Bodhisattava
For the sake of lake, I climbed
on the weeping hills
to see the other side of moon.
The precipice of hunger weighs heavily
on shoulders.
Capricious time moves inwardly,
Strikes at the chest.
I set free the love-birds.
Conflict of trees tramples the grass
All summer the smell of dry winds
was scorching tear drops.
Every word was crying.
Dark in my city
I am wandering alone in alleys
of hostile homes.
The collective guilt of the flesh
blazes the mind.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Collective Guilt
For the sake of lake, I climbed
on the weeping hills
to see the other side of moon.
The precipice of hunger weighs heavily
on shoulders.
Capricious time moves inwardly,
Strikes at the chest.
I set free the love-birds.
Conflict of trees tramples the grass
All summer the smell of dry winds
was scorching tear drops.
Every word was crying.
Dark in my city
I am wandering alone in alleys
of hostile homes.
The collective guilt of the flesh
blazes the mind.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Separation And The Freedom
when she finally decides to leave him
he thought that the world ends
there is no pain like this
he talks to the mouth inside his chest
when will this chaos leave him?
he asks the wind and the rain
he walks upon the grass spreading free on the gentle hills
he rests under the forest trees and
spends a lot of his time talking to the full moon
till it is eaten by the dark sky
he sleeps in caves and makes alliances with
the stalactites and the stalagmites
he eats the worms and borrowed some drops
of the honey from the bees
he talks to the trees and the clouds and worships the sun
and has become a part of this universe
he becomes strong like the rock and stands tall
conquering his pain like the cliff
then the right season has come for him
to fly for he has grown wings and traces his roots
to the genealogy of birds, he is finally free
at the end, the gods free him from the pains of his humanity
his love unrequited has died.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Dance My Love
you are so beautiful when you start to dance
when all the leaves fall off from your arms
naked, i have seen everything that your earth has to offer:
your hills and trees and forest, your creeks and rivers,
your clouds and seas, your grass and flowers
i have seen them all and touched them
your hills i have climbed
your trees with sweet fruits
i have gathered them all
and bit and sucked and savored each sap and juice
its flesh and fiber
i have slept on your grass
i have smelled your flowers
i have gazed on your clouds and have taken the dive
on your seas
i have sailed on your rivers
i have bathed on your creeks
i have done everything for you to please you my love
yet why are your eyes so sad tonight?
you are like a moon fading in the dark
you are like the song of a bird dissolving in distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tear Drops Of An Angel
the parts in the () are talking...its a song
(Hello,
Wait what,
Slow down,
I cannot understand you,
Why are you crying?)
I guess it was better you found out now,
I could not keep on living this lie,
You were the first girl.
Stop crying, dear,
Your tear drops are flying, dear,
They are drying, dear,
You are dieing, dear.
Tear drops of an angel,
The sweetest cry I can hear,
Stop your crying now dear,
For my heart, you are shattering.
Tear drops of an angel,
The darkest curse of my heart,
Crimson tears fall from your eyes,
Breaking me with each drop.
Tear drops of an angel…
Tear drops of an angel…
Tear drops of an angel…
I am sorry I cheated, dear,
It was a weakness, dear,
It was my fault, dear,
A sin of the flesh, dear.
Tear drops of an angel,
The sweetest cry I can hear,
Stop your crying now, dear,
For my heart, you are shattering.
Tear drops of an angel,
The darkest curse of my heart,
Crimson tears fall from your eyes,
Breaking me with each drop.
Tear drops of an angel…
Tear drops of an angel…
Tear drops of an angel…
poem by Evan Skora
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The Country Wife
She makes her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
Following their voices on the breeze,
She makes her way. Through the dark trees
The distant stars are all she sees.
They cannot light the way she's gone.
She make her way through the dark trees
Down to the lake to be alone.
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
She cannot see the winds that break
The night reflected on the lake
But knows they motion for her sake.
These are the choices they have brought her:
The night reflected on the lake,
The fire of stars changed into water.
poem by Dana Gioia
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The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Oh To Be Out In The Country
A hot day in the city and scarce a puff of breeze
Oh to be out in the country in the cool shade of the trees
In the shadow of the wattles leafing through a favourite book
Listening to the coot and black duck calling in the quiet brook.
Oh to be out in the country on this sunny Summer's day
In the hills above Wonthaggi more than eighty miles away
In the shadow of the gum trees many miles from city street
Stretched and resting on the fog grass sheltering from the mid day heat.
I feel tired of city living city life's a hard old slog
And I am sick of man's pollution sick of breathing smoke and smog
Oh to be out in the country by a creek enjoying a beer
In a World free of pollution many miles away from here.
A hot day in the city near thirty five degrees
Oh to be out in the country in the cool shade of the trees
In the shadow of the gum trees many miles from city street
Stretched and resting on the fog grass sheltering from the mid day heat.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Summer Night City
Summer night city...
Summer night city...
Waiting for the sunrise, soul dancing in the dark
Summer night city
Walking in the moonlight, love-making in the park
Summer night city
In the sun i feel like sleeping
I can't take it for too long
My impatience slowly creeping
Up my spine and growing strong
I know what's waiting there for me
Tonight i'm loose and fancy-free
Aa-ahhh
When the night comes with the action
I just know it's time to go
Can't resist the strange attraction
From that giant dynamo
Lots to take and lots to give
Time to breathe and time to live
Waiting for the sunrise, soul dancing in the dark
Summer night city
Walking in the moonlight, love-making in the park
Summer night city
It's elusive party feeling
Somehow something turns me on
Some folks only see the middle
We don't miss them when they're gone
I love feeling in the air
My kind of people everywhere
When the night comes with the action
I just know it's time to go
Can't resist the strange attraction
From that giant dynamo
And tomorrow, when it's dawning
And the first birds start to sing
In the pale light of the morning
Nothing's worth remembering
It's a dream, it's out of reach
Scattered driftwood on the beach
Waiting for the sunrise, soul dancing in the dark
Summer night city
Walking in the moonlight, love-making in the park
Summer night city
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Season In The Sun
Goodbye to you my trusted friend
We ve known each other since we
Were nine or ten
Together we ve climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and abc s
Skinned our hearts and
Skinned our knees
Goodbye my friend it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing
In the sky
Now that spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time
Goodbye papa please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along
Goodbye papa it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the songs like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like
The seasons have all gone
Goodbye michelle my little one
You gave me love and helped
Me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on
The ground
Goodbye michelle it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in
The sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indictment Against Entire Nations
Collective Guilt Is Groundless.
Guilt is individual as is salvation.
Collective guilt cannot enforced be
laid upon innocence preadolescent.
Vengeance reparations cause wars?
No indictment exists
nor means rationally
for law creating crime
as collective nations
shame blame guilt.
Penalty culpability
regret responsibility
admissions of evils
For the Indictment
of an entire nation.
Least free-born blood
of race righteousness.
Condemned in error.
Cry out from ground
in accusation against us.
Evil must be cleansed
to source malignant.
Before humanity can
collectively throw off. Weight
cavitation chains walk free.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This is what summer means to me
A warm summer day
without a cloud in sight
A baby bird
Taking its first flight
This is what summer means to me
Trees full of leaves
Giving me shade
My dad and I
Fishing in the glade
This is what summer means to me
Watching my daughter
Play on her slide
And how She will never
Want to come inside
This is what summer means to me
See how she enjoys the day
Until the very last
Just like me as a child
Long ago in the past
This is what summer means to me
The distant roar
Of a neighbors lawn mower
Unruly grass be gone
For ever more
This is what summer means to me
The smell of charcoal
And good friends all around
Birds singing in the trees
What a lovely sound
This is what summer means to me
© JPM 5/25/2008
May-December Kisses
She is a flower given
in summer time,
full of ocean-ness;
it's vastness swims
in her eyes.
She moves soft winds before her;
floating lightly;
shiny new
with a young soul
touched only by sentiments
innocent;
all experience her delight.
She has never known Mean Love,
only Love Requited.
Joy seldom comes to the Stapled Heart
and hers has never been.
I am older than she;
I am mangled innocence;
yet still I crave what I see-
her soft putty etherealness;
her purity.
I am the Winter Bulb
underground;
she, summer sun
warming ocean waters.
I need to know
is her heart,
and my dark bulb
together
yet fertile?
What irony
meeting brings
in words wandering
cross pages
when she says;
'I love you.'
My Winter and her Spring
were clutched in her Hearts First
meandering
into Love's Realm.
When individuals
invest
their best souls
and their best
summer flailings
we must perforce
measure the fit.
She is the rare soul not potted yet
not yet a bulb a'growing
yet before me now
professing
to love my old soul
covered by
winter ground
frozen.
I ponder and say to her:
'whisper me
just one word,
your soul's summer smells
inhaled,
your bouquet refreshing
my dusty soil;
my winter eyes greying.
I am mighty stirred
by youthful seeds
yours;
which arrive with summer's souling-
fitful winds blowing
innocence
which coaxes old flowers
to new blooms.
But I am, '
I said
'I am
too old for you
but not for Summer's kiss
and planted her cheek
with my Winter kiss
and set her free
to sail
Summer Winds
to find her own
true,
younger Prince
closer to her own age.
And I died
surely that day
having forfeited life's Last Love Note
for Youths Future Bliss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Moon-Lake
i
the moon
crying
moon-lake
ii
war
comes early
and silently...
iii
the baby
smiles
at the gun
aimed for
it's head
iv
the smile
lingers
as life
goes
silently
coldly
v
red moon
crying
moon-lake
of blood
vi
the killer
looks up at the moon
and says of it
'it's beautiful
tonight'
vii
war
co mes early
and silently...
viii
the moon
moon-lake
poem by Jacques du Lumerie
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New Season
Up from the hills and down through the valley,
A stream whispers unendingly a fading melody,
As it continues on its aimless journey.
The blazing heat scorching innocent vegetation,
Green leaves gently fading to brown.
The grass shriveled up;
Wilted, forgotten and began to die.
Up high in the treetops birds yet sing their songs,
In ritual of prayers to their gods.
Their songs heard even beyond the blue skies.
Suddenly everything changes,
From elsewhere came the darkening clouds;
Stopping over.................,
The shadow obscuring the sun.
Then the rumble of the rolling thunder
overpowers the birds gentle songs,
The mighty thunder scares the birds.
Trees fall silent as the clouds darkens thick;
It sends down a single drop;
Then another and yet another one.
They patter on the leaves then onto the ground.
In no time the mighty delude overpowers the streams
as it floods to the banks swallowing dirty from the bush.
It cleans the forest as it prepares for the new season
to rein.
As the downpour ceases;
Like birds even trees shake drops of rain to the ground.
The birds tease the summer as it runs away from the
coming season, They bid farewell to it.
The branches swing as they rejoice
to welcome king Autumn.
Vegetation sinking beneath the earth,
Holding firm; it begins to grow in full bloom.
With flowers all over
Giving thanks to the mighty AUTUMN.
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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On The Edge
I recognized the vitriol.
There was blood on your hands.
The invisible was burning in dark.
This was the black moon
and this was the alienation.
An animal climbs on your shoulders.
It goes on and on.
Was it the night to undress
and show your wounds to dreams?
The lake has left the shores -
and flesh eats grass
in absence of cold truth.
I meet the moans of quaking
stars.petals know the music
of death in fragrance.
poem by Satish Verma
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Advent of Spring
The city has fallen: only the hills and rivers remain.
In Spring the streets were green with grass and trees.
Sorrowing over the times, the flowers are weeping.
The birds startled my heart in fear of departing.
The beacon fires were burning for three months,
A letter from home was worth ten thousand pieces of gold.
I scratch the scant hairs on my white head,
And vainly attempt to secure them with a hairpin.
When you go Away
When you go away, my friend,
When you say your last good-bye,
Then the summer time will end,
And the winter will be nigh.
Though the green grass decks the heather,
And the birds sing all the day,
There will be no summer weather
After you have gone away.
When I look into your eyes,
I shall thrill with deepest pain,
Thinking that beneath the skies
I may never look again.
You will feel a moment's sorrow,
I shall feel a lasting grief;
You forgetting on the morrow,
I to mourn with no relief.
When we say the last sad word,
And you are no longer near,
And the winds and all the birds
Cannot keep the summer here,
Life will lose its full completeness---
Lose it not for you, but me;
All the beauty and the sweetness
Each can hold, I shall not see.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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How I Can Smell Like Dusts And Molds....
i take a walk this morning
in this village of trees where there are no houses of
dwellers,
i am looking for a peaceful place as i carry with me a load of some
thoughts heavy on my hair
i do not think that i am being punished with these
i am just trying to take my time
listening to my own footsteps
to the sound of the leaves on those grasses and trees
a river walks along with me
that is how i see it
it is a water traveler wanting a companion
towards a far end
that it knows too well for i am but new here
a lost stranger to his view
a novice of distance
i bring peace in my heart, i have set some pigeons free
my gifts to the balding mountains and to the hills with brown grasses
no pen, no paper, nothing about personal computers or cellphones
no signal, i am satisfied,
i am sucking air, words are carried with it in my nostrils
the river smiles, flows, and winds itself like a snake smooth on the grass
i listen too much, i become this earth
the river winds around my hair, birds are building nests,
the owl sleeps for the night beside my ears,
how peaceful is this place, how foolish had i been for all those years
hiding behind those rooms and rooms of books,
which explains why the river says that i smell nothing but
dusts and molds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Contemplation of Sorrow
I am sorry for the readers
and the writers with much to say
On sorrow,
For it seems sorrow
Weighs much more heavily on the soul
Than any form of joy I've known
It is sorrow that paces
And sorrow that writhes,
Drawing attention to itself,
Magnetizing thoughts,
A gravitational pull
Equivocal to that of the moon
On the tide
Once you notice that pitiful little lump
Of sorrow
You cant help but to revolve around it,
Contemplate it
Like a little black hole
In a rented recess of the mind
It draws upon mental
and emotional energies
Until you drive yourself crazy
I am sorry for the readers
and the writers with much to say
On sorrow,
For it weighs so heavily on the soul
poem by Faustina Marie
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The Hunger And Thirst Of The Mountain (2)
it is not in the water and rice and dried fish alone
that they hunger
they, the mountain people hunger for more
of our preferential attention
attentive ears, caring hands, understanding mind
to assure them that they still have a place
in our hearts
that we have never abandoned them
i, too, hunger for their stories and poems,
and when we meet this time again,
it will be mutual.Now the city descends
to the river and hills, and the grassy plains.
Halfway between us, is this thin line of
hate suppressed, love rekindled, ambivalence
that seemingly still exist, this doubt, this mistrust,
this humanity trying to be free
and real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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