Moving Stones
Smiling faces, hearts are numb
kindness in words as parrots are trained
Love is exhibited , mind is reasoning for gain
Sympathy in demand, goals are well defined
Designed wisest of creation, to beautify the land
All are racing, purpose unknown
The day is not far of, You may wonder
where is my created men
One day will see, only stones and
stones are moving around
poem by Santosh Sharma
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Related quotes
Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
Please throw little stones,
Throw snail fossils, throw gravel,
Justice or injustice from the quarries of Migdal Tsedek,
Throw soft stones, throw sweet clods,
Throw limestone, throw clay,
Throw sand of the seashore,
Throw dust of the desert, throw rust,
Throw soil, throw wind,
Throw air, throw nothing
Until your hands are weary
And the war is weary
And even peace will be weary and will be.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Asuobonteng
The creation of the world,
The creation of man,
The creation of woman from man,
But you are storing up wrath for yourselves according to your stubborn and impatient minds! !
Inventers of evil things,
Indignation;
But with persistence patient with the muse of my mind!
And like joy in the land of peace;
Because, the doers of the Law are righteous as compared to those who break the Law! !
I am Asuobonteng from a land far away from you,
But it is time for us to put the world into a better shape than,
The very negative things going on now;
For, we were all created by the Creator for a purpose!
And, we need to take care of the earth than destroying it.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
Locked Within A Jar
I'm capturing this moment.
Savoring it for my life time.
The anguish of the backwards clown.
All smiling faces turn upside down.
All because of me.
As I walk out of the room I know I did right.
They created a sickness.
They created a blight.
They created the most ugly sight.
A monster must be shown.
A monster must be known.
If that's what I am.
Let them be ashamed.
Because I'm happy and laughing.
At one time I was a child in a dark corner crying.
No defying the very fabric of a legacy.
That wasn't even created by me.
I most certainly lived it.
But their the ones who threw the stones.
Tore me down to the very core.
And when I thought it couldn't get any worse.
They applauded for more.
Cheers to the one who hurts this little boy.
Bloody laying on the ground absent of all his clothes.
A not so nice birthmark exposed.
He's so dirty just give him the hose.
Don't touch him, who knows what you might get.
Now all they see is regret.
It's not my fault.
I would be their friend if I didn't know how it would end.
Take him for all hes got then leave him to rot.
Trust is not freely given but earned.
Don't ever think I forgot.
Because I haven't.
And now I stand before you as a man.
Proud of who I am.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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To Everything There is a Season
To everything there is a season
A time for every purpose under Heaven
A time to be born
and a time to die
A time to plant
and a time to pluck what is planted
A time to kill
and a time to heal
A time to break down
and a time to build up
A time to cast away stones
and a time to gather stones
A time to embrace
and a time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain
and a time to lose
A time to keep
and a time to cast away
A time to tear
and a time to sew
A time to keep silence
and a time to speak
A time of love
and a time of hate
A time of war
and a time of peace
Turn Turn Turn
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
To everything
Turn, turn, turn
There is a season
Turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracings
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, i swear it's not too late
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blame It On The Stones
Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Montsgur
I stand alone in this desolate space
In death they are truly alive
Massacred innocence, evil took place
The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why
What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies
Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own
The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal
Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands
Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black
Satan his weapon is lust
Living this evil damnation of flesh
Back to the torture of life
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own
Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin
No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave
Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes a Faith is similar to stones
Sometimes a Faith is similar to stones,
To rocks, so hard and heavy, in their masses...
As well as the variety of talks,
Of languages, which are the only world reflection.
A child, picking up the words as stones,
Get aquainted gradually through life
With their meaning with his heart...
When being old - he is looking at the rock-words,
Amazed greatly in his mind
With their deepness
In the view of his experience...
And he learns at once, that Faith, Belief - is alive!
It shines brightly and luminous
In the moist air of grumbles of
Blizzards and thunderstorms...
Sufferings, that had come above the heads...
The Faith of words, the whisper of the bases
Of the worlds, which were left behind the stern
Of the ship, floating in the Time ocean...
Faith... With a Faith of words... the World is created...
====
In russian:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2012/05/04/8013
poem by Lyudmila Purgina
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Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones, might break my bones
And words, shall never harm me,
I was told that story, when I was a Boy
Along with the birds and bees, I believe
So I lived my life, through that advice
That was given to me in my youth,
That sticks and stones would break my bones
And words could do no harm was true.
So I stayed away from sticks and stones
And tried never calling anyone names
But the sticks still arrived, in my life
And also the words of hate and pain.
But then I had healed from broken bones
And bruises and all the nasty cuts,
It made me stronger, then I thought longer
About the words of hate and such.
Because the words of hate, I couldn't escape
As I noticed them around everyday
Destroying ones soul, until life they'd let go
Or asking GOD for vengeance as they'd pray.
Sticks and stones had broke my bones
And words of hate had really harmed me,
As I look around, I can still hear the sound
Of hate, and belittlement, and bigotry.
There are still broken bones and nasty cuts,
As I see as I enter every day with a walk,
But doctors heal then, as they are new again
But the words of hatred never balks.
In my life I have made many choices,
And I hope with one I don't stand alone
Never to ever use any word of hate
As I don't mind getting hit with sticks or stones.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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To Everything There Is a Season
To everything there is A season,
A time for every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be bourn, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to reap;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
Atime to embrace, and atime to refrain from embracing;
Atime to gain, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace.
poem by Arnold Simon
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O' Youths
Join your hands; nexuses of a solid chain
Keep your hearts firm and unbroken
Vow to serve the poor and the bereaved
Pledge to protect the infirm and the disabled
Colour and culture land and language
Leader and preacher drug and rage
Dare not shake your notion
Your goal of 'kindness and consideration'
Smiling faces mercy eyes
Words assuasive altruistic service
Sure to bestow on you high values
Cheering your life hued to brilliant morals
O' youths, abide by unity, integrity
A day more is a day dead in life
Be this moment yours for chivalry, charity
Way out violence welcoming beneficence
The best proprieties all time you are
To love and love alone each other
In your holy fraternity of 'kindness and consideration'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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Turn! Turn! Turn!
Pete seeger
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of peace, I swear its not too late
Original source
To every thing there is a season, and a time
To every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time
To plant, and a time to pluck up that which is
Planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to
Break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time
To mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to
Gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a
Time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to
Keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to
Keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of
War, and a time of peace.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Exalt Him
To exalt Him we feel praise first,
To Him is the regard out-beautifying belongings;
For Him is transported our stones and idols
To the Hell-Fire, when souls disintegrate.
By the wands of cleverness our minds flow,
Praying with words to beautify the ground that we walk;
With these words mentioned is a gift of help and guidance.
We are swords and helmets on the battlefield,
Our questions are not answered, yet we must return
To Him.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Not Here, Not Now
These words of love
So hard for me to find
How can I change my mind
If you can only lie?
These shattered dreams
I try to build again
But looks could kill again
And Im too young to die
Smiling faces all around us
You dont want to make a scene
Not here, not now
And I dont want to cry
We drink the wine
Like we were really friends
But can our sadness end
And words turn into play?
We dress so fine
And step out on the town
And friends may gather round
But soon will turn away
Smiling faces all around us
You dont want to make a scene
Not here, not now
And I dont want to cry
Smiling faces all around us
You dont want to make a scene
Not here, not now
And I dont want to cry
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness is the purpose.
I set no goals to pursue.
I set no aims to live with.
I had no strain and stress.
I wandered in the garden
And plucked fruits near at hand.
If happiness is the purpose
No purpose need be designed.
05.06.2002, S.N. puram
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poem (‘It Doesn’t Look Like A Finger...’)
It doesn’t look like a finger it looks like a feather of broken glass
It doesn’t look like something to eat it looks like something eaten
It doesn’t look like an empty chair it looks like an old woman
searching in a heap of stones
It doesn’t look like a heap of stones it looks like an estuary where
the drifting filth is swept to and fro on the tide
It doesn’t look like a finger it looks like a feather with broken teeth
The spaces between the stones are made of stone
It doesn’t look like a revolver it looks like a convolvulus
It doesn’t look like a living convolvulus it looks like a dead one
KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY FRIENDS USE THEM ON
YOUR BITCHES OR
YOURSELVES BUT KEEP THEM OFF MY FRIENDS
The faces between the stones are made of bone
It doesn’t look like an eye it looks like a bowl of rotten fruit
It doesn’t look like my mother in the garden it looks like my father
when he came up from the sea covered in shells and tangle
It doesn’t look like a feather it looks like a finger with broken wings
It doesn’t look like the old woman’s mouth it looks like a handful
of broken feathers or a revolver buried in cinders
The faces beneath the stones are made of stone
It doesn’t look like a broken cup it looks like a cut lip
It doesn’t look like yours it looks like mine
BUT IT IS YOURS NOW
SOON IT WILL LOOK LIKE YOURS
AND ANYTHING YOU SEE WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU
London Bulletin, No. 2 (May 1938), 7.
poem by Hugh Sykes Davies
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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