New Road
There‘s no shame in exhibiting love
No fame exuding hatred
We’re both trudging through tough trough
Let us call a spade a spade
What’s a bit of land one can’t plough?
For which, we’re getting red
There’re barren bellies millions! Sow
Seeds of hope, loads of bread
Weren’t we birds of one be’utiful bough
Broke who; our nests of gold?
Few rogues commanding our bows
It‘s time high we get bold
Let us flee out of these foul rows
Of malicious folds
And make deal of ideals above
Faiths, fears, cults, creeds and God
Let us wipe blood stains on white doves
Of peace and with pride hold
Them high in skies gleaming bright halos
On our newly paved road
(This is a structured poem, actually written addressing SAARC countries, especially our close neighbor (?)
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Related quotes
Well, Say It As You See It
it is nice
yes, always the feeling is nice
when you call a spade a spade
lets your heart out
nothing tightens
or chokes
nothing to vomit
at the end
nothing hidden
well, they laid the principle
of candid honesty
say it as it pleases you
not as it pleases them
always, yes, always
call a spade a spade
that is rule # one
honesty, that lonely word
well, i learned it by heart
learning to say
what is in my mind
but what do i get?
nothing
everyone is displeased
with my honesty
that i am one tactless
form of shit
this monstrous mammal
this elephant with a tusk
this snake with a venom
this mischievous child
laughing at the
naked emperor
without clothes
well, yes, i still say what i see
calling a spade always a spade
and what do i get?
yes, this one,
nothing but this one
this poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who is Bold?
Who is bold?
The one who accepts one’s mistake,
Confesses one’s crime, owns one’s word
And does not flee the failure.
The one who calls a spade a spade,
Speaks truth in dame form, keeps words,
And shares others’ concerns.
Will power, muscle power or money power
Are of no use to manifest your boldness.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Barter, Bait
BARTER, BAIT
Montezuma's tomb hides treasure hold,
or dust some Spanish pride parade would spade?
Beauty, barter bait, alluring gold,
justified atrocity crusade
conquistadors concocted. Soon, slave sold,
nation fell from grace, its customs fade.
Nothing can escape Time’s stranglehold
for what remains of Cortez' cavalcade,
white plumes, bright armour, in cold grave are laid.
8 August 2007 - last two lines added 27 May 2008
robi03_1666_robi03_0000 XXX_JZX
Barter, Bait poem (c) Jonathan Robin - written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Poem For My Friend Angel.....'bout Birds....[Nature observations; Personal]
I enjoy seeing birds at our backyard feeder,
And, from bushes and trees, hearing some birds that 'tweeeeeter'.
Tiny black seeds attract finches, which have the name ‘gold'....
Who flee from grey juncos which are larger and bold.
Flitting chickadees and 'tufted' titmice, from feeder, eat seed,
While, on the ground, sparrows, towhees, and doves often feed.
They scatter when a blue and white scrub jay flies by,
Or when, overhead, a prowling hawk they do spy.
Waxwings and robins come to pick some nearby berries.
'sorry birdies, ....we have neither grapes nor red cherries.'
Ravens, vultures, and gulls pass high in the air, while
Bushtits and 'hummers' come closer to my chair.
I don't see all these birds every week, but.....i've seen more,
And some non-feathered friends pause, not far from our door.
And when around me i see no animal creatures.....
I enjoy all the plants....that our landscape features.
poem by Bri Edwards
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Not to call a spade a spade
Don't call her a concubine.
Say she in live-in-relationship.
Don't call her a harlot.
Say she has many companions.
Don't call her adulterous.
Say she is with easy virtue.
Don't call a spade a spade
Lest it should be offended.
15.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My pride is…
I earn within which I eat and wear.
No jealousy, no begging either.
Calling a spade a spade, I’m content..
My pride is to live within my means.
10.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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High On You
Written by ricki & kim wilde
Been a long time down
Looking at the ground and feeling bad
Heaven knows Ive tried
But the pain inside just made me sad
When youre looking back at yesterday
And find you cant let go
You need someone who can lift you up
To get ready for tomorrow
Baby Im high
High on the love we make
Thats what you do for me
Baby, Im high
I am in ecstasy
Boy, what you doing to me
Cos baby Im high
High on the love we make
Baby Im high on you
Took me by surprise
When I saw the passion in your eyes
Now Ive got you here
Life is is good and feel satisfied
Now Im flying with the birds above
Im floating to the moon
Got the clouds to walk on every day
And the stars shine when you walk in the room
Now Im high
High on the love we make
Thats what you do for me
Baby, Im high
Iam in ecstasy
Boy, what youre doing to me
Cos baby Im high
High on the love we make
Thats what you do for me
Baby, Im high your kiss
Now Im addicted to you
I dont want to get over this
Baby, Im high enough
On what you do
You make me feel so high on you
Im high... so high...
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How High is Your Pride?
How high is your pride?
To sacrifice for your love
How high is your pride?
To make someone see you
How high is your pride?
To pursue someone do something
How high is your pride?
To achieve your own goal
Will you throw everything
And take any risk
Will you erase your shame
And do any silly task
Will you give something precious
And leave you weak
Will you break any rule
And turn everybody into enemy
Will you regret it later?
Because your love is gone
Will you regret it later?
Because happiness only a moment
Will you regret it later?
Because it doesn’t make any different
Will you regret it later?
Because your victory wine tastes bitter
How high is your pride, my dear?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Your Philosophy
you make it candid
nothing of the non-transparent twists and turns
direct to the point
no holds bar nothing to hide
you say what is in your mind
you call a spade a spade a square is a square
not a queer queer queer ideal,
you don't write a poem it is pointless to write any
you live your life
you rhyme
you count every step like a meter
a haiku
a sonnet
you like it crisp and short and
always saying less
to anything
a trek on the mountainside
feeling the ways of the snake
rather than talk and talk
duck quacking
you say, 'plunge! '
live life
do not let it just be written by them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Empty minds filled with pride
Empty minds filled with pride
Naked to a suit
Blown without a cause
See their body's falling
In a blood scared land of fear
Hear them call, hear them calling
Who's the master of my fate?
And why do I wait…
And why do I want…
And why do I wait...
And why do I want to die…
Oh bring me a white flag
To wash the blood from my face
And bring me a virgin
Of saving grace
And let love be the price
I said let love be the price
Oh let love be the price for peace…
But their body's keep-on-falling
Like seeds to the ground
But those seeds will never sow
Those seeds will never grow
Life it's what you make it
So don't go breaking
Your dreams of love
Your dreams of love (humming here!)
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Better Way
There’s a better way of digging
Than that, Uncle said, taking the
Spade from your hands and showing
You with a craftsman’s touch how
It should be done. You watched in
Wonder how with ease and skill he’d
Made the trench begin to shape far
More quickly than your frail work
Produced. He handed you back the
Spade and you noticed the calluses
That years of using spades and other
Workman’s tools had made. He took
Hold of your hand and turned it over,
Gazed intently and smiled and shook
His head. Such lily-white hands were
Made for pen not spade or hoe or rake,
He said, finish what’s started, lad, then
Return to your studies and pen instead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Spade
The beauty spot was borrowed
Now my sweet knife rusts tomorrow
I'm a confession that is waiting to be heard
Burn your empty rain down on me
Whisper your deathbeat so softly
We bend our knees at the alter of my ego
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
All my lilies' mouths are open, like they're begging for dope and hoping
their bitter petal chant, "we can kick, you wont be back"
Im a diamond that is tired, of all the faces i've aquired, we must secure the shadow ere the substance fades
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
And we said 'til we die
And we said 'til we die
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
You drained my heart, and made a spade
There's still traces of me in your veins
And we said 'til we die
And we said 'til we die
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I may die
I am not the one who will ditto,
Seek someone else to serve your purpose,
I call a spade spade,
If you compell me to do so,
I may die,
For the burden is unbearable
To my heart.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Thomas Middleton: IX
A WILD MOON riding high from cloud to cloud,
That sees and sees not, glimmering far beneath,
Hell’s children revel along the shuddering heath
With dirge-like mirth and raiment like a shroud:
A worse fair face than witchcraft’s, passion-proud,
With brows blood-flecked behind their bridal wreath
And lips that bade the assassin’s sword find sheath
Deep in the heart whereto love’s heart was vowed:
A game of close contentious crafts and creeds
Played till white England bring black Spain to shame:
A son’s bright sword and brighter soul, whose deeds
High conscience lights for mother’s love and fame:
Pure gipsy flowers, and poisonous courtly weeds:
Such tokens and such trophies crown thy name.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Back To The Light
Far, far from the light
Here the night creatures call
In the cold breath they howl
And the hollow tears, theyre calling you
Ill be there, though maybe you wont see my babe
Ill still care, no mater where Ill still be there
When you make to the other side
Lord Im going back, back to the light
Back to the dreams that are paved with gold
Back to the light
Back to the land, where the sunshine heals my soul
Deep, deep in the night
When the world fils with tears
And the wind grows, colder and colder it grows
And the fire dimes, with the same old fears
Ill be there, no matter what youre going through
In the dark I care, Im holding on, Im hoping on
Its still the same old me inside#
Lord Im going back, back to the light
Back to the dreams that are paved with gold
Back to the light
Back to the land, where the sunshine heals my soul
On and on, searching for the clearer view
Winning and loosing an inner war
Wondering what we do it for
Though the road seems never ending
Hold on to the hope Im sending through
No matter where youre going to
Ill be there
Im holding on, believe it
Well be walking in the light
cos therell be no place left to hide
Back to the light
Back to the dreams that are paved with gold
Back to the light
Back to the land, where the sunshine heals my soul
Let me hear you babes - yeah, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jayahoo
Sipped he, music with his mother’s milk
Mum and music notes; he liked alike
His playful childhood he toddled over bands
Of fiddles and keyboard glockenspiel
Stood at last as a proud victor
On the world-pedestal of original score
Hoisting Indian genius and glory high in skies
Flaunting and fluttering in tri-color pride and
Free flying doves of dreams that came true
Carrying on his shoulders double Oscars
Walking in style, he, on the musical road he paved
Vanguarding millions of Indian youth
Shouting ‘Jayaho’, ‘Jayaho’; Praying
‘Maa thujhe salaam’, Ma thujhe salaam
Bowing to Mother India as a worthy son
Offering his supreme win as lovely psalms
(Original Telugu poem by: Perugu Ramakrishna)
(Translated by: sathyanarayana)
poem by Sathya Narayana
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A Bow And An Arrow..
The bent bows are the eye brows,
the Piercing eyes are the arrows,
Those who are shot, still trapped,
Punctured are not their thoughts,
Flowered arrow does its works,
Both are in trance for a while,
and then they are as cloudy as the nerds,
They seem to understand the facts,
But the doubts erupt as volcanoes,
Hold their hands, they douse it,
Arguments arrive after each sentence,
Bonded minds make an agreement,
They are the birds, flying high and wide,
Paired up as one to leave the legacy,
Their nests are clean and then dirtied,
Not their love, it is as white and pure as,
the snow of Everest.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Metaphoric Garden...
all the while, literalism
is wished. Why bother with some
allusions? One can be direct
to the point and be
understood point-blank,
no holds bar, black is black
and white is white,
a spade is a spade is a spade,
the cause is that which the cause
is caused,
bluntly, candidly,
what the heck is this
going around the bush
and figuring out
what is hidden through
symbols and
concealed through some
metaphors....
but my dear, this
is the realm of what we want you to know
and on the other hand
we also want you not to know
so well....
and that is, precisely
this thrill, remember those imaginary
toads in the
real garden?
or those real toads in the
imaginary garden,
feel them, they are all here,
hear them, but my god, by god,
you cannot see them
here... not yet....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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A Spade
Precursor of our woes, historic spade,
What dismal records burn upon thy blade!
On thee I see the maculating stains
Of passengers' commingled blood and brains.
In this red rust a widow's curse appears,
And here an orphan tarnished thee with tears.
Upon thy handle sanguinary bands
Reveal the clutching of thine owner's hands
When first he wielded thee with vigor brave
To cut a sod and dig a people's grave
(For they who are debauched are dead and ought,
In God's name, to be hid from sight and thought.)
Within thee, as within a magic glass,
I seem to see a foul procession pass
Judges with ermine dragging in the mud
And spotted here and there with guiltless blood;
Gold-greedy legislators jingling bribes;
Kept editors and sycophantic scribes;
Liars in swarms and plunderers in tribes;
They fade away before the night's advance,
And fancy figures thee a devil's lance
Gleaming portentous through the misty shade,
While ghosts of murdered virtues shriek about my blade!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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