First Rain
black spots
on pavement gray
steps
filled full,
candescent day
overburdened sky
no longer
denied.
poem by Steven Federle
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Childhood
It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,
for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely -and why?
We're still reminded-: sometimes by a rain,
but we can no longer say what it means;
life was never again so filled with meeting,
with reunion and with passing on
as back then, when nothing happened to us
except what happens to things and creatures:
we lived their world as something human,
and became filled to the brim with figures.
And became as lonely as a sheperd
and as overburdened by vast distances,
and summoned and stirred as from far away,
and slowly, like a long new thread,
introduced into that picture-sequence
where now having to go on bewilders us.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Leopard
Leopards with their spots
Four legged polka dots
Jaguars too have spots
Leopard have densely spots
Jaguars have central spots
You and I call them spots
But Zoologist calls them
'Rosettes' which doesn't rhyme with spots.
Better to call them 'spots'
because it rhymes with 'dots.'
Black On Black
Serrations of chimneys
Stone-black perforate
Velvet-black dark.
A tree coils in core of darkness.
My swinging
Hands
Incise the night.
A man slips into a doorway,
Black hole in blackness, and drowns there.
A second man passing traces
The diagram of his steps
On invisible pavement. Rain
Draws black parallel threads
Through the hollow of air.
Submitted by Steohen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm a temptress
I tempt tempests into my arms
Cunningly cunningly
Overburdened air I sing
Otherwise it'll blow up
I tempt tempo piano presto
The tip of my tongue hissing at tones
Cunningly cunningly
Overburdened sound I sing
Otherwise
The earth would be silent and empty
I tempt tempera into the colours
The paint now dripping sprinkles the walls
Cunningly cunningly
Overburdened stones I sing
Otherwise
Nothing would be built
2010.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Back From A Morning Walk
i
it is earlier today.
4: 04 in the morning
on a walk
towards the college
oval beside
a gym
(i counted the steps
14 in all
from the basement
some finches
hang on the
cracks of
its cement walls)
ii
i made six rounds
walking
abreast steadily
mindless
about my surroundings
wilted
grass on the side
of the pavement
when the clouds turned
gray and
the atmosphere
dimmed
like a night study lamp
in my room
when i was too
sleepy
to notice the hours
then the rain began
to fall
and i ran as fast
as i could
to take shelter
under a
cemented roof
the gym as i told
you beforehand
iii
then there was this
old man
with a long white beard
wearing
sporty pants
and nike shoes
and seated on one
of the stairs
looking far
waiting for the rain
to stop
iv
i was behind him
a few steps away
and we were not talking
because the rain
was already falling
so hard
that i could no longer
hear the sounds of the
birds grouping
themselves
on the cracks of the
walls
v
i never felt lonelier
than ever before
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Going Nowhere
Once more Ive loved Ive laughed and Ive lost
Now Im alone left counting the cost
Once more sweet child of middling years
Basted again in bitter-sweet tears
I will survive the solitude
But come alive
Although the new
Somebody tell me you love me
Somebody tell me you care
Ive got a heart full of giving
Going nowhere (going nowhere)
Daylight will come and steal the night sights
Starlight on black replaced with gray light
Now I must go and set my best pace
Running all day in the human race
But now I know the good news
Before you win you have to lose
Somebody tell me you love me
Somebody tell me you care
Ive got a heart full of giving
Going nowhere going nowhere
How much longer must I travel on
Looking for someone to help me sing my song
How much longer will it be
I need to find someone
For the love
From me
Somebody tell me you love me
Somebody tell me you care
Ive got a heart full of giving
Going nowhere (going nowhere)
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Be Denied
When I was a young boy,
My mama said to me
Your daddys leavin home today,
I think hes gone to stay.
We packed up all our bags
And drove out to winnipeg.
When we got to winnipeg
I checked in to school.
I wore white bucks on my feet,
When I learned the golden rule.
The punches came fast and hard
Lying on my back in the school yard.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Well pretty soon I met a friend,
He played guitar.
We used to sit on the steps at school
And dream of being stars.
We started a band,
We played all night.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Oh canada
We played all night
I really hate to leave you now
But to stay just wouldnt be right.
Down in hollywood
We played so good
The businessmen crowded around
They came to hear the golden sound
There we were on the sunset strip,
Playing our songs for the highest bid.
We played all night
The price was right.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Dont be denied, dont be denied.
Well, all that glitters isnt gold
I know youve heard that story told.
And Im a pauper in a naked disguise
A millionaire through a business mans eyes.
Oh friend of mine
Dont be denied.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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Our Life
Our life appears akin the floor
Of mosaic tiles, spotted, three hues;
Each tile denotes a month that passed;
The spots refer to good and bad!
Umpteen are grey spots – venial sins,
By habit done, incessantly;
The fewer black spots – mortal sins,
Against the Ten Commands of God!
The spots of white were good deeds done;
Some tiles had few, some had galore;
The size of dots too varied much;
Such tiles were scarcely found and rare!
We yearn to see the floor all tiled,
With spots of white, all huge and bright;
Yet, earthly life is what we make
By labour, done in heaven’s light!
(24-07-11)
poem by John Celes
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No Longer a Consideration
I've done the best I could.
And I tried inside to keep this denied.
But I can no longer hold myself responsible,
For your ignorance.
I can no longer pretend it does not exist.
It is there like strewn garbage.
And passed as if invisible.
Not seen.
Or accepted as part of the environment.
Tolerated...
By those who wish it would go away.
But I don't have those wishes at all.
I know I am the one who has to split.
And it is no longer a consideration.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Black
Black is favourite
Black is right
Black is supreme
I born black
I die black.
Without black
How can you
assess white?
Within black
Everything filled.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Our minds thus grow in spots and like grease spots, the spots spread. But we let them spread as little as possible we keep unaltered as much of our old knowledge, as many of our old prejudices and beliefs, as we can.
quote by James Truslow Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our minds thus grow in spots and like grease spots, the spots spread. But we let them spread as little as possible we keep unaltered as much of our old knowledge, as many of our old prejudices and beliefs, as we can.
quote by William James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not If, But When
Not If, But When?
Dim sunrise on a gray, smoky city
Cars line the roads, slowly rusting
Winds blowing ash, harsh and gritty
Acidic smog gives an evil dusting
Tires melted to pavement, rubber pools of blackness
Window Glass sagging from kiln-like heat
All move no more due to nuclear madness
In gutters, white bones scoured by gray caustic sleet
Destinations and drivers no longer exist
no organic life forms survive
Only wind blown gray ash and solitude persist
Where aspirations and ambitions did thrive
Empty buildings pleading for workers to toil
Winds moaning through windowless walls
Papers bubbling about in a bleak breezy boil
Family photos dance gaily in deserted dark halls
City streets decorated with bizarre ornamentation
Shards of glass strewn about by explosive power
Like diamonds on black tar, the macabre decoration
Grows more ashen and gray by the hour
Faces on billboards cancerously peeling
While timelessly smiling and hawking their wares
Wood rotting, braces failing, perilously reeling
signs malignantly moulting, shedding their cares
Suitcases scattered, open, pillaged and torn
Contents long ago blown away
Like the doomed souls that carried them, sad and forlorn
In and on melted pavement they lay
Wires draped from poles like funereal bunting
No current, no messages to bear
Gray spider-like webs, the strands seem to be hunting
For purpose, for signals… not there
Playgrounds deserted, charred swing seats awry
Slides rusting, tilting, small bones lay exposed
No squeals, no laughter, no kids running by
Monkey bars droop sadly, morose in repose
Religion, politics, gone to obsolescence
Purple vestments faded to brown
poisonous gas, ungodly essence
Church steeples toppled, bells sunk in the ground
Burned black, stunted trunks, a few withered branches
Like a forest of dark hooded monks at prayer
Natures been violated yet no one blanches
There’s simply…no one……there
poem by David Whalen
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Hairdressers Nightmare
On the windswept pavement
The moonbeams tried to pierce the night
As moaning filled the air,
In the basement of the salon
It was night dark damp and dismal,
I entered the room pitch black
It was full of naked women,
The haircut bitchiness of them
Told me they were hair salon dropp outs
Unable to show their true colours.
The dyed curly head wrong set
Unable to show their faces,
They only could moan and grown
I could not find the light switch,
Being a man I could not
Feel my way around.
Oh my God
Someone is licking my face
OMG it’s my own dog
In my own bed
Oh heavens I have been riding
On a night mare
Horribus dyedidus hair rising action... cut
poem by Ken e Hall
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Step on with me on my steps
Oh baby step on with me on my steps
I will take you to the world you never been
Keep your eyes closed
World out there is ugly
I am neither god nor a hero
To take you on a smooth journey
Neither any god nor hero would come
To save us from our miseries
Hold me tight & close your eyes
Trust me till the end
And step on with me on my steps
To drive the miseries away
Oh baby! step on with me on my steps
To see a beautiful world
A world filled with happiness & joy
A world filled with love & smile
poem by Vijay Sherigar
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No longer should women be denied the right to vote, no longer should women be treated as second class citizens, no longer should women not be allowed to be a citizen at all.
quote by Ginny B. Waite
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gone
The black-eyed Susans
are gone,
the question of fall
has begun.
Winter will arrive
at last,
the scarlet summer
is past.
We've filled our sacks full
of spun gold,
and been enraptured by the tales
of fantastic stories told.
Now outside the window
of our heart,
we see
the cold snowfall start.
Friendly fires
fade,
as do the plans in youth
we once made.
Illusions of summers perfection
shatter,
with the weight of things
that no longer matter.
The black-eyed Susans
are gone,
they've sung their last
sweet song.
Even fall now
is nearly done,
a chill in the air prophesies
winter has thus begun.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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You Are No Longer There!
I no longer hold you like I held you
When I held you...
I no longer want to...in my mind.
I no longer see you like I see you
When I saw you...
I no longer do that, with my time!
Lemonade kisses I licked we onced shared,
I don't even want them anymore...I'm full!
I no longer miss you like I missed you
When missing you...
It's no longer an issue to be defined!
Too messy...
'I no longer love you? ' Bring myself to love you?
Could you bring me peace of mind instead of puzzles
Of your pain...again? That pain...AGAIN? ..NO! '
I no longer hold you like I held you...
Enfolded holding you,
I no longer want to...in my mind!
I no longer see you,
Like I saw you when we met!
I no longer do that...
You're no longer there!
And I have no regrets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We have to learn to think in a new way. We have to learn to ask ourselves, not what steps can be taken to give military victory to whatever group we prefer, for there no longer are such steps; the question we have to ask ourselves is: what steps can be taken to prevent a military contest of which the issue must be disastrous to all parties?
quote by Bertrand Russell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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