Happy Valley Of Stings
I don’t fake the pain
pain was me.
A grafted rose opens up along the road rage.
This was the city of my birth
my oblivion, my reincarnation
ejaculated from the dark.
Here I found the golden dust
nuggets of truth
and the nostalgia of a broken moon.
The marble white love
and green bowl of arms
a happy valley of stings.
The sun backtracks on hills
when I walk on sands
leaving the deep scars.
A small horizon was my window
hunger of nightingales on branches.
The tree was walking in, my house.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Entranced
It was a broken lamp,
the orphean tragedy.
You were found sexless
in a naked bowl.
Making love on hay
the moon crashed/on moonstones.
Memory of shells tossed on bed
of roses/was still alive.
The divine leaf falls/opens the
scars of plums. Immoral,
a white tiger pounces on a
rimless scream.
Covered with crocus you break
the brown hills. Through touch
I meet you in dark. My green hands
hold you in folded palms like a firefly.
poem by Satish Verma
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Through the Green Valley
Through the green valley and past the crooked tree
there lies a place of love and tranquility
where food and water are in abundancy
and children play happy free from tyranny.
Through the green valley and past the golden tree
there is a place of art and wonder and glee
where people sing and dance in jeu d' esprit
and families are happy not refugees.
Through the green valley and past the diamond tree
there a place of beauty a land of the free
where people live in a state of ecstasy
and pain is vanquished there is no misery.
Through the green valley and past the godly tree
There the kingdom of heaven 'grandiosity'
poem by Wade Harlaine
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The Case Of The Window Pain
an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention
this wit must be
personification
of a window pane
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty
as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked
as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness
as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict
as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Rose Upon Rose
Let me put back
the rhythm to the song
of broken limbs.
To arrest the speed of sun-set,
for a meaningful dialogue
with the verse of moon.
The poison of floodlit city
grazes my house.
The innocence of the dark suffers.
The white stillness
of empty hands lifts a failure
my heart lives with a death
Intimately. Where the birds have gone?
I chase the wings.
The otherness of love,
the vulnerability of darkness
stays with me.
The thirst of ocean is very large.
Mechanical imitation
of aloneness for a ripe death
it is nostalgia of past history.
Deep in thoughts I run
for my green childhood.
A strange metastasis
from remote guilts. A rose
upon rose piled up
to form a signature mode.
poem by Satish Verma
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Pain Is My Friend
pain is my only gain,
pain is my friend,
pain so deep and cold,
i feel at home with the dark pain,
i love pain pain is my friend,
pain will bring back my love,
pain will give me life once again,
pain so deep and cold,
is the only way i can have,
my love and my friend,
pain is the worlds friend,
pain shows us if we do wrong,
pain shows us who we are,
pain is not only in the dark,
but in the light as well,
pain is so deep and cunning,
pain can show me who i am,
pain shows the world who we are,
pain is my only friend,
with out love theres pain,
with out anyone theres pain,
with out the sun with out the moon,
theres pain so as you can see,
pain is with us and always will be,
pain will never leave its a marriage,
its a soul and a part of you,
that will never leave,
pain is my friend and it is your too....
poem by Richard Belis
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Mans Road
Written by jimmy webb, 1982
Found on the last unicorn soundtrack and your move (french import only).
Horizon rising up to meet the purple dawn
Dust demon screaming, bring an eagle to lead me on
For in my heart I carry such a heavy load
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
Im hungry, weary, but I cannot lay me down
The rain comes, dreary, but theres no shelter I have found
It will be a long time till I find my abode
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road
Moon rising, disguising lonely streets in gay displays
The stars fade, the night shade falls and makes the world afraid
It waits in silence for the sky to explode
Here I am on mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
Walking mans road, walking mans road, walking mans road
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Pain
I live inthe house of pain
And inside of that house of pain is very cold
But to fix it I had to buy a small heater
And now the house of pain is warm
But there are dust and dust mites
And the only way that I can fix it
Is by sweeping all over the house of pain
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Path Of Destiny
The questions haunt
the genes who could’t stay
in flesh and a womb.
A winter moon picks up
the forgotten trail.
Night slaps a white cloud on my eyes.
A face swims on a lake.
A splash of color.
A yellow leaf falls
on the path of destiny
the moon enters a tree.
Burden of arithmetic shifts.
I take a break from my pain.
A star twinkles hesitantly
outlines a shadow.
I watch a violet flame.
The fear sprints.
I run towards a non-truth
Revenge of love overwhelms,
journies to zero pain.
Inward window opens to more queries.
Life revisits, ignites the dark spaces.
Intimate trust melts like lava.
poem by Satish Verma
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Take Her
As she danced about the sun,
She whitened the green plains under her;
As she moved about the moon,
She whitened the red valley below her;
But, in the light of her golden wings i do rest my case.
With a gentle motion in heaven's blue smile,
Over the lakes and the plains with her sweet love;
But in the depths of the purple sea,
The stars peeped behind her and peered.
She is very far away but,
Her love and rest ardour me;
And the diamond lights up her secret mine like,
The dark plains below her;
Which is found in an old region when looking for her.
The pearl gleams forth from her coral strand,
Like the wealth of the seas;
Over her sands of gold i do respect.
Not there my child,
Over here to see the fearless eyes of love;
Like the lit by her deep love's truth.
Her love is like the flowers of the bees,
Remembering the day when she first came;
Take her as your wife and make love to her.
Take her like the sages of Egypt,
Take her like the wealth of the seas,
The very lit by her deep love's truth;
Study her dance and be in love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Spice-Tree
This is the song
The spice-tree sings:
"Hunger and fire,
Hunger and fire,
Sky-born Beauty—
Spice of desire,"
Under the spice-tree
Watch and wait,
Burning maidens
And lads that mate.
The spice-tree spreads
And its boughs come down
Shadowing village and farm and town.
And none can see
But the pure of heart
The great green leaves
And the boughs descending,
And hear the song that is never ending.
The deep roots whisper,
The branches say:—
"Love to-morrow,
And love to-day,
And till Heaven's day,
And till Heaven's day."
The moon is a bird's nest in its branches,
The moon is hung in its topmost spaces.
And there, to-night, two doves play house
While lovers watch with uplifted faces.
Two doves go home
To their nest, the moon.
It is woven of twigs of broken light,
With threads of scarlet and threads of gray
And a lining of down for silk delight.
To their Eden, the moon, fly home our doves,
Up through the boughs of the great spice-tree;—
And one is the kiss I took from you,
And one is the kiss you gave to me.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Valley Road
While no one was looking on the old plantation
He took her all the way down the long valley road
They sent her away not too much later
Left him walking down the old valley road.
Sometimes I lead, sometimes I follow
This time Ill go where she wants me to go
She said maybe today, maybe tomorrow
Go deep in the woods down the long valley road
Walk on walk on little doll walk
Walkon little doll
Out in the hall they were talkin in a whisper
Everybody noticed she was gone a while
Somebody said she was gone to her sisters
Everyone knew what they were talkin about.
While no one was looking on the old plantation
He showed her what they do down the long valley road
Came back around like nothin really happened
Left him standing on the old valley road
Walk on walk on little doll walk on
Walk on little doll
Walk on, walk on the valley road
Standing like a stone on the old plantation
Rich old man wouldnt ever let him in
Good enough to hire, not good enough to marry
When it all happens, nobody wins
Walk on walk on little doll walk on
Walkon little doll etc
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Spill Blood
(what is the law? )
(what is the law? )
Animals came from miles around
So tired of walking so close toe the ground
They needed a chance, thats what they said
Life is better walking on two legs
But they were in for a big surprise
cause they didnt know the law!
Chorus
(what is the law)
No spill blood
What is the law
(no spill blood)
(who makes the rules)
Someone else
Who makes the rules
(someone else)
The rules are written in the stone
Break the rules and you get no bones
All you get is ridicule, laughter
And a trip to the house of pain!
Chorus (in reverse order)
We walk on two legs not on four
To walk on four legs breaks the law
What happens when we break the law?
What happens when the rules arent fair?
We all know here we go from there
To the house of pain!
To the house of pain!
(what is the law)
What is the law
(who makes the rules)
Who makes the rules
We walk on two legs not on four
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
(no spill blood)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Found You- (for my best friend)
Alone in this world,
Not meant for me to live in, I never knew
Why the sun rose and set, why it rained so hard-
My tears, my tears-That fell upon the edge of time-
The three quarter moon last night
I could almost reach with arms outstretched-
So it seemed, so I wondered where in this universe
Is there a place for me? Every morning, every night
Walking the same path hoping to find,
At the end of my journey-
Although only the same valley,
The same trees and the same creek- and
Then I found you.
You, with the sparkling eyes of green,
You with the hair, reddish gold as the sun
That rose and set and
That welcoming, winning smile and
Then I could see that outstretched arms
Could belong to someone else and
How these arms were reaching out to me?
Instantly you became a blossoming daffodil
In the same familiar valley, standing stately
Beneath that same familiar tree, wading in that nearby creek-
Alone as I, you were and we connected as
Two shooting stars meeting in the universe so vast and
The rain stopped, as we circle danced with the
Elegance and mysticism as the rings of Saturn?
As with the wave of the hand of a sorcerer, we became one-
Sharing our delusions of the meaning of life,
Together we found a world of our own- one meant for the
Two of us alone- where the sun rose and set-
Just for you and I, and I know now that no matter how hard it rains and
Even if I never saw the sun rise and set again
My tears- my tears have disappeared because I have found you-
My own sun- that shooting star that has given me light and
I can see to walk down any path and no matter which path I walk-
I shall find you near and shall never be alone, again-
And when we reach the end of any path- we shall circle dance together
Surrounded by the light emitted from our laughter,
Beneath the light of the three quarter moon-
Upon the edge of time, everlasting…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
And down the road I look and there runs Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they've all come to meet me
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane I'd walk with my sweet Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yesm they've all come
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me
At the gray walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak
Again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the
Green, green grass of home...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shadow
The shadow of your threshold is so full
Of meaning, that the stranger knows what home
Is yours, if peace dwell here, or strife, or restless
Unsatisfied ambition. As the tree's
Deep shadow meaneth rest and comfort, or
Is poison, sleep eternal, such the house
That is a home's sweet shadow or a dark
Abode of sin, of lurking lie and danger.
The shadow of your life, that is so small
In bright midday and summer's burning sun,
Begins to lengthen when your evening comes,
And shows the beauty of the tree in outline,
Its graceful forms, its harmony and power;
And never did its beauty strike before,
As now, when lost in thought, you contemplate
The shadow on the lawn. The golden rays
That flood it, make it higher, nobler, and
Its shadow ever greater, till the night
Calls forth the moon, to make it deep and weird
As if unspoken pain had darkened it,
As if the silvery paleness of the moon
Sharpened its features into hardness almost.
Behold the shadow of thy life! Look well if
It be a threshold that reveals the strong
Unbending will, the height of all your aims,
Your passions' darkness, and the harmony
Of all the branches that were put into
Your care! Look at the shadow when your day
Is done, and winter's moon will draw its line
In naked truth, without the flattering leaves
Upon your windingsheet's unruffled snow.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Empty mind
Do you know the pain
of somebody on the road,
freezing alone? In Asperger syndrome?
You do not want to talk
about the forest of words; -
though a small window opens
to the hazy mountain in dense fog.
The shadow lengthens,
when you stand against the sun.
a stupid thing, being a
proud owner of an evening moon.
Where does the small island
of narration lead you? A
temple of nobody's god?
I am frightened now.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Path into the bushes
There’s a road like out of a dream
or a fairy tale
that twists into the bushes,
but it’s white and pure
with innocence where it snakes
into the undergrowth
and the sky is open
and blue white to the horizon.
I walk pass a great white tree
with orange brown leaves
that rises above me
and a long dried out tree
of which the branches
reach like fingers into the air.
I follow the path
to the long blue gum trees
that are covered
with dark green leaves
and the odour of the trees
and the wood
hangs heavy in the air
and there’s something concrete
that’s stronger than a dream
[Reference: Wooded landscape by Mandi. Look at the painting on my web page: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1413_Path_into_th e_bushes.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
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If I Could Fly
Last night I had a dream that I could fly-
To fly above this untrustworthy and cruel world
Would be my utmost desire-
Every place I walk I see threat in people's eyes-
From the day I was born I have always been misunderstood-
And not accepted as the person I was truly meant to be-
Not by my mother, neither by my father, and in all actuality
Not by any of the people who exist around me.
Walking alone on a trail throughout this magical kingdom,
Where branches of trees reach upward to touch the sky-
I see deer running freely through the forest and I see cardinals and robins
Flying about without a care-they don't know the pain in being human or
Certainly not the pain of never having been accepted-
To fly above this world is my fondest desire- even when I am not dreaming-
The sun would be my Mandela- magically so, and never burning me-
As the moon would be my candle guiding me throughout
This magnificent universe at nightfall-
I am a believer that fantasy can become reality.
I am a believer that somewhere in this universe, another world exists
Where I can be myself and I would be respected.-
Somehow my arms have become wings which have been painted gold as are the stars,
I would lift my golden wings and fly
As they take me on an exiting and rewarding adventure
Inside the world of my dreams which has become my only veracity-
The light of the moon reflects in my golden wings that are carrying me away-
Away from, threatening intruders and those who have misapprehended me-
Perhaps I could remain in this world if I could become a bird,
Able to fly so freely about the woodlands and never be slighted or ridiculed-
Nobody would have any expectations of me and my golden wings would take me
Wherever I wished to go and I would be joyful for once in my lifetime-
Never seeing threat in anyone's eyes, neither misfortune or mistrust-and
To perch myself upon a branch of some gorgeous oak tree on a hill,
Without a care in this world- just content to have escaped humanity and
Happy to be alive, singing songs of peace, and never knowing what pain is all about?
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The May Flower Tree
I was walking lone there,
Where we once had been.
I sought the house we lived in,
In the lush lush green.
Perhaps inmates out, I thought,
As none I could see.
She has been haunting ever,
Where's May Flower Tree?
Looked around and discovered,
Ah! she lost her grace!
Hugged her with my eager hands,
Alone at that place.
Touched her old bark earnestly,
Felt the touch of past.
Childhood cried in deep deep pain,
Days crept in we passed.
Suddenly the tree turned green,
The Sun shone brightly.
I saw the May Flower Tree,
An emblem of Infancy!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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