My Heart Yearns For Melodies
my heart yearns for the melodies
that move in glistening streams skirting me
into which to slowly immerse myself
tasting every sweet word of the creation
with half-closed dreamy lids
in the solemn silence of the starry night
on the banks of the flowing time
gently fanned by the soft breeze.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Dreamy River
There's a dreamy river flowing
Down the street from my house
I walk down there after work
But I paddle my way home
There's a dreamy river flowing
On every street corner in the world
And if that young moon is in the sky
She'll wink at you and let you pass by
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my refrigerator into my mouth
It only costs a few dollars
To keep those shelves stocked
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my mouth into my gut
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my wank into the street
There's a dreamy river flowing
In my mind as I lay to sleep
There's a dreamy river flowing
From a town I've never been to
Across this great country
And also from overseas
Sometimes from people's kitchens
Transversing time and space
I float down this river
Every night and day
There's a dreamy river flowing
From the hops and the malts and sugar
I call it my brother, I call it my wife
I call it my true friend
Let me float upon you dreamy river
And drown all these sorrows
That call to me from pasts I've severed
poem by Spencer Breau
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My Heart's Treasure
Love swells like the ocean,
But it ebbs like its tide;
With a smile on her lips i look forward,
Like Romeo and Juliet.
One touch to her hand and,
One word in her ear;
So faithful in love to swing her muse.
Oh my heart's treasure!
You are all that i have;
Like the fair breeze that blows around.
Oh my heart's treasure!
Of a river steep and wide;
Day after day,
Night after night,
Into the silent sea of love.
The fair breeze blew,
The white foam of love flew,
Like something sweet from my lover's breasts.
You are my beloved from Pole to Pole,
You are my beloved from North to South,
You are my beloved from East to West,
From the very deep blue sea to play;
Like a soft floating witchery of sound.
Of one word in her ear,
Lovely dropping like flowers;
Of the animated nature of sweet love to share,
Like diamonds which are forever! !
Half closed eyelids,
The frost of the midnight spells our names;
So save that which was on your side.
Of the thin blue flames,
Inaudible as dreams;
She's my heart honoured maid,
Like the bubbles that glitter.
To the extreme silentness of her love,
Like a toy of thoughts gone by;
At school she was first but, at love she was last.
Of my sweet birth place with unclosed lids,
But this love is with wild pleasure!
With articulated sounds of things to come.
Sweetly is this love like,
The poor man's only music;
In this dep calm,
In this love so sweet,
Like the golden exhalations of the dawn.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Whispers Of Heavenly Death
WHISPERS of heavenly death, murmur'd I hear;
Labial gossip of night--sibilant chorals;
Footsteps gently ascending--mystical breezes, wafted soft and low;
Ripples of unseen rivers--tides of a current, flowing, forever
flowing;
(Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human
tears?)
I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses;
Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently swelling and mixing;
With, at times, a half-dimm'd, sadden'd, far-off star,
Appearing and disappearing.
(Some parturition, rather--some solemn, immortal birth: 10
On the frontiers, to eyes impenetrable,
Some Soul is passing over.)
poem by Walt Whitman
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Swing Your Wings
the clouds goes down and the night slowly
sees the moon, where the crickets sing
there melodies that invites our eyes to gently
close beyond the limit of every dancing leaves
on the Tree
slowly, goes slowly the heart move not to break,
but to show the harmony off beyond compare;
watching the glittering sky, capture every twinkling
glance of the Star, makes the whole world goes
round
mind of the coolness of the night, wake me up, until
brevity respect my warm body, settle down my whole
whispered heart for the never ending day will be
your Forever as I live …
poem by Antonio Liao
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Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day
Dawn talks to Day
Over dew-gleaming flowers,
Night flies away
Till the resting of hours:
Fresh are thy feet
And with dreams thine eyes glistening,
Thy still lips are sweet
Though the world is a-listening.
O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting,
Cast thine arms round about me to stay my heart's beating!
O fresh day, O fair day, O long day made ours!
Morn shall meet noon
While the flower-stems yet move,
Though the wind dieth soon
And the clouds fade above.
Loved lips are thine
As I tremble and hearken;
Bright thine eyes shine,
Though the leaves thy brow darken.
O Love, kiss me into silence, lest no word avail me,
Stay my head with thy bosom lest breath and life fail me!
O sweet day, O rich day, made long for our love!
Late day shall greet eve,
And the full blossoms shake,
For the wind will not leave
The tall trees while they wake.
Eyes soft with bliss,
Come nigher and nigher!
Sweet mouth I kiss,
Tell me all thy desire!
Let us speak, love, together some words of our story,
That our lips as they part may remember the glory!
O soft day, O calm day, made clear for our sake!
Eve shall kiss night,
And the leaves stir like rain
As the wind stealeth light
O'er the grass of the plain.
Unseen are thine eyes
Mid the dreamy night's sleeping,
And on my mouth there lies
The dear rain of thy weeping.
Hold silence, love, speak not of the sweet day departed,
Cling close to me, love, lest I waken sad-hearted!
O kind day, O dear day, short day, come again!
poem by William Morris
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Patience
If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it.
I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil
and its head bent low with patience.
The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish,
and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.
Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests,
and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Patterns Of Herringbone
Step out along those well worn pathways,
through dappled woods, beneath lush trees.
View verdant grass as it gently sways,
wafted by a soft balmy breeze.
Tread blithely down well known byways,
over winding hills and flowing streams.
Out across the salty golden bays,
where the sand is kissed by bold sunbeams.
Move slowly through well paved alleyways,
between the old walls of brick and stone.
Knowing that people back in past days,
walked these block patterns of herringbone.
Stroll towards well hidden bridleways,
where wild flowers edge the gritted tracks.
Stand still and watch the sheep as they graze,
then take a nap, against warm haystacks.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Speak to me Gently
Speak to me gently
words as soft as a sea breeze
Touch me with your hands
as well as your heart
Let us swim in the ocean
and feel its passion
Let me smile
to put your mind at ease
Hand in hand we dance
slowly together
Virtually motionless
suspended in time
Drifting slowly
Held firmly together
A tender embrace
Sustained everlasting
Look at me closely
Feel my deepest thoughts
Let your heart beat with mine
Speak to me gently
And my heart will listen
Touched by sincerity
Nurtured with love
Joined together
Hand in hand
And heart to heart
We live, we breathe
Within each other
poem by William Lindenmuth
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A Night of Glory
A night of glory
With the silver moon peeking
From the soft wisps of white folds
Hand in hand they move
Two vigilant shadows,
In a second
Mold into one
Brown witch hazel
Gaze into torrential depths
Mesmerized by the glowing amber
Tasting the sweetness of honey suckle
Oblivious to the outside world
The fire roars
And the flame dances
Sweet surrender sings
Trickling droplets sway
And passion sips the nectar
All through the night
Over and over again
Hypnotized by the melody
The soft breeze whispering
Tender notes of love
Shaped as heart bubbles
With the silver moon peeking
On the night of glory
poem by Aminath Neena
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The lightest touch.
Softly he touched me, gently as a breeze
that wafts this way and that, swaying summer hats.
Gently he caressed, with words so honey combed and sweet,
to melt the coldest heart, my moment was complete.
Sinking into sugar brown eyes, his soft brown skin
and big ‘huggy' grin, we seemed to melt each other from within.
The summer grass, it filled my head within this bed of ecstasy,
I lay beneath the lilac tree; its scent was drifting over me.
Our hands found each other, we kissed, my eyes brimmed over
to think, some day, this moment I might miss.
How sad in life all things move on and like the flowing waves
we lovers separated to go our different ways,
but as tears sting my eyes and burn into my heart
I've one more memory to share; he had the lightest touch.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Echoes
Echoes of
your
laughter
so soft
and
sweet
another
time
and place
walking on
the beach
watching
the tide
go out
and
return
so soft
and
sweet
for you
my heart
yearns.
poem by Heather Burns
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Lazy
Sweet summer breeze
heavy ripe vines
wine pouring,
time slowly
seaward
flowing.
I write
like there's
nothing left
in my half-
empty glass.
now the wine's gone.
day's too warm
and much too
long.
poem by Steven Federle
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Streams Of Whiskey
Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of lifes philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
Theres nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tongues Entwined
Tongues entwined tasting each others fruits off one's vine.
I think that is truly divine,
then slowly kiss away the night.
softly touching each other's skin,
oh where to begin,
on your neck with a sweet wet peck,
or should I move on to higher grounds,
or maybe further down,
oh to laugh and play the night away.
poem by Walter C. Edwards
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Every Need In Me
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From shadows,
And dark places.
I've got to move...
From despairing melodies,
That keep me in such solitude...
And,
Deep dark gloomy moods!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
To open all closed windows.
And,
I've got to move...
More than two steps away from doors.
Closed within I've been.
And I've got to...
Leave behind memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me.
I've got to move.
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I eager for You
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for you…
there was no such word
until today; today, there is..
to say, I’m eager for you
would be to say,
less than, I am…
when it’s I am, and
which you are, O My Beloved,
that eagers…
nor do I recognise eagerness..
how can I, if it’s not me?
no, today, it's an active word...
what else might I say?
to say I long, makes it sound
that I may never find you…
to say, I languish, makes me sound
so weak and hopeless…
to say, I yearn, makes it sound
as if I never knew You…
even the Hebrew word the psalmist used –
the deer that yearns for the waterbrook,
the hart that pants for cooling streams –
even that word’s uncertain; some say
it’s the way that a deer, feet slightly splayed
upon the sloping bank, stretches out its graceful neck
to the clear, pure, healing water…
some say, it’s that slight sound the deer makes,
as it gently laps that lovely water…
the sound that quenching makes...
today I am that deer, tasting what’s just out of reach…;
that feeling beyond all words possesses me –
the feeling that You who ever are inside me, Lord,
wish to proclaim You outside me –
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for to be myself; for You…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Bless Me Such Thousand Births, O God!
i stand like a speck with dreamy eyes
beneath this wide dome of sky
carpeted with ashen clouds
with nothing to impede my vision-
around me cool winds surfing
i am slowly drenched by soft drizzles
of melodies from distant spheres and heavens
in strange languages in soothing voices
and i spin slowly with outstretched arms-
o god! bless me such thousand births!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Appreciative Audience.
Soft moonlight filters through the trees
Which seem to dance to melodies
Created by the gentle breeze.
The shadows on the ground dance too
Or to my eyes they appear to
Disintegrate then form anew.
Sometimes the clouds blot out the light
The shadows gain a brief respite.
Rejoin the darkness of the night.
But clouds move on and when they do
And once again moonlight shows through.
The trees will dance, the shadows too.
The sun will rise to start the day.
The dancing shadows hide away
But where they hide no man can say.
The sun completes his daily quest.
Journeying from east to west.
Then sinks below the sea to rest.
The moon will rise she rules the night
Then once again to my delight
She bathes the trees in silver light.
The melodies played by the breeze
Will re awake the sleeping trees.
To dance again with practiced ease.
Beneath the trees reluctantly
the shadows still dance gracefully.
I watch in silence gratefully.
I know they do not dance for me
And I am privileged to see
The shadows dance under the trees.
Friday,23 September 2011
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To Tell You The Truth..
to tell you the truth..
&
to tell you the truth bluntly
he expects a comforting word
whenever he opens email
on posting his creation-
once in a while he gets it for works
'not masterpieces' in his view-
the sterling works go uncared-for!
the mind dejected, winds up his interest
the gloom sets in his heart-
thinks the world is very cruel
and a great riddle beyond him-
none about him has the taste-buds
for the dream-receipes made of lovely words-
who cares for a poet with dreamy eyes
fashioning thoughts on intricate moulds?
he is lonely, so lonely with his monitor
and the ' clucking ' keyboard
that translates his thoughts from finger-hits-
even a word or two of kudos he rarely gains
jump and die within him with none to lend ears-
leave others-relatives or friends-
o how he yearns for a pat off the eyes of one
on narrating his poem in full blast of enthusiasm-
destined not to be, he is almost in tears
deprived of a breeze from the heart of his dear wife!
-sundaram chandrakalaadhar.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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From
SING no more in mournful tones
Of the loneliness of night;
For 'tis made, ye beauteous ones,
For all social pleasures bright.
As of old to man a wife
As his better half was given,
So the night is half our life,
And the fairest under heaven.
How can ye enjoy the day,
Which obstructs our rapture's tide?
Let it waste itself away;
Worthless 'tis for aught beside.
But when in the darkling hours
From the lamp soft rays are glowing,
And from mouth to mouth sweet showers,
Now of jest, now love, are flowing,--
When the nimble, wanton boy,
Who so wildly spends his days,
Oft amid light sports with joy
O'er some trifling gift delays,
When the nightingale is singing
Strains the lover holds so dear,
Though like sighs and wailings ringing
In the mournful captive's ear,--
With what heart-emotion blest
Do ye hearken to the bell,
Wont of safety and of rest
With twelve solemn strokes to tell!
Therefore in each heavy hour,
Let this precept fill your heart:
O'er each day will sorrow loud,
Rapture ev'ry night impart.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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