Islands
My ideas are like islands adrift
In the sea that resides inside my skull.
The water sweeping beside them is swift
Though the exterior landscape is dull.
Between them lies the long-sunken wreckage
Of disembodied documents I've read.
On their shores, harbors await the dockage
Where understanding is traded and spread.
Occasionally, storms of frustration
May ravage that sea, generating
The loss of previous affirmations—
But what frustrates becomes liberating.
I voyage to where the current is calm,
And let it flow out from beneath my palm.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Sinking..
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where I ponder my life
just how did I get to this
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where the waterfall of dreams
sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where time stands still
Just only forever.
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where I buried all
that was ever childhood
Where I let it go,
where it bends and meanders,
twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the water,
I left the edge of the river,
as I looked down
for my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Landscape Painted Red
Every dropp of blood slaves shed
beneath the lash and rod
was repaid in kind at Sharpsburg
by the terrible swift sword.
Twenty three thousand Sacrificed
in joint sanquinity
to debate the principle
that all men should live free.
At Burnside's bridge,
on the sunken road,
The Landscape dripping red.
The wounded called for water
as they lay among the dead.
At the Whitewashed Dunker church
the Dutchmen stood agog
as the fearful toll was paid
by brave souls on either side
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Down in the deep water..
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I ponder my life
Just how did I get to this
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where the waterfall of dreams
Sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where time stands still
just only forever.
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I buried all
That was ever my childhood
Where I let it go,
Where it bends and meanders,
Twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
Were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the deep water,
I left the edge of the river,
As I looked down
For my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the deep water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......Sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I Am Water
Ah xxxxx
there is a warm place
in my body
it is water
an ocean entering tributaries
that have carried silver fish
and you love, love, love
love, the silver of these fish
that carry the sun on their backs
they have travelled long distances
beneath my skin
bodies flapping like open limbs
satisfied
Ah xxxxx
I cannot flow
other than as water
this is my love, water
water,
spreading over you
loosening feelings
moistening stones
the glistening translucent
froth of sirens screaming
leaves golden floating in your eyes
everything washed away
except the great bruises of passion
that turn yellow, xxxxx
on the inside, weeping,
coalescing, warm final tears that shine
like the lights of a sad, sunken ferry
submerged under skin
in layers of silent turgid sacs
Ah xxxxx
we are water
we are falling water
we are the voice of water
and we are wet with its love
poem by L.B. Temuco
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I Am Water 2
Ah xxxxx
there is a warm place
in my body
it is water
an ocean entering tributaries
that have carried silver fish
and you love, love, love
love, the silver of these fish
that carry the sun on their backs
they have travelled long distances
beneath my skin
bodies flapping like open limbs
satisfied
Ah xxxxx
I cannot flow
other than as water
this is my love, water
water,
spreading over you
loosening feelings
moistening stones
the glistening translucent
froth of sirens screaming
leaves golden floating in your eyes
everything washed away
except the great bruises of passion
that turn yellow, xxxxx
on the inside, weeping,
coalescing, warm final tears that shine
like the lights of a sad, sunken ferry
submerged under skin
in layers of silent turgid sacs
Ah xxxxx
we are water
we are falling water
we are the voice of water
and we are wet with its love
poem by For Matilde
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Silent Silver
Silence adrift with golden sunset.
Fallen shadows cast upon mankind.
Silent hopes and dreams of reality.
Cast forth with silver silence.
Set adrift upon milk fed shores.
Calling forth the inner shadows.
Setting the fallen idol in raptures.
Casting spells which reflect kindness.
Sunken fallen empty hollow ship.
Cast forth the raptures into silence.
Empty bottomless silence, king of hearts.
Fallen idols again sound to silver silence.
Beat upon the wind swept shores of life.
copyright 2005 POEWHIT
search: POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Beneath The Mask
Beneath the mask her wander lies
projecting an image for lovers eyes.
Such endless beauty my eyes behold,
under the mask she wears so bold
She hides behind her vain-full pride,
The twist and turn of storms inside.
She sits so still, so calm a girl
And guards with faith her hidden pearl.
Behold the mask covers her face
For between its cracks lies hidden grace
And beneath that mystic mask of wood
Lies secrets of a love so good
She needs to see through sudden glee
She needs not wear the mask for me.
In her glory I need to bask
For I love the girl who wear the mask.
Beneath the mask
There is a love and compassion
Inhibition and insecurities,
But there is also the girl I love
poem by C.F Francis
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Spread Your Words Upon The Water
as your words enrich the world
they enrich me also
as people read your words
and understanding grows
with empathy
they may embrace a better destiny
which in small ways
enriches our world
one day God may
smile upon us and say
'What you tried to do. It was good.'
the beauty of your words
is a pebble cast into the water
as the ripples spread and grow
may flow harmony and beauty
therefore spread your words upon the water
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Dedicated to Kudakwashe Roak Mutama.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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That Vision In The Sky
As seas thrash out storms
And the winds carry leaves
New composition forms
As our dream perceives
Amongst waters blue
Unicorns run free
Leaving traces of you
In thoughts sent to me
An overcast sky
Clouds shatter the display
A vast intent supply
As the slow shores sway
The rapids in my heart
Sing a ballad so unique
A masterpice of art
As light rays cast oblique
Upon the canvas of desire
Your painting appears
Allows my heart to retire
Reducing me to tears
In the cloud lies a vision
Of a fotune yet untold
Cast in raging indecision
For my world to behold
The whispers of the wind
That flicker through my hair
Speak how love is sinned
If my love ceases declare
This is the storm inside of me
Thrashing through my veins
I am that raging sea
Compelled by my restrains
Calm exterior, undisturbed
Unto the naked eye
Till this storm is curbed
I'll believe that vision in the sky...
poem by Sara Stowell
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Ballade Of The Southern Cross
Fair islands of the silver fleece,
Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold,
Whose havens are the haunts of Peace,
Whose boys are in our quarrel bold;
OUR bolt is shot, our tale is told,
Our ship of state in storms may toss,
But ye are young if we are old,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
Ay, WE must dwindle and decrease,
Such fates the ruthless years unfold;
And yet we shall not wholly cease,
We shall not perish unconsoled;
Nay, still shall Freedom keep her hold
Within the sea's inviolate fosse,
And boast her sons of English mould,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
All empires tumble--Rome and Greece -
Their swords are rust, their altars cold!
For us, the Children of the Seas,
Who ruled where'er the waves have rolled,
For us, in Fortune's books enscrolled,
I read no runes of hopeless loss;
Nor--while YE last--our knell is tolled,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
ENVOY.
Britannia, when thy hearth's a-cold,
When o'er thy grave has grown the moss,
Still Rule Australia shall be trolled
In Islands of the Southern Cross!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Water Chariot
Sky lies inside the Sky
Welkin lies inside the welkin
Carried away by
Water Chariot
Sun lies inside the sun
Moon lies inside the moon
Carried away by
Water chariot
Mountain lies inside the mountain
Hill lies inside the hill
Carried away by
Water chariot
Womb lies inside the womb
Life lies inside the life
Carried away by
Water chariot
Green inside the green
Breath lies inside the breath
Carried away by
Water chariot
Shore filled and slept,
To him
Water chariot
Like this…
Ascent the water chariot
Passing with elegance
Unattainable sun
Smiling moon
Chattering stars…
Grown Hill, Frazzle Rock
Planted Trees, Blossom Flowers
Adoring bees…
Radiant dhub grass
Young male-female
Grown-up, languish, perished
Dread umbrage vanished
Delighted milestone
Passed, this Water chariot
Sally pleasure trip …
This Life’s chorus
Rotating carnival
Even for Midge
Its own share…
This way…
Ascent the water chariot
Pass with Splendor.
poem by Kavitha Rai
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I want someone to read
I want someone to read
my poetry today
and somehow I want it
to be something
that brings joy and a smile,
or something that makes
teardrops flow,
or to give a better understanding
of life and its intricacies,
Or a person to pause
to think about the deeper cause
and never just to be
another dull thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Talking River
I hear the river
Words flow down the pebble creek through my heart
Defy my understanding
It comes from unknown source, and
Proceeds to unforeseen destinations
It mirrors everything in my life, and says
It’s okay to make mistake sometimes
River passes us by, and
Flow on to other places
So often I listen to it for a second
Hold the words in the palm of my hands
Before it slips through my fingers
Always the river
Remind me love and hatred has no end
So are words has no limits
I will listen to what you say, and
We listen to the river again
The talking river holds its promise
Its steady flow forgives all blemishes
Its current washes off sinking debris
Cleanse our heart as we listen to it
Lunar Touch
The space covers me now.
Words stayed too long
beyond the thoughts of I
and my landscape.
A burst of silence soaks me.
What was history,
a voyage to rough awakening?
Absence of a voice makes me suffer again.
My religion burns.
Life is a dark smoke
I will write a message on your palm.
Give me a breather,
the distances make me sad.
Black dust drifts through
the slits of our predictions.
At least I know what I am.
On a sunny day
I break a mirror.
My fingers slide like scissors,
open the envelope.
I know it has a sermon,
I don’t want to read.
The depression has a lunar touch.
I break a flower into hundred petals.
poem by Satish Verma
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O Navis
POOR bark of Life, upon the billows hoarse
Assailed by storms of envy and deceit,
Across what cruel seas in passage fleet
My and sword alone direct thy course!
My pen is dull; my sword of little force;
Thy side lies open to the wild waves' beat
As out from Favor's harbors we retreat,
Pursued by hopes deceived and vain remorse.
Let heaven by star to guide thee! here below
How vain the joys that foolish hearts desire!
Here friendship dies and enmity keeps true;
Here happy days have left thee long ago!
But seek not port, brave thou the tempest's ire;
Until the end thy fated course pursue!
poem by Lope de Vega
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Enumerations...
not those flowers,
never those summers,
not those rivers, not the sea,
never the ocean
neither the continents nor
the islands
neither the clouds nor the
skies neither the space
nor the galaxies
the grain of sand, a leaf,
adrift,
a pond, and the old frog,
never the storms or the
winds,
neither the alligators nor
the hammers
it is the stone, a butterfly,
a speck of
dust....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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British fashion is self confident and fearless. It refuses to bow to commerce, thus generating a constant flow of new ideas whilst drawing in British heritage.
quote by Alexander McQueen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flight of Wild Ducks
Far up the River-hark! 'tls the loud shock
Deadened by distance, of some Fowler's gun:
And as into the stillness of the scene
It wastes now with a dull vibratory boom,
Look where, fast widening up at either end
Out of the sinuous valley of the waters,
And o'er the intervenient forest, - up
Against the open heaven, a long dark line
Comes hitherward stretching-a vast Flight of Ducks!
Following the windings of the vale, and still
Enlarging lengthwise, and in places too
Oft breaking into solitary dots,
How swiftly onwards comes it - till at length,
The River, reaching through a group of hills,
Off leads it, - out of sight. But not for long:
For, wheeling ever with the water's course,
Here into sudden view it comes again
Sweeping and swarming round the nearest point!
And first now, a swift airy rush is heard
Approaching momently; - then all at once
There passes a keen-cutting, gusty tumult
Of strenuous pinions, with a streaming mass
Of instantaneous skiey streaks; each streak
Evolving with a lateral flirt, and thence
Entangling as it were, - so rapidly
A thousand wings outpointingly dispread
In passing tiers, seem, looked at from beneath,
With rushing intermixtures to involve
Each other as they beat. Thus seen o'erhead
Even while we speak-ere we have spoken, - lo!
The living cloud is onward many a rood.
Tracking as 'twere in the smooth stream below
The multifarious shadow of itself
Far coming-present-and far gone at once!
The senses vainly struggle to retain
The impression of an Image (as the same)
So swift and manifold: For now again
A long dark line upon the utmost verge
Of the horizon, steeping still, it sinks
At length into the landscape; where yet seen
Though dimly, with a wide and scattering sweep
It fetches eastward, and in column so
Dapples along the steep face of the ridge
There banking the turned River. Now it drops
Below the fringing oaks - but to arise
Once more, with a quick circling gleam, as touched
By the slant sunshine, and then disappear
As instantaneously, - there settling down
Upon the reedy bosom of the water.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Window Dressing
What everyone see of us,
as we walk down the street,
is merely window dressing,
for what lies beneath.
Sometimes the ragged exterior,
holds something warm deep inside.
Sometimes we look older,
than what we really are.
No matter how people see us,
we know who we are.
Young at heart
and happy to be alive.
The rest is merely window dressing,
for our part that we play.
poem by David Harris
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