Related quotes: After the plumes, legs are...

Buddha Sleeps

After the plumes,
legs are blown off.
Your body smells of migration
and length of
wasted strings.

The questions will
never return.
Buried deep in crescent heart.
Do you have the authentic
information about the murder
of the crested tit?

The woodlands
will go without a song.
I will live in rotation
with biological grief of earth
and emotional blackmail
of moon.

poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes

A Moon Mystery!

Auspicious or not, crescent Moon is always precious to poets;
Waxing and waning Moons have different effects of superstition;
Crescent Moons good or bad are ever poets’ great inspiration!

Crescent Moon is a basket for carrying flowers of Stars in it;
Crescent Moon is the boat that travels on the ocean of Sky;
Crescent Moon is a fine jewel decorating Lord Siva’s tresses!

Waxing crescent Moon with a Star is very auspicious to Islamites;
Thus silent beauty in the Western Sky encourages worn out souls;
But the waning crescent Moon in the Eastern Sky was a fun on tour!

What a beautiful sight the waning crescent Moon in the Eastern Sky!
On a sudden bus travel in plains I happened to see this in a cold night
Making me wonder as I used to wonder at the Western crescent Moon!

Moon is still a mystery though many rockets are sent there for probes
As the dark side of the Moon is still a dark matter for millions of years!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Methodist Priest

A sudden speed
delayed by a sudden deed
leaving my mind weighted
and my body wasted
a man to bring me down
my face to wear a frown
sterotypical lies stretch
my stomach starts to retch
a murder is a murder and you're dead
'Hypocritical, ' is what I said
'Erroneous information, ' he stated
because his God is who I hated
He claims I am the devil's beast
but all he is, is a Methodist priest

poem by Bridget Bush
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Wasted

Wasted
I'm so wasted
empty since you left me
I still need him and want him
without him I'm nothing
if I can't do something
to get him to come home on to me

Wasted
love's been wasted
guess I'm not too brainy
I was selfish and foolish
I used and abused him
and laughed when he threatened to walk out
but now he's done it

He was like the moon
he had his darker side
but he could be the sun
shinning in the light

Wasted
sure I'm wasted
knowing he don't love me
such a sad thing about him
to know that I love him
and nothing I say or I do will return
say I'm wasted

He was like the moon
he had his darker side
but he could be the sun
shinning in the light

Wasted
sure I'm wasted
knowing he don't love me
wasted
sure I'm wasted
knowing he don't love me..

song performed by by Donna Summer from A Love Trilogy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Awed by her splendor

the sun is to me
as the dog is
a delight

the moon is to me
as the cat is
an intellectual challenge

the first light of sun
blazing through copper sky
it's so comforting
refreshing
to mind, heart and soul
harbinger of hope

the unrestrainable
friendliness of the dog
- it oozes with licks
and unstoppable wagging of tail -
first thing at morn
take the worries of the day away

he moon, the moon
its subtle lumininous light
of spiritual and intellecutal bearing
is like the cat
that orchestrates its every movement
in calculated steps
eyes dilating in half, crescent and full crystals
see how it prances like a ninja
when attacking its target
how it gently licks its paws and
legs after its hearty meal

to raise a clever child
get her to admire the moon
as it signs in and out of the sky
each day of the month
in crescent, half and full

inspired by

Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver

Sappho

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Knife

Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death

murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Song About The Moon

If you want to write a song about the moon
Walk along the craters of the afternoon
When the shadows are deep
And the light is alien
And gravity leaps like a knife off the pavement
And you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then nah nah nah
Presto
Song about about the moon
If you want to write a song about the heart
Think about the moon before you start
Because the heart will howl
Like a dog in the moonlight
And the heart can explode
Like a pistol on a june night
So if you want to write a song about the heart
And its ever-longing for a counterpart
Write a song about the moon
The laughing boy
He laughed so hard
He fell down from his place
The laughing girl
She laughed so hard
The tears rolled down her face
Hey songwriter
If you want to write a song about
A face
Think about a photograph
That you really cant remember
But you cant erase
Wash your hands in dreams and lightning
Cut off your hair
And whatever is frightening
If you want to write a song
About a face
If you want to write a song about
The human race
Write a song about the moon
If you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then do it
Write a song about the moon

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love For You

My love for you,
is buried deep
in my heart
no one can dig
it out.

No power on earth
can take away how
I feel toward you.

You mean more to
me, than all the
riches of the world

My love for you
I would not trade
all of the kingdoms
put together.

No friend is greater,
no love is so stronger
my heart reaches out
to bring you closer to me.

You put up with me,
much more than I
deserve, only makes
me love you even more.

So dear, how love flows
your way, don't know
how I could live
without you in my life.

No man could have it
so fine as I do,
with you by my side.

Loving you so, until
that day you or I
depart from this
old world, will keep
your love buried
deep in my heart.

wrote 2-2-07

poem by Jim Foulk
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Premeditation

Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.

And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Morte

Bring us but grief they say
Tears of mourning
You cannot say what is not true
For it’s he who brings us to life
Kills by the millions
Day and night
A celebration is heard
For the gone of a soul

Tears of joy
Tears of happiness
All applauding for his return
Murder of one
Murder of all
Welcome back at your return

poem by Michael Zavala
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Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee

Indian legislation's on the desk of the do right congressman
Now he don't know much about the issues so he picks up the phone
And asks the advice of the senator out in indian country
A darling of the energy companies their ripping off
What's left of the reservation
I learned the safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation
And the corporate bank
They're sending federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Deep in the earth
I said cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got these energy companies
Who want to take the land
And they got churches by the dozens
Trying to guide our hands
And turn our mother earth
Over to pollution war and greed
Well
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got the federal marshalls
We get the covert spies
We get the liars by fire
We get the fbi
They lie in court and get nailed
And still leonard peltier goes off to jail
(the bullets don't match the gun)
Bury my heart at wounded knee
An eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart at wounded knee
We got your murder and intimidation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
My girlfriend anna may
Talked about uranium
Her head was full of bullets
And her body dumped
The fbi cut off her hands
And told us she died of exposure
Yeah right
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Oh deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Talk about a revolution
We had the gold rush wars
Why didn't we learn to crawl?
And now our history gets written in a liar's scrawl
They tell me " honey you can still be an indian
Down at the y on saturday night''
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
And cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart
It was an eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart
Got your murder, murder, murder and intimidation
Bury me
Bury me
Bury me
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Me A Song

Sing me a song,
A song you and I know,
A song that will put me to sleep,
This song that I always listen to makes me cry,
Missing you with every inch on my heart,
Knowing that you will not return,
Sing me a song,
A song that will help me forget about you,
A song that will heal my heart,
A song of forgiveness,
Just sing a song,
A song that can not be forgotten,
A song so memorable,
Only a memory,
Sing me song,
A song that we will love,
A song we can not live with out,
Just sing me a song,
A song that only you and I know.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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All the Answers Why

Only the answers why
As I gaze at an evening crescent

Only between the sighs
As blood flows, porous, effervescent

So it was this time due
Ripped the scars vertically

For all these feelings...you're
Taken into nothing totally

Yes in my heart I bleed
Day, tomorrow, in eternity

Falling the crescent seed
By night dark within paternity

One hundred and one stitch
Reside to mend this remake fantasy

So flies the weathered witch
Across a crescent moon above me

Second Hand moonlight ray
Second guessing all that which I gave

Will I live to see day
Silence knows but has nothing to save

poem by Midnights Voice
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Love And Anger

it lay buried here
it lay deep inside me
it's so deep I don't think that I can speak about it
it could take me all my life
but it would only take a moment to
tell you what I'm feeling
but I don't know if I'm ready yet
you come waltzing into this room
like you're walking into my arms
what would I do without you?
CHORUS
take away the love and the anger
and the little piece of hope holding us together
looking for a moment that'll never happen
living in the gap between past and future
take away the stone and the timber
and a little piece of rope won't hold it together
if you can't tell your sister
if you can't tell a priest
cause it's so deep you don't think
that you can speak about it to anyone
can you tell it to your heart?
can you find it in your heart
to let go of these feelings
like a bell to a southerly wind
we could be like two strings beating
speaking in sympathy
what would we do without you?
two strings speak in sympathy
(what would we do without you?)
CHORUS
you might not think so now
but just you wait and see
(someone will come to help you

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Introspection

If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Fear, fear,
Fear of the jaws of the rock,
Fear of the teeth and splinters of iron that tear
Flesh from the bone, and the moist
Blood, running unfelt
From the wound, and the hand
Suddenly moist and red.

If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find?
Grief, grief,
Grief for the life unlived,
For the loves unloved,
For the child never to be born,
Th'unbidden anguish, when the fair moon
Rises over still summer seas, and the pain
Of sunlight scattered in vain on spring grass.

If you go deeper
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Death, death,
Death tht lets all go by,
Lets the blood flow from the wound,
Lets the night pass,
Endures the day with indifference, knowing that all must end.
Sorrow is not forever, ad sense
Endures no extremities,
Death is the last Secret implicit within you, the hidden, the deepest
Knowledge of all you will ever unfold
In this body of earth.

poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Endangered Species: The moon

Dear Moon,
Old faithful friend
of lovers and romantics,
you are our nearest celestial body,
a main distance of 238,857 miles
from Earth,
with a lunar globe diameter
Of 3473 kilometers,
and nevertheless,
we can hide you by a finger
held at arm's length.

Dear Moon,
Only natural satellite of Earth,
You move in a slightly elliptical orbit
With a period of sidereal revolution
In 27 days,7 hours,43 minutes
And 11.5 seconds,
But I still have some concerns
Deep down in my heart.

An untold variety of lunar seas,
oceans, craters and mountains
cover your face,
and, along with the Sun,
You cause the tidal action, too.

And, o, dear Moon,
You are always opaque,
and you are only visible to us,
because the Sun and Earthlight
illuminate your surface.
But this is not a serious problem.

On the other hand,
well, dear Moon,
last night
I was somewhat anxious,
as the shadows were growing
on the ceiling of my room
into strange fairy tales.
So I went carefully to the window
and saw your enigmatic crescent
of your visible face.

And then
I uttered a sigh of relief:
You were still there!

Still my dear Moon,
I read that in time to come
You might be redesigned
And turned into something
entirely different from today.

Blueprints for Lunar settlements
are already in the works
on designers' tables
and in the future
cities built by astronauts
will gyrate and revolve restlessly
in aloof outer space.

And so sooner
than we would think, the night
could be illuminated by artificial light,
emanating from contrived satellites.

And then dear Moon, perhaps,
You will feel that you are
not needed anymore
and on a long white night
You might even decide
to leave us entirely alone,
relocating to another cosmic arena
and becoming less than an illusion
of coded image on the retina.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Strumming The Strings Of My Heart

I watch you play,
Making a beautiful tune
The strings of the guitar shaking
As you sit in the light of the moon

Your plucking the strings
With great ease
Making a flowing melody
A pretty song, just for me

I continue to watch
You playing your guitar
Making me love you
While your strumming the strings of my heart

These strings will never be touched
By anyone but you
You go where no one else can
Leaving a mark, like a tattoo,
Saying I LOVE YOU

poem by Katniss Everdeen
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Deep in My Core

Deep in my core
beats my living heart.

Fighting through years
of planetary rotation,
gravity’s transparent hand
remanding quick blood
to constricted veins,

how long can it so remain?

When will it
grow still
and let go my
straining
soul?

On that glorious day
put me deep
in the living earth,

and there at last
will I feel
the beating heart
of God!

poem by Steven Federle
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Pro Rege Nostro

WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!

Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?

Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'

They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!

Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!

poem by William Ernest Henley
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What Have I Done For You

What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!

Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?

Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!

They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!

Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!