Golden End
All I wanted was to arrive from the absence
of me, through the sluice of scars; life was
never the same again. Some inner birth took place;
awakening of sorrow for the attempts to take on adversary.
Pure disquiet, I shed myself, fly in grains.
Truth scares, stalks on the hot dusty road;
blinds the pinnacle, gives a call, needles in
eyes, a cult blooms in the rubble of fallen roofs.
The self betrays, does not reach the door,
within grief the sky blames the senses of space,
the flying bird sprays blue sparks of silence,
a cadaver collects the fire of neglect.
A spoken body loses the arithmatic of
stubborn cleft in the faith, pebbles on the beach,
each one for a fallen man, kissing a snake.
The memorial has golden letters on black kill.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
A Lonely Bird On The Electric Wire
this afternoon i take a walk leading to the farm
it is harvest time
and i see the harvesters cutting the rice stalks filled with golden grains
they would group what they gather at a certain place
mounds and mounds of rice grains this time of a bumper year
on the other side are carabaos grazing
lots of grass to graze adding the recently cut rice stalks
i look at the clouds white and blue and shades of both
my attention is however caught by a single bird perched on the electrical wire connecting two poles about 30 meters apart
it is alone there
and i move closely to see whether it is really a bird
indeed it is one of the sparrows in the ricefield
but so unlike the rest it
it is sitting there alone.
our eyes met.
and i tell my wife about this lonely bird.
she says i am just making a metaphor
i sit alone in my garden now after dining
and i wonder if the bird flew back to its nest or to some territory of its own
where their species also live
and i wonder if the bird must be also telling the other birds that it saw
a man walking alone on that path leading to the farm
and unlike other men he prefers to walk alone
and i also think that perhaps the bird would also take issue about the fact that indeed
our eyes met
and i know the other birds would say
that it is nothing but also a sort of metaphor and to the least that
it is nothing but a kind of fable.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wait For You....
i wait for you...
inside the hollowed ache
of the empty space,
where the stump of the willow,
buried by grief, testifies!
where the old galvanized tub,
wanders from yard sale to neglect;
where the old Ford with mismatched tires,
sleeps in the indignity of crushed.
where the outhouse walls,
scorched by time's fires,
lies strewn, charred by random fate.
where the cry of wetness,
trapped by the urn,
awaits ash and stardust.
where the manger bleeds,
in the cobwebbed shed;
one set of footprints leads away!
where the cock curled
into the bark loses,
all trace of form or identity.
where gnarled fingers tremble
with every step,
and feet no longer answer.
where the tongue betrays
the secret heart,
where kings go to become fools.
where Hemingway's shotgun,
in stillness by the door,
waits for the final curtain.
where god returns all prayers,
rubbed raw by image;
and the face on every stone,
every broken branch, yes,
and every fallen leaf... is yours!
where want drives the clock
through the sleep purged night,
and the scent of dawn is you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Soiled Dove
Silent beauty,
cast into darkness,
bitter sweet silence,
pitched upon the beauties back,
blue eyes turn to black,
the soiled dove emerges,
cry for her,
she will never be the same,
broken,
fallen,
uncompromising,
sob for her,
for she cannot,
her pain made to raindrops,
falling upon her back,
abandoned sun weep for her,
you will never see her again,
forsaken,
used,
unable to resist the snake,
remarkable ignorance,
fallen before original sin,
tattered little soiled dove,
CRY FOR HER.
poem by Jason Karlan
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Over The Eyes Of Gladness
'The voice of One hath spoken,
And the bended reed is bruised--
The golden bowl is broken,
And the silver cord is loosed.'
Over the eyes of gladness
The lids of sorrow fall,
And the light of mirth is darkened
Under the funeral pall.
The hearts that throbbed with rapture
In dreams of the future years,
Are wakened from their slumbers,
And their visions drowned in tears.
. . . . . . .
Two buds on the bough in the morning--
Twin buds in the smiling sun,
But the frost of death has fallen
And blighted the bloom of one.
One leaf of life still folded
Has fallen from the stem,
Leaving the symbol teaching
There still are two of them,--
For though--through Time's gradations,
The LIVING bud may burst,--
The WITHERED one is gathered,
And blooms in Heaven first.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Golden Door
I am always bound to you but,
Will you not bide your years as i do bide mine?
I am always bound to you,
Like the dead flame of the fallen day;
Surely, i shall be wiser with you always.
Of the golden door under the palm tree,
We know each other than all our lives;
But a year is not so long ahead.
A life long hunger,
Like a drunkard's hand;
Come out and see the golden door.
Such a change,
Much to look for;
You have been my guide in this house.
I earnestly prayed for a sign and,
I grieve to see you poor and wanting my help;
But, can one love twice?
Like the dead flame of the fallen day.
The golden door,
You have closed the best among us;
But today, i am rich and well to do.
At the golden door,
She sold her wares for less;
But, growing she know not where.
Of the golden door,
Of where he fixed his heart to set his hand;
Come and see swimming eyes of love,
Can you ever be loved again? !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man
Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Fallen princess
Fallen princess is her new name for me,
fallen princess how she uses to call me,
so I start to doubt
Fallen princess, is this really me.
Once I sat on my high horse,
on the winner's throne.
Everything I wanted
was something on the floor, a dirty diamond.
So I climbed off my horse
and picked one of them.
By running away my white horse said
'Black isn't the shade of my soul, so let me go'.
A fallen princess with a dirty diamond.
Is this really me?
I don't know,
but you aren't allowed to judge me.
©
poem by Maryelle Anthony
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Fallen dream
I look at you
You look at me
In my life this is my fallen dream
Its fallen girl
Who has a fallen view
Becouse its a fallen dream
Fallen dream, Fallen girl and fallen view
With her beautifull shiny eyes
When she smile she blings happeness
Because she is honesT
So i look at you
You look at me
Its an eye contact
Please dont walke me up
Thise drea to me its liality
Me and her for litanity
poem by Peter K silungwe
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Rotten Apple
Hey ah na na
Ignorance is spoken
Spoken
Confidence is broken
Broken
Sustenance is stolen
Stolen
Arrogance is potent
What I see is unreal
Ive written my own part
Eat of the apple, so young
Im crawling back to start
Hey ah na na
A romance is fallen
Fallen
I repent tomorrow
Tomorrow
Is suspended my sorrow
Sorrow
Recommend you borrow
song performed by by Alice In Chains
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Silver
Silence adrift with golden sunset.
Fallen shadows cast upon mankind.
Silent hopes and dreams of reality.
Cast forth with silver silence.
Set adrift upon milk fed shores.
Calling forth the inner shadows.
Setting the fallen idol in raptures.
Casting spells which reflect kindness.
Sunken fallen empty hollow ship.
Cast forth the raptures into silence.
Empty bottomless silence, king of hearts.
Fallen idols again sound to silver silence.
Beat upon the wind swept shores of life.
copyright 2005 POEWHIT
search: POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black Sheep
in the silence of the fallen,
we walk hand in hand through the fire.
through the streets of hell unashamed
we who are written by desire.
with prayers for the wounded,
for the bodies left beside the road.
with a hand for the children
bowed beneath a heavy load.
speaking truth without deception,
living by the code of the heart.
knowing there is no difference
in the shadows between light and dark
risking it all for a stranger,
might be your long lost brother.
standing for what we feel
standing for one another.
and the souls of the weary weep....
in the ground where the beaten sleep.
knowing the life given's all we keep.....
fallen angels, fugitives, and black sheep.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Snake; an oracle of oath
The godless men worship the snake
The godless men take oath in name of snake
And the curse comes upon wrongdoer
The godless men take oath in the name of snake
And blessing rains upon the innocent
The godless men take oath in the name of snake
And snake bitten dead the lair
And snake spare life of the truer
Despite snake answers to godless men
No votive or thank given to snake, the god
So the stopped the men to swear
By it name, snake said men used
Thunder and fire for swearing instead of it name
As snake disowned the godless men
Hex fallen upon
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Last Split Second
Sometimes in the heat of despair
we lost sight of perspective
It bends and curves and distorts
Like light round a black hole
and what we think of as truth is wildy out of proportion
yes the grains of truth are there running through the narrow waist of our preception
but each individual speck is not the beach, the beach is more than grains of sand
is this your last split second? will you spend it looking at a grain of sand or at the beach?
poem by Jilted BUTTERFLY
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The Black Bird...
it was her black bird
first that saw and i never stopped thinking since then
figuring what is the meaning of having
those black wings
flying
and to where is this direction heading?
from my mouth is borne the
blackbird bearing my own name
at the tip of its
beak
and it is flying now too low to touch
the needles of the pines
do you not see that it is tired
and wants to hover on one of those twigs?
how can you relate to blackbirds?
they grown from our throats and comes out
from our lips
and they keep on flying
wishing you can keep it flying still
higher and higher
until you finally give up
and tell the truth
about its
flesh and bones
until you remove all its black feathers
and burn all them
for the gods to smell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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With Love Chikwado
WITH LOVE
CHIKWADO
When the stars tell
The chimes of bell
And rivers drink
The shred of sinks
In an ocean across drops
A new life dies and sprout
When the night falls at day
And the candle light remains at bay
A new song I chant
By the dawn of ant
In a group of sorrow
Pains beyond life's row
When the sky bleeds
In sunny heavenly seeds
Your name plays a rhyme
In a canvass forever mine
A pound without blood
Or the forgotten lots
When the old stays
And the infants strays
Gathering stems
With grains of lost gems
In a world forever gone
Let the fire call to be one
When the forest
Cast its new to rest
Who shall bring forth wood
Where the fallen men stood
Reciting the names
Of all fallen dames
A ballad
To
A lad
poem by Venessa Ambrose
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The Sky Or My Reflection?
The sky above me is blank
and it's empty!
It's not like the beautiful sky
that saw me
over the waterworks
beyond the fields
The sky
that merged into the water
and created a vaccuum in space
towards the left side of the bridge.
and for a moment,
ended the differences between the mighty heavens and the lowly earth
and for a moment,
made me feel the unity,
the being and the nothingness.
It's not like that dark starry sheet
that mesmerized me on the mountains,
and made me wonder
about the infinite galaxies
that might be staring back at us,
and made me forget the swirling road
in front of me,
and made me happy.
Its not like that womb of the virgin moon
that covered the ocean,
that transcended into the web of my thought
and very nearly inspired me to drown.
This sky, however, is blank
and dusty
and it seems to fade away
into an unknown oblivion.
It seems to have lost its reason to live.
It seems to be dejected, miserable.
...or maybe its me.
My eyes, that see it so!
Perhaps it is me
I have never been this gloomy
That night when the sky
was bright
with beautifully lit stars,
infinite shiny scars,
we had walked by the shore
tracing an infinte bewildering pattern
in the plains high above in space
the sky was happy, that night.
that morning when I woke up
and thought that in a petty bollywood flick
someone had given a nice remedy of calming the nerves
and I had stood before the rising sun
to rejuvenate my senses
The sky was a clear blue blanket
The sky was happy and full, that morning.
But today
when
I trudge on a dusty road,
on a dusty afternoon,
fatigued and tired,
finding a lost way
that leads to the place I call my home,
the sky is blank
and miserable
there are no birds up there today
no wisps of furry clouds
just vast dusty emptiness
no tender curves
just blunt edges
....or is it me,
my eyes, that see it so?
poem by Waqas Naeem
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Woman Is Fire
There was a time when Woman went out of house, house of wax was left by Woman, Woman with waxen complexion I was, I was fiery Woman, Woman's body was a wax, Woman's eyes a flammable paraffin, what Woman's mouth was: withered red apples when Woman was fired out of house. House was invisible when Woman took a fire lamp and went to cheer in the smell of fallen apples, scattered around house, our moldy house. In the cold night Woman molded her body in a candle mould to revive old fire and saw Man that gathered apple stalks from moldy apple trees. It was a lonely man, Man that made a fire with waxed paper and moldering apple stalks. Man that sat outdoors on a moldy wooden bench by that fire and drunk applejack.
Woman saw Man, Man that felt Woman's looks through apple shaped embers bursting out of fire when wet apple leaves dried. Fire was a necessity for Man, for Man made his living being a fire-eater. The fire-eater wanted fire that gives birth, of fireworks, exploding fire. Man moved a long green apple stalk through fire to burn fire more. Man took a dropp and swallowed it. Man took another dropp and spat it into the fire. Suddenly Man realized what he needed and waxed on a piece of paper: fire must drink applejack for fire is becoming moldy, and he spat what he drunk mingled with apple-tasting spit. House is moldy too, Woman remembered and woman's heart became a rotten apple.. Fire was quenching as Woman closed her eyelids, apple peels, longing for house. House may be moldy, but house is not empty. Woman molded house the like, house full of candle lights and fireflies. Woman left Man's fire quenched and remained an apple scented candle. House melts easily and hardens quickly, Woman too. Woman abandoned Man not to be melt. That is old fire in Woman, as she stalks on apple waxed earth toward house.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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Already Fallen
(Bob DiPiero/Pam Tillis)
You come bangling on the screen door,begging me to let you in
All I got to say is, "Honey,where you been!"
This time I think it's you that's surrenderin'
I've already fallen
Yeah,I've already fallen
If you're waiting on me you're backing up
I'm way in over my head in love
It's true,well,I've already fallen for you
Well you look so serious leaning on the Frigidaire
And gee,it's sweet of you to ask me if I really care
But,honey,I'm already picking out the silverware,you see
I've already fallen
Yeah,I've already fallen
If you're waiting on me you're backing up
I'm way in over my head in love
It's true,well,I've already fallen for you
I must have played this scene out a hundred times in my head
That you'd look into my eyes and say you love me like you just did
But you'd better tell me twice,cause I'm still one step ahead,oh...
I've already fallen
Yeah,I've already fallen
If you're waiting on me you're backing up
I'm way in over my head in love
It's true,well,I've already fallen for you
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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