If We Can See Through The Dark
Stretch on the bed and lie on the side,
Curtains drawn and lights off,
Can see the illuminating switches,
red, yellow and green tinted,
remotes have eyes and easy to pick up,
the hands of clock can be seen,
the gap between the railings,
the light tries to escape,
down under the sliding door,
the naughty rays peep at me.
I am not in pitch dark,
still I can see the objects,
near and around me,
but when you stand under,
bright day light,
I can not see what you think,
How you manipulate,
How your forked tongue, '
speak different languages,
to different people
at different places.
Keeping venom at heart,
speak as a saint.
Mocking at our poverty,
you cherish at our generosity.
Men come and women go,
Woman come and man go,
What a spectacular political play,
No director and script needed,
perfectly staged in every other country.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Deliverance
It is nearly midnight; I can read the clock inside of my mind.
I can see through the darkness
Wicked hands reaching forward- with dagger- like fingers-
Sharp and threatening-
I am surrounded by vicious animals,
Hungry snakes and people who wish to harm me?
I would open that golden door to freedom if I could, if only to
Escape this terrifying world that
Surrounds me- I have no key and the lock
Is hanging off some invincible being's wrist as would a bracelet-
Tinted gold as the door that bars me, and striking- though
Not beautiful but hideously distorted-
I can still read the clock inside of my mind
Which I can read through the bleakest darkness- I see a door to freedom although
The lock and most likely, the key have been lost- All eyes are upon me and
All voices are threatening; all beings wishing me harm are loudening-
I cannot escape through this door toward unreachable liberty,
I hope I am dreaming and this is none but a nightmare-
This world is closing in on me from many directions- as my tongue forks out,
I still wonder why is the whole world against me?
It is past midnight and I foresee no escape from doomsday except for
That door to freedom that is locked and I own no key-
The lock and key would be my saviors - I don't believe in a higher being-
Evil eyes are upon me; I have come to full awareness that
I could awaken and darkness would still prevail,
Even though the sun is brilliant on a cloudless day, only because
Present in my awakened state I foresee no door opening toward freedom-
The sun is shining, and there is a rainbow on the horizon-
But I see my shadow fading into bleak darkness and despair-
Voices inside of my mind are commanding and I know-
I know and don't need to be told-
My whole world is darkening because since the day I was born into this world,
I have been a victim of abuse, confusion and disorientation and
The lights inside the womb that carried me burnt out before my birth and
My whole life has been a nightmare, and here I can no longer persevere, so I shall
Escape and follow my shadow, as I light a candle illuminating the world of my fantasies
Hopefully to guide me towards salvation…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Ministry
Lift up your voice,
sing out in song.
Let not your message pass and be gone
without being heard.
You speak of truth,
you speak of right
you speak of ministry of light.
Pray, please tell me,
when will it be
this light's coming on?
I listened close,
you spoke so wise,
you were sincere
it was in your eyes.
Somehow I feel
you can show the way,
the light's grown strong... strong!
It ne'er grows dim,
it's always bright,
it's burning high
this shining light.
All praise to thee
thy guiding hands
Ministry of light.
poem by Angela Michel
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As A Witness
I find it really strange
That those who speak of God
Have had no evident range
Of His Being, and that's sad.
Like a blind man describing
What light is, and how
Bright and illuminating
It is to see...and to know.
But without knowledge of Him
Some speak in deep darkness
Delineating things at whim
Exposing vain emptiness!
For how can one speak
Of a God he never met?
Never encounter, never seek,
Yet presumptions there are set?
For valid statements lay
On the rock of experience
As a witness I can truly say
I've come to know God's Presence.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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How Many Shades Of Green
HOW MANY SHADES OF GREEN
How many shades of green
Olive green
Dark green
Light green
Yellow green
How many shades of yellow
Deep yellow
Rose yellow
Sun yellow
Morning light yellow
How many shades of light
How much light
How much Beauty in the world
How much Light-
How much- God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Light
Light that can be kind. Light that can smell sweet. Light that can be soft.
Light that can be porcelain. Light that can be silent. Light that can speak.
Light that can hold many colors. Light that can be romantic. Light that can be harsh.
Light that can be cold. Light that can be warm. Light that can be dry.
Light that can be loud. Light that can be love. Light that can be faith.
Light that can be full of strength. Light that can be pure. Light that can be dark.
Light that can be fragile. Light that can be crazy. Light that can be weird.
Light that can be old. Light that can be new. Light that can be inbetween.
Light that can be swift. Light that can be sharp. Light that can wonder.
Light that can be insane. Light that can be smooth. Light that can dream.
Light that can be free. Light that can be everlasting. Light that can be wild.
Light that is the lord. Light that is Jesus. Light that is holy.
Light that is the trinity. Light that can belong. Light that can be fast.
Light that can sing. Light that is the holy ghost. Light that is the Bible.
Light that can be a mith. Light that can be still. Light that can be different.
Light that can be hole. Light that can be true. Light that can be whimsical.
Light that can be bright. Light that can be formed. Light that is blessed.
Light that can be full of presence. Light that can tell a story. Light that can be intelligent.
Light that is like no other!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Forbidden
come with us and play!
see, we have breasts as women!
from your tents by the sea
come play with us: it is forbidden
come with us and play!
lo, bare, straight legs in the water!
by our boats we stay
then swimming away
come to us: it is forbidden!
come with us and play!
see, we are as tall as women!
our eyes are keen:
our hair is bright:
our voices speak outright:
we revel in the sea's green!
come play: it is forbidden!
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the tea is brought at five o'clock And all the neat curtains are drawn with care, The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there.
quote by Harold Monro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Far Far Away
Far, far away from those city lights
Might be shining on you tonight
Far, far away from you
On the dark side of the moon
I long to hold you in my arms and sway
Kiss and ride on the CTA
I need to see you tonight
And those bright lights
Oh, I know it's right
Deep in my heart
I'll know it's right
By the bed, by the light that you read by
By the time that I get home to say good night
I need to see you again
On the dark side my friend
On the dark side
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bus ride at night
At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.
There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.
We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.
At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.
There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.
The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.
In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.
At Church square I see stars in the sky,
but uncle Paul looks friendly
while the lights
of a few cars passes by
and I see how his men
are protecting him
and there’s nobody else in the street
and I wonder what to do
if the last bus has already left.
I wait at night at a bus stop
and an old black man
comes and stand near me
and we are both glad,
to catch a ride
on the last bus.
The bus is lighted brightly
And it’s comfortable and hot inside
and I see the zoo passing by
just before the bus stops for me
and red lights
disappears in the distance
and the evening wind tugs at my jacket,
but my house is near.
poem by Gert Strydom
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River Bund 9: 50 P.m.
they do not speak your language
neither are they interested in you
you pay for everything
in this search for the cure of your
loneliness
you sail on a dragon
boat along that river
people are teeming
cameras click
on those tall buildings dressed
in colored
lights
there is a journey of lights
but not arriving
at any place
you stand there
holding upon one of those railings
amidst the crowd
there is this revolution going inside your heart
saying ' i do not belong here and
tomorrow on the first flight
i shall take my way
back home'.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There is a light
There is a light
That lights the night
When it’s too dark to see
It’s by my bed
For me and my Ted
My teddy bear and me
We like the light
That lights the night
On that we both agree
It feels soft and safe
Warm and nice
A lovely thing to see
When we awake
The light no longer do we need
Because it’s too light for the light
That lights the night
But the light,
is still needed indeed.
poem by Pamela lutwyche
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Speak to Me
Speak to me
speak soft my love.
Whisper tenderly
from your heart.
If I am far from your side.
Let your words
travel on the winds.
Guide me safely back to you.
When I am hurting my love.
Speak to me.
Take away my pain
by the sound of your voice.
Chase away dark clouds
with the brightness of song.
Open the door to my heart
pour in your love.
Speak to me with your heart
and I will answer.
By telling all the world
of our love.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Sonnet 76: She Comes, And Straight Therewith
She comes, and straight therewith her shining twins do move
Their rays to me, who in her tedious absence lay
Benighted in cold woe; but now appears my day,
The only light of joy, the only warmth of love.
She comes with light and warmth, which like Aurora prove
Of gentle force, so that mine eyes dare gladly play
With such a rosy morn, whose beams most freshly gay
Scorch not, but only do dark chilling sprites remove.
But lo, while I do speak, it groweth noon with me,
Her flamy glist'ring lights increase with time and place;
My heart cries, Ah, it burns; mine eyes now dazzl'd be:
No wind, no shade can cool, what help then in my case,
But with short breath, long looks, staid feet and walking head,
Pray that my sun go down with meeker beams to bed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Paradox
In the dark, the deep, the gray
I will lose the fight today
For in the end I am weak
A pawn in the greater play of things
For in the end the words I speak
Are not the words I want to hear
The words I speak cut my heart
Through and through a driven spear
I try to seem so indifferent
But all I do is care
So when you leave the words I say
Should be my words of despair
I can't stand to watch you leave
But all I do is stand and stare
My eyes glass, my heart my fear
So easy to break despite my walls
The cage I built to protect myself
There is no floor, and I will fall
My walls will crumble in on me
For I build them to quickly
poem by John Dillenger II
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Five O'Clock 500
Album: For The Record
Just punched the clock and boy am I ready
Walkin' out the door a-headin' home
It's time to buckle up again
In my rolling hunk of tin
It's quittin' time the evenin' race is on
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jeff
Oh, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500 every day
Oh, Bubba's runnin' right on my bumper
Pushin' me but there's no where to go
Lane changin' left and right
Blowin' horns and blinkin' lights
Oh, the fast lane has never been so slow
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jeff
Well, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500 every day
Well, the caution is out we're at a stand-still
Heard there's construction up ahead
Won't be long so they say
Soon we'll all be on our way
Some trucker on the CB just said
It's that five o'clock 500 and I run it every day
Pick-up trucks, cars and buses all in my way
We've got Darrel, we've got Dale,
Richard, Mark, Rusty and Jared
Oh, the boss just dropped the green we're on our way
It's that five o'clock 500, five o'clock 500,
Five o'clock 500 every day
Every day, every day, every day...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart To Heart
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the seasons of the heart album. it has also been released on the very best of john denver (double cd), the country roads collection an
Country classics albums.
I havent seen all there is to see
But Ive seen quite a bit
Some things Ill always remember
Some things I wish that I could forget
I havent quite been around the world
But Ive been around the block
I know that distances are meaningless
Like the hands that move around a clock
And I know that love is everywhere
Always safe, always true
And exactly where it comes from
Is where its going to
Your heart to mine
My heart to yours
Talk about opening windows
Talk about opening doors
My heart to yours
Your heart to mine
Love is a light that shines
From heart to heart
Here I am sitting in old hong kong
The harbor and the lights
Theyre like diamonds in the heavens
Enough to brighten the darkest of nights
Theres another side to sorrow
As there is to everything
Like the other side of lonely
Is falling in love again
And then you know that theres an answer
To the suffering we see
And though it isnt easy
Its still as simple as you and me
And youll know that love is everywhere
Always safe, always true
And exactly where it comes from
Is where its going to
Your heart to mine
My heart to yours
Talk about opening windows
Talk about opening doors
My heart to yours
Your heart to mine
Love is a light that shines
From heart to heart
Your heart to mine
My heart to yours
Talk about opening windows
Talk about opening doors
My heart to yours
Your heart to mine
Love is a light that shines
From heart to heart
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seven Golden Lamps***D
I. The CANDLESTICKS.
It is not so much to the light
as to the utensil or stand
for holding it that his attention is turned;
for the light of these lamps
is not from themselves,
or from any earthly source,
But from Him who is 'the light of the world,
' and who said to His disciples
as His representatives here,
'You are the light of the world.'
'Among whom you shine
as lights in the world' (Philippians 1: 15) ,
Says Paul, adding, 'holding forth the word of life.'
The individual saint is a 'light;
' a Church is a 'light holder' or 'lamp stand.
' The saint personally,
and the Church or body of saints,
is placed 'in the midst of a crooked
and perverse nation, ' and, like
'the word of prophecy' (2 Peter 1: 19) ,
'shines as a light in a dark place,
until the day dawn and the day-star arise.'
Israel, for ages, was the world's
only light—a light confined within
narrow boundaries—not diffused
over earth, nor set upon a hill.
Of this the one seven-branched
candlestick in the tabernacle
and temple was the symbol.
That lamp stand was doubly
shut in—first, by the outer curtain,
or wall of the house; and, secondly,
by the inner curtain, or wall of the holy place.
But these curtains have been
torn in pieces, these walls thrown down;
and now that lamp stands in uncurtained,
unhidden splendor, shining out over all the world.
Take the lamp as meaning,
in the first place, CHRIST Himself,
the light of Israel, and of the world.
This is true. He was 'a light to enlighten
the Gentiles; ' 'His life was the light of men.
' Take it again as meaning ISRAEL,
who was so long earth's only light.
This is true; for Israel, when her
exclusive privileges passed away,
gave forth her light around.
Take it as meaning the CHURCH,
or Churches, or saints of God.
This is also true—they shine out
as lights over all the world—not over
Israel's valleys and hills alone,
or her cities and villages,
but over all earth's wide expanse,
over all kindred's, and nations,
and tongues, and peoples.
Christ is the world's light;
the church is the world's light;
each saint is the light of the circle
where he dwells and where he moves.
15. January 2008
poem by Mary Wismer
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Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Colors to Notice
While on morning walk today,
Thought emerges to describe the color
Of Mumbai sky, but can’t get the correct word:
It is aluminum-like, light gray,
Same wherever on the entire irregular patch
Of sky in Bandra, I am allowed to see through
Hedged in by trees, buildings and roofs.
As the eyes sweep down, the colors
Around me attract: green, blue,
Black, yellow, red BEST bus, the objects reflecting
There is no end to my counting:
In green alone I can see
Seventeen different shades.
Once I start enjoying the difference
Between one green and another
Luxuriant, shiny or dark,
Light-green, or parrot or bluish green
Or green seen against sunlight from below
Or with sunlight falling on the green leaves, -
In between remembering the sea-green incorruptible
Of Carlyle in his French Revolution
Or Lady Macbeth’s seas before becoming
Incarnadined -
Greens stretch unending in mind, and around,
Till suddenly the purple morning glory in front
Mocks me: while the special dark pink, above
Of bougainvillea blushes silently at stupid man
Who shows off his reading to Nature,
And makes up by waving and dancing gently.
Colors of Life and Nature are around me
Anywhere anytime:
I love them, including
Different black shadows in the dark.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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The Art Of Life
If anyone believes,
The one standing alone...
Taking the heat under spotlight,
Runs the show...
Hasn't met the director or the producer,
The manager, assistant manager.
The script writer, agent, publicist...
And a host of others behind the scenes.
If anyone believes,
The one standing alone...
Taking the heat under spotlight,
Runs the show...
Doesn't know theater.
Or who calls the shots,
To enable any light to shine
And be spotted anywhere.
Theater is staged.
No matter whose name is on the marquee,
To sell the tickets.
Theater is staged.
And the best acts are trained to fill the seats.
If one knew theater,
One would know the art of life.
And the importance of having not only a good director...
But one with the bucks,
Who can keep the production afloat long enough to seduce...
Is the key to selling an audience sold on what they see,
Until the curtain drops to signal the end of the performance.
Taken from its natural habitat to be staged,
The art of life...
Is only theater to delude and to captivate believers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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