Butterfly
Motion alone is real
Ever propelling
My wings luminiscent
And child like passion
That I feel in each midge astir,
Life-fugitive, infinite
That wakes its mates
In my withness, my here
Unaware who I am
that It calls to me.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus

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Amends to Nature
I have loved colours, and not flowers;
Their motion, not the swallows wings;
And wasted more than half my hours
Without the comradeship of things.
How is it, now, that I can see,
With love and wonder and delight,
The children of the hedge and tree,
The little lords of day and night?
How is it that I see the roads,
No longer with usurping eyes,
A twilight meeting-place for toads,
A mid-day mart for butterflies?
I feel, in every midge that hums,
Life, fugitive and infinite,
And suddenly the world becomes
A part of me and I of it.
poem by Arthur Symons

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Your Business Your Own
'Tis something I thought for your age you'd have known
Your life is your business and your business your own
What matter if others your praises don't sing
You're not breaking the law and you do your own thing
For collecting the wings of dead butterflies
That your ex mates laugh at you is not a surprise
But they are more silly than you overall
On saturday with others they kick and chase a ball
In a man's World sport is seen as okay
But that said what is a man's World anyway
To play football with your favourite football club
And guzzle down beer with your mates in the pub
Since they were never your mates going by what they say of you
keep collecting butterfly wings if that's what you like to do.
poem by Francis Duggan

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7faces
Monday's child has a dirty face, Tuesday's child is full of disgrace, Wednesday's child is full of OH Nooooo, & Thursday's child has far to go, Friday's child is fun loving & gets ready to rock & Saturday's child sleeps it off till 5 o'clock, But the child who wakes on the sabbath day, wakes up & looks like alice cooper on a good day, what. where.when. & how the fook did I endup with this look
poem by Sally Ann Jackson

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If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.
quote by Vincent Van Gogh

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child of mine…
To my beautiful child, , ,
Beautiful child, being so small you inspire me big,
Beautiful child, so fragile, you make me so strong,
Beautiful child, so tender your touch your power is great,
Beautiful child, small is your heart, infinite is the love I feel for you;
Beautiful child, your hand I’m anxious to hold, to walk life’s road with you by my side.
Beautiful child, your light will show me the way,
Beautiful child, you came to my life to teach me a lesson that I shall never forget…
Nor riches, nor power can give us the best things of life…
The smile of a child…Is the best of all rewards…
poem by Ale Duncan

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I Don't Want to Hear Another Word
I don’t want to hear another word!
Don’t even express to me another thought.
I don’t need something else to believe.
I am filled to the brim with philosophies.
I prefer to remain ignorant.
I am finally seeing that I can choose to say no,
To more information about the Infinite.
You have defined Him for me since I was a child.
And I let you.
I thought I had to.
But you cannot possibly know what He is to me.
No lines can be drawn.
He is not in any vocabulary.
Passion is something you feel.
It is something you are.
It is not in Webster’s dictionary,
Somewhere between “operate” and “star”.
God is my passion.
He is passion for me.
I am passion for Him.
He is the ocean rising up like a wave around me.
Suddenly I am lifted up off of my feet,
As His passion breaks over my head.
I am drowning in the experience of passion.
You cannot tell me how this is supposed to feel.
As this wave assaults my senses and,
Water pours into all my orifices.
You have the nerve to try and tell me what the rules are?
What the truth is?
How reality really is?
You there, standing on the shore,
Are going to tell me how I am to drown?
If you were in this ocean with me,
You and I would be one.
Not because we believe the same things,
Or are even aware of each other.
When orgasm reaches its crescendo,
We are so utterly alone,
Yet more one with
God than we have ever known.
We would be one in that we both,
Peaked with God and felt His heartbeat close to ours.
Passion is not a belief, a conviction, a truth.
Passion is an experience of Divine Love,
That changes you from the inside out.
You cannot tell someone about it.
You can only hope to survive it.
Or maybe not.
poem by Connie Crane

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Fugitive of failure
Fugitive not what i planned for,
failure, nothing is better than death,
how can i die when life haven't interpret
my full meaning.
Fugitive Fugitive my crime has not called
for arrest,
my day is still young, not even failure
can stop me.
Still you call me fugitive,
success is my only witness, my success
will labor out my freedom,
failure keep coming after me, yet success
is telling me to standstill.
When will all this end' in this 'uncalled for state'.
The night keep looking at me without telling me to run or stand, yet the sun ask me to keep running until i reach the point
of success.
Fugitive of failure not anymore.
poem by Senator alufalism

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I Wonder Woman
All… that we know as mates…
What…are we doing…as mates…
Knowing and doing…
A decision you must decide…
Has nothing to do with pride…
(Repetition) …could be good or bad…
(In the case of Abuse) …
Arguments and beatings over time…
Brings fear and a forced obedience…
In the case of love of self…
Arguments and beatings…
Brings separation and your freedom…
From that…no repetition needed…
Your queen hood succeeded…
Inner passion has much power…
You…are always the woman of the hour…
Your ability to be queen is…
Inevitable…for you are pregnant…
With such a crown…
No need for a beat down…You woman…
Are…Profound…
So remember that word, love…
And how near to a bed were you…
When, It was said…lol…
The good and the bad…
The…real ups and downs…
Your understanding…of…
(The grass is greener) …means much…
Woman…remember…God, gave you…
That touch…Use it…
Woman man, really is your student…
While being your lover…
Teach him, women unaware will thank you…smile…
Do your job, be queen, that is who you are…
And know, a man will respect that, no matter what…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb

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Its Real
Its real to me
When you say
I love you
Its real to me
When our hearts
Beat as one
Its real to me
When we entwine
Our passion feuiled
Bodys as one
Its real to me
all the little things you do
that make me smile
Its real to me
every time we
Talk about the little
things in life
Its real to me
how you want
To hold me close
Each and every night
Its real to me
when you say
The most romantic
things whipsered
softly in my ears
Its real
because
you make me
feel like a
teenager again
I want to spend
Eternity with you
I want to be apart
of your life
Thats the reality
of how I feel
Thats what we
Call True Love
© Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George

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That's The Way I Feel
You are that gentle breeze on a summer's day
You are the beat inside my heart
You are that place that I go when I need someone that's real
I want you to know that's the way I feel
I can look in your eyes and see every dream I've dreamed
I can see peace inside your fire
I can see joy in my life then only your love can reveal
I want you to know that's the way I feel
Life is a mystry
How lucky I am that your love has found me
thatfor, you are the key that opened the door to a world of ( )
And yes, I find that this is the my moment of my time
To really let you know the way you make me feel
You are that place that I go when I need someone that's real
A something, A gentle touch, A lover's hand to hold
Your the passion in my life is real
I want you to know that's the way, I feel
song performed by by Lionel Richie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Real
Oh pity us here we angels of lead
We're dead, we're sick hanging by thread
Get real
Get real
You can't stop meaningful teenage cries
From deep behind fifty year old eyes
Get real
Get real
CHORUS
I'm scared to touch
Too tense to be undone
I walk the streets
Not expecting morning sun
Against the voice of doom
Failures fall all over town
I guess I should, I feel I should
Get real
Get real
What's up?
What happened when I wasn't around?
Who did what?
What went down?
Get real
Get real
Think about myself it happens to me
It happens in the tunnel when I let myself feel
Get real
Get real
CHORUS
I feel it all through breakdowns falling all over town
I feel I should, I guess I should
Get real
Get real
Get real
Get real
The dazzle of light
The rape of life
The seed, the curse
The jazz of life
Get real
Get real
Get real
Get real
song performed by by David Bowie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fists (a Revised Poem)
faced with a blank wall
the mind passes through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away
reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real than what can be touched
by the hands
too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
lays itself upon the navel
one preaches
'what is here inside my fist
is real'
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
and resigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Wings Of The Mind
faced with a blank wall
the mind pass through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away
reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real that what can be touched
by the hands
too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
laid upon the navel
one preaches
what is here inside my fist
is real
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
resigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Mrs. Namita Shah-You mean the world to my child…
How can I thank you for all those bountiful values of goodness that you’ve so magically inculcated in my child’s innocent brain?
How can I thank you for so compassionately holding my child’s hand in an alien premises-when I wasn’t the slightest around to hear her inconsolable cries?
How can I thank you for making the whole process of monotonous studies—such an enchanting playground of richness for my child’s eyes?
How can I thank you for so beautifully taming my child into a symbiotically civilized angel—from an unruly doll only obsessed with her very own toys?
How can I thank you for so adeptly solving each barricade in the path of my child—as she indulged the first chords of her infinite mind into the whole process called ‘learning in school’?
How can I thank you for so magically triggering a smile on the face of my child—as she nervously fidgeted for her own space amidst several more of her kind?
How can I thank you for so magnanimously bearing with each bit of my child’s peskiness—converting each tear that dribbled from her eyes into the most perfect nursery rhyme of life?
How can I thank you for so thoughtfully introducing my child to each new aspect of school—letting her marvelously adjust to even the remotest component in the new atmosphere—at her very own pace?
How can I thank you for guarding my child like an invincible fortress of friendship—whilst teaching her the quintessential alphabets of knowledge at the same time?
How can I thank you for untiringly being the eyes of my child as she feebly weaved her way through each bit of unknown territory- amongst the incredibly tall walls of her first school?
How can I thank you for observing even the most intricate development of my child—and then making constant persevering notes on how to improve her all round performance in the chapter called life?
How can I thank you for being the most adorable home for my child away from her real home-and being the most perfect mother for her and all her mates as well in mundane schooltime?
Well let me just start by saying Mrs. Shah -‘That you mean the world to my child’ …..
poem by Nikhil Parekh

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Between My Horse's Wings (Expanded)
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings
Between My Horse's Wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings
poem by Horse Poet

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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris

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Another Birth Another Time
Flower buds sleep,
hiding dreams inside.
Universe rests in grain of pollen.
When dawn touches,
by golden quill dipped in dew,
life wakes up afresh.
Divine breeze kisses soft,
Lips slight apart aghast.
Heaven slides down,
tongue twists exotic.
Drama of life unfolds,
as sun wakes up full.
Five petals spread far n’ wide,
trek every nook n’ corner,
acts in scenes of desire.
Time sinks in ocean infinite,
fishing out dead hopes.
Sun dives down in coma.
Mind floats dead in dead-sea.
Retirement arrives unaware.
Lying on a rickety cot,
life unknown, stretches frozen.
Day falls deep into nightmare.
faded petals retreat to dust.
One by one teeth fall.
Skin wrinkles. Tongue bites.
Eyes closes, as ears go blank.
Body remains among discarded flowers.
Life stinks, delves deep into abysses,
Off to another birth another time.
into dirt and filths again.
________________
poem by Satheesan Rangorath

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Passion!
Passion!
Do you feel everyday?
Passion!
Come world, laugh with us
Release your soul, make it explodes
Passion!
Let people know who you are
Bring it up to the air we share
We have passion!
We don’t care of shame
If all we’ve done is wrong
So why we looked happy than you are
Passion!
That makes life called life
Menarilah lidah api!
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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Between My Horse's Wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse's wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse's wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse's wings