Communion
Sanctified by white robed candles
Whose flames flicker and dance over ancient altars
Silent lips sing in the silence
Altar boys swing incense and homage to the ritual
Silent feet shift towards the altar
With ease each parting lip
Tastes of sacrifice
And wine dripped cups that brim
With crimsons beads that glisten
And in the shadows
Hidden vaults of history
Tear back the robes
And break the flesh
And shed the blood
And this is love
And this is love
The sweet hymn sings and is sung!
And all is dead [here]
And in the silence gone, as before,
From the universal door flung wide,
The mystery of his sacrifice
yvette m smith feb 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Spilling Of The Wine
The soldiers lie upon the snow,
That no longer gyrates under the spinning lights
Night juggles in her fat black hands.
They will not babble any more secrets to loose-mouthed
nights
Expanding in golden auras,
While sleigh-bells jingle like new coins the darkness
shuffles . . .
They will not drink any more wine—
Wine of the Romanoffs,
Jewelled wine
The secret years worked slowly at
Till it was wrought to fire,
As stones are faceted
Until they give out light.
The soldiers lie very still.
Their shadows have shrunk up close
As toads shrink under a stone;
And night and silence,
The ancient cronies,
Foregather above them.
But still over the snow, that is white as a ram's fleece,
Arms swing like scythes . . .
And shadows in austere lines
Sway in a monstrous and mysterious ritual—
Shadows of the Kronstad sailors
Pouring blood and wine. . .
Wine
Spurting out of flagons in a spray of amethyst and gold,
Creeping in purple sluices;
Wine
And blood in thin bright streams
Besprinkling the immaculate snow;
Blood, high-powered with the heat of old vineyards,
Boring . . . into the cool snow . . .
Blood and wine
Mingling in bright pools
That suck at the lights of Petrograd
As dying eyes
Suck in their last sunset.
The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-piles—altar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice— Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Silent Girl [Reprise]
That silent girl broke my heart
That's her passing now
That silent girl I gave my love
It is her paid me with hurt
What would I say to this silent girl
When all she reply is silence
Maybe if I were to be a silent boy
I wound understand the tongue of silence
But I am no silent boy you see
But I love you like the waters in the sea
It flows and flows and never dries up
Please teach me to be a silent boy
So I can love you in silence
Share with you, your sweet and sad moments.
Silent girl of the river goddess
you are silent, I am silent,
Will you hear me?
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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Silence.....
silent thoughts
silent dreams
silent horrors
silent screams
silent pains
silent refrains
The cold black
silence attracts
silent wisdom
silent thoughts
A want for more is what silence sings
but is love on the menu, all but contiversy
butnow have u realized wat silence can bring?
hopless insanity if u can read....
sound is wats need to go through life
but all awhile silence is that unwinnable fight
push with all ur power
hope with all ur dreams
but you get no second chance
you only deserve screams
but those screams are silent, hopeless....
insanity........
poem by Tommie Cobb
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Flower Of Aloe
HOW can I tell you how I love you, dear?
There is no music now the world is old;
The songs have all been sung, the tales all told
Broken the vows are all this many a year.
Had we but met when all the world was new,
When virgin blossoms decked untrodden fields,
I had plucked all the buds that summer yields
And woven a garland, worthy even of you.
Or had I sung when rhymes were yet unwed,
And crowned their marriage in the songs I made,
I had laid them down before you unafraid,
Meet offering to your grace and goodlihead.
But all the dreams are dreamed, and no new heat
Touches life's altars, all the scents are burnt,
The truths all taught and all the lessons learnt,
And no new stars lead kings to kiss Love's feet.
For now in this grey world, of youth bereft,
Love has no throne, no sceptre and no crown;
His groves are hushed, his altars are cast down,
And we who worship--we have nothing left.
And yet--your lips ! The God has built him there
An altar which has known nor flower nor flame:
There may we burn the incense to Love's name,
There the immortal virgin rose be fair.
So--since my lips have known but one desire,
And all my flowers of life are vowed to you--
For us, at least, the old world has something new:
For me the altar--and for you the fire!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Kamasutra Poetry Series 2 - Flickering Candles of Bliss
chinese wedding
two red candles
stand tall and straight
on an altar of bliss
flicker, flicker
to esctacy
flicker, flicker
to the wishes of
the ancestors and gods
flicker, flicker
to the shadows
of lithe torsos
lively as the candles' flames
burning with an air
of subdued,
charmed secrecy
at exclusive zone of bliss
the newly married
so young
they could burn
the whole town down
with their fiery libido
scratches, tears and tear
are part of the heavenly sport
the only one drawn up
by god for man
guaranteed to make
the world go round
game played in twosome
savoured with delight
excitements, and pleasure
the exploration of hidden horizons
that propel sighs, mourns
and explosions
the physiques intertwine
so tightly as Nirvana dawns
in some spilling seconds
prove that they need not be
a hindrance to paradise
a foretaste of all orgiasmic games
waiting in His other world
the whole night
the next door maid, sleepless
experiences thunder and storm
next day is spent
straightening waves
in the bedspread,
blanket covers and pillows
the aftermath of a hurricane
the young wife
in colourful loose frock
moves around a butterfly
and lifts her lips to smile -
throwing light to her wedding night
like flickering candles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Power Of Silence
In silence the flower buds gently bloom,
In silence they waft their sweet perfume.
In silence grows the blades of grass,
In silence I pen down my verse.
Speech is silver, silence gold,
Good deeds silently performed,
Is more eloquent than words!
In silence lovers cuddle and sleep,
True love communicates through
oceans deep!
Look at the mountains towering so high,
Clouds kiss their tops and silently
float by!
In silence the monks move their prayer
beads,
In silence they perform their charitable deeds.
In silence the sun rises and shine,
In silence the moon beams softly smiles.
In silence my God I invoke,
In silence rise my incense smoke.
In silence my inner-self unfolds,
In silent prayer my hands I fold.
In silence, with Him I communicate,
In silence I surrender to my fate.
In silence I beg Him to make me whole,
In silence to Him I surrender my soul!
In our noise polluted world, silence is
difficult to find,
But I know, one day, this Silence shall be
mine!
A Silent River Part2
Sunday is a holiday
I'do again
I'makes again
The memories of the silent river
I'come again
To remember
I'have ever love and miss
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
The memories of the silent river
I'felt his love again in this river
I'felt his longing again in this river
I'felt his kindly again in this river
And i'see again his softly face in the water
In this silent river, silent so silence
The silent river
Makes me remember
I'miss again
the silent river
Makes me to get so many things
Sitting nearby silent river
Come to me the lonely
Come to me the long yearning
Come to me the tears
Come to me the rain
The silent river keep my memories good
In the silent river, silent so silence
Save me now, from all the dejected
To spin around all back
This silence is geeting on my nerves
Were i'am so afraid
You were to be lost in thought
And all was lost to me
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
A Sacrifice Of Honey
A Sacrifice of Honey
Date: August 30,2011
There was a raging fountain
Gushing sticky sweet
A menagerie of flavors
Dripping at your feet
A need but for a moment
To stop and taste the wine
There were no poison apples
Just honey sweet, benign
Cast off the pleas and whispers
And quick to turn a cheek
When all it took was passion
To keep the honey sweet
Fire it seems, is fickle
It can't be bought or sold
Denied the flames of passion
It turns from hot to cold
Love laid upon the altar
Left as a dying flame
A sacrifice of honey
Was paid to play your game
************************************* ********
Copyright © 2011 Leria Hawkins, All Rights Reserved
poem by Leria Hawkins
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Love's Sacrifice
LOVE'S Herald flew o'er all the fields of Greece,
Crying: '
Love's altar waits for sacrifice!'
And all folk answered, like a wave of peace,
With treasured offerings and gifts of price.
Toward high Olympus every white road filled
With pilgrims streaming to the blest abode;
Each bore rich tribute, some for joys fulfilled,
And some for blisses lingering on the road.
The pious peasant drives his laden car;
The fisher youth bears treasure from the sea;
A wife brings honey for the sweets that are;
A maid brings roses for the sweets to be.
Here strides the soldier with his wreathed sword,
No more to glitter in his country's wars;
There walks the poet with his mystic word,
And smiles at Eros' mild recruit from Mars.
But midst these bearers of propitious gifts,
Behold where two, a youth and maiden, stand:
She bears no boon; his arm no burden lifts,
Save her dear fingers pressed within his hand.
Their touch ignites the soft delicious fire,
Whose rays the very altar-flames eclipse;
Their eyes are on each other—sweet desire
And yearning passion tremble on their lips.
So fair—so strong! Ah, Love! what errant wiles
Have brought these two so poor and so unblest?
But see! Instead of anger, Cupid smiles;
And lo! he crowns their sacrifice as best!
Their hands are empty, but their hearts are
Their gifts so rare for all the host suffice:
Before the altar is their life-wine spilled—
The love they long for is their sacrifice.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Dreams and Shadows
Flames, dreams, candles, shadows,
All dance in sight.
Flames on a far, dim hill, or near,
Close, in the night.
Torches, running in shadows,
Across the dry valley.
Candles nearby, flames alike,
Join in swift memory.
Lost wanderers, walking in realms,
Realms of cold darkness.
Stars fly to us, and dance, on the white,
Cold, flowing stillness.
Flames, and light, leap high, in the far,
Gray, hopeless distance;
On a ridge, hidden away, and dance,
Dance their reckless dance.
poem by Jerome Brooke
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Onion
My love is an onion naked and white
Peeled back from itself
Into it's selves
It conceals many lives
My love is the layer upon layer
The years in which we grew
Slowly and in perfect symmetry
Up from that first shoot
Anchored in the earth of first passion
sculpted in time into one clear white orb
Invincible
immeasurable
The depth and breadth of you and I
Knitted in silkness of flesh and form
And at that first touch
The first severing of ties
A parting sorrow
brings a rivulet of tears to thy celestial eye
Twixt pain and joy,
True love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Enigmatic
Within the woodlands dappled shade.
I came across a block of stone
I had no doubt it was man made
Though when and why cannot be known.
So perfect was the craftsmanship
which had been lavished on this stone
A place of ritual worship
It had to be an altar stone.
Though no one worships here today.
The altar stone still stands alone.
Within the woods hidden away
But sadly there is little known.
There’s no recorded history
To help me solve the mystery.
(09 August 2011)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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How Can A Canary Sing When Has Lost It's Voice?
How can a Canary sing, when it has lost it's voice
It has no choice to stay silent
And listen to the music silence makes
poem by Yvette Smith
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Silence
Silent the whole lot in silent space
Who art Thou silent in silence
Yonder beyond yonder in silent spirits
Thou bang banged in silence
Silent Thou persona unseen, unknown in silence
Yet smelt in silent thoughts
Thou taste, Thou fragrance nonfigurative
Yet figurative in tentative five elements
Fundamental who, what, how, why, where, when, ..
A mysterious quantum in perptual unfound answer
Ceaselessly in ceaseless silence
Silent the whole lot in silent space
Who art Thou silent in silence
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Shatter
The still silence falls
A curtain, nay, a wall
To dampen all the noise
Of the gathered girls and boys
Not a thing is heard
Not a whisper, not a word
But a solemn symphony
Of silent harmony
Like a soundless breeze
Gliding in with ease
Falls the silent wall
Holding all in thrall…
Then laughter!
With a clatter!
Like a clang
Out it rang
From their lips
Laughter rips
Hoots and hollers
Wild callers
Façade falls
Broken wall
With the laughter
Silence shatters.
poem by Sophia White
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If Silence Breaks Its Silence
IF SILENCE BREAKS ITS SILENCE
Melvin Banggollay
The tail of silence riding with the wind
whispers echoes of rumor mongering
but when asked to accost its humming
Mute was his lips as if he knows nothing.
If silence will break its own silent beam
then lot of things could have been seen
Justice could have reign if eyes be keen
and tongue unafraid to tell what had been.
For fear of life, the ear of silence remain
to be deaf forever even it hears disdain,
The eyes that see is blind again and again
as lips close to shout for silence to reign.
Be brave to break the silence that reign
for truth to radiate justice that regain
Hope to those who sung victims pain
and torment to those that inflicts disdain.
Written when my father was wrongfully accused
of a crime of frustrated homicide that he never have done.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Prayer
There is no prayer, for the dead man in the street
For the pauper who plies his trade
For the traveller with dirty feet
There is no prayer that can eclipse the sun
For what is done is done!
No mourning
Turning cry
No casting shadow
Only dust
And so much lost
In unprayed prayer
Their lives
Waiting to begin in praying
Beyond hands tied down
And lights fragile threads of dawn
The street is full of them
These silent chanting
Unheard prayers that mourn
So many lives
Lit candles
Waiting to be heard
In the darkest light
yvette m smith uk poet may 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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I Have Never Said
I have never said to anyone that I loved them
and not meant stars, not meant soft green lanterns, not
meant the light coming out of the dark
and fireflies on a windy summer night by a black lake
or the lamp that draws the doe out of the shadows
or the moon drunk quicksilver in the inebriated window
warping its image through the delusional weeping
of dirty winter glass signed like a guestbook
by everybody’s tears, inside and out, and this
still the case though I’m old enough to know
all that crying never turned into a single chandelier
and sad ink’s a bigger liar thread for thread
than the dyes of joy that colour the whole head hopeful.
And I have lain like an island of flesh in a coven of candles
beside cool dolphins with seabird hands
off the coast of my longing, and marvelled
at the amazing bridges of their bodies
and how they nudged my shipwrecked heart ashore.
I have never said to anyone that I loved them
and not meant the mountain ribbon of a bloodstream
that could fill to the brim the infinite cosmic goblet
of an eye, emptier than a telescope dying of thirst
in a desert of stars, with the wine of its endless flowing;
never said I love you to a tree or a door or a cat
or the chain of footprints I drag through the snow like the past
and not meant some era of a woman
who came and stayed awhile with me
in the desolate shadows of a late afternoon apartment
like the first rising of a second moon
I could live on alone in a garden of skulls and fountains.
And even when I draw the suicidal hypotenuse
of love’s last crescent across my left wrist
to bury myself in an alma mater of unsanctified ground,
having given a hand to the death of a savage passion,
or swept my continental vision off the table
back into the coffin like an archipelago
of missing jigsaw pieces, more vacancies than a honeymoon hotel
everytime I try to assemble it, I still know
even if it isn’t vouched to me,
that love is life, and life is a bride
that walks to the altar of her mysterious sacrifice alone,
trailing her ancient veil of stars
along this endless road of ghosts, and somehow
even when I’m the corpse of a fox in the ditch
among the white, sweet, wedding clover,
having been struck from the glare of her highbeams,
it is always somehow strangely okay
and foolishly worth it.
poem by Patrick White
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Fatigue
Tired today
Almost a reed broken
Worded out from speech
Finding a peace
In hung silence
And these are all clouds
No dreams tail
There is nothing to reach for
But this, in this moment
Loved out of love
Tired, yes I am tired of 'I love you'
You, who must listen
You, must you love me?
Unseen I walk beside you
Must you understand?
More than a measure of breath
A day spent with empty hands
Must you know me?
How can you know?
All that is missing in the spaces
Between today and tomorrow, ?
And another year passes unseen,
And the universal parent is waiting,
Yes he is always waiting
To take us home
To take us back
To a time when we were living without want,
Only knowing we were loved,
And that is all,
And that is that!
yvette smith 26.1.09
poem by Yvette Smith
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