Afterimages
A whisperer with its begging bowl
wants a moon in alms.
A candle burns in panic.
The serpent was sitting in a prayer.
The golden teeth will find the apples
leafless, pleading for a fall.
Stoking the fire, you step on a ghost.
It was a fake, I scream.
Do not tamper the ruins of the tower.
They are going to find the death masks.
poem by Satish Verma
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Apples of Hesperides
Glinting golden through the trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Through the moon-pierced warp of night
Shoot pale shafts of yellow light,
Swaying to the kissing breeze
Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming,
Apples of Hesperides!
Far and lofty yet they glimmer,
Apples of Hesperides!
Blinded by their radiant shimmer,
Pushing forward just for these;
Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred,
Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred,
Always thinking soon to seize
And possess the golden-glistening
Apples of Hesperides!
Orbed, and glittering, and pendent,
Apples of Hesperides!
Not one missing, still transcendent,
Clustering like a swarm of bees.
Yielding to no man's desire,
Glowing with a saffron fire,
Splendid, unassailed, the golden
Apples of Hesperides!
poem by Amy Lowell
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Fire Burns! Fire Burns!
If you like you can enquire
There are rings of fire
There are hearts on fire
There are desert, grass and bush fires
Burning with a red hot rage on a different stage
They burn and mature that one can only admire
O! Fire O! Fire
My heart is on fire
Inside my soul a little flame has transpired
Have my words mis-fired while I speak of fire?
Fire burns like a scorching red-hot sun
And when fire burns its impact is sometimes no fun
Fire burns! Fire burns!
People die, people cry, people sigh
Fire run, run and run
Let's take turns to run before we turn into a bun
When you play with fire your hands will burn
When you lay with fire, heads will surely turn
Fire burns! Fire burns!
A hand pulls a gun and fires
A man goes to work and gets fired
And while I tire, I ask myself am I a liar?
For I speak of the uncontrollable forest fires
That cannot be announced by any town crier
A little spark
A brittle panic attack
A burning flame
A red-hot blaze
In seconds fire can take out an entire space
Fire burns! Fire burns!
And while the fire transpires
I can see the fire in your eyes
A hot passionate desire that flies and flies
And the fire burns and burns
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And the heat will rise like the scorching sun
Fire burns! Fire burns!
I ask silently for a ceasefire
For fire only ignites to inspire more misery
And out of that misery are born some high fliers
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And whatever burns can never be undone
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Bowl...
yes, this is a case
of a candle burning itself
on both sides
and below it
on two heads of fire
is a bowl full of
water
shaping what could
be the
truth
when the final shape
is taken
as usual
we go back
to that empty bowl
but less
the candle
the melted one
shedding off
lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Candle At The Edge Of The World
There is a candle at the edge of the world
that burns for all humanity.
In the daytime, it burns blue
to colour our skies when we wake.
At night, it is covered with a shade
and that is when darkness calls.
This candle at the edge of the world
is a constant reminder to us all
that if we venture too far too fast
we will eventually fall.
The candle burns within us
to show us the way each day
and if it ever fails
that is when our darkness calls.
It burns through our torment and strife,
our loves, happiness and failures too.
That candle at the edge of the world
is simply me and you.
poem by David Harris
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Momentary slips
A woman sedated by her husband,
Like alms looking for a begging bowl,
Seeks for her a receptacle in secret,
And accept it when it strikes by chance.
26.11.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What Asylum!
Come and meet me in chamber of death
where the tempest comes every night.
I start disrobing the anger
to find the eye of the moon.
Where do I get that ink that
writes an unwritten poem on water
of eyes when the ship was
burning after a rare landing.
Come and meet me in sleep of an infant.
It was time to start a dialogue
with golden death sitting on the
greed of man. The lips were extracting
the other honey from frozen moon.
Come and meet me in merciless sun.
poem by Satish Verma
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Into A Place Where You Are Not Welcome
when you find yourself
in such a place
you imagine yourself
in the middle of the fire
the fire burns all day
you may not get charred
but you finally find your body
without nerves
you walk with them
and you feel that you have no more heart
that beats inside your
chest
why stay in that place for long?
inflicting death to the very pulse
of your arm
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire On The Willow
Weary beneath the Weaping Willow,
I lie so lonesome and secluded from the world.
Away from what's realtiy and the truth of life,
As my skitzophrenia engulfs me,
And burns away my once self like a wildfire.
Fire beneath the Willow Tree,
And no one gives a thought to my agonizing burns.
The fire consumes me, swallows me, eats me alive,
And I'm overzealous in my attempts to be quenched.
Completely alone and pleading for my life,
As the truculent fire leaps to the Willow.
The fire licks up the Willow Tree,
And flames creep into my eyes,
So all I may witness is Hell.
Hell inside myself blazes the world around me,
And nothing's as it seems to be.
All alone and incarserated in flames,
As fire burns up the Willow Tree.
Stardust
Out of the cleft lip comes
a muffled voice
on the turn of events,
to interrupt a call.
Then the panic rises,
the blood was oozing from the larynx.
The winding mountain path goes to the end
of blessing where the prayer drowns.
What was happening to the golden land?
Did the green worry about the iced peaks,
from where the glaciers take a bend
to enter the valley?
Who was negotiating the winds?
The logic between the stars and moon?
Huge gods were speaking to the men
in black, wearing eye masks on the highest terrains,
not heading my grief.
The dust was crying.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Song Of Wandering Aengus
I WENT out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Heaven Is One Step Away
By eric clapton
We searched all through the night.
I couldnt find it; you couldnt find it.
I knew something wasnt right.
I couldnt find it; you couldnt find it.
And they say heaven is one step away.
Heaven is one step away.
And then there came the dawn:
I couldnt find it; you couldnt find it.
I just had to carry on.
I couldnt find it; you couldnt find it.
Chorus
We didnt leave till a quarter to three.
All your friends, they were laughing at me.
I dont get it, I dont understand;
Who is that man holding your hand?
First verse
Chorus
Heaven is one step away.
Heaven is one step away.
Heaven is one step away.
Heaven is one step away.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silly; Religion: Rich Man Vs. Ghost
honest 'scrooge':
The rich man said 'I care not to breed; time's too valuable to sow my ‘seed'.
Money's my own evil, like cotton has its weevil.
All I really care about is greed.'
rich man is warned:
To rich man one eve came a tall ghost. Said the foretelling ghost to his host:
'All money you can save you can take to your grave,
but in Hell you'll still be scorched toast.'
ooh! scary ghost (not) ! :
Rich man to ghost: 'You're not so clever. You'll find I have no panic lever.
L. R. Hubbard did say 'rich men, live for today;
Scientologists live forever'.'
ghost retorts:
Ghost to rich man: 'I have discovered what became of your L. R. Hubbard.
He told a mighty tale, but his beliefs did fail….
to keep him out of the Devil's cupboard.'
rich man retorts back:
Rich man to ghost: 'I believe you're a liar. I think your tail will be on fire.
I would not hire you …to fix the sole of my shoe, …
let alone 'my soul '. You conspire! ! '
ghost gives up! (almost) :
At that the poor ghost his head did scratch, thinking, perhaps, he'd met his match.
Then he saw the TV. He put on channel three,
and Hubbard's broadcast (from Hell) they did catch.
thankful (formerly-rich) man to ghost:
Rich man said: 'Ghost, I believe you indeed! ! You can leave now on your steed.
but first take my money and bring me a ‘honey',
for I've been long overdue to breed! ! '
poem by Bri Edwards
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Lips On Fire
Sometimes the ice burns,
a fish moves in your eyes.
The ubiquity was at lowest level,
nothing was visible in sun.
Mission crawl in the crotch
does not find any fever.
The golden cave has caved in.
Moon will find another sky.
Nerves were green, pain was
black. No mercy for hooks.
Your map was here and my stitches.
Let us see, who tells the lie.
poem by Satish Verma
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One Giant Step For Mankind
For mankind what was that one giant step?
Hopefully we’ll find records accurately kept.
Let us carefully check the pages of history.
The famous walk on the moon, could it be?
The laying down one’s life for you and me,
Now that’s the one giant step I find it to be.
On a quest, leaving his Father and his home,
Venturing to a different location on his own,
Having all one could desire, then to depart,
Most would say, well that’s not too smart.
From heavenly home to earth He did step,
At home to himself, He could have kept,
To all the loving ways of the Ancient teach,
The plateau of nirvana he wills us to reach.
No left; No right; straight and narrow walk,
Ever only truth speak, never any vain talk.
The evil forces of satan He did enslave,
Victorious over death, hell and the grave,
The only giant step settled in this mind,
The one my Savior made is the one I find!
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Trying
Could you let down your hair
And be transparent for a while
Just a little while
See if your human after all
Honesty is a hard attribute to find
When we all want to seem like we've got it all figured out
I may be the first to say that I don't have a clue
I don't have all the answers
And god I pretend like I do just
Trying to find my way
Trying to find my way the best that I know how
Well I haven't memorized all the cute things to say
But I'm working on it
Maybe I'll master this art for today
I'd I qoute all the line off the top of my head
And you'd be
I dont understand all of these things Ive read
I'm just trying to find my way
Trying to find my way
Trying to find my way the best that I know how
Well I havent drawn it or figured out quite yet
But even if it takes my whole life
To get to where I need to be
And if I should fall to the bottom of the end
I'll be one step back to you
I'm trying to find my way
Trying to find my way
Oh
song performed by by Lifehouse from Dile Al Sol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Candle
Red candle burns romantic in the night
Lovers hide from the barren torn world
Wrapped in symbols of hope and future
World war seems far from the moonlit sea
Passionate red roses for sweet lovers
Night covers time with universal desire
Goya painted ominous murals of truth
This red candle burns like rivers of blood
Christmas seems so sad for a soldier
Will a nuclear bomb blow out this red candle?
Existential sex like Ann Frank's last birthday
Pound your drums and fight your causes
The horrible crows fly in Van Gogh's mind
Hiroshima burns with a fire from hell
Tonight the red candle is for silk and lace
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Ghost
The yawning creak of the door
as ivy branches tap the windowpane,
dancing shadows from the candle
caught in a draught from beneath the door.
I sit in what is reputed to be a very haunted room
waiting to see a ghost no one has ever seen.
They’ve only heard the wailing
in the middle of the night.
Therefore, I’m sitting here
my imagination wanting to play tricks
on me as darkness falls.
I’ve come to help this lost wailing spirit
that seems bound to this room
and to help release it
into the heavenly light,
also to find its secret
why it is bound to this room.
The town clock chimes midnight.
I wait, but nothing happens.
Maybe the lost wailing spirit
has taken the night off.
A voice sounded from the gloom.
“Excuse me, are you still up? ”
I looked around
and there by the doorway
stood a tall dark figure there.
“Yes, how can I help you? ”
“Please put out the candle
as it is keeping me awake.”
“But this room is haunted
and I’m waiting to see the ghost.”
Then came, a hearty chuckle
from the dark figure.
“So they got you at as well.
Turn out the candle
and get good nights sleep.
There is no ghost here.
Who on earth told you that.
Whoever it was
just tell them Smiler told you so.”
The next morning
after one of the best sleeps,
I have ever had.
I told the proprietor who had invited me.
They laughed when I told them
that Smiler had told me so.
When they stopped laughing
they said. “Smiler is the ghost
we were telling you about.”
poem by David Harris
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The whisperer's tongue is worse than serpent's venom.
The Other Smile
Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –
subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.
And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.
poem by Satish Verma
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Hickory-dickory Dock! The Lonely Mouse Runs up the Clock!
I saw imaginary masks walking along the streets in the Wolf Creek,
So I too wear a mask to hide my tears with a big smile plastic.
An absolute darkness is eating me, all I can feel is heebie-jeebies;
Yuk! I'm sucked deeper and deeper into a hole of screaming meemies!
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
A round-backed figure with a cigar is sitting on the narrow bridge
Heaving tortuous sighs, sledging at his own shadow with a grudge;
A lonely man is a lonesome thing - a stone, a stick and a bone!
Ugh! Shedding two tears, I Weep alone and walk alone in a cyclone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
I bid to meet harlequin on a tree pine and in palanquin a bride,
Ugh! One merry Andrew and a lonely gremlin took me for a ride;
To hide the wounds, I strive alone; if heart breaks, I mourn alone!
As the petals fell upon the stem of thorns, a rose in me died alone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
A cold wind is swinging branches in dark graveyard without light;
Tut-tut! Obscure clouds are overcasting skies in a mournful sight!
I died a death but stayed alive; in phantom's likeness I survive;
Alive, yet dead, I walk alone in rooms with walls as cold as stone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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