If You.....
If you have heard the silent sonnet whispered soulfully by Milford's Sound,
Or watched Pukaki's pallette brush pastels through the burning sky,
If you have felt the rise of Kaikoura's green edge looming over the restless deep,
Or watched, for a moment, the wash, sinking into Piha's silken dark hands,
Then how could you deny the artist his masterpiece?
This Creator, his world?
poem by Katy Fulker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Day What Future Will It Bring (Kyrielle Sonnet)
This day what future will it bring.
What songs will we finally sing?
Snow quietly gracing the ground.
There will then come a silent sound.
We will be skating on the pond
And ev'ry one will form a bond.
By crackling fire we'll gather round.
There will then be a silent sound.
No recipe will we follow
Flitting the night with the swallows.
We'll form a ring around, around.
There will then come a silent sound.
This day what future will it bring.
There will then come a silent sound.
- Ben Gieske, March 5,2008
*
A Kyrielle Sonnet consists of 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas and a non-rhyming couplet) . Just like the traditional Kyrielle poem, the Kyrielle Sonnet also has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza) . Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet consists of only eight syllables. French poetry forms have a tendency to link back to the beginning of the poem, so common practice is to use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This would also re-enforce the refrain within the poem. Therefore, a good rhyming scheme for a Kyrielle Sonnet would be: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.
poem by Ben Gieske
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whisper My Name
I heard a freight train out across the way
I heard a woman sing amazing grace
I heard a night bird call to its mate
When I heard you whisper my name
I heard freedom break its chain
A
I heard a heart beat where once on sound remained
I heard angels rise and praise
When I heard you whisper my name
Chorus:
I heard music bring a heart of stone to tears
I heard peace ring like an anthem through the years
And I heard hatred fall from grace
When I heard you whisper my name
Beating softly against the waves
Fell a sound of an early morning rain
And though the lighting and thunder came
I still heard you whisper my name
And I heard angels rise and praise
When I heard you whisper my name
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sons Of The Silent Age
Sons of the silent age
Stand on platforms blank looks and note books
Sit in back rows of city limits
Lay in bed coming and going on easy terms
Sons of the silent age
Pace their rooms like a cells dimensions
Rise for a year or two then make war
Search through their one inch thoughts
Then decide it couldnt be done
Baby, Ill never let you go
All I see is all I know
Lets take another way down (sons of sound and sons of sound)
Baby, baby, Ill never let you down
I cant stand another sound
Lets find another way (sons of sound and sons of sound)
Sons of the silent age
Listen to tracks by sam therapy and king dice
Sons of the silent age
Pick up in bars and cry only once
Sons of the silent age
Make love only once but dream and dream
Dont walk, they just glide in and out of life
They never die, they just go to sleep one day
Baby, I wont ever let you go
All I see is all I know
Lets take another way down (sons of sound and sons of sound)
Oh baby, baby, baby, I wont ever let you down
I cant stand another sound
Lets take another way in (sons of sound and sons of sound)
(sons of sound and sons of sound)
Baby, baby, baby, fire away!
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flower In The Summer Sky
a pink flower
across the open sky
a beautiful sunrise
a night sky vanished
a beauty hazed by yellow rays
gone too soon
gone too soon..
the flower embrace
embraced me with warmth
it was there
though 'was faint
heard the wind
heard it said
'i did'
heard it said
'did you? '
i whispered
whispered softly
whispered to it
whispered..
'..with all my heart.'
inspired and for a flower in the clouds during a beautiful summer, when you had stolen my heart.
Mowing
There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound--
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet Cakes
Sonnet Cakes
Catch a passing flock of words
Put them in a pan
To make a happy sonnet
For your favourite man.
Add a pinch of rhythm
A spoonful of rhyme
Pop them in the oven
Then wait some time
Check if they are burning
Consult with your muse
About variety in flavours,
In structure, different views.
Jolly sonnet cakes for tea
Some for you and some for me.
poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg
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Dream Some Little Dream
…afterwards I laid back down
and spread my palms down on the ground
it wasn’t long before I found
myself inside a little dream
I heard a sound and looked around
and saw them swimming in the stream
a horrid sight I turned my head
and let loose a silent scream
the fish you see were busy there
eating a piece of me
I shook it of and brushed my head
I watched a leaf fall to the ground
as busy brownie moved around
and called me names but made no sound
I felt a pressure push me down
like a magnet to the ground
the fish they splashed in their little stream
as I began to dream some little dream
poem by Maynard Hartman
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Did Not
'Twas a new feeling - something more
Than we had dared to own before,
Which then we hid not;
We saw it in each other's eye,
And wished, in every half-breathed sigh,
To speak, but did not.
She felt my lips' impassioned touch -
'Twas the first time I dared so much,
And yet she chid not;
But whispered o'er my burning brow,
'Oh, do you doubt I love you now?'
Sweet soul! I did not.
Warmly I felt her bosom thrill,
I pressed it closer, closer still,
Though gently bid not;
Till - oh! the world hath seldom heard
Of lovers, who so nearly erred,
And yet, who did not.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Zalonka
As you know I’m not one to fantasize,
but last night I saw a Zalonka’s eyes.
It seemed to come from out of the sky,
but please don’t ask the reason why.
You may of course think and wonder
how I recognised it as a Zalonka.
Well, I remembered it from a pictured text,
and now you want to know what’s next.
Well, with its evil green and bloodshot eyes,
like all Zalonkas’ it began to hypnotise.
I felt my feet and body rise from the ground,
and then I heard an unearthly sound.
It had transported me to Zalonkasar,
its home world on this far away star.
The unearthly sound was that of the Zabaway
that never stopped chattering night or day.
Zalonkas’ have no nose, so it cannot smell,
but they do love Zatts’ and that I could tell.
So it got me to hunt for a healthy baby Zatt,
and really there was no easier task than that.
When I caught this awfully smelling Zatt it cried,
and told me as a captive it would surely die.
Full of sorrow I untied its bonds and set it free,
which got the Zalonka most annoyed with me.
He said that I would spend the rest of my days
inside a turning wheel that dips and sways.
Unexpectedly the Zatt I released came and rescued me,
and took me to its home, a place of sanctuary.
The problem with this was its awful smell,
which made living there a living hell.
With deep regret I had to tell friend Zatt
I couldn’t stand any more of that.
However, he had a friend called Zuzazonet
who could transport me from that planet.
With his large blue green, relaxing eyes
he proceeded to talk and hypnotise.
I felt my feet and body rise from the ground,
and then I heard an earthly sound.
He had brought me back to planet Earth,
in fact to the place of my birth.
From that day I never look into strangers’ eyes,
for the fear they may try to hypnotise
and take control of my thoughts, and mind,
and leave me in a world of a different kind.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
AT THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
At the edge of the edge of the edge
There is another invisible edge
And this too has an edge and another edge
Edges unending
Beyond our comprehension
Waiting for us to fall down and down-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
I write on
Has the great descent already begun
And am I in the midst of it
As I pretend to go on?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Waking Edge
As I wake up in a room somewhere...
Dawn light not yet showing.
Theres just a thin horizon between me and her...
The edge of a half-dream glowing.
Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night.
Strange how the sheets are warm beside me.
Now, how do I catch the waking edge?
As it slips to the far and wide of me.
Didnt I try to hold it down?
Freeze on the picture, hang sharp on the sound.
Catch the waking edge
Another time.
Familiar shadows in my hotel room
Are still here for the taking.
They seem to linger on as the street lights fade
And the empty dawn is breaking.
Private movie showing in my head...
Which button do I press for re-run?
And how do I catch the waking edge?
The edge of a dream about someone.
Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night...
Now the sheets are cold beside me.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last to Leave
The guns were silent, and the silent hills
had bowed their grasses to a gentle breeze
I gazed upon the vales and on the rills,
And whispered, "What of these?' and "What of these?
These long forgotten dead with sunken graves,
Some crossless, with unwritten memories
Their only mourners are the moaning waves,
Their only minstrels are the singing trees
And thus I mused and sorrowed wistfully
I watched the place where they had scaled the height,
The height whereon they bled so bitterly
Throughout each day and through each blistered night
I sat there long, and listened - all things listened too
I heard the epics of a thousand trees,
A thousand waves I heard; and then I knew
The waves were very old, the trees were wise:
The dead would be remembered evermore-
The valiant dead that gazed upon the skies,
And slept in great battalions by the shore.
poem by Leon Gellert
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-90
Poinsettia(Euphorbia pulcherrima)
Some day must've happened
Brush of a magic painter
Slicked silky with colours
The leaves of a green yard
Leaves to yellow and red
Turning atop to just bracts
Sunken flower centered silent
Poinsettia born with sisterhood
Then the brush thereon slipped
Rooted to support must've been
Trunked uneven in sneaky heaving
Itself its creation notably seen
Beautiful Poinsettia 'pulcherrima
Ornamental Painted Leaf Poinsettia
Yet another wild -green don't miss
All for your garden's lighted bliss
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Sounds, Within And Without
have you ever listened
to the sounds of
a young boy praying
after his father and mother
have split up
have you heard the sound
a small animal makes when
it's hit by a car?
kinda like the sound a child makes
when it's split open by friendly fire!
have you felt the deep down
sound the young boy makes
when the judge sentences him
to hard time
the sound you cant see on his face
have you heard the sound
of the old man's heart
fighting to hold on
in an empty room
with the curtains pulled
have you ever heard the sound
of the wolf's howl, and
the hawk's scree
buried deep beneath
the layers that cover
your own wildness
are you listening
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
ON THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
On the edge of the edge of the edge
There is nowhere to go-
Home is lost,
And all the distances have broken down-
One cannot move
One can only fear-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
Falling is fear-
And holding one’s ground
One step at a time
Is a small miracle
One is not sure
One can make alone.
On the edge of the edge of the edge-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cornet
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer,
With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young,
He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players,
And only heard an immortal music sung,-
Of dryads flashing in the green woods of April,
On cobwebs trembling over the deep, wet grass:
Fleeing their shadows with laughter, with hands uplifted,
Through the whirled sinister sun he saw them pass,-
Lovely immortals gone, yet existing somewhere,
Still somewhere laughing in woods of immortal green,
Young he had lived among fires, or dreamed of living,
Lovers in youth once seen, or dreamed he had seen. . .
And watched her knees flash up, and her young hands beckon,
And the hair that streamed behind, and the taunting eyes.
He felt this place dissolving in living darkness,
And through the darkness he felt his childhood rise.
Soft, and shining, and sweet, hands filled with petals. . .
And watching her dance, he was grateful to forget
The fiddlers, leaning and drawing their bows together,
And the tired fingers on the stops of his cornet.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Turns and Movies: The Cornet
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer,
With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young,
He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players,
And only heard an immortal music sung,--
Of dryads flashing in the green woods of April,
On cobwebs trembing over the deep, wet grass:
Fleeing their shadows with laughter, with hands uplifted,
Through the whirled sinister sun he saw them pass,--
Lovely immortals gone, yet existing somewhere,
Still somewhere laughing in woods of immortal green,
Young he had lived among fires, or dreamed of living,
Lovers in youth once seen, or dreamed he had seen. . .
And watched her knees flash up, and her young hands beckon,
And the hair that streamed behind, and the taunting eyes.
He felt this place dissolving in living darkness,
And through the darkness he felt his childhood rise.
Soft, and shining, and sweet, hands filled with petals. . .
And watching her dance, he was grateful to forget
The fiddlers, leaning and drawing their bows together,
And the tired fingers on the stops of his cornet.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Casket Affinity
The fire he sees
Is brighter than any other he's seen before
It's brilliant and bright and it burns deep and red and all at once he's in love.
It's only then he sees the girl it belongs to.
And then he reaches out;
His fingers dance over the flames;
But
The fire dulls and so does she
And she
Was nothing like the grim expression she wore;
She was life itself.
She was living, breathing, brilliant life
It was just a shame that she was no longer living.
But she breathed
She breathed and spoke and walked and slept
And she looked at him
Both with those lovely green eyes
And
With her fire burning behind her
And
Still
She did not live.
But she kissed him
And her kisses ached
The burning intensity which she gave them with
The fire both in her hair and in her kisses reminded him that she was burning
She was a flame
His flame
But in the same sense she was cold and not here and not so much broken as nothing at all.
Each time he saw her
He felt he was seeing a ghost
The ghost burned a dull flame
The fire's final whispers were like a sad sonnet to him;
This dead girl he loved was its ashes
After a slow path of destruction and recklessness
She lay in its wake
The ashes were the distance in her eyes;
The smoke her lies that slip her tongue unnoticed.
He felt he was staring straight in to a coffin
Her open casket;
And he was in love
With the flames
Sometimes forgetting the girl they belonged to.
The way she looks at him;
Wordless
She tells him
Let me go
And love me
Please
Love
Me
But then she's dancing all at once
And hardly moving at all
But the fire is burning
It's burning again and all at once she's both alive and living again;
And he see's the love in her eyes and all at once he understands
The city
She's gone
And she is in love.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet
My friend and me
My friend and me
Looking through her red box of memories
Looking through her red box of memories
Faded Im sure
Faded Im sure
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
My lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord
Why cant you see
That nature has its way of warning me
Eyes open wide
Why cant you see
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye
That nature has its way of warning me
Eyes open wide
Yes, theres love if you want it
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
My lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Sinking faster than a boat without a hull
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord
My lord
Dreaming about the day when I can see you there
My side
By my side
Sinking faster than a boat without a hull
My lord
Here we go again and my head is gone, my lord
Dreaming about the day when I can see you there
I stop to say hello
My side
cause I think you should know, by now
By my side
By now
By now
By now
Here we go again and my head is gone, my lord
By now
I stop to say hello
By now
cause I think you should know, by now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
By now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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