Len Webster's 'The Editor
She pushes pen to paper nightly
says she loves to keep alive her diary
watches television and takes her drinks
with a Norman male
when day dawns in half-deserted streets
she rises tired and restless from her dreams
her mind turns toward the hours ahead
to subbing pages
she is the editor of the periodical
ORDER BY SUBSCRIPTION IT'S THE ONLY WAY
she lays out pages and acts as PRO
to visiting MPs
i know her still the same childlike eyes
which probed among my inmost thoughts
in an atmosphere of anticipation
many years ago
(First published in the author's collection
'Behind the Painted Veil', Outposts Publications,
Walton-on-Thames, Surrey,1972)
poem by Len Webster
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Len Webster's 'Winter Sun
I dreamed of the snowmaiden,
white and soft,
of endless warmth
her face was veiled
her mind cleared
of prejudice and hate
worry became my boast,
that the love we shared
would fade like snow
the hot Indian sun
beat copper snakes
to hide in shades
and my inner fears
they melted,
as did i
(From the author's collection 'Behind the Painted Veil',
Outposts Publications, Walton-on-Thames,1972, p.11)
poem by Len Webster
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It’s time to seal my father’s book
The one I’ve been given while he was still alive
Sometime before the year 2000
I filled it in last year
After so many years of not writing
Posted some of its contents
It contains
Like so many previously empty pages
Lots of something and bits of half nothing
And I’m sure that this peace of information is totally irrelevant
For the readers
Except for the fact
That there are always pages that need to remain just that
The pages and nothing else
Even though they contain things that should not be forgotten
That will not be forgotten
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Pages Of My Mind
Faces from my past flicker
through the pages of my mind
along with shadowy figures
I wish I had left behind.
Old loves and new loves
smile and say hello as they pass
through the pages of my mind.
They come in quiet moments
when I am at peace with the world.
Reflecting images of times left behind.
There are no future images,
as those pages haven’t been written yet,
only ones from a distant past.
They stroll across with happy moments
written on the pages of my mind.
11 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Reminder for Myself...
erasing the past
is like burning the pages of your diary
the smoke hurts a while
but
soon you begin to write your own future
another page
another stroke of the pen
that sometimes we admire because it is nicer now
there will always be a difference
until you tear the pages again
crumple them
and let them go
sometimes i think
i need to make paper planes
or perhaps kites
and so i need some strings
some bamboo sticks
for bones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Diary
Verse 1:
Lay your
Head on my pillow
Here you can be yourself
No one has to know what u are feeling
No one but me and you
Chorus:
I won't tell your secrets
Your secrets
Are safe with me
I will keep your secrets
Just think of me as the pages in your diary
Verse 2:
I feel
Such a connection
Even when your far away
If there is anything that you fear
Call 4.8.9. 46.0.8
And i'll be here
Chorus:
I wont tell your secrets
Your secrets
Are safe with me
I will keep your secrets
Just think of me as the pages in your diary
Bridge:
And only we know what is talked about
Baby boy
I don't know how you can be driving me so crazy
Boy
When you're in town
Why dont you come around
Boy
I'll be the loyalty you need
You can trust me
Boy
oooh
Chorus:
I wont tell your secrets
Your secrets
Are safe with me
I will keep your secrets
Just think of me as the pages in your diary
Adlib:
everybody say
(whooaaaa)
let me hear you say
(whooo)
I won't tell
(I won't tell)
I won't tell
(I won't tell)
I won't tell
Your secrets, your secrets
break it down
(I won't tell)
song performed by by Alicia Keys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Restless Heart
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time.
There are times in my life,
I dont know witch way to turn,
When everything I touch
I get my fingers burned...
Dreams to ashes, ashes to dust,
When all that glitters
Is dull with rust...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time...
Im torn and tattered,
Shattered and worn,
Ive had enough
Trying to live my life
In the eye of the storm...
Every heartache
Leaves a scar on my face,
Somebody reach out
Or throw me a line,
Get me out of this place...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting, wasting,
My precious time...
Oh, so tired.
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting, wasting,
All of my precious time...
Restless heart, restless mind,
So Im tired of wasting, wasting,
All of my precious time, time, time
Restless heart...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Diary Of Me
Umm pum-pum-pum
Pum-pum, pum-pum, pum-pum
Look behind myself
As I reflect on all the memories
The times they come and go
Lost everything from friends to Family
If I could turn back the hands
There would be some things I'd change about me
I know that my past is not what my future holds
Where I come from
Who could believe
All the pain and misery
Look in my eyes and you'll see
The diary of me
Rewind my life
Just go back and correct all the wrong
And ask God to direct my path
So that I can make it home
And if I could turn back the hands of time
There would be some things I would change about me
But I know that my past is not what my future holds
'Cause
Where I'm from
Who could believe
All the pain, misery
Look in my eyes and you will see
The diary of me
Years ago a child was born (a child was born) (ooh)
And raised without a man (without my... father, and wonder why he's in these streets) (ooh)
My mother's gone (mothers gone, yet still... found the strength to pray for me) (ooh)
But still reached out her hand
Just open the book (na-na-na-na-na-na)
Turn the pages of my life (na-na-na)
And you will read
A true story about one man's journey
Where I'm from (ahh...)
Who would believe, yeah
That all the hurt and pain and misery (ahh...)
Look in my eyes (ahh...)
You'll see the diary of me (pum-pum-pum-pum-pum)
Where I'm from (where I'm from, who could believe) (ahh...)
Who could believe (the hurt and pain and misery)
(Look in my eyes) in my eyes (and you will see) (ahh...)
(The makings of) the makings of
(My diary) my diary
(Where I'm from) look in my eyes (ahh...)
(Who could believe) you'll see
(The hurt and pain and misery)
(Look in my eyes) (ahh...)
(And you will see) yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
(The makings of my diary)
(Where I'm from...) (ahh...)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wife
My husband is idle, is dumb and spends money.
He either stands still at the window or runs about town like a bunny.
He stares and he stares, at a tram, at the sky.
He mutters, he whistles: he rummages over the house like an amateur spy.
And then he reads books: he turns their pages at least.
There are books in the kitchen and cellar; folios mixed with the yeast.
But what is he thinking about? what does my husband mumble?
When he tries to speak he gets nervous: piles of words flurry and tumble.
In the evening he drinks, and I feel angry enough
When I see his dear eyes getting misted up with that stuff.
His eyes are misted. He takes one more dram.
He kneels down beside me and lays his head on my arm.
It is only then that I learn for the first time who I am.
poem by Julian Tuwim
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Diary Of Me
Ummm pum pum pum pum pum
Looked behind myself
As I reflect on all the memories
The times they come and go
Lost everything from
Friends to Family
If I could turn back the hands
There would be
Somethings I'd change about me
I know that my past is not what my future holds
Where I come from
Who could believe
All the pain and misery
Look in my eyes and you'll see
The diary of me
Rewind my life
Just go back and correct
All the wrong
And ask God to direct my path
So that I can make it home
And if I could turn back the hands of time
There would be somethings I would change about me
But I know that my past is not what my future holds
Cause
Where I come from
Who could believe
All the pain, misery
Look in my eyes and you will see
The diary of me
Years ago a child was born (A child was born)
And raised without a man (without a man, raised in the streets)
My mother's gone
But still reached out her hand
Just open the book
Turn the pages of my life
And you will read
A true story about one man's journey
Where I'm from
Who would believe, yeah
That all the hurt and pain and misery
Look in my eyes
You'll see the diary of me
Where I'm from (where I'm from who could believe)
Who could believe (the hurt and pain and misery)
(Look in my eyes) in my eyes (and you will see)
(The makings of) the makings of
(My diary) My diary
(Where I'm from) look in my eyes
(Who could believe) you'll see
(The hurt and pain and misery)
(Look in my eyes)
(And you will see) yeah yeah yeah yeah
(The makings of my diary)
(Where I'm from...)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between the pages
Between the pages
~
between the pages
we line ourselves in verse
where we play out a story
of our own making
the turns and twists
brought through words
etched upon the page
ink flows to its own beat
like a raging heart
pouring out before the eyes
a world becomes forgotten
lost in the celebration
between pages
each line shared
written
in its own breath
creation begins
time lapses
into our verse
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Book Of Days
Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page
Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back
You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn
Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought
You turn page after page
until you reach the 'end'
And only then, you are freed from the title
The title that has kept your thoughts bound, and tight
You turn the pages one by one
You take the pain, take the joy
Until you are done
And your story becomes another on the shelf of eternity
(1/24/2008)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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A WayFarer
The cliffs are the edges of paper--
That time has torn away...
Eroded rock-solid paper...
Jagged reminders of yesterday;
Once a diary of stone-hearted entries--
Surfaced as hardened clay...
But worn away from the Springtime downpours...
And collapsed in Wayfarers Bay;
Pages and pages of dogeared cliffs...
Hanging with no support in mid air...
Rock solid words of our ending---
Oh, the stories the sailors do bear;
Longings from eternities upon the ocean...
Needs that we all have been known to share...
Are written upon the cliffs of yesterday---
Eroded in rock solid despair;
The Essence
July,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Birth Images Etched Into Conscious Beings
thoughts are instant born
upon pages of mind art
gifted onto screens of life
painted into love joy swift
images knowing create
beauty in mind refreshes
as art embraces skill art
in appreciation we shall paint
together write birth images
etched into conscious beings
Original complete version of the poems ‘Pages Of Mind Art’, ‘Beauty In Mind Refreshes’ and ‘In Appreciation We Shall Paint’ by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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You might as well come in
and say hello to some of your dreams
they keep resting on your oblivion morn
of the wake and hours of sleepless nights
you might as well sit down
and have something to eat
the feast is at your choice
and the tablecloth has been cleaned for you
you might as well lie down
there on a sofa to take a nap
no worry- the dogs are on the vigil
they'll keep you safe from the Moon
you might as well read my books
leaf through the pages of restless words
or look at the drawings painted on my feet
that walked you in here to take a step
you might as well tell me goodbye
and move your paths closer to your goals
or since I do not believe in shelters either
we might as well walk out together
and share a part of the journey
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Gifted Into Web Life Screens
thoughts are born instant
upon lit mind art pages
gifted into web life screens
painted into net joy swift
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lady Of The Dawn
Your eyes have seen much suffering
Oh Lady of The Dawn,
But as you've travelled down the years
You've built afresh your morn.
Courage it takes many forms,
It's virtues to bestow.
Our fortune turns, then turns again,
We rise to high from low.
As you've traversed the hardest paths,
You've held your hand to others.
What greater gift from suffering comes
Than to liberate sisters and brothers.
So out of all your trauma,
The Phoenix rises new,
And the world, it dawns a better place
From having known, just you.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Dear Diary
i am writing like i am talking to you dear diary
my true friend
mama and papa died a long time ago
and i am left with some wounds and scabs and
some injuries that refuse to hear about those
that must die and go away
today, i will tell you something but i will not write it
in your pages
i am happy because i do not think anymore
i am happier because i do not have to write anymore
i am happiest because now i live in my mind away from the
the cage of your pages, i have learned to live and fly away like a bird
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Destiny Life Leaf Pages
manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white
others shimmer reflecting light
some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pages Of Mind Art
thoughts are instant born
upon pages of mind art
gifted onto screens of life
painted into love joy swift
poem by Terence George Craddock
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