Idlers’ Paradise
Empty minds of pride and gait
Who shall for you open the gate?
So you perceive freedom
And intelligence of dome
For the far you see
Is no far than the folly sea
The near you perceive
Is no near than deafness can receive
You dream of glory
For no one do you feel sorry
Like thorns tearing flesh
You are insensitive when you thresh
Your haven is ignorance
For you give knowledge no chance
Your glances are squinted
And feelings stunted
Your glory
Is purely gory
How for food you wish
Yet you never learn how to fish
Your privileges fill up your bowels
And the your scotch drains our wells
We work no harder that you do
Only we don’t remain constant like sky-blue
We invent and innovate
When it is spoilt we renovate
But you will never graduate
From folly to better state
Hark! O ye that spill grain
Grain that left backs with sprain
Without raising a finger
Or even colluding with the harvest singer
To motivate they that toiled
You have come and spoiled
What you never for moiled
Granted an Armageddon is coming
No matter how much it will be raining
When the firing comes
You will not be saved under any terms
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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Folly
(For A. K. K.)
What distant mountains thrill and glow
Beneath our Lady Folly's tread?
Why has she left us, wise in woe,
Shrewd, practical, uncomforted?
We cannot love or dream or sing,
We are too cynical to pray,
There is no joy in anything
Since Lady Folly went away.
Many a knight and gentle maid,
Whose glory shines from years gone by,
Through ignorance was unafraid
And as a fool knew how to die.
Saint Folly rode beside Jehanne
And broke the ranks of Hell with her,
And Folly's smile shone brightly on
Christ's plaything, Brother Juniper.
Our minds are troubled and defiled
By study in a weary school.
O for the folly of the child!
The ready courage of the fool!
Lord, crush our knowledge utterly
And make us humble, simple men;
And cleansed of wisdom, let us see
Our Lady Folly's face again.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Aging Hands
There are those,
Spoiled from birth...
Who believe they can do,
Exactly what they please...
When and to whom they choose.
They do not accept responsibility for their actions.
And accuse others for being insensitive,
When their lack of accountability...
Infringes upon those deeds they perceive,
Are discussed too direct and much too frank.
These folks,
Are fighting internal battles.
And they surround themselves with others,
They rely to protect them...
From the pain of reality.
Unfortunately,
And eventually...
They are 'forced' to be the adults,
They dress outwardly and masquerade to be!
Very few,
Walking upon this Earth...
Are going to stagnate their own growth,
Raising stunted children's minds...
Charading themselves in adult bodies,
For too long!
Knowing something about this,
Is sick and wrong!
These times are changing much too fast...
To keep a grasp onto aging hands!
Especially when the traffic,
Is moving like it is...
In all directions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I said Don’t Tell Me
Don’t tell me of a world of masterful politicians
Don’t tell me of a world of embattled coalitions
Don’t tell me of a world of the spin doctors slurs
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Don’t tell me of a world of the dominance in hate
Don’t tell me of a world in riches for who last ate
Don’t tell me of a world of trades in bloodied furs
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Do tell me of a world where a heart seeks allures
Do tell me of a world for when tranquillity conquers
Do tell me of a world empowered as rebellion stirs
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Don’t tell me of a world of violent augmentation
Don’t tell me of a world in servitude of aggression
Don’t tell me of a world of pennies before the cures
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Don’t tell me of a world of the lost and the listless
Don’t tell me of a world of a dying disciple so lifeless
Don’t tell me of a world infested by human aggressors
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Do tell me of a world that the politician fought for freedom
Do tell me of a world where we dropp the food not the bomb
Do tell me of a world when making love new life occurs
Cannot perceive the blindness as the vision blurs
Do tell me of a world for grain that fed the thousand starving
Do tell me of a world when a day broke in a child’s laughing
Do tell me of a world where I can drink from purest streams
I can start to perceive though to only make sense in dreams
poem by Vision Ghost
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After The Slow Slipping Of Self
grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand
and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain
until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers
then feel that
your hands
are still yours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory, glory to, glory to,
The new born King...
Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory...
Glory to the new born King
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Glory, glory, glory, (oh yeah) glory, glory
Glory to the new born King
Glory (glory) glory, (yeah) glory, glory...
Glory...
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory... Glory...
Hail! the heaven-born Prince of Peace; Hail the son of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by, born that man, no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born...
[Ad Libs]
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shaking To Re-Invent To Then Adjust
Never did I ever stand inflexibe.
To prove I had strength against opposing winds.
I remain open to comprehend with a listening.
Hoping that from the doing of this,
There is something I have learned...
That continues to assist my growth process.
And letting nothing stand in the way,
Of my quest to eliminate aged and rusting barriers.
My life is like an earthquake...
Shaking to re-invent to then adjust as a must.
With a removing of that which has grown old,
To then innovate that updates...
Over and over again with renewed appreciation.
Much like the coming and going of each season.
I am not one,
However...
To quote a few passages from a book,
To then believe this protects me...
With a keeping of an ignorance,
I am not ready to rid.
Because to do so would disappoint,
Those upholding fading and outdated traditions.
My life is like an earthquake...
Shaking to re-invent to then adjust as a must.
With a removing of that which has grown old,
To then innovate that updates...
Over and over again with renewed appreciation.
Much like the coming and going of each season.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It is impossible to make people understand their ignorance for it requires knowledge to perceive it and therefore he that can perceive it hath it not.
quote by Jeremy Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is impossible to make people understand their ignorance, for it requires knowledge to perceive it; and, therefore, he that can perceive it hath it not.
quote by Jeremy Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is impossible to make people understand their ignorance; for it requires knowledge to perceive it and therefore he that can perceive it hath it not.
quote by Jeremy Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O Singer of the epic war history
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of life, of liberation hoary,
Of brazen battlefields, long desolate,
O Singer of Gita's ageless glory.
Outlived hast the song thine endless story,
Though war heroes survive still in state,
Frustrated of fate but scarce sorry,
O Singer of the epic war history.
Yudhishthir's dharma, Arjun's archery,
Bheeshma's oath, Bhima's bravery,
Scarce confined remain to Pearly Gate,
And sung are with Gita's ageless glory.
And ye O bard, two roles in one carry:
Of poet laureate and progenitor great,
O ye born in a river ferry,
O Singer of the epic war history
Ye sang thine epic in such swell flurry,
Ganesha, if not quite inadequate,
Lost in thought, felt somewhat weary,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory,
Not mine ‘lone, any pen-pusher's worry
‘Tis to try even to translate,
O Singer of the epic war history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
_______________________________________ __
This is a Villanelle a bit way out. The tercet,
that normally becomes a quatrain only in the last
stanza, is here so in all. Also, the first and the third
lines of the first stanza are repeated with some
modifications.
_____________________________________________ ______
- Villanelle | 02.10.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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It is always right to detect a fraud, and to perceive a folly; but it is very often wrong to expose either. A man of business should always have his eyes open, but must often seem to have them shut.
quote by Philip Stanhope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grain Of Sand
I feel like Im walking on a mine
Im gonna leave it all behind
I feel like Im gaining my soul
While Im losing my mind
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
Im gonna walk through that door
Im gonna see what its there for
cause all I ever want is your skin or your soul baby
But you couldnt give me either one of those
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
You use to hold me like a flower
We used to talk for seven hours
I see the bigger picture now
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Waste Food
Hundreds and thousands have toiled under the scorching sun of summer,
to grow the food which so comfortably we eat.
think of food as the fruit of labor of thousands of hours,
rather than just rice and wheat.
millions die due to lack of food, so is their fate,
but we are lucky to have every time enough in our plate.
we may never go to the fields to produce the food,
but my friend 'food saved is food produced'.
so lets take a vow today to put in our plate only that much which we can eat,
so that even a single single grain may not go waste.
poem by Sunny Mittal
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In my waking
In my waking,
In my waking is another calling,
I'm calling to make it again,
Since this is my definition,
Since that we are waking,
I'm there for another glory,
That my future came as a blessing,
In all the future plans,
I found that you came as the waking,
Loving to make up,
Loving to see that Iam the lover of humanity,
In all that I perceive,
In all that they be robbing,
I found they need glory from men,
In all that I do,
Seeing worldwide as that image,
I perceive that my world is not ignorant,
My making is all coming as the waking,
Living to the future,
I got nothing to lose.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Dare To Dream
When your offspring flies the nest
You have mixed feelings when you rest.
The house is quite like a tomb
There is an empty feeling in the womb.
There are familiar stirrings inside you
Which seem to urge you to do
Things which had been put aside
While you were busy raising your child
Now out of the blue old yearnings are alive
And you feel like to strive
To work on the same
And make a name
It's true the only constant in life is change
You must widen your horizon and range
You may not be in your prime
But now you have the time
To work full steam
And once again dare to dream..
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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For Christmas Day, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinner reconcil'd.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Joyful all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies,
With the angelic host proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Christ by highest Heaven ador'd,
Christ the everlasting Lord!
Late in time behold him come,
Offspring of a virgin's womb.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see,
Hail, the incarnate Deity,
Pleased as Man with man to dwell,
Jesus our Immanuel!
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Hail the Heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
poem by Martin Madan
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The Purpose of Meet
Mary and Glory were old friends
And met one day after decades.
Both were hurry more to pass on
Intelligence as to their own
Than to receive from the listener.
Both were ready more to give
Than to receive information.
Often talking both together,
Each heard little of what was said
By the other, and left pleased,
Each feeling higher than the other.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Every Time I Open My Eyes
Night or day
I dream of you
Dream of spending time with you too
Dream we decided to fall in love and that you'd always stay
Sometimes it makes me want to sleep all the time
What's the point of being awake
When during my dreams is when I'm happy
Because during my dreams you're here with me
I'll try to sleep for your sake
We've had the best times together these past three weeks
Even though I haven't seen you in awhile
Every night I go to sleep with a smile
But every morning, every time I wake up
I feel the depression, someone take this cup
Because every time I open my eyes I'm still alone
No matter how sweet the dream, it ends
No matter how much love my heart sends
The dreams they end and when I open my eyes I'm empty
When I open my eyes I'm still alone, I'm still me.... just me
I almost don't want to dream for fear of harsh reality
I know it's selfish of me
To want to dream all day and then not because it hurts my feelings
I wish I could just tape up my heart with sealings
And not let anyone is because all I dream of is true love
And all I can think when I wake up is: I'm completely alone
I'm unloved
I can't write poetry, and I can't rhyme
I have no skill, and I have no true love
EVERY SINGLE TIME MY EYES ARE OPEN!
I'm just alone even when I close my eyes to cry, the second they open tears
Come again, because I'm still alone...
It's gotten to the point where I can barely cry I've drowned in my emotion
I almost wish for death again, anything to end this loneliness
Why do I seek love so ardently when I have nothing left to give of me...
Maybe that's why when I open my eyes I may be a young boy
But I feel like
'An old man, filled with regrets, waiting to die alone.'
poem by David Knox
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Imagination In All Discoveries
Only God is great
God gives the words
God gives us no rest
we mirror God's
imagination in all discoveries
we invent perceive
God has written wonder
into the very webs of time
into all creation we perceive
poem by Terence George Craddock
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