Ending Of Time?
The identity moves ahead
of the shadow of truth
I search for the absolute
in vain. Can I remove the emptiness
and talk to myself?
The core feeling is same.
We flow in our own separateness.
I want to outlive my brethren
and eat my death alone.
Mindful I watch the kernel,
swaying tree is silent
I am here due to a fault in the genes.
Grief is not my skull house.
Each night I sleep with dry lips
dreaming a lake.
My pillow floats like a chopped moon.
Silence of anonymity
in the heart of a storm.
It is a curious apparition.
The vibrations of distant whispers
fill up the lungs,
ripping apart the veins.
My inside blood utters
a shrill sob.Where to go?
We cannot return back. Ending of time?
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
White House
It was a rape of a city. Go ahead.
I still speak the old phrases
with back pain.
And let fly the silence
in beautiful emptiness
of a swollen heart.
On pain of anonymity
I wanted to clear my name
from tangled fame.
The after death comfort
of words when clarity
moves in the home of a meaning.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Silence of that feeling
The silence of that feeling
The silence of that feeling
rustling past the moon
into the stars
that pour their glory
at the earth
The silence of that feeling
dreaming of climbing
the abyss
I dived into
The silence of that feeling
venturing into my night -
an area as yet unexplored
whispers a kiss
that whispers a Welcome
as yet untold.
But there comes the time when
that feeling speaks.
Vassilis Comporozos
poem by Vassilis Comporozos
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
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Paradigms Of Progress
Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.
You will never know
where you start a rough patch
on the road?
A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.
My knees give way to anguish of morality:
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.
Tapping of kernel in hard shell of truth bothers me,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.
Death of desire may take place
Fragrance still devastates the moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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And I Under The Moon
The jug and I under the moon
and my lips around the neck of the bottle of wine,
by the moon light is it full of the flowers dew,
I pour the scarcity of each dropp and it's association
against the bamboo and I watch to need the heron it's
crest off i see it go by as a dragons shadow independently.
Moving off, 'Therefore before the lifting of the glass,
I invite you because of our friendship,
revalations are made as to my shadow which then makes up
the moon myself and it's our three.
Is it not known my shadow follows each movement of my body
swaying as the leaves from which the rice it makes is simply.
Moon of moon shining down between shows us company
and my shadow because I am by you for wine maintained,
as to the spring flowing forth nothing is forever
and would be assisted wise are you adjusted too practice
each our lips the neck of the bottle of wine our pleasure.
As for me and as for you the moon I who am I have begun
babmboo in sleep before I go, the stand gently rising,
you dance and the shadow it moves strangely
and with you including swan song.
I' Between; Still you be looking up at the dark sky
moon smiling down and of which you are consciously, moving.
Afterwards, and you rejoice mutually; exclusively then thus do I
and Each one tried where it was, we laid down our heads
friend of moon, knew us drunk to go off searching for the shadow of your friend. Passion is less this night when travelling.
Under the moon and friends are friends, permits that fact, we are.
l.p.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Death, My Salvation
Death, the never-ending blackness,
From where comes no man back
It is to this emptiness
That my heart calls out to me.
Death, the blissful deliverance,
Where each of us pay our debt
It is time that I paid
A visit to my banker
Death, the final frontier
A place unrestrained
It is to this freedom
That my will hails me to go.
Death, my shadow
A shadow, with me day and night
Come rain or sun, happiness or sadness
It never leaves my side.
Death, my only friend,
My only salvation
poem by Arun George
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On the desert
On the desert
A silence from the moon's deepest valley.
Fire rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.
Before them, a woman
Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles
And distant thunder of drums,
While mystic things, sinuous, dull with terrible colour,
Sleepily fondle her body
Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the sand.
The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes,
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The wind streams from the lone reaches
Of Arabia, solemn with night,
And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood
Over the robes of the hooded men
Squat and dumb.
Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow,
Circle the throat and the arms of her,
And over the sands serpents move warily
Slow, menacing and submissive,
Swinging to the whistles and drums,
The whispering, whispering snakes,
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The dignity of the accursed;
The glory of slavery, despair, death,
Is in the dance of the whispering snakes.
poem by Stephen Crane
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What You Do Best
Take to the blade
slice my flesh
watch me bleed
make it flow
flood the streets
paint with my blood
swim in my blood
Sink away in my placenta
drown in me
laugh at my wounds
Howl at the moon
this is what you do best
rinse my veins
wash my heart
bleach my lungs
curse my soul
Howl at the moon
this is what you do best
poem by Lola Sanchez
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Night Secrets
Night Secrets…
No more my aching heart
As you sleep silent in my breast
Awakening in the night
I await your sweet caress
My aching, barren arms in vain
So many times I've wept
At night upon my pillow
While in my bed I slept
Night secrets in the darkness
Like dark, murky shadows
That linger in the night
The rain softly whispers
Through the wind and trees
Carrying my secrets
To the moon shining bright
Secrets kept deep within my heart
They whisper in the night
No one else may listen
There's no one else in sight
They echo through the evening
Those things I cannot share
My secrets whispering in the darkness
Like a breeze fluttering through air
Until then…
I'll wait my love
For your soft, caressing touch
With the stars softly glowing
Through the window in my room
I lie quietly in my bed
With the shadows of the night
Whispers flow in the breeze
Sending them gently to the moon
Until then…
I'll wait til you come again
When I can softly whisper in your ear
Those secrets that I carry
Sharing secrets...
With the one I love so dear
Until then I'll wait...
For my heart belongs to only you
poem by ANNE P LadeeAnne MURRAY
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The Moon Rhyme
In letters red
Whispers are shed
Of blood stained tears
And skin born paths
In letters red
The whispers bled
Deathbed fears
Aftermaths
Don’t cry at the Moon
Companion boon
Of travellers’ passing word
In distant planes
The light disdains
The dirge forever unheard
And hides the caves
Like tokens shed
The wall that craves
The words unsaid
To bury them deep inside
In whispers rushing tide
Don’t cry at the Moon
Companion boon
Across the sky born glide
In distant planes
The light disdains
The darkness hidden inside
And hides the face
Like a token shed
The silent trace
The words unsaid
To find a well so deep
Their place in death to sleep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Strange Relationship
Death has been my partner,
my best friend.
Every day the fear,
greets me in my bed,
and body starts dying.
I join the play.
The sun clips the clouds,
my lungs fills with aroma.
A golden bird starts singing
on the swaying leaves of palm.
Death smears me with ideas,
larger than pain
before and after it was foggy.
I sleep, half-opened eyes,
watching over with face
to the window.
Life moves from grief to grief.
A tiny seed pulsates
in the crevice of mind,
I love a view like that.
One hundred moons
and a dying sun.
An immence contrast.
Whom shall I choose as a prologue?
I cannot tread the center
of unborn story. The clouds
are always crimson before
the night. Life has
a shadow of death – and a strange
relationship survives.
poem by Satish Verma
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Three Imaginary Boys
Walk across the garden
In the footsteps of my shadow
See the lights out
No one's home
In amongst the statues
Stare at nothing in
The garden moves
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys
Slipping through the door
Hear my heart beats in the hallway
Echoes
Round and round
Inside my head
Drifting up the stairs
I see the steps behind me
Disappearing
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys sing in my
Sleep sweet child
The moon will change your mind
See the cracked reflection
Standing still
Before the bedroom mirror
Over my shoulder
But no one's there
Whispers in the silence
Pressing close behind me
Pressing close behind
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost love
I was born with so much love,
my heart was strong like a storm.
My passion for love was so high,
i loved with all my heart.
I could feel it flow through my veins,
its light shined through my days.
Its a feeling that gave me hope,
a feeling i loved utmost.
But as days goes by, my heart became weak,
the mighty storm was fading away in a wink.
My heart became lost amidst a storm,
it could withstand love no more.
The flow of love dried away from my veins,
its light faded away, darkness darkened my days.
My heart is sad, love is set ablaze
i wept all night for my love story became a lost tale.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Lakescape
After the rain wets the ground,
a damp, naked silence,
floats in air
on the wrong side of the moon.
A strange mist, like a post coital whiff
envelops you savagely.
The testa breaks.
A forest heaves beneath your nails.
History moves through the layers
of family. You become a forgotten saint,
an archaic reminder of half-solid
truth. Green mirrors reflect a fading sun.
Wasps are climbing on a presence,
for a kill. A lake drifts in the yes
to stun the departure. You breathe
death dreaming a blue flower.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Backwards Boy in the Backwards World
In the early morning, she is lying on the floor. He kneels and whispers, 'I love you.' And whishes he was sorry. He doesn't want to move, so he stays, dreaming about what they could have had if she would have only listened to him. He shakes his head, floating between dreaming and waking, knowing that they're coming to take him away from her forever.
He stares down at her. She is pale and covered with blood and bruises. She doesn't look like a real person. Everything seems strange, like a dream. Like a nightmare in which you lose everything. Light shines through the bloody windows, like an enchanted forest, the dappled shadow of the red leaves rippled on her silent body. He peers through the door, waiting, and thinking of years ago when he first met her. First loved her. First controled her. But years is only the day before yesterday. He is still trying to believe that they will never take her body. but the house is cracking open, because last night, he made her perfect. He made her his.
That's all there is to it. And for no reason, other than his love. He soon realizes that everything feels strange, like dreams that he stays in forever.
But also, he feels ordinary, as if the world has always been this way, and he knows that she wanted this, too, because she loved him. He puts his lips to her ear and says, 'This is how it is when someone loves you, ' and smiles. He makes her lips smile back and remembers all over again all the wishes she whispered and it hurst his heart. He brushes her long hair back. 'It's a shame it took this for you to be perfect. Today, you'll find out what perfection is, ' he whispers. He closes her eyes and holds her hand. 'So pretty when you sleep.' Finally, he opens her eyes and kisses her. She tastes like home. Her round blue eyes are glazed over with Death and Fear, but he likes them, and leaves them open so he can look at them.
When they come, he decides, he will hide behind his face. It's a good trick to have. You turn your face into a mask and then you are safe behind it, especially when they try to take what is yours.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Incompatibility
Higher there, higher, far from the ways,
from the farms and the valleys, beyond the trees,
beyond the hills and the grasses’ haze,
far from the herd-trampled tapestries,
you discover a sombre pool in the deep
that a few bare snow-covered mountains form.
The lake, in light’s, and night’s, sublime sleep,
is never disturbed in its silent storm.
In that mournful waste, to the unsure ear,
come faint drawn-out sounds, more dead than the bell,
of some far-off cow, the echoes unclear,
as it grazes the slope, of a distant dell.
On those hills where the wind effaces all signs,
on those glaciers, fired by the sun’s pure light,
on those rocks, where dizziness threatens the mind,
in that lake’s vermilion presage of night,
under my feet, and above my head,
silence, that makes you wish to escape;
that eternal silence, of the mountainous bed
of motionless air, where everything waits.
You would say that the sky, in its loneliness,
gazed at itself in the glass, and, up there,
the mountains listened, in grave watchfulness
to the mystery nothing that’s human can hear.
And when, by chance, a wandering cloud
darkens the silent lake, moving by,
you might think that you saw some spirit’s robe,
or else its clear shadow, travelling, over the sky.
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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We sleep like hours unslept in the eyes
we sleep like hours unslept in the eye
we wakefully take them to the first of dawn
'let something break out' you say
and I am silent my eyes are silent
my lips are pregnant with sleep
we sleep like leaves forgotten by the tree
we rootlessly take them to a garden heart
'let something plant us' you say
and I am sad my eyes are sad
my lips are yearning for sleep
we sleep like lakes moon shattered rays
we facelessly list them unto the names
'let there be something' you say
and I am crying my eyes are crying
my lips can deliver no sleep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Aint Nothin But A Maybe
(n. ashford/v. simpson)
Could it be hes interested
Or am I just wanting it to be so
Do I dare speak to him
Should I let the moment go
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to know
Could it be hes just friendly
That aint nothing to get excited about
On the other hand he could be answering
Good vibrations Im sending out
Well I just dont know
What Im really seeing
Should I make a move
Or keep on day dreaming
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to
I wanna know
I wanna know
I wanna know
I sure would like to
Could it be hes interested
Should I let the moment go
Forget this feeling inside
Forget this feeling inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
I sure would like to
I wanna know
I wanna know
I wanna know
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
Should I let the feeling flow
Should I just let it flow
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Aint nothing maybe, baby
Forget this hunger inside
Forget this hunger inside
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lily's Silent Tears
Each night Lily lay down her weary head
She pulled her pillow closer
Turned her face buried it deep as it soaked up all the silent tears
She cried, she begged,
She wished she hoped but most of all she closed her eyes and prayed
From the corners of her closed eyes a tear escaped….two… three….till she set them all free
Lily cried herself to sleep night after night
Crying over life and love lost
Time slipped by
High above in the heavens one night
There way up above you and I
Upon the brightest star
Sat he
Writing away his heart
He felt a tremor run through his heart
He heard a distant cry
He closed his eyes and there deep within the beauty of his loving heart He saw that tear
One silent solitary sad burning tear that bore so much pain
He closed his eyes and wished and willed
To see the owner of the tear
The silent tear that caused the tremor in his heart
He found Lily lying on her pillow crying herself to sleep
He reached out and touched her
Soothed her healed her loved her
Her days filled with warmth
Her nights filled with moonlight and love
Then one cold night he left a tremor in her heart
With unspoken word
He told her
He loved her
They were friends
But
He could never love her in the same way that she loved him
For his heart was already taken
Night after night once again Lily lays her head upon her faithful pillow
Night after night once gain she cries herself to sleep
Night after night once again she feels the tremor inside her heart
But
Night after night he feels the tremor of another
Just FYI
my luxury is time
my profession does not matter
i do not spend time in sleep
i walk
even at night to talk with the moon
and listen to the stars
my time is short
but my mind is expanding like that space
between the two of us
we search for nothing
we find nothing in return
my profession is dead
i am still alive
the moon in silence talks a lot
and the stars are jealous
i diffuse myself as air in space
now i am everywhere
and then you begin to ask
why
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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