A Child Speaks...
being lost in childhood
is nothing
but meditation
often in serene atmosphere
i tune my nostrils
to absorb
the lost fragrance of childhood
and the ears
to hear
the lost voices of childhood
and memories...
where i lived with nameless grass
nameless plants...
and their nameless Flowers...
nameless colours...
i played with ants
and nameless insects...
nameless butterflies...
i lived in shrubs
as if in a wild forest
without name
without words
a child speaks...
poem by Denny M.X.
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Nameless Rain
Its raining again outside
And all the witches have to hide
And I stare out the window
And wonder if anyone knows
The name,
Of any single dropp of rain.
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Nameless rain,
Whats your name?
The clouds have huddled above us
As they seem to follow us
And I sit here in pain
Thinking of the rain,
Rolling down my window today.
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Is this a game you play?
To fall here everyday
Did you ever have a name?
Do you ever scream in pain?
Oh, nameless rain.
Are you cursed to fall forever?
For the crimes that you endeavored
If you washed us all away
Would you fall anyway?
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Nameless rain,
Whats your name?
poem by Blaine McCanless
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An apology
If I have grieved you, I am sorry
I didn't see you there
I watched instead
The rubbed out face of a picture
Dissapearing into rain
On the side of the road
A man kneeling
Bent with a broken crayon..as if in prayer
If I didn't see you
I am sorry
I have known the shifting clouds
The moving on
The change of postal code address
The uncertainty of where to belong
I have lost these things,
The fixtures and the 'fittings'
But never the name
If I did not see you
I was lost
In the undone faces
nameless
Certain that I have never known you
I have one question to ask
'do you know me?
Would you take the time?
Named/ nameless
Outside, in
Looking
Unseen
There is a thin fence between us
Only dreams
In the same space
And the same time
On either side
where something is missing
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Lonely God Behind My Eyes
There is a lonely God behind my eyes
Who still cries for you who are so far
Away, like a lost child forgotten who she is,
Her identity soothed away by time
So she becomes someone else’s child,
Though my God remembers how she played
Before him once or twice in the early days
Before the world was fully formed—
There is a lonely God behind my eyes
Who screams at things because you can not
Hear him, who hates everything he sees
And wanders far up into the glacial lakes
Of my cranium where he sits on a nameless
Stone and cries your name, the word
That would set him free if he saw you dressed
In the fine syllables your parents christened
You with. There is a lonely God behind
My eyes who has tried to commit suicide
Just because he no longer believed he existed,
Because he knows not a thing to be true
Except that you have walked away, like a
Ghost shed of identity, so now you float down
The roads and caress nameless men thoughtlessly,
Forever and ever forgetting how your love
Was the fulcrum for this creation, how
Everything began to bloom as you opened
Your eyes. There is a lonely God behind my
Eyes who still cries for you who holds the
Key, who has forgotten.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Be With You Awhile
I wish I could tell you something you didn't know
I wish I could give you something you didn't owe
I wish I could tell you a joke to make you smile
And I could be with you awhile
Just wanna be that someone you weren't looking for
Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door
And when you're sad and blue my jokes still make you smile
And I could be with you awhile
I just want to take you somewhere you haven't been
Find an old time movie where we don't know the end
Lost in the radio, drive another mile
So I could be with you awhile
Just wanna be that someone you weren't looking for
Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door
And when you're sad and blue my jokes still make you smile
And I could be with you awhile
Tired of serious conversation
Tangled up in situations
I feel so free 'cause you want nothing from me
Just wanna be that someone you weren't looking for
Some hopeless vagabond asleep there on your floor
And when you're old and gray my jokes still make you smile
And I could be with you awhile
Just wanna be that someone you weren't looking for
Some nameless fascination that showed up at your door
And when you're old and gray my jokes still make you smile
And I could be with you awhile
I just want to be with you awhile
I just want to be with you awhile
I just want to be with you...
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mine
You have a nameless soul.
You may come to me with different names
I don't mind-
I knew you long before this world...
i loved you then, i knew you then.
Thus I don't mind if your soul is nameless;
for if it ever had a name
it must have been 'MINE'...
for u are mine forever and u must be mine.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Metaphysical Prayer
Come to me as nameless, Lord –
and I to Thee!
come to me – I care not – as
the Brahman, Krishna, Buddha,
Adonai, Christ, Mohammed, Reason –
clothed, adored, despised,
in any of the names and forms
by which men know Thee or profess to know,
in the name of Whom they fight each other,
and thus deny Thy very self –
or as a nameless stranger, none of these -
come to me nameless, Lord –
and I to Thee..
come as One clothed in majesty;
come as a ragged beggar at my gate;
come clothed in shining white as Love;
come as a tempter full of hate;
come in the dazzling beauty of the day,
come in the orchestra of sound,
come in the velvet silence of the night;
come to me in a crowded market-place,
come to me alone among the hills,
come to me as slow as years of torture,
come to me as quick as gunshot death –
come to me as the girl next door,
come to me as Magdalen or whore;
come to me as Satan – if Thou must -
come to me as years of reading, thinking, reasoning –
as the dust blown off an ancient book;
come to me as years of yearning patience,
hours each day of kneeling or cross-legged,
come to me as years of weary factory work,
or peeling vegetables all the day;
come to me as a long-awaited friend;
come to me blooded, fierce-eyed,
as enemy to be overcome;
come to me in anger; or in submissive patience;
come to me as tragedy, or comedy, or farce…
come to me disguised as one of these,
or as many; or as none;
or best of all, Lord,
come to me disguised as all of these…
come to me in illusion or in ignorance –
then come to me at last and joyfully,
in Thy duality – Thy final secret joke:
that not until we see in us some ‘other’,
may we know there is no ‘other’ here..
come to me, then, as distant Thou
to kneel to as the universe itself;
come to me, now, as friendly You,
who lived, and live, for ever in my heart;
come to me as one or many,
come as All in all;
come, beyond all comprehension - yet
clear as writing on a wall..
come to me, O nameless Thou –
and I, myself, to me…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Innocence was stolen
You stolen my innocence
As a young child
The painful memories
Filled my childhood with
Tears, hurt, and pain
The unbearable pain
The hurt
You put me though
You lost nothing
You gain power
I lose my innocence
Lost my life
Lost my happiness
Gain nothing but pain
My childhood forgotten
My childhood lost
My childhood stolen by a man
that was my moms friend
You voilatd me
You molesed me
More then I can count on my hands and feet
You took the innocents out of the child
And left pain
poem by Tiffany Johnson
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The Gardener LXIX: I Hunt for the Golden Stag
I hunt for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
pursue the vision that eludes me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands, because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
You come and buy in the market
and go back to your homes laden with
goods, but the spell of the homeless
winds has touched me I know not when
and where.
I have no care in my heart; all my
belongings I have left far behind me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands--because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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I Walk A Nameless River
I walk a nameless river
One which collects water from the houses,
The streets and such,
A river of rain that carry small sticks,
Cigarettes butts and, bits of paper
A shadow river that moves pap like rocks
A river trapped in the street cars’ tracks
A river rushing past ants and praying mantises
Against butterflies and worms that comes up and leave
Body tracks in the mud.
A river fed by puddles and cracks; indents in the sidewalks
By downward slanted driveways and situated front yards
By small streams on window glass and streams down sycamore trucks,
Maple, oak and such.
A cleaning river of gutterized rain,
A leaf drooping rain of green things,
River of no name
Too thin to carry twigs
Easily distracted by my foot
Easily stagnated into a nameless pond
When the sky has dried out.
I walk a one street river
A shallow river of clinched fists
A narrow river of butterflies in the nameless sky
A concrete river of feet saturated against the maple rocks
A river of bodies coming up leaving a river of cracks
A river of cigarettes of worms of sycamore trunks, oak
Marble and such.
A thin river of destruction, of gutters and traped tracks
Of sticks collected among themselves like dead praying mantises
In the rush of houses and driveways stacked in the water
Of a small rainy sky.
poem by David E. Patton
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Simple Wish Of A Complex Person
There are too many faceless screams
and many more nameless diseases
in this grey concrete world.
I get more headaches than I can count
and too many bad news reports to doubt
this place is full of evil and hurt.
So take me somewhere flowers actually grow
and the wind smells of lawns freshly mowed.
I want to drink water without thinking of death
and cross borders without worrying about guns.
Remind me of laughter and childhood,
kiss me and make me laugh.
poem by Alice Kriel
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Haunted
What are these nameless mysteries,
These subtleties of life and death,
That bring before our spirit eyes
The loved and lost; or, like a breath
Of lightest air, will touch the cheek,
And yet a wordless language speak?
In every breeze that blows, to-day,
One voice seems speaking unto me;
And north or south, whichever way
I turn my gaze, one face I see,
And closely, closely at my side
A mystic shadow seems to glide.
A motley crowd we move among,
We surge on with the mighty mass,
And yet no one in all the throng
Looks strangely on us as we pass.
No eye but mine own seems to see
The nameless thing that walks by me.
I cannot touch a proffered hand
But this strange shadow glides between.
Why came he from the spirit land?
What brought him from the world unseen?
Why am I troubled and oppressed
By the vague presence of my guest?
He was my friend! I should rejoice!
I loved him once! Why do I fear?
And yet I shudder as his voice
Speaks in the wind. I feel him near,
This restless spirit of the dead,
And shiver with a nameless dread.
I loved him once; he was my friend;
He held the first place in my heart,
And might have held it to the end.
But our two ways spread wide apart:
I kept the path upon the hill,
And he went down and down, until
He reached the depths of sin and shame,
And died as sots and drunkards die.
I ceased to even speak his name.
God knows I never thought that I,
Who blamed his lack of moral strength,
Might answer for his fall, at length!
O restless dead, lost friend of mine!
I might have saved you, had I tried.
I saw you lift the glass of wine,
And, seeing, had I warned you, cried,
'Touch not, taste not the drink accursed!'
I might have saved you from the thirst
That swallowed up your brain and soul.
But nay! I scorned you when you fell,
And, looking upward to my goal,
Left you to stagger down to hell.
Accusing spirit of the dead,
Your presence fills my heart with dread!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A childhood forgotten, A childhood lost
[NOTE: THIS POEM IS NOT TO BE USED ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY CONCENT. PLEASE USE THE LINKS IN MY BIOGRAPHY OR MESSAGES ON THIS SITE TO CONTACT ME. THANKS.]
I can't remember,
Skipping rocks on the pond,
My childhoods forgotten,
My Childhoods lost,
Going to the lake,
Sitting on the beach,
Playing with friends,
or dancing in the streets,
I can't remember,
The crash in the fog,
My childhood was forgotten,
My childhood was lost,
The doctor doing surgery,
Me getting pills,
I can't remember any of it,
None of it's clear,
I still can't remember,
How it is gone,
My childhood forgotten,
My childhood's lost!
Well I'm gonna end it right now,
I gonna kill myself off,
A childhood Forgotten,
A childhood lost
poem by Dani Baxter
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A World Without People
… a world of birds and ponds,
this world
of camphor-scented glades, a new one
in morning flames beyond each one
my soul comes and inquires within,
one with showers of light spotting the sea’s nameless floors,
nameless glades, full of chatter,
colored roots, great cats loping in retreat,
big-eyed dogs licking and shameless,
and never the solitaire hand of money-making,
the forcing plow before the money-shire,
the clink of scheming, the cuss of sweat,
but a world that washes, cools, christens with scent,
a world of life farmed with the seeds of death,
a world that refreshes the music I had thought was psalms …
poem by Edward Wright Haile
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Lost My Childhood
Yes i lost my childhood.
And it will never return.
I lost the innocient life
which i used to live.
I lost the fairy dreams
Which helped me for sound sleep.
Yes i lost toy car which i paddled for long.
i remember those fairy tales my mom told me.
I was a small school kid once,
Yes, I lost those moments.
With every day passing i am losing it
And i know it will never return.
Its true that i miss those days
But thats what i can only do.
I wanted to become big
But i was never aware of this hell.
I lost that laugh, i lost that joy.
I want that childhood again
I want to be a boy.
But all i got is a loss of childhood.
poem by James yardy
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I don't want to be nameless
If I had any sense,
I would welcome this...
The way you embrace a life.
But then it wouldn't hurt.
And you would be nameless.
The way you can't hear a frog
Until it's dark.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Sacrifice
How my body blooms from every vein
more fragrantly, since you appeard to me;
look, I walk slimmer now and straighter,
and all you do is wait-:who are you then?
Look: I feel how I'm moving away,
how I'm shedding my old life, leaf by leaf.
Only your smile spreads like sheer stars
over you and, soon now, over me.
Whatever shines through my childhood years
still nameless and gleaming like water,
I will name after you at the altar,
which is blazing brightly from your hair
and braided gently with your breasts.
Translated by Edward Snow
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Morning Before Dawn
Imperfect though beautiful weather
Inflating the weather veins,
Carving the tombstones were the zoetropes
Of lost housewives step so
Carefully,
And the lost dogs lay- they have forgotten any
Names that man may have given them,
And they run from stone to stone
As if recognizing their lost masters,
As deeper in the foothills the elk step over
The blue echoes of Navajos and other
Nameless Indians,
Their bugles resonating and catching in the
Red clay,
Rattling the song birds awake so that the
Bring the morning before dawn.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Much ado about something or other
An absence is hard to define
A nameless shape without a form,
an emptiness left by design
A task nobody can perform.
Using words which are meaningless
just strung together as a string
Poetic words which would impress
if only they meant anything.
Without a message to convey
they merely occupy some space.
To put it in a different way
the kind of words one should erase.
I think I may have lost the plot
because these word don’t mean a lot.
16-May-08
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Edge Of Reality
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
I walk along a thin line darling
Dark shadows follow me
Heres where lifes dream lies disillusioned
The edge of reality
Oh I can hear strange voices echo
Laughing with mockery
The border line of doom Im facing
The edge of reality
On the edge of reality she sits there tormenting me
The girl with the nameless face
On the edge of reality where she overpowers me
With fears that I cant explain
She drove me to the point of madness
The brink of misery
If shes not real then Im condemned to
The edge of reality
On the edge of reality she sits there tormenting me
The girl with the nameless face
On the edge of reality where she overpowers me
With fears that I cant explain
She drove me to the point of madness
The brink of misery
If shes not real then Im condemned to
The edge of reality
Reality, reality, reality, reality,
Reality, reality, reality, reality
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every man's highest, nameless though it be, is his 'living God'.
quote by James Martineau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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