Pinnacles
Only a couple of rungs from the top
He fell
Down into the chasm of his
Truest self
The giddiness of the heights
Cooly reflected in the stillness of his
Finally present mind
Able to reject the folly of false illusion
Rivers breaching dams
Rocks pouring out of mountains
Trees taking shape with new limbs
Rich with the fruit of
Wisdom
Feet planted at last
In heavenly stench of saturate Earth.
(Previously published in Kookamonga Square, July 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Related quotes
Blows to the Head
the rules were laid
inside his head
in block cement
we had to take a hammer
to his skull
to break the hardening
of thought and mind
set free the demons
of his passion
allow
the precious seed
of wisdom
to sprout
in fingers
of his art
a becoming of
rare significance
too great to be ignored.
(Previously published in Poetic License, July 2000; Poetry Soul To Soul, Oct.2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Poisoned Apples
Tenth grade teacher, a Mr. Suchandso
slashed a C minus across her very first poem
ashamed to be qualified as less than mediocre
it was many years before she dared compose another
and, indeed, may never have
(a loss the world might long regret)
but for an insistent voice within her that
refused to succumb to
the unwitting cruelty of a witless pedagogue
who should have known better.
(Previously published in Spilled Ink, July 2000; Stroll of Poets Society, July 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Maybe The Trees
Maybe the trees have lost their eyes
And the wind its wicked wisdom
The sand sifts through the glass
Unnoticed
The rivers cry in the dark phase
Of an old moon
Hear me, O Sun
Give life to the branch
Soil to the root
Fast water, graceful rain
A rising tide to wash away
Sorrow
We must emerge
Together
The upheaval of a great mountain
Through stratified rock
A peak of glistening snow
To claim the heavens as our
Own.
(Previously published in Autumn Leaves, July 2003; World Poet's Society, July 2006)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Mountain Peak
We came together on the highest mountain on this earth.
As years went by we separated into rivers
from the tears this mountain cried.
We all fell into different rivers flowing though
forests, rocks, and waterfalls.
No matter what season we came across
we continued flowing.
We are rivers that started in the mountains,
and rivers that separated as we went through
many waterfalls.
Sometimes we travel together,
and other times we travel alone.
Always remember that these same rivers
that travel many miles through the earth
are once again together when it reaches its final destination
the “Ocean”
So, rivers that started up high in the mountains
and then separated are united
again as a family.
poem by Felix Lugo
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Time and Experience
I found the past in my present
I built the future on my past
I found the gift of today
When I thought about what
The future has to offer
Where is the wisdom in experience
If there is no folly in wisdom
What's the real meaning of death
If our spirits live forever
Times never change
But circumstances do
I'll let mystery play with the future
Surprises couple with the present
And experience mourn the past
Because sun always rises from the east
And each day always comes to an end
Experience is not chained to wisdom
Nor is folly tied to bad results
But to the circumstances that burden
Our past, present and future because
Time is always anxious for the future
Experience loves the present
And wisdom never divorces the past
poem by Benaiah Sondashi
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Parent Child
Every poem is an individual
A song with its own music
Its own unique voice
Its own particular way of expression
Suited, in form and style, to its own
Particular taste
Give it room
Allow it to breathe
Allow it to be different
From what you’d expect
And if you’re lucky
Sometimes it will surprise you.
(Previously published by The Stroll of Poets Society, July 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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If All Of This (And More)
if the earth stopped turning,
and the wind was finally still.
the skies held no rain clouds,
the mountains crumbled, and fell.
all the rivers ran dry,
and the moon fell from the sky.
the wolf walked away hungry,
and the dawn didnt come...
if all of this, and more,
i'd still love you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Heights
We fly to heights;
then sink to depths.
Like birds that fly in the sky;
but pick their feeds from earth.
Like plains that travel in the air;
but gather passengers from the ground.
Like great mountains, towering in glory,
but are founded on their bases.
Great men are small!
They bow to wash others feet,
they get their hands dirty,
to clean up the mess.
The greatest things on earth are small
But there are no mountains without bases
And no wave fails to see the shores
No bird feeds in the air
Heights are sweet but we soon come back home
The greatest imperfection lies in heights
The only temptations come from pride
There’s no warmth in heights
We strive for heights but fall to depths
Heights are never real.
poem by Timothy muggaga
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A Fairy Tale
All things grew upwards, foul and fair:
The great trees fought and beat the air
With monstrous wings that would have flown;
But the old earth clung to her own,
Holding them back from heavenly wars,
Though every flower sprang at the stars.
But he broke free: while all things ceased,
Some hour increasing, he increased.
The town beneath him seemed a map,
Above the church he cocked his cap,
Above the cross his feather flew
Above the birds and still he grew.
The trees turned grass; the clouds were riven;
His feet were mountains lost in heaven;
Through strange new skies he rose alone,
The earth fell from him like a stone,
And his own limbs beneath him far
Seemed tapering down to touch a star.
He reared his head, shaggy and grim,
Staring among the cherubim;
The seven celestial floors he rent,
One crystal dome still o'er him bent:
Above his head, more clear than hope,
All heaven was a microscope.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Let The Sun Arise A Bit
Let the sun arise a bit,
Many tears of mine,
On the surface of my heart,
Are ice-formed, frozen,
Will melt pouring out,
In the form of verse;
But wait,
Let the sun arise a bit,
Let it appear,
From behind the mountains.
Then from the snowy rocks,
The snow will dissolve,
The drops of water then joining,
Will move directing themselves,
To seek out the channels,
To originate the streams,
To formulate the river,
The several rivers merging,
With one another,
Will shape the oceans.
Think a while,
One who is in incessant journey,
Was mere a drop,
Sometime became it a stream,
And on the other a river.
Lo! Where the journey is accomplished,
These poems, these ghazals,
Are merely my verses,
But see!
They begin wherefrom,
To be poured upon the pages,
And whereto they are finalized,
But wait,
Let the sun arise a bit,
From behind the mountains.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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November 28,2007 is the International Day of Stillness: A Poem for the day
'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so well?
Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?
Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.
I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?
Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?
Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;
I sit with the angry and disturbed,
and watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;
I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;
I sit with those who pray or meditate,
as they find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;
I walk in the gardens of the dawn,
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I listen to the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;
Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
May I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Since You Are Too Human....
there are always choices
we are born to these oceans of choices
wave upon wave
we travel to choose
then we land and take feet
upon the sands
into the gardens
on rocks
and rivers
to the heavens we take the shape of clouds
and rain
for we have learned
this art to evolve
now tell me who owns us?
tell yourself that, we cannot hear you
you are too human
and earthbound
you are stuck on the chains of your
self-defined treasures
that finally bury all your bones
soon we shall turn back at you
dusts, all dusts that we blow and scatter
to all the rivers
if you remember leaves,
you shall remember us...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Because They Are There
Come on a journey with me
Travel life's weary road will we
From eagle heights to the earth below
Where man doth sorrowfully go
We find ourselves staring up mountains
Some scared, some meek, some defiant
We feel a shrinking inside
As we face this mountain that doth arise
Tis' three things we can do
We can run around, go up, or tunnel through
Some harder, some easy, but please,
Be careful, the choices made with ease.
Cause these mountains, they big
These mountains make our hearts sink
Most days, we want to run away
We think that we'll live to fight another day
So we spend our time, tunnelling through
Giving the effort without the view
Or we try to run around, taking detours
Till surrounded by mountains, we're finally caught
One must finally face a climb, if he wants to move on
Of life in the valley, one must never grow fond
Because we will never survive the dark and gloom.
Every valley, eventually will bring our doom
But in the end, the real reason that we climb
Is to just a glimpse perhaps find
Of what we were made for, a paradise we lost
That's why we climb, no matter the cost
We stumble, crawl, and fight our way up
By rocks our hands and feet are cut
Our blood soaks into the stone
And at times we lie in a ditch, crying alone
But our password's ‘victory' and we will fight
All throughout the day, and into the cold night
Ever will we say die? No! Never!
We will never say die ever!
We will go until there's no more to climb
We will push, until we have crossed the line
Till we reach the pinnacle, till we raise our hands
Till we are crowned, the conquering man
At the mountaintop, we find traces of glory
The remnants of a fairy-tale's story
From there we see where none have been
We see the greater goal we want to achieve
Let the chill run through our bones
Let the brave venture on alone
Some go round mountains because they're there
The brave climb them because they are there!
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Stillness: a Poem for the International Day of Stillness, November 28
'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
how can you teach me so well?
Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?
Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.
I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?
Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?
Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;
I sit with the angry and disturbed,
And watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;
I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;
I sit with those who pray or meditate,
and watch them find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I hear the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;
I walk in the gardens of the dawn;
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch.
Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
may I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’
*
(With acknowledgements to Iain Trousdell of New Zealand, whose poem quoted from in the first two lines inspired this extension..)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Heart Attack (a Sestina)
What angelic chorals sing?
These messengers of heaven
Whose words are none of earth
Rising like mists amid the mountains
Rolling down to pastoral valleys
Stirring my fragile heart
My sullen, throbbing heart
Mumbling, for it can't quite sing
Its beat more full of valleys
Than peaks toward heaven
I miss those tracings in the shape of mountains
Which anchor me to this earth
Sweet, sweet earth
How you fill my heart!
Your noble, snowy mountains
Rising proudly to sing
At the feet of heaven
I long to see your valleys
To lay again in flowered valleys
Smelling the rich, black earth
Of my own personal heaven
Heal you traitorous heart!
I long to shout, to sing
Echoing from the mountains
Where are my mountains?
My rolling valleys?
The monitor, its dirge to sing
Strengthening my tether to earth
Even as my woefully tired heart
Slips to heaven
To forestall heaven
I labor to move mountains
As a constellation of disks record my heart
Etching flat valleys
Confirming i am still of this earth
With only a beep to mournfully sing
Each lull-to heaven, then up from the valleys
Drawn back to mountains and earth
As I wait for my heart to once again sing
poem by John Christensen
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The truest greatness lies in being kind, the truest wisdom in a happy mind.
quote by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tophat, Cape and Evening Gloves
Please keep me humble.
Don't let me stumble on my arrogance.
Don't let my ego leave fumes of stench!
Please keep me humble.
And when I have risen to heights,
To pay much more than my rent.
Help me remember,
My talents have been to me God sent.
And He can remove all of my pretensions.
Especially those I flaunt...
Seeking attention I necessarily do not want!
Please keep me humble.
At least...
Until I have arrived to see the eyes of Oprah!
And only then will I pretend not to know you!
But as for now...
Keep me humble,
With my feet planted on the ground.
'I hope you are kidding? '
Me?
Of course.
Now toss me my tophat,
Cape and evening gloves.
I feel like taking a stroll,
Around the neighborhood!
Leaving those a glimpse...
And a taste of what's to come.
'And you believe that is being humble? '
Of course not!
I said 'Please keep me humble.'
Do you think I have any intentions,
To stay that way?
If I have to fall from a climb...
I am going to make sure I leave visuals!
I know what I want.
But I also know folks love to be entertained!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Inner Turmoil
They fell from heavenly shoulders,
Turning into rocks that spun and sprang
Like offerings of Satan, offered by him,
No one felt so reckless as the soldiers too special.
Falling into arms of alarm, these limbs that brake,
Shattered into grains and ash, which ache also,
Opening into an inner cavern too close for imagination.
This hurt was from Satan, an evil beast so splendid,
One remarks on it being wiser as much as denizens of the ocean,
Under these are mountains where lava flows.
Beauty does not defeat in time!
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Free Restless Spirit
there are people ahead of us
and who enjoy their own fame who like to teach us
how to make frames
that there are desired shapes of words
with their own colors and tones
and like light we ought to mix them
to their own
precise delight
when i was new i had always been clumsy
because i always want to think like them
each hour i command my hands to take their
own shapes of fingers
there are always desired sizes and colors and tones
and for years
i have lived in so much restraint that i finally discern
that i am not free
because i must live the way i ought to be like by them
too suffocating
like i am covering my head with
a helmet
so as not to harm myself
from their preconceived accidents
my voice thinned out and my hands
became moles
then too tired to take their commands
i escaped
into the mountains
and i learned the language of the birds and the trees
the songs of the wind and wilderness
my arms become rivers and my feet mountains
my hair the forest and my eyes the sun and moon
my breath is the wind
this is what freedom does
this is the fruit restlessness
this is the poem that you are reading now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Eve, Oh Eve
Why wouldn't Eve have eaten of the fruit?
Didn't she have a hand to reach out with,
Fingers with which to make a fist?
Didn't Eve have a stomach for feeling hunger,
A tongue for feeling thirst,
A heart with which to love?
Well, then, why wouldn't Eve have eaten of the fruit?
Why would she merely have suppressed her wishes,
Regulated her steps,
Subdued her thirst?
Why would she have been so compelled
To keep Adam moving around in the Garden of Eden all their lives?
Because Eve did eat of the fruit,
There is sky and earth.
Because she has eaten,
There are moon, sun, rivers, seas,
Because she has eaten, trees, plans and vines.
because Eve has eaten of the fruit
there is joy, because she has eaten there is joy.
joy, joy-
Eating of the fruit, Eve made a heaven of the earth.
Eve, if you get hold of the fruit
don't ever refrain from eating.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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