...
As his dreams go flashing by
He begins to hear
A lonely lullaby
Well now
We used to sing
And we used to cry
Through everything
In our childrens lullaby
Little girl on the street with nobody around
Has her head in the air dirty feet on the ground
She shuts her eyes and she wonders is this a mistake
Now shes gone from the warmth of her little boy days
And still...
She believes that shell get by
On her own without
Her little boys lullaby
Little boy prays to God to answer his song
To hold her hand when everyone elses are gone
Time goes by and the wounds slowly turn into scars
So he makes his final wish on the midnight stars
And he screams...
Little girl wont you hear my cry
Wont you come back home
To your lovers lullaby
Little girl down by the waterside
Goodbye
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Topsy-Turvy
You would have seen
Flowers bearing fruits.
Have you seen
Fruits producing flowers?
Yes! Nature is made artificial!
How is it? Can you surmise?
It is the art
Of carving colourful flowers
From different fruits!
Nature is turned topsy-turvy!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Velvet
(paul waaktaar / lauren savoy)
Her skin is like velvet
Her face cut from stone
Her eyes when shes smiling
Will never reach home
But hear how she sings
Her touch would be tender
Her lips would be warm
But when were together
Im always alone
But hear how she sings
But hear how she sings
Hear how she sings
Her skin is like velvet
So I went to her home
Her place like a palace
With things you cant own
Her skin is like velvet
And hear how she sings
Hear how she sings...
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Black Bird: A Poem For The Other Woman
the little black bird
goes home in a cave
just below her belly
between
her legs
it sings about love
that she always kills
for nothing
before midnight the
blackbird flies
seeking the warmth
of other blackbirds
it is cold and
dying
in her keeping
now she sings alone
like a blackbird
cursing
the trees and the flowers
she wants to disown the
blackbird
in exchange for the
earthworm
she likes it that way
wriggling
without any feet at all
pointed and
penetrating
the curse continues
it can never be hers
and the blackbird
keeps coming back
mocking her like
an old man
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Age
An animal face in the brown green
Glows shyly to me, the bushes smolder.
Very far away an old fountain sings
With children's voices. I listen there.
The wild jackdaws mock me
And all around the birches veil themselves.
I stand silent before a weed fire
And softly pictures paint themselves on it,
An ancient fairytale of love on golden ground.
The clouds spread their silence on the hill.
From the ghostly pond-mirror
Fruits beckon, shining and heavy.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Annuitant
Oh I am neither rich nor poor,
No worker I dispoil;
Yet I am glad to be secure
From servitude and toil.
For with my lifelong savings I
Have bought annuity;
And so unto the day I die
I'll have my toast and tea.
When on the hob the kettle sings
I'll make an amber brew,
And crunch my toast and think of things
I do not have to do.
In dressing-gown and deep arm-chair
I'll give the fire a poke;
Then worlds away from cark and care
I'll smoke and smoke and smoke.
For I believe the very best
Of Being is the last;
And I will crown with silver zest
My patience in the past.
Since compensation is the law
Of life it's up to me
To round the century and draw
My Life Annuity.
poem by Robert William Service
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Only Leaves!
Will there be fruits without flowers?
Will there be flowers without leaves?
But in my garden only leaves grow
Without flowers and fruits ever!
Selfish growth will mar healthy society!
It will be like westward rush for gold
Where everyone fights with gun to kill
One another along with joy and fun ever!
Competition sans cooperation kills joy!
Animal lust cannot sustain divine love
Making joy bloom as flowers in garden
To make joy rule life forever in bliss!
Life sans good company as desert sans oasis is
Stock piling of wealth sans none to share joy!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Tomorrow
Tomorrow sings a song for all to cheer
Tomorrow gives a season for fruits to bear
Tomorrow keeps the keys for doors of history
and then in time unlock all mysteries
Tomorrow be the day we should never fear
poem by Godfrey Morris
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My personal attitude toward atheists is the same attitude that I have toward Christians, and would be governed by a very orthodox text: "By their fruits shall ye know them." I wouldn't judge a man by the presuppositions of his life, but only by the fruits of his life. And the fruits — the relevant fruits — are, I'd say, a sense of charity, a sense of proportion, a sense of justice. And whether the man is an atheist or a Christian, I would judge him by his fruits, and I have therefore many agnostic friends.
quote by Reinhold Niebuhr
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Autumn
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The Seasons change, and Nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.
'Twas Spring, 'twas Summer, all was gay,
Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow;
The flowers of Spring are swept away,
And Summer fruits desert the bough.
The verdant leaves that play'd on high,
And wanton'd on the western breeze,
Now trod in dust neglected lie,
As Boreas strips the bending trees.
The fields that waved with golden grain,
As russet heaths are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain,
Nor health nor pleasure wanders there.
No more, while through the midnight shade
Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray,
Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay.
From this capricious clime she soars,
O! would some god but wings supply!
To where each morn the Spring restores,
Companion of her flight I'd try.
Vain wish! me fate compels to bear
The downward season's iron reign,
Compels to breathe the polluted air,
And shiver on a blasted plain.
What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
If glooms, and showers,and storms prevail;
And Ceres flies the naked field,
And flowers and fruits, and Phoebus fail.
Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
To cheer me in the darkening hour!
The grape remains! the friend of wit,
In love, and mirth, of mighty power.
Haste - press the clusters, fill the bowl;
Apollo! shoot thy parting ray:
This gives the sunshine of the soul,
This god of health, and verse, and day.
Still - still the jocund train shall flow,
The pulse with vigorous rapture beat;
My Stella with new charms shall glow,
And every bliss in wine shall meet.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Listen to The Song of Invisible Bird!
Listen to The Song of that invisible bird,
The Song of great singer several souls heard,
Sings sitting on tree of life, hidden under every leaf,
Its song go unheard by those pretend deaf,
Ever tuned to that great music,
Everytime it sings same song,
But with different lyrics and different words,
Autumn may come followed by spring,
Leaves may fall to make way to new,
Each leaf has that song, the bird flies under cover of green leaf,
When old yellow one fall,
Green leaves should learn from the fall of the old!
One can wait flowers to bloom,
Or can reap all fruits mature,
or remove immature buds or raw fruits,
The tree of life spread to several worlds,
One parallel to other,
Makes one world happy by another,
some may cross and intersect,
only to give or take life!
Come an sit near a flower,
Look at frog waiting for insects to come,
The invisible bird sings its song,
May it be heart of the flower,
It is flower for you,
source of nectar to insects,
place where frog gets its food!
It is cage for that bird ready to fly,
enters as nectar into insect,
and it enters frog as insects,
and moves along food chain,
It may be invisible to these eyes,
Yet it has its flight can be seen,
Look at your heart, the same bird sing,
Who knows when and where is its next flight?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Song In The Wind
There's a wind in the air
Filled with song
A gentle voice
Low and long -
It sings life
And it sings time
It blows so easily through
Hearts and minds -
It's the word of wisdom
And the entirety of the ages
Embracing all being
From the audacious to the sages -
It sings out
Lifelong
Continuously calling
In a soulful song -
It's always there for everyone
Blowing free
Even unto our very last day
As it carries us, one by one, into eternity -
It is the Song in the wind
The Voice of the soul
It's the living sound
Every heart mysteriously, somehow does hear and know -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Sweetly Sings the Thrush
Sweetly sings the thrush
among the meadows fair.
All whose senses hear her
wish to wander there.
To be in tune with her fair voice
brings joy into your heart.
She sings of love for what she sees
of which you are a part.
Sweetly sings the thrush
before the night has come.
All the creatures of the day
are saddened when she's done.
To hear the silence of the night
you must wait for another ‘morrow.
For her song that permeates the air
to take away your sorrow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Nuit Blanche
I want no horns to rouse me up to-night,
And trumpets make too clamorous a ring
To fit my mood, it is so weary white
I have no wish for doing any thing.
A music coaxed from humming strings would please;
Not plucked, but drawn in creeping cadences
Across a sunset wall where some Marquise
Picks a pale rose amid strange silences.
Ghostly and vaporous her gown sweeps by
The twilight dusking wall, I hear her feet
Delaying on the gravel, and a sigh,
Briefly permitted, touches the air like sleet
And it is dark, I hear her feet no more.
A red moon leers beyond the lily-tank.
A drunken moon ogling a sycamore,
Running long fingers down its shining flank.
A lurching moon, as nimble as a clown,
Cuddling the flowers and trees which burn like glass.
Red, kissing lips, I feel you on my gown—
Kiss me, red lips, and then pass—pass.
Music, you are pitiless to-night.
And I so old, so cold, so languorously white.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Communion With Flowers
A bunch of fresh flowers,
Have the divine power
To lift your mood,
As only prayer could.
As you lie in silent despair
In pain, alone, unable to share,
Friends and relatives come
And ask you what you have done
To yourself, to lie prostrate
And try to commiserate.
You dare not take off your mask
And pretend you are fine when they ask,
For they get uneasy if you reveal
The pain is too much to bear and deal.
Hence I feel,
I can help myself heal,
If I talk to the sublime flowers
For they have the divine power.
And are silent witness in that hour
When I am feeling low and dour.
They don’t judge you in your weak moment,
When you spirit is in torment
Lord, you have endowed them with such virtues
That they come to our rescue
With their playful smile without any guile.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Soul sings other’s poem
Soul sings other’s poem
When you don’t write one
It sings as if it is a dawn
In a tune of silence
Undresses unaware of around
Echoes to the strokes
As if it is climax…
Sings a song of rape
Unless you write one of Union….
Soul sings other’s poem
poem by Free Birds
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The Life that we are part of
one life
one soul
shared by
entities
all added
up to one
larger life
the river
freezes
because it
it is telling
the sun
not to go
too far
the moon
hangs out
in the night
because
it wishes
to share
the secrets
of the sun
the cloud
comes down
as rain
because
it wishes to
share with
all the glory
of the sky
the trees
bear fruits
because
it wishes
to thank all
for giving air
as well as
hellp spread
their kinds
the sky is
thunder and
lightning
because
it wishes
to throw
a balance
between earth
and sky
the world is
getting hotter
because
it wishes
to tell us
we have gone
against its order
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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