Flow
It flows
over highways
dripping down
lamp-posts
through gutters,
pounding
storm drains,
filling
narrow lanes,
past dark houses,
past high-tension
wires, driving
through
constraining fence,
unfettered
it fills
the green hills
and rolls
through folding slough, past
low bridge and causeway,
ever lower
down to Suisun Bay,
unstoppable
like a swimmer’s blood
pulsing through throbbing vein,
reaching for gate of gold
to break free,
to become
one with
One.
poem by Steven Federle
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Pounding
pounding, pounding nails,
pounding heartbeats, pounding feet.
pounding voices, pounding anger,
pounding need, pounding greed.
hungry, hungry eyes,
hungry souls, hungry holes.
hungry children, hungry countries,
hungry hands, hungry man.
throbbing, throbbing blood,
throbbing dreams, throbbing schemes.
throbbing ideas, throbbing hatred,
throbbing inside, throbbing cant hide.
touching, touching hearts,
touching true, touching you.
touching forbidden, touching daring,
touching color, touching wonder.
pounding, pounding nails...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Light in November
The light in November slants low.
It fills my eyes as I glance
askance through amber trees
and see the leaves descend in
gold flashes
past my open window.
The autumn sun skirts
my low Suisun hills
casting deep shadows
along the ebbing marsh
where wading egrets probe
still, black waters
and finding their prize
rise to blue heaven,
white, slender wings
elegantly beating
the softly falling sun.
poem by Steven Federle
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Past Unlocks Future
Past Unlocks Future
Past unlocks Future
The birds fly in the sky
the water flows down the valley
The mountains open wide
Nature feels free
the trees are green
The ocean is clear and blue
Nature feels free
I have no fear for my pass will be free
Love and faith is what it takes
Through the caring and touch of God I'll make my way
nature becomes free
in Jesus name my future is free
thanks to God past is gone and forgotten
poem by Gregory PierreJerome
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Break free
Will I break free from my past?
Or will I let the chains tie me down?
For I have been confided in a small room for hours trying to break free from this obstacle.
My mind is stuck, but my heart is trying to break free.
The bars are too small and I cannot break through to the other side.
For the other side is where I want to be.
Where I can be free from my past and not be weighed down by negativity.
But now I realize I can slowly break free by saying this statement: I am beautiful just the way I am and don't need to change for anyone.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Suddenly Everything Has Changed
Putting all the vegetables away,
That you bought at the grocery store today,
And it goes fast,
You think of the past,
Suddenly everything has changed,
Driving home the sky accelerates,
And the clouds all form a geometric shape,
And it goes fast,
You think of the past,
Suddenly everything has changed,
Putting all the clothes you washed away,
As you're folding up the shirts you hesitate,
Then it goes fast,
Think of the past,
Suddenly everything has changed
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Solstice
Drive the narrow road
past cold
misty vineyards;
peer carefully
through pulsing wipers,
past jeweled beads
smeared to curving trails.
Look
into the glaring eye
of traffic.
Swinging around
tight bends
cars pass you,
throwing
sheets
of driving
rain.
Hold tightly to your wheel!
Keep your lane.
Do not descend
into the flooded gutter;
for on the western edge
in darkly glowing cobalt
the declining sun,
leans towards longer southern days.
Night
has begun,
the longest night
of the year.
poem by Steven Federle
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Pulsing Pulsing
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a beat in his arm still.
Pulsing pulsing,
Like the throb of an anthill.
Pulsing pulsing,
No death in the rain.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
Im pulsing.
Youre pulsing.
Whos pulsing? .
Whats pulsing? .
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a lump in his throat still.
Pulsing pulsing,
At the site of a crash throw.
Pulsing pulsing,
No push in the vein.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulsing Pulsing
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a beat in his arm still.
Pulsing pulsing,
Like the throb of an anthill.
Pulsing pulsing,
No death in the rain.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
Im pulsing.
Youre pulsing.
Whos pulsing? .
Whats pulsing? .
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a lump in his throat still.
Pulsing pulsing,
At the site of a crash throw.
Pulsing pulsing,
No push in the vein.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dark Past
My past is dark
It's full of pain and tears
My past is my story
My past made me stronger
People still don't know why my past is dark
But I will tell you
No more hiding for me
My past is red stained razors
I admit I did cut
But, I will no more
My closest friend was the only one that knew
Me and her alike in so many ways
We helped each other through thick and thin
My future is bright and happy
I am loved and always will be loved
In my future I will not shed a tear
For I will be surrounded by loved ones
My past is erased I have no regrets
My life is better oh..so much better
poem by Jasmine Kayleen
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Suisun Creek
Suisun Creek
flows
through
riparian forests.
Hungry trout,
liquid lightning, flash
as stonefly nymphs dart past
brooding periwinkle,
blackberry groves,
exquisitely
twisting.
poem by Steven Federle
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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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Over The Hills And Far Away
A LITTLE bird flew my window by,
'Twixt the level street and the level sky,
The level rows of houses tall,
The long low sun on the level wall;
And all that the little bird did say
Was, 'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sang behind my chair,
From the level line of corn-fields fair,
The smooth green hedgerow's level bound
Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound,
And the level lawn where the sun all day
Burns:--'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sings above my bed,
And I know if I could but lift my head
I would see the sun set, round and grand,
Upon level sea and level sand,
While beyond the misty distance gray
Is 'Over the hills and far away.'
I think that a little bird will sing
Over a grassy mound, next spring,
Where something that once was me, ye'll leave
In the level sunshine, morn and eve:
But I shall be gone, past night, past day,
Over the hills and far away.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Hope within a Flicker Hope of Light
Darkness overrides the midnight moon
a wind of gusty
night blowing;
the despair over
the mid-life of
a rolling emotion.
Future cycles behind
those mountains past -
when a freshness of
hope crawls in.
A query of the mind:
where is that hope of
longing that flows
along with the watery starlit
eyes? when
only darkness
covers the pit of despair in
fields and fields
of red poppy seeds.
A holding of the past
posts leaves of words
to despair -
the hope of singling
is far too great...
bring and guide the trail
of hope towards
darkness that exceedingly
keeps leaves of words
locked in a past...
all the meanwhile
hope is such a bright
and elegant word world...
...when future rolls
in behind those mountains -
gathering of courage will allow
tear stained leaves of words
to be guided
to a light of true inner hope.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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America Revisited
put down your crack bowls
and your republican flags...
and let's go walking thru
the streets and alleys of America....
let's walk past the empty houses
with foreclosure signs in the yard...
past the vacant factory buildings
where the homeless break in
at night and sleep...
past the lily white churches
and the dead zone schools...
past the county jails and the courthouses
and the rooms where lawyers
buy and sell justice...
past the housing projects
where babies buy groceries...
down to the tent cities where
dreams hang in the air like opium.
down the dark streets where young
girls and boys sell their bodies
for their vampire pimps...
and everyday citizens buy them!
down to the unemployment offices
where angry people stand in
numbered lines...
past renegade gas pumps
guarded by dollar store slaves...
past the words of Jefferson, Franklin,
and Thomas Paine....
to the hypnotic ads of puffy-faced
liars with titles and plans...
down to the cemetary where
the last shreds of freedom
lie in unmarked graves....
and we call this....
America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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How Shall I Remember You?
How shall I remember you
searching memory’s dark, dry rooms?
Under high ceilings and dim attic lamps
I hear only echoes of my childhood’s lost past.
You’re calling me outside, past the dark screen door
onto the back porch, to watch the gathering evening storm,
and there I see the willow tree, dancing in the wind
its long green leaves thrashing the sky, its supple branches bend
when following its sure, straight path, the lightning struck it down
and, like all things ultimately, smashed it dying into the ground.
Although I’ve searched these dry, long years after both of you had died,
my tears are done, I see the sun, and my flashing anger is now satisfied.
poem by Steven Federle
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Toward The Moon and the Night (from, Spring Come Come)
Toward the moon and the night
The dreams will never come true
Shadows are up in their flight
For days to come and be of new
And the going pleasures are going
Filling up their empty woes
Without times spectacular glowing
This everywhere through here flows
Yesterdays are in their dreaming
Full in their every lost space
We were just with them all streaming
Filling out own wandering ways
But everything is always ending
Giving us seldom a new return
Wills of our thoughts bending
And from them we all must learn
Toward the days of past light
When there were roads to find out
What was to become of wrong or right
When everything was here about
And our days are all leaving
Without a return from gone past
With their moments just briefing
Some will though through time last
* This is also a 2nd part to 'Sad In Blue (a lyric) '
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Prisoner
I'm on the run, I'll kill to eat,
Starving now, feeling dead on my feet.
Going all the way, I'm nature's beast.
Do what i want, I do as i please.
Run, you've gotta fight, to breathe, it's tough.
Now you see me, now you don't.
Break the walls, I'm coming out.
I'm not a prisoner, I'm a free man,
And my blood is my own now.
Don't care where the past was,
I know where I'm going...out.
If you kill me, it's self defence.
If I kill you, then I call it vengeance.
Spit in your eye, I will defy.
You'll be afraid when I call out your name.
Run, you've gotta fight, to breathe, it's tough.
Now you see me, now you don't.
Break the walls, I'm coming out.
I'm not a prisoner, I'm a free man,
And my blood is my own now.
Don't care where the past was,
I know where I'm going.
I'm not a number, I'm a free man,
I'll live my life how i want to.
You'd better scratch me
from your black book,
'Cause I'll run rings around you
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunset
The evening wind stirs
our high, green trees,
whispering down the westering sun,
as shadows scale our eastern fence.
The sun surrenders its May heat
to a cooling Suisun breeze,
while already looming
on the eastern horizon,
rising from the gentle green swell
of low delta hills,
the copper moon vaults
into the cobalt,
its ascendant mastery astonishing
even the wading, gazing egret,
as on the other side
of our slowly rolling planet,
the bleeding sun declines,
searching the sea for healing.
Thus, from conflict and transition,
come poise and redemption.
poem by Steven Federle
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