Somewhere, it's dawn
Somewhere first light opens the eyes of the downtrodden;
And mirrored mountains paint the morning bright;
Somewhere the warm winds relax,
And the songs of the sea and field
Sing a heady yield;
Somewhere two lovers meet again;
And a dying poet puts down his final pen;
Somewhere a man of unending torture
Rests his forgiven head,
And free blankets and thick pillows billow
On a fearless bed.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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In My Own Emptiness
night is a home of dreams
restive bed, warm blankets
soft pillows,
your head rests in my arms
you are asleep
my night is a home of your
dreams
i am your solace in this
darkness
now i too, am complete
i am an emptiness gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big, Wide, White Soft Pillow On My Bed Tonight
big, wide, white soft pillows
on my bed tonight
my head rests for a while
as i wait for you
on this kind of lovely game
my fingers are tired and there they
are fainting with my hands
my eyes are closing like the windows
of the houses in the village
lights turning off like fireflies
getting some sleep on treetops
some locks of my hair fall on the the white
linens where my body lies
like a mountain on the grasy plain
white soft pillows on my bed
my conscience sleeps like a fat man drunk and dead asleep
on the thick warm pastel blue mattress
not hearing the loudness of his snores
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Sing Your Eyes
i walk the dream
where the street
breathes in the shadow
of moon-light,
the lovers night.
oh, sweet love
long time coming
longer time whispering
us free.
i sing your eyes
as willows
stretching into
the ever passing winds
i speak the words of my heart
i sing the songs of my dreams
i see in the water
your image
and it’s true...
as i ride the butterfly,
i offer the rose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Look Up To See
The little girl bent her head
She lost her mother today
Lost her to the waters of death
Where her warm hugs cannot reach
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
Her little sister wipe away her tears.
The little girl bent her head
She has cried so many tears
Non of them were perfect
And she's tired of the screams
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
Her friends welcoming her home.
The little girl bent her head
The scars on her arm, a tell-tale sign
Her sadness she locks away
Hidden in colours on canvas
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
The ball go through the basket of happiness
The little girl bent her head
She thinks there could've been another way
That she should've never left.
The land of smiling skies
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
A hand show her the way
The little girl bent her head
In a dark corner lies her future
Hiding from her heart
Too far for her to touch it,
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
A dream walking through light
poem by Mariam de Haan
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Blankets
Some blankets are thin
that cover the poor.
They're lucky to have them.
They sleep on the floor.
No pillow to sleep on
to cradle their head,
nothing to sleep on
that's called a bed.
Some blankets are downy
that cover the rich.
No shivering at night
in their warm little niche.
Their heads have been cradled
since they were born.
They sleep in comfort
all cozy and warm.
Some blankets are heavy.
They weigh you down.
You can't move your toes
or wriggle them around.
You lay there quite still
and wrestle with thought.
You think of blankets
that are light.
and if the poor
will be alright?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Riding On The Wings Of A Butterfly
i walk the dream
where the street
breathes in the shadow
of moon-light,
the lovers night.
oh, sweet love
long time coming
longer time whispering
us free.
i sing your eyes
as willows
stretching into
the ever passing winds
i speak the words of my heart
i sing the songs of my dreams
i see in the water
your image
and it’s true...
as i ride on the wings of the butterfly,
i offer you a rose, if given the chance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A little Mills & Boon
Snatched moments,
a darkened doorway,
honeyed kisses,
a fervent caress
What is love,
all feverish and sweaty.
A warm hand
on a pert breast.
Bright eyes,
glistening like pearls
hot passions
and lustfulness.
Come to me,
come to me,
night hides
our love nest.
Heady thrills,
two hearts melting.
These days of youth
are fleeting.
Love me or weep,
my aching heart
yearns for you
I cannot sleep.
She moans, he sighs.
We lovers shall not
heed the morning light;
we are forsaken.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Happy State....
happiness rests on my sofa
i am beside it
you paint an image of me
in bright colors
i become the sun
in your early morning
you put the last stroke of the
brush
and sign your name
your name is happiness too
we part when darkness falls
we dress for
another rehearsal
of the dance of life
alone
i have seen so many happy steps
at daybreak
i put a smile and keep it again
and you wonder
what are those things that i have
seen that you have not seen?
i sigh
to the wonders of my secret
my morning rituals
before the monitor of this
word tool
i am happy, i am happy
my soul dances on the mountains
reaches for the chunks of my skies
at the top of my voice
i sing
you will never know why
there is no reason to put on the wings
of my newly found
freedom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Morning is The Poetess
as you relax
this early morning
you meet it ... and
greet it,
saying hello to its
newly arrived light
from the window of your
soul
from the gates of your
temple
from the warm arms
of your room
you hug
a very intangible
lover .... this morning
this cool
beautiful morning
dressed in light
golden
you do not compose
a poem for it
it composes a poem
for you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clear Vision
O poet have a clear vision
Sooner or later you are dying
O poet have a participation
In this vibrant poetry community
Sooner or later you are dying
O poet you do not know minus
And you know only plus plus
Sooner or later you are dying
Here is your eyes here is sun
Here is bird here is song
O poet you are here with butterflies
You are here with the whirlwind
Sooner or later you are dying
O poet you are above you are below
You are behind you are a head
O poet this world is your garden
And you are blossoming here in passion
And you are making a story
O poet you have a clear vision
And you are here at this moment.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Not In The Mood For A Duet...
now what is happening?
we are not in the mood for a duet
we go solo, i sing the songs of the farmers
you sing the song of lovers petting by the
side of the hill
we are happy
parting away
we are two singing birds
drifting apart
soon, without the waste of words
we understand what sweet farewells are
all bitterness forgotten
sins forgiven
and when we meet again
we shall admit, perhaps we should have never shown
what we want them to believe
we should not have told them
what love tales are
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning Sunshine
This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see
The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet
Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?
This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me
I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
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Between Games
Nobody rests
This one constantly shifts his eyes
Hangs them on his head
And whether he wants it or not starts walking
backwards
He puts them on the soles of his feet
And whether he wants it or not returns walking
on his head
This one turns into an ear
He hears all that won't let itself be heard
But he grows bored
Yearns to turn again into himself
But without eyes he can't see how
That one bares all his faces
One after the other he throws them over the roof
The last one he throws under his feet
And sinks his head into his hands
This one stretches his sight
Stretches it from thumb to thumb
Walks over it walks
First slow then fast
Then faster and faster
That one plays with his head
Juggles it in the air
Meets it with his index finger
Or doesn't meet it at all
Nobody rests
poem by Vasko Popa
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Love & Maple Syrup
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
If you go into the forest, gaze up through the leaves
And see the sky thats almost wild
You must learn to understand
What makes the forest greet the man
Like a mothers only child
In the north when when winters claw
Relaxes now to keep the laws of nature in control
People come and stand in line
To rob the forest of her wine
But they dont feel the cold
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Love and maple syrup shine like
Embers warm, like thoughts divine
They tell us it is spring
Love and maple syrup stir
The thoughts of people into words
Of songs that they can sing
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love In The Light
Words:deborah d. smith
Music: michael w. smith
Darkness thick and heavy,
Black and steady screaming darkness
Anyone who hates his brother,
Who plans evil for another
Walks in darkness
Sonlight, warm and shining,
Purifying, welcome sonlight
Everyone who loves completely
With a heart that opens freely
Walks in sonlight
Chorus:
Let us love in the light
For love is from god
If we love what is right
We show whose we are
In a world of the dying
Were living our parts
If we love in the light
With all of our hearts
Blindness, terrifying, left for dying, spirit blindness
Anyone who thirsts for evil plots
His very own upheaval
Lost in blindness
New sight, truth unending, faith unbending, new sight
Everyone who seeks the father leaves the world
And all its bother
Sees with new sight
Chorus
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seraph and Poet
THE seraph sings before the manifest
God-One, and in the burning of the Seven,
And with the full life of consummate
Heaving beneath him like a mother's
Warm with her first-born's slumber in that
The poet sings upon the earth grave-riven,
Before the naughty world, soon self-forgiven
For wronging him,--and in the darkness prest
From his own soul by worldly weights.
Even so,
Sing, seraph with the glory ! heaven is high;
Sing, poet with the sorrow ! earth is low:
The universe's inward voices cry
' Amen ' to either song of joy and woe:
Sing, seraph,--poet,--sing on equally !
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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All The While I Want To See A Brighter Sun
just like any other man
let me put it this way, we all want
to wake up one morning wanting to see
a brighter sun
a warm day, a bright morning
a gentle sunshine landing peacefully on our cheeks
our eyelashes waving a warm welcome too
our eyes glistening with hope
to the wings and songs of birds
perching and then flying away
just like all men we want peace and harmony
of leaves clinging like stalks on a bark
like vines steadily climbing on trunks
we want blue clouds well placed in the skies
and mountains settled in their proper places
and sea as vast and wide as our eyes can reach to see
yet like ordinary happenings these things are not really true
there are driftings, there are inevitable flows
going nowhere, and then gone, and then we sit idly
on the shore now anchored on the truth
we stare to a horizon. we expect nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Miss Gertrude Stein was as light as a bright
Gertrude Stein was on her dying bed;
(i.e. she was dying, not the bed) :
the doctor came in, Alice walking ahead;
‘What’s the answer, Doc? ’ said Miss Stein;
that was what Miss Gertrude Stein said.
but the doctor merely shook his head;
standing there at the head of the bed,
side to sighed he shook his head.
Miss Stein was as bright as a bright bright ray
of light until her dying day
(i.e. she was dying, not the day)
and there to the doctor at the head of the bed
she said
‘Then, what’s the question? …’ – leaving
Alice laughing in her grieving
oh yes oh yes Miss Stein was bright,
she, did not rage at the dying of the light.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Till Tomorrow
What can this be, can you tell me?
would you like to discover
why we're not free to be lovers
I've been wanting to ask you
where has all the love gone
and what have we become
storm clouds full of thunder
move silent as they drum
and when they're gone
we'll be fine, till tomorrow
Oh, I hope it won't rain
you will be mine
and my sorrow
will take wings in the morning
high above the heavens
a rainbow paints the sky
white doves sing their songs of love
I watch them as they fly, and wonder
what can this be, can you tell me
would you like to discover
why we're not free to be lovers
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come to Me, Sunbeam! I'm Dying
Come to me, Sunbeam! I'm dying
Uncared for, distress'd and alone.
Even now the pale angel with icy hand seizes
The heart that throbb'd along with your own.
Darling! delay not; for enginewheel stay not;
But wing'd by love, fly to my side:
Swift as the morning-beams fly, or I may not
Your coming abide.
Bring the calm joy of your presence--
To a chill'd heart the warmth of your love;
With a glance of these dear eyes this darkness illumine,
Until there comes light from above.
Eyes that shine clearest, with language sincerest,
Come speak me forgiven and bless'd:
Would you refuse me, my chosen! my dearest!
This dying request?
Still for your footsteps I listen;
Each momemt I listen and long
For the voice that might break this dead silence with music
As sweet as an angelic song.
Can you not hear me? Oh will you not cheer me,
At least with one loving adieu?
Yield me how can I when you are not near me?
I'm dying for you.
One in this world, and one only,
Could soothe me, could comfort me now;
Charm'd away were my anguish and you here beside me,
Your gentle hand laid on my brow.
Come, I entrust you! If once I might meet you--
Sweet Sunbeam! what doubts you dispel!
Clasp my hand; kiss me, love! so will I greet you
In Heaven ... Farewell!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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