Pastoral
The little sparrows
hop ingenuously
about the pavement
quarreling
with sharp voices
over those things
that interest them.
But we who are wiser
shut ourselves in
on either hand
and no one knows
whether we think good
or evil.
Meanwhile,
the old man who goes about
gathering dog-lime
walks in the gutter
without looking up
and his tread
is more majestic than
that of the Episcopal minister
approaching the pulpit
of a Sunday.
These things
astonish me beyond words.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Key Lime Pie
Ocean breeze, tire swing
Coconut fall if you shake that thing
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
Tall green tree, yellow bird
Bikini bottom and a tie-dyed shirt
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Big white sail, red sunset
Lobster tail and don't forget
My, my, my - my key lime pie
A six string, ten shots
Of Cruzan rum, hey, I like it a lot
With my, my, my - my key lime pie
Tortola, a full moon
Shining down on a blue lagoon
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
We got Ginger and Mary Ann
Cookin' up a real good tan
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie
Key lime pie, my my my
My, my, my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is a Place and a Time
It is only considered rude,
To tell someone to shut up...
IF they are in mourning,
At someone's funeral.
That would not be the appropriate thing to do.
There is a place and a time,
To express one's guilt.
Especially when it becomes overwhelming.
However...
Any place else is acceptable.
Even in church.
When the minister has taken,
More than the customary hour...
To expound the deeds of the demon.
It is apparent who's sins are being communicated.
And perhaps,
Quickening the minister into prayer...
Will save an embarrassment of a pulpit confession.
Especially when folks have fried chicken on their minds.
And it is clearly not an occasion for a repast!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'm Twisted and Evil
I'm twisted its true,
and its all because of you.
All the hateful things you said,
and what you've put me through.
I'm evil indeed,
and its all because of me.
The things I put before my eyes,
and the books I like to read.
Twisted and evil,
and up to no damn good.
I want so bad just to be loved,
why aint that understood.
Take out my pain on some one else,
is the only thing I know.
These twisted evil ways of mine,
are all Ive got to show.
I'm twisted and evil,
through my flesh down to the bone.
And I do twisted evil things,
just thought you'd like to know.
poem by Ken Bennight
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Cage of Blades
There are voices in my head
And not all are good
One will not shut up
Though I've told it, it should
Four are good
While the fifth one is evil
It's like my personal demon
A tiny red devil
It whispers things to me
Things that I know aren't true
But if you heard them everyday
You'd belive them too
In order to keep the red one
From destroying my soul
I must lock it up where no one sees
In a dark and bloody hole
The bars are made of razors
That cut and make it bleed
But it will just eat up the blood
And feed and feed and feed
And there is a price that I must pay
To keep it in this cell
When the demon is cut up
I'm cut up as well
So the scars you see upon me
Are not a sign that I will give in
Instead they represent
My fight to keep on livin
And it may seem strange to you
How my pain, it never fades
But that's what must be done
To maintain a cage of blades
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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But Wise Men Perceive Approaching Things
Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
Men know what is happening now.
The gods know the things of the future,
the full and sole possessors of all lights.
Of the future things, wise men perceive
approaching things. Their hearing
is sometimes, during serious studies,
disturbed. The mystical clamor
of approaching events reaches them.
And they heed it with reverence. While outside
on the street, the peoples hear nothing at all.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Baby Blues
(bth australian version)
I wonder whats happening to me
Things are changing so dramatically
Ill search for you, youre not really there
Still I wonder knowing that you do care
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
He is the best thing to come my way
Perfect picture baby blues in my day
He is the best thing to come around
Sleeping in his cradle safe and sound
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Equine Laureate
What if horses had the pulpit on Sunday morn
Would there be as many people staying home
Or would our Churches be filled to the rafters
To meditate with a horse that is free to roam
What messages would an old horse say to us
Maybe of much love and sayings that forewarn
Maybe just some rules that we could all live by
What if horses had the pulpit on Sunday morn
poem by John McCornack
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Its Now Or Never
evil evil all around us make the
waves rush around us soft silky
things that are just the same evil thing
the tears i cry when it rains
are not a lie they are a shame
i write this poem for you
and me and the things to be
things may not make sense now
or never in this endeavor
its now or never the things we
try when we cry and laugh and lie
i come to a climax to the end to the things we've been
its now or never are very last try a helpless cry......
poem by Salome Leriadu
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Sunday Afternoon
I can think of better days
As I look into your eyes
And I feel that in a way
I know that youll be alright
And he walks for a mile
Its his style
Baby never acts wild
Feels hes invencible
He walks for a while
But I never ask why
He needs his time in isolation
Its your views
On your groove
On a sunday afternoon
Paint it slow
Then youll know
What you need to work out soon
Im gonna whisper in your ear
Ive a lot of things to say to you
Ill give you all my universe
Youre all I want and thats for sure
And he walks for a mile
Its his style
Baby never acts wild
Feels hes invencible
He walks for a while
But I never ask why
He needs his time in isolation
Its your views
On your groove
On a sunday afternoon
Paint it slow
Then youll know
What you need to work out soon
Its your views
On your groove
On a sunday afternoon
Paint it slow
Then youll know
What you need to work out soon
In your darkest hour
Take my hand and Ill show you
Understand it much better
Ill make sure you get there
Its your views
On your groove
On a sunday afternoon
Paint it slow
Then youll know
What you need to work out soon
Its your views
On your groove
On a sunday afternoon
Paint it slow
Then youll know
What you need to work out soon
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3. Hear No
I hear no evil
The devil words said
Never will those
Get within-side my head
I see no evil
Nor Satan’s surprise
To shield me from seeing
I just close my eyes
I speak no evil
Just good things I seek
And if they’re not good
I prefer not to speak
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Sonnet: Love Unchanged
’Tis good that you are whatever you are;
’Tis good that you are not something different;
’Tis good that you are hail, hearty so far;
’Tis good that you aren’t very dependent.
’Tis wiser not think of yesteryears;
’Tis wiser not to dream of love then missed;
’Tis wiser not to have all open ears;
’Tis wise to remain even one unkiss’d!
For love resurrected is love reborn;
And love reborn is one unrealistic;
And love unreal can’t our hearts adorn;
And love that can’t adorn hearts is mystic!
’Tis good that things had happened in this way;
’Tis good that love has stood the tests of day.
poem by John Celes
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Sunday Father
Hand in his hand though the park
All afternoon
A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story
Hand in his hand to wonder
Till day is done
Sunday father and son
Sundays are theres to explore
Alone by law
One day to keep the two from turning to strangers
One day to know the answers
Be firm , be fun
Sunday father and son
The father weaves though the weekend streets
Sunday done, monday comin' on
He leaves the child by a modest home
That they share no more
With the woman who waits indoors
Till she knows he's gone
Where are the words or the games
A place to go
Someway to let him know you want to be with him
Somehow it's always ending
Just half begun
Sunday father and son
Sunday father and son
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As The Day Goes By
Seven days make a week is a known fact, Seven days in the United State of America, is seven days in the United Kingdom, Seven days in Canada, is seven in Nigeria, Seven days in South Africa is seven days in Liberia, Seven days in Ghana is seven days in Togo A thousand years is like a day before God When you sleep and wake up the next day, you are a day older When you sleep wake up, you are a day older i say It takes the man of understanding to know that he is older than the previous day The day is counting fast The time is counting fast as well The time is ticking like lightening in the sky There is a sharp competition between the day and the time There is a sharp competition between the day and the night There is a sharp competition between the day and the month There is a sharp competition between the day and the year As we getting to the end of the year As we are getting to the end of December As December is fast approaching As December is staring us in the face, As the New Year is fast approaching a day of the following year is not far away from our nose As the day on the calendar stipulates that December closer than we expected As that day fall on December As the day of Christmas sparks like lightening of merrymaking events because of the birth of Jesus Christ As the people rejoice and shout for joy so the daredevil armed robbers, armed to the teeth and body loaded with ammunition's strike their victims leaving sorrow tears and blood Kidnapping increase Ritualist go after their unsuspecting victims I am yet to understand why evil run like tap water in the
mind of people It make my eyes cover in shame, that people are lovers of money rather than their flesh and blood, blood is thicker
than water so they say but when money engulfs the heart of man like tsunami engulfs the land he becomes wild in his thinking like the
lion becomes wild in attacking its prey Money is the root of all evil so also money answereth all things As the days go by, money making evil scheme engulfs the heart of man without having anything to do to that The reason evil continues to grow in the heart of man like a tree with a tap root is yet to be understood It is still a mirage which is yet to be unraveled as the day goes by A day of reckoning is fast approaching, is falling down like the London bridge A day of reckoning is fast approaching, is falling down like a ripe fruit scattering into irreparable pieces which can never be gathered together again The day goes by with evil
poem by Olayemi Ayo
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A Girl Named Sandoz (Peel Session)
Well I met a girl called Sandoz
And she taught me many many things
Good things
Very good things
Sweet things
I met her on a Sunday morning
It was hot though the snow lay on the ground
Strange things
Very strange things
My mind has wings
Sandoz, Sandoz
Will you tell me no
Sandoz, Sandoz
Will you tell me why
We could all learn something from your mind
Yeah
She is very old yet many think she's young
One kiss from her and you know your time has come
Good times for all time
Sandoz
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dodging Bullets
Dodging bullets
gathering speed
get over or rid of
the things that I need
Sliding down the
pavement of
one-way streets
From the ashes
From the cross
Against traffic
Against all odds
It feeds
It breathes
No longer needs
YOU
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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Out on the pull
I'm sorry for being so blunt,
But admittedly I'm a #@$%,
I care for her looks and blue eyes,
Interest in her words are lies,
If she should tick one box or more,
More than one night could be in store,
A hand I feel I could shatter,
Is held tight to show she matters,
Should she lack plans or act a fool,
I'll try making up these shortfalls,
If it turns out that we do suit,
I wonder if kids would be cute,
And if things do not go that far,
Que sera, sera or huzzah,
I like the arts and going for walks,
Seeking the right girl to court.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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When Judgement Comes
Bad things happen to bad people
and bad things happen to good people.
They say only the good die young
but in driven droves the bad die young
also except when the bad die young
usually nobody notices and or nobody cares.
When bad things happen to good people
usually friends neighbours relatives people
will willingly come flock to their aid
but for the hand mind which chose evil paid
reality check is alarm wake up call delayed
death judgement waits for every soul rewards...
are made paid
according to choices
choices greedy good
or evil before the spade
all are weighed measured
in judgement of soul lost saved?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The evil and the good
The things we call evil
Is evil only to us
As we don’t see it
In relation to the rest
Of the universe; so
It is not evil but good
In its own nature; hence
No evil is evil.
23.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Reality (Naani 25 syllables)
The heart is the storage house
Of deepest thoughts, feelings
The eyes mirror them
But the lips open the gates.
'The good man brings out good things out of the good stored up in his heart; the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart, the mouth speaks.'
Luke 6: 45
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Sonnet: The Winner Is God And His People
There are some things that money cannot buy;
There are some things whose value priceless lies;
There are some things decided by Most High;
There are some things one does before one dies.
It is a war between good and evil;
It is a war between virtues and vice;
It is a war between man and devil;
It is a war to save man- God's device.
If God is Truth, how can the Righteous die?
If God is Goodness, good men will survive;
If God is potent most, success is nigh;
If God is Alpha, He’s always alive.
Yet knowing this, man tends to forget God,
To claim powers God-1ike looks rather odd.
poem by John Celes
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