Still The Mind Smiles
Still the mind smiles at its own rebellions,
Knowing all the while that civilization and the other evils
That make humanity ridiculous, remain
Beautiful in the whole fabric, excesses that balance each other
Like the paired wings of a flying bird.
Misery and riches, civilization and squalid savagery,
Mass war and the odor of unmanly peace:
Tragic flourishes above and below the normal of life.
In order to value this fretful time
It is necessary to remember our norm, the unaltered passions,
The same-colored wings of imagination,
That the crowd clips, in lonely places new-grown; the unchanged
Lives of herdsmen and mountain farms,
Where men are few, and few tools, a few weapons, and their
dawns are beautiful.
From here for normal one sees both ways,
And listens to the splendor of God, the exact poet, the sonorous
Antistrophe of desolation to the strophe multitude.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Flying Without Wings
Everybody's looking for that something
One thing that makes it all complete
You find it in the strangest places
Places you never knew it could be
Some find it in the face of their children
Some find it in their lover's eyes
Who can deny the joy it brings
When you find that special thing
You're flying without wings
Some find it sharing every morning
Some in their solitary lives
You find it in the words of others
A simple line can make you laugh or cry
You find it in the deepest friendship
The kind you cherish all you life
And when you know how much that means
When you find that special thing
You're flying without wings
So impossible as it may seem
You've got to fight for every dream
'Cause who's to know
Which one you let go
Would have made you complete
Well for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you
In any given time or place
It's little things that only I know
Those are the things that make you mine
And it's like flying without wings
'Cause you're my special thing
I'm flying without wings
And you're the place my life begins
And you'll be where it ends
I'm flying without wings
And that's the joy you bring
I'm flying without wings
song performed by by Westlife from Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flying Without Wings - Westlife
Everybody's looking for that something
One thing that makes it all complete
You'll find it in the strangest places
Places you never knew it could be
Some find it in the face of their children
Some find it in their lover's eyes
Who can deny the joy it brings
When you've found that special thing
You're flying without wings
Some find it sharing every morning
Some in their solitary lives
You' ll find it in the words of others
A simple line can make you laugh or cry
You'll find it in the deepest friendship
The kind you cherish all your life
And when you know how much that means
You've found that special thing
You're flying without wings
So impossible as they may seem
You've got to fight for every dream
'Cause who's to know
Which one you let go
Would have made you complete
Well, for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you
In any given time or place
It's little things that only I know
Those are the things that make you mine
And it's like flying without wings
'Cause you're my special thing
I'm flying without wings
And you're the place my life begins
And you'll be where it ends
I'm flying without wings
And that's the joy you bring
I'm flying without wings!
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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My Dream Regarding The Two Beautiful Birds
i
how do you get to
hit two beautiful birds
with a single
stone?
ii
or how to make these two
beautiful birds to get to stay
beside my window sill?
iii
how do i make these two beautiful birds
happier?
shall i make a bird house on a tree
beside my house
and give them grains every morning of the day?
iv
how do i make this dream about two beautiful birds
into a reality? they keep on chirping inside my mind
wanting to be given the realistic form of wings
like some eyebrows
wings flapping just above my eyes
the mountains my cheeks
my mind the skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hub Normal
All human
Are not for
Normal...
At mind...
All are hub normal
Today...
Each every human
Mind is not for free...
All are wanted for
Some of wastage
Put in side the mind...
World is not for silient...
With human mind also...
Sounded, murmered,
Much busy...
so...
All human mind are
Hub normal...
Body also some time
Normal...
Many time hub normal...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Before we can build a stable civilization worthy of humanity as a whole, it is necessary that each historical civilization should become conscious of its limitations and it's unworthiness to become the ideal civilization of the world.
quote by Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We Are The Normal
It's a beautiful day I heard everybody say
The sun shines down for all of us
Just the same you know I like the rain
That ain't so obvious
It's a beautiful sight I guess everybody's right
This day belongs to all of us
Even still I like with a chill
That ain't so obvious
We are the normal
We live and we die
With no reason why
It's a beautiful life and I've got it in my sights
And that ain't for all of us
It's a beautiful sound
My life comes crashing down
That ain't so obvious
It's a beautiful sin and I'm doing it again
And that ain't for all of us
It's a beautiful life and I've got it in my sights
Ain't that so obvious
We are the normal
We live and we die
With no reason why
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bring Me
Bring me to the world
Let me show them that life in itself is not just humanity
We feel animal hungers combined with animalistic insanity
revolving around lust, like an animal you feel the pleasure
a complete necessity
I look into the world and feel everyone looking back at me
Do they know my love is powerful
that it breaks all binds and moves all oceans in one direction
that it can flood the world of humanity
My body is shaken from being wrought with worries I have taken
No smile to form my lips
Drinking happiness from a broken cup
In careful sips
I look for the peace in my world
the balance that will make me normal
I am not angry, I am just beginning to unfurl
The feeling that enlightens me
Is my embrace of my animal self
I am a lion that protects her young
I am mother that protects her sons
I am the panther that mates with hunger
I am the virile woman showering extasy upon her lover
I am not normal and in this I find peace
I am the mother, The Woman, the lover, the friend
You see me
I am in the crowd next to you
A part of humanity
poem by Ntozake Stringfield
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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High Civilization
Cryin' in the streets
They run for their lives
How can you lead them to heaven
They don't realize
Children of the night
How far can we fall
That which we say is forever
Ain't no time at all
Father and the son
Not too young to be old
Reach out for each other when
The world goes cold
Feel so good to be home
Are you ready for
(CHORUS)
My high civilization
Are you ready for
My high civilization
Are you ready for
My high civilization
Civilization
Everything for us to see
The ultimate society
Keeper of the sword
You fight for your rights
How can you live for the hour
When there's no yesterday
Dyin' in the streets
Your number your name
All that which keeps us together
Is bringing us the pain
Thunder of the guns
Comes the criminal mind
Working for the power of
The evil eye
We are never alone
Uncivilized
(CHORUS)
New York
song performed by by Bee Gees from High Civilization
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scattered and Free
the normal mind goes for
a unified view
thus whatever is scattered
like stars the mind grapples to gather for
a heap of leaves
thus whatever is dissonant
the mind summons upon an eclectic rampage
and creates a harmony somehow
to put music
in one note
but no matter what this normal mind does
what this universe opts
is to explode and create a bang
and scatter some more
all its
hidden particles
what order there is
the flux sucks them all into a big hole
and at the end of its tunnel
vomits whatever is taken
and spreads
everything like dust from the
rear of
a speeding car
one looks at it
in isolation
and one sees a chaos that is more beautiful
than a system
than a cabinet of clothes
with a lock
of a closet
wanton beauty as one wants to put it
the rain that drops without a count
the sunlight that burst without
cadence
the river that flows in rage
without numbers
the clouds that drift
without
a specific direction
the waves that rise and fall
and reach a shore
without staying
upon a permanent
dwelling
all these from a distance
make me accept
the crazy cadence of
disorder
that my normal mind wants to grapple
into a cat fight
a struggle that i still want
to understand
a wrestle that wishes
to win and
stop
at the end let all things be
scattered and free....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet Can
Why a poet can not remain in crowded place?
Catch the pulse of an ordinary man in race
See the drops his labor inform of sweat
How much he struggles to meet ends and eat
There is valid point in conceding
We all need nice feeding
Every moment of great surprise
To grow day by day and feel wise
Humanity breathes in open and shows the class
We just don’t observe it and make casual pass
We find it irrelevant and out dated concept
But makes it so sentimental when openly wept
We hardly move without aim
It has mechanical aspirations to claim
Life is taken as mere compulsion
To be pulled on with or without resumption
Here comes a stage when you want real eruption
Your ideas to come out from heart with assumption
You need some one to read and come out with its consumption
Two words of appreciation and encouragement without disruption
So stage for natural poet is set
It has nothing to do with any kind of stage
Lonely or among people makes no sense
Yes but nature makes easy flow of sentences
Natural poet belongs to all and considers his duty
In red rose he finds fragrance with simple beauty
Flowers catch his fancy and enlighten imagination
How many things come up for revelation?
In morning shadows are just normal in size
They grow short by the time noon seize
Hot sun makes poet to take refuge under shed
Evenings are forcing him to pack up and lead
Nights bring all silvery lines in mind
Beautiful moon at its zenith is very kind
All birds are now quiet and in the nest
Only poet is awake and tries his best
I would love to call him a free bird
As well receiver of lord’s word
Only aim is to spread the lovely message
Whether as boy, youth or in the old age
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, gaiety and life to everything. It is the essence of order, and leads to all that is god, just, and beautiful, of which it is the invisible, but never less, dazzaling, passionate, and eternal form.
If aliens from outer space ever come and we show them our civilization and they make fun of it, we should say we were just kidding, that this isn't really our civilization, but a gag we hoped they would like. Then we tell them to come back in twenty years to see our REAL civilization. After that, we start a crash program of coming up with an impressive new civilization. Either that, or just shoot down the aliens as they're waving good-bye.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity of Images (Identité des images)
I am fighting furiously with animals and bottles
In a short time perhaps ten hours have passed one
after another
The beautiful swimmer who was afraid of coral wakes
this morning
Coral crowned with holly knocks on her door
Ah! coal again always coal
I conjure you coal tutelary genius of dreams and my
solitude let me let me speak again of the beautiful
swimmer who was afraid of coral
No longer tyrannize this seductive subject of my
dreams
The beautiful swimmer was reposing in a bed of lace
and birds
The clothes on a chair at the foot of the bed were
illuminated by gleams the last gleams of coal
The one that had come from the depths of the sky and
earth and sea was proud of its coral beak and great
wings of crape
All night long it had followed divergent funerals toward
suburban cemeteries
It had been to embassy balls marked white satin gowns with
its imprint a fern leaf
It had risen terribly before ships and the ships had not
returned
Now crouched in the chimney it was watching for the
waking of foam and singing of kettles
Its resounding step had disturbed the silence of nights
in streets with sonorous pavements
Sonorous coal coal master of dreams coal
Ah tell me where is that beautiful swimmer the swimmer
who was afraid of coral?
But the swimmer herself has gone back to sleep
And I remain face to face with the fire and shall remain
through the night interrogating the coal with wings of
darkness that persists in projecting on my monotonous
road the shadow of its smoke and the terrible
reflections of its embers
Sonorous coal coal pitiless coal
poem by Robert Desnos
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Rorsharch’s test
Remember those inkblots
They have them ready
For you to tell them
About you
And so you begin
With the story of a Big Bear
With sharp claws
Hair all over the body
Big feet, and you said the
Big Bear is walking towards
The forest looking for Mama Bear
Who left little bear cubs,
And then you go to the next
You said you saw clowns
Teasing each other and they have
Extraordinary penises hanging
On their clown pants. You think
It was really funny. You were
Just honest.
Then there was a Big Butterfly
Lots of colors and you describe
Wings spreading and you said they
Are flying towards a warm place
Because they look so cold and oppressed.
Then the Big Bat and you said you
Are viewing it from the top
And it is flying
It is flying
In such a speed
Faster than sound
Jokingly you told
Them how Einstein
Discovered the law of relativity
All because of this Big Bat
Flying faster than a speed of sound
Its mass shirked and light got
So distorted it lost itself in space.
And you look at the analyst
Call it the psychiatrist
Her eyes rolled and she
Blinked and she moved her
Face sidewise. She repeated
If the bat, the bear, the butterfly
The clowns move
And whether they move so fast.
And you said,
Definitely yes.
And she scribbled
Her secret notes about you
You know she’d say
There is something wrong
About you
You are schizophrenic
To a certain degree
You need to see a
Full time psychiatrist
And you laugh
You have read about the test
And you could have pretended
Sanity
Do not say the bat is flying
Do not say the clown is jesting
Do not say the butterfly is fluttering
Do not say the Bear is shaggily tramping on ice
Make them still
Normal no movement
Something sane does not move
Something normal is still
Stationary, unprogressing
Reality is ecstatic. Reality is something that stops.
A statue. A mannequin.
Reality is a picture. Dead piece of paper.
No imagination
No metaphor
You will be a hundred percent sane.
You know what she wrote in secret
And you treat her for dinner
Candlelight, you ask her name
And tell her jokes
And tell her about yourself
You are a poet. You have imagination.
You have metaphor. You make objects move.
You have bats that fly for good reasons
You have clowns that dance the salsa and the boogie.
You have butterflies that flutter in your imaginary gardens
You have huggable bears.
Papa bear kissing Mama and little bears pissing them both.
You are trained for some creativity. For some action.
You are a fertile field where rains come and flowers grow
And birds fly and sunshine comes with colors of seasons in a prism of raindrops.
And by all means, you tell her, as you sip your champagne
Glass gleaming against a lazy light of this cozy café
“By all means I am not crazy. I am just a poet”
She pretends she understands. She sticks to her science, of course.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love is hard
What happens when you have to say goodbye
do everything just go back to normal
well i can't do because im already intangled
in the mist of the love i feel for you
is it normal
to fall for a guy who already has one week
one week left to seem me
untill he leaves for college
to go his separate ways
is it normal
for me to cry at his graduation
for me to break down
when i only began to know him
is it normal
for me to be jealous of the thought of future girls
when i know that we cant be together anymore
love is the best and worst thing tha can ever happen
love is hard
is it normal
poem by Jasmine Jorden
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To A Little Bird Out From Its Nest
and so
your on your wings now
flying low yet
flying still
to where must you go?
your wings shall lead you
do not look back
for the nest had long
been destroyed
for the winds have no mercy
but the places faraway
have open arms
islands out their
have warm hearts
fly away
little bird
your destiny is waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emma Jean’s Free
Emma Jean is flying free,
flying over the fields of green,
For when she was on this plane,
she had to walk with a cane.
Now she’s free as free as can be,
with her beautiful colored wings.
Flying up through the trees,
She can see everything.
From colors bright to bold,
like pink, orange and gold.
Being a butterfly in the sky
she is so happy again in time.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.9,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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