Amir, Prince Of Treetops, Now Sleeps In His Bright Yellow Room
perhaps you are
a bee sleeping in
the heart of a flower
the stone of your
head softening
sweetly upon a pillow
your little hands
opening into bestowal
while you sleep
the sun ripens
plums into honey
upon the little
feet of the bee
of Mashhad**
Little bee
you awaken
a child screaming
'injustice'
you carry his
cry to parks
to courts
authorities have
declared war on
yellow and pillows
all plums are
suspect
Innocence is
threatened with
exile yet still
in a shrub beneath
the golden window of
the girl you must
love in secret
you smile and
recite Hafez
and the walls of
state and of the
local god are
falling finally
down truly one
as rubble
still the powers
that be refuse to
see blood and dust
though the lemon
trees at Ferdosi's
tomb are opening
into blossoms
proclaiming a
kingdom of justice
through bitter tears
little bee now
sweeps the little
room of its heart
your heart
of hope
and fear
the muezzin calls
fly away all to each
his dutiful prayers
bee too flies
honeys the feet
of those who would
kneel to be closer
to the Friend
whose Voice is
sweet in the halls
the streets the
friends of the
Friend of Mashhad
they do not know
that the bee up
from flower-heart
is busy keeping
the peace
flower
by
flower
they do not know
that the child
sleeps whose hands
are gentle bestowals
always counting
slowly
one two three
at the top of
his tree
**Mashhad is the second largest city in Iran and one of the holiest cities in the Shia Muslim world. It is also the only major Iranian city with an Arabic name.
Mashhad is also known as the city of Ferdowsi, the Iranian poet of Shahnameh, which is considered to be the national epic of Iran.
poem by Warren Falcon
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A little Flower
A flower grew out of the ground
A tiny flower from the dirt
A tiny living soul from underground
A baby crawling from the dirt
A little innocence of wild color
A tiny spark of hope
A tiny pleasure free of charge
A flower that i called my own
A little baby ran towards it
A tiny flower crushed beneath the feet
A little human innocence
A little bliss destroyed by ignorance
A little flower dead on the ground
A little baby jumping up and down
And only me from my own window, witnessed the death of my own flower beneath the feet of blissful child without idea of his first crime...
poem by Dmitriy Kokarev
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To Sydney
CITY, I never told you yet—
O little City, let me tell—
A secret woven of your wiles,
Dear City with the angel face,
And you will hear with frowning grace,
Or will you break in summer smiles?
This is the secret, little town,
Lying so lightly towards the sea;
City, my secret has no art,
Dear City with the golden door;
But oh, the whispers I would pour
Into your ears—into your heart!
You are my lover, little place,
Lying so sweetly all alone.
And yet I cannot, cannot tell
My secret, for the voice will break
That tries to tell of all the ache
Of this poor heart beneath your spell.
Dreaming, I tell you all my tale;
Tell how the tides that wash your feet
Sink through my heart and cut its cords.
Dreaming, I hold my arms, and drag
All, all into my heart—the flag
On the low hill turned harbourwards,
And all the curving little bays,
The hot, dust-ridden, narrow streets,
The languid turquoise of the sky,
The gardens flowing to the wave,
I drag them in. O City, save
The grave for me where I must lie.
Yet humbly I would try to build
Stone upon stone for this town’s sake;
Humbly would try for you to aid
Those whose wise love for you will rear
White monuments far off and near,
White, but unsoiled, undesecrate.
poem by Louise Mack
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To My Unseen Friends
To My Unseen Friends.
By: Aziz M. Tehrani, Mashhad, Iran([email protected]
Dear friends, I love you all.
Don't think you are unseen.
When I study your emails,
I read them as if you are present and seen.
I always think of you and the distance,
Which has seperated us from one another.
I think our vision creates pictures,
To see each other as if we are together.
I hope one day I will be with you and see your face.
Regardless of discrimination or race.
We are originally from one mother and father
We should try our best to respect each other.
Without doubt, we are all sisters and brothers,
We see ourselves as equally as others.
Fat and thin, young and old,
We are all protected in God's threshold.
poem by Azizollah Memar Tehrani
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The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
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Heart Of The Flower
Now at the station, the train to another land
Lands of never seen light, light hidden in infinite night
Night in its biggest might, might of the strongest power
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
The waiting room of kingdom come, I look back upon my life
Life of loss but now the end
End of rat race overdrive
Overdrive to foreign lands
Lands of contemptous hours
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
Now on the train
This is the end of my day
I feel my spirits escape like a musical clock thats dying away
I turn once again and wave my hand and say goodbye
I never thought its so easy
I never thought its so easy
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
I take the first train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
And there the smoke of the train to the heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
The heart of the flower
Diamond/1990
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wild flower
she's a girl, only a girl
a girl, who have a frigile heart
but possessed a strong spirit
a girl who have faith
she's only a girl who defies her wisdom
a girl who stand for principles
a girl who belives in justice
a girl who fight for her rights
the beauty inside of her
the purity of her heart
looking for her soul to find happiness
she's a girl who always wearing a smile
a happy and contented person
a girl who wish to have simple life
a girl who have a dream
a dream for peace and love
she's a girl, like a flower in the wilderness
a wild flower always stand after the storm
a wild flower bloom after the rain
even she's in vain
and let her beauty show to the world
she's a wild flower
the wild flower in my heart alone
-vanessa-
poem by Vanessa Cabrera
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Flower - Flower Love
flower - flower love
flower - flower love
I come with flower and love
into your life that's full of hope
flower - flower love
I bring you flower and love
as a truth of my heart that never drop
I am a butterfly for you
with blackish orange in colours on me
I will never fly away from you
and never stop watching over you
for
flower - flower love
you are my flower
and you are my love
poem by Juahta Sitepu
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Heart flower
Smile is
Heart flower...
Smile every day...
Evrery time...
Slow and slow
You smile...
Get...
New new friends ship
For your hands...
Don't use money...
Smile is free...
Born on your heart...
A flower...
Nice and pick up your life
And your's lovingely...
Your smile is a good
Heart flower...
Love and love to do smile smile...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Beautiful Flower
I have a flower, Yes I have picked a beautiful flower,
One with greatest strength like a tree with mightiness and power,
Power of faith beyond any measure,
Yet precious and few like a beautiful treasure.
How precious its love it shares,
How very precious sweet and rare.
Easily lost as colors are tossed on the tides,
For those who tend to set it aside.
Beauty beyond their eye’s is what I have gained as a prize,
And keeping it, is what makes my heart so wise.
It may seem like neglect on their part,
But neglect has not been the wish of their heart.
Why so often many are in a rush,
The beauty of this flower is often a hush.
I praise my flower for its humbleness,
Staying that way always brings forth its beautifulness.
Yes my flower that I have I would gladly share,
To those who appreciate my gift that is rare.
This flower is a gift and I will tell you why,
Because its known for its beauty that will never die.
For if my flower and me ever depart,
The beauty of it will always be found in my heart.
Yes I have a flower, a beautiful flower to name,
It would have to be beautiful,
it would have to meet its beauty inside and out the same.
For that isn’t hard to do, Why you don’t even need a clue,
For I could have never have picked a better you,
My Dear Friend (put name here)….. Its true.
A name, that’s beautiful as you.
poem by Esther Ayala
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You Are A Stone Hearted
You are a stone hearted
that so my heart is bleeding
with your one hit
What my fragile heart will understand
harshness of your heart and
what your heart will understand
delicacy of my heart
My heart is more placid
than petal of any flower
Your heart is stone
that can overcome high tides of oceans
No fire can burn your heart
because you are a stone hearted
My heart can fuse with your little love
that so I hug without any care
or dare for life and death
My heart is a flower
Your heart is a stone
As a stone I worship your heart
offer my flower heart
Either you love or kick off
But my heart is made to adore you only.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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God's Heart
Dog is
Not only
Dog...
Home friend...
Lion is
Not only
Lion...
A farest king...
Flower is not
Only flower...s...
God's...heart...
So...
Love the flower's...
Live smile...
With flower's...
At your's home...
With sumall
Mud pot...
Simply smile
At yours home
With god's heart...
The flower's...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Dulcis Memoria
Long, long ago I heard a little song,
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So lowly, slowly wound the tune along,
That far into my heart it found the way:
A melody consoling and endearing;
And still, in silent hours, I'm often hearing
The small, sweet song that does not die away.
Long, long ago I saw a little flower,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
So fair of face and fragrant for an hour,
That something dear to me it seemed to say:
A thought of joy that blossomed into being
Without a word; and now I'm often seeing
The friendly flower that does not fade away.
Long, long ago we had a little child,--
(Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)
Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled
Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay.
An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him;
Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him--
Our little child who does not go away.
Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear--
(It was not long ago, but yesterday,)
So little and so helpless and so dear
Let not the song be lost, the flower decay!
His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping:
The smallest things are safest in thy keeping.
Sweet memory, keep our child with us always.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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My City Of Ruins
Theres a blood red circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church doors blown open
I can hear the organs song
But the congregations gone
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Now the sweet veils of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The hustlers and thieves
While my brothers down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Now theres tears on the pillow
Darling where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Now tell me how do I begin again?
My citys in ruins
My citys in ruins
Now with these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Rise up
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Brown-Haired Girl
I’m a wayward flower
Who has abandoned
His safe garden
To wander down
The concrete streets
Of the city.
When I find
The girl I love,
I will place myself
In the flower vase
Of her heart.
I believe
In the enchanted perfume
Of the feminine,
I’m seeking to embrace
A woman’s soul
In the pink afternoon.
Everything about me
Is a serenade
On a summery day
With a gentle breeze blowing
Beneath a soft shade.
I will call
A little brown-haired girl
An amazing goddess
As a thousand bouquets
Laugh and whisper her name.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Flower In Our Heart
In our youth, the flower in our heart begins to grow.
Love comes along and that flower blossoms.
As the years, spin merrily by.
Unlike the autumn
when the flowers in our garden,
shrivel and die.
The flower in our heart
remains constantly strong;
right up until our last breath
is finally taken away.
poem by David Harris
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
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Clumsy Hands
Life blossoms, from only a tiny rosebud,
A beautiful flower that is God's perfect design;
I tried to be gentle, to unfold the dainty petals
With these clumsy careless hands of mine.'
'The secret of unfolding the delicate flower
Is not known to numerous people such as I.
I opened this flower with love as power,
in my hands they tattered and emotionally did die.'
'So I couldn’t unfold God’s elegant flower,
As The aweosme design collapsed, within hours
Sadly, shocked, I realized, I lost all my wisdom
To enjoy the happiness of the earthly kingdom
Now the rugged path that lies before me
To unfold the moments of peace within me
Which is Covered with unseen pain around
God blessed me with many a friends so sound.
Uneasily the flower will blossom, with time again
God will not retire, let it be sun or pouring rain
Now each moment of my dawning day
God's Stars, silvery don’t fail to shine my way......
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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You”re Still You
The same hair curling on your head
At 49, you look younger,
There are no wrinkles on your forehead
The cheeks still smooth and tight
Your eyes still glow
Like fireflies reflected in the mirror
The moon against the sky
The way you talk defies the years of your absence
The way you look at me
Your way your gaze flies like a butterfly
Hovering back to me like tender hands
Of a woman
Caressing my face
Like golden yellow wing
Fluttering on the petals of a flower
Indeed, you are still you
Loving me
In gentle restraint and
I am deeply saddened
By my own kind of same
Usual indifference
Of the clouds drifting
Without even the thought
Of stopping by the
Peaks of trees
As you open yourself to the sun like
A tight bud opening its petals
Finally exposing its true gentle colors
A flower blooming
To the kindness of sunshine
And the freshness of the air
That this world can offer
I spread my wings like a yellow butterfly
Fluttering away to another garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beautiful Flower
The most beautiful flower
filling my senses with passion
overflowing my being with plenty
pulling away my pain
filling my emptiness with cool water
joining my soul without reason
I can feel the sweet taste of love embracing my heart
to touch this most beautiful flower
filling my senses with warmth
pulling the harsh cold snow from my heart
overflowing my eyes with sunbeams of hope
between my mind and my dreams...
I caress this flower, this most beautiful flower
filling my thoughts with daydreams of reality
opening my eyes to the greatest truth
this most beautiful flower.
poem by John Earing
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