Shards of the Cloud
The rumbling boom, vibrates all that is near the ribs,
The power of a storm, embarking over the land,
Drifting overhead eyes spot it coming, a cloud,
Dark, gloomy mists of crashing waves rise as a tide over the sky,
The arrival shades the earth with its somber tone,
Reaching to tell us what it has,
Its power,
We watch in awe as it overwhelms,
A flash beats,
Everything is flooded with the light,
Nothing left untouched by the white covering,
Then gone;
Following with the repetition of another Boom,
And the cloud falls in pieces, shattered,
The shards clash on the ground,
I walk beyond the frame of the door,
The shards prance on my head,
Bouncing as their kin at my feet,
I look to the covered firmament,
Upon my face the shards dribble and pounce,
I smile,
With correlation to my lips, my arms rise,
Fingers open,
As the shards of the shattered cloud fall,
They wet, everything and all,
This is the power of a cloud,
This is why it’s so proud,
Nothing from it can hide,
It is power,
It is water,
It is shards of clouds,
Breathing bliss into my life.
poem by Keel Lincoln
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Tropical Recollection
The crashing of the glass
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Whilst ominous gusts of terror besiege,
Convincing the upends have come
Bellowing into disabled blue eyes,
Blurred and blinded through battles of time
The dark deep dread creeps in
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Thoughts cloud in withdrawal
A relinquishing storm of all form, all peril
Void as a dream, void of sanity
Shards of memory scattered throughout
The Piece Just Under The Top Right Corner
I was 'Shattered' I'm the mirror
There's broken pieces everywhere
I'm just shards now
I hold onto these shards with my hand and grip them tightly
I want to re-make myself But I won't use the ugly shards I'll grip them tighter
Let them sink into my skin
The problem
Is the paradox of me picking up myself while I'm broken
It just doesn't work
But then You came
But then You came and asked me to let go of the pieces
For all to see
The ugliness hidden deep inside of me
I'd never have let go for anyone but You
You'd offered me this chance many times too
But for some reason this time I just let go
Instead of trying to make myself into something I just let go and let You
And now my broken shards we're the pieces just under the top
The top right corner
We're.... I'm whole, and my once-makeshift shard
Has been made by the master
Into a part of the masterpiece that is Your kingdom
I'm just a piece but You saw the whole picture since the beginning
Now I'm proud to be there for all to see
But You aren't done with Your work in me
Or in this world
So now my brokenness is a beautiful mosaic of hope
A beautiful mosaic of love
All the broken pieces
Make a picture of something like a cross
To remind us that sin has no power
The sting of death is gone
So I'm just under the top right corner
But I need to gather some more pieces to make the corner
Not that it is I but You, my Lord
It's time to go out and show the world that brokenness
Brokenness healed through God's power
That's beautiful
poem by David Knox
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Porcelain Heart
Though it was long ago, my heart still aches as though it just happened
That day when my heart of porcealian was shattered
It was dropped from a third story floor and fell to the ground
Breaking into a million tiny pieces
Over time the shards were gathered together
I glued them back together, and I thought I was okay
Then you came into my life, and I felt something
Something I hadn't felt in so long
It was an emotion I thought I'd lost
Even though we're just friends, I wonder
At night as I lay in my bed and the moon shines ih through my window
If we moved past being friends, I wonder
If I would be able to reciprocate any type of loving emotion you gave to me
I don't know if I could, because as I glued those shards together
I also built up a brick wall around my heart as well
So that I would never have to feel that shattering again
So that I would never have to see those shards of my heart lying on the ground again
A porcelain heart can only by put together so many times
And I don't know if mine can be put back together more than once
poem by Sae Amakura
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Shards Of Dreams
shards of dreams
carefully placed in
a silver container
quick, some quickfix, please!
some shards
scattered on the shore
walk along,
they prick and cause bleeding
a trail on the damp sands
the waves
hit and break
at the shore...
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Glass War
Glass war, glass war, glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war
It's a glass war
Cause you can see right through the poisen
It's a glass war
Cause we all know the activeties
It's a glass war
Cause it's made of smoke and mirrors
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
Cause only poor men are dyin in the
Gas war
Cause we know why it was started
It's an ass war
Cause the president's an asshole
It's an ass war
It's a glass war
It's a gas war
Cause the starters are all victims of the
Glass war
The slogan men were starters of the
Last war
Now the southern men are starters of the
Glass war
It's a Glass War
It's a Glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life of a Cloud
Warming thermals whisper as they rise,
To tell us they are soon to bring to view
In cooler air aloft before your eyes:
A gentle wisp to counterpoint the blue.
Powder puffs emerge to grant her grace
That further bloom as would for stately tree, and
Yield a sight that calls for our embrace:
Another cloud anew above the lea.
Cruising forth, she yearns for ageless life.
O how her hopes will soon be dashed in vain,
For up there in the cold she courts her strife,
To fade away as drops of closing rain.
Scant and lacy speak her living span,
And fair among us could be brought to mourn,
But she was there to populate her clan:
From fallen tears, new daughters will be born.
Copyright © Mark R slaughter 2010
A cloudy sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
sky cloud sky cloud sky cloud sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Leave Them Behind
Weary, torn, shattered man
Bare feet upon burning sand
Broken shards in his hand
Oh thou sad forlorn soldier
What doth make thee falter
For thou could be a great warrior
What hast it's tenacious hold on thee
Dragging thee into the abyss
Where found, thou wilt never be
What is it that has torn thee so
That now tortured you go
And walk in the mire below
Are those shards you hold
So precious and old
That thou must treat them like gold?
they once were something beautiful
But now are smashed apart
Dreams, goals, relationships, and hearts
Al of them broken, bringing stormy skies
The glory and beauty of the highs
Now lost in haunted memories
They consume you inside, what if
This is how i chose to live
What if i did this, what if?
They cut deep inside your heart
They slowly tear you apart
They make you less than thou art
You cannot change the past but you can change now
Will you stand strong or will you bow?
if you think you can live in the past, please tell me how
But until then, i start each day new again
To be a worthy servant, to be a better friend.
To keep chasing dreams right until my end
This world i'm in will never perfect be
So while down here, i'll never be a perfect me
But God i'll try to perfect me.
To be more like Jesus, to live how i am to live
To love like him, to forgive
To learn, to help, to give
These broken jars you hold
These hideous scars of old
Throw away, fortune favors the bold
These broken shards cut your palms
They cause you to sing desolate psalms
They bring naught but harm
Jars are just made of clay
If they Fall and break, throw the remains away
Make another to stay
Some day you'll find a treasure
One which will hold in all weather
Something beyond measure
So open your clenched bleeding hands
dropp the shattered pieces on the sand
Lift up your head, thou weary man
Leave those pieces behind
Cause there's something better to find
Leave the broken pieces behind
There's something better to find....
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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Never To Win
Casualities of day dreamers...
Are buried in my reverie-
Sequined-vivid and blood stained-
Are our: 'Never To Be's; '
Broken and in total disarray...
Long before we even began-
Fragile shards of splintered dreams...
In my memory bank they just hang;
Suspended in times empty spaces...
For all of my inner-in sleep to see...
Casualties of my hopeful dreamscapes-
Of our: 'Never To Be's';
Never standing a chance in reality...
Shattered long before we could begin...
Sequined vivid blood stained shards-
Lay in a hopeless game of: 'Never To Win';
May 10,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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My Babel Tower
Silver raindrops, the sky cries
On this mirror maze,
Lonely I feel, even if
My reflections are all around me,
Sad and empty inside,
Building a Babel tower,
With these mirror bricks!
The gods fight me,
Sending down a storm,
I fall...
And so does my tower of dreams...
Shards of mirror,
Shards of my reflection, in my skin...
©1st of June 2006, Elya Thorn
I have submitted this poem to two poetry contests.
poem by Elya Thorn
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Crack
I don't know what's growing on the inside
But I do know how it looks from the outside
Surprise...suffer
Never before...until you dropped
Arrogance has swept you off your feet
As you celebrate the many ends you meet
Surprise...suffer
Never before...until you dropped to the ground
In the mess you built for yourself
You bury your fingers
In the shards of what you once prided for
Carry your need to feed
Upon your shoulders
Crack
You can't support
The weight of your mistakes
Building walls in accolade of your wins
You missed the world that lives beneath
Your chin
Never before
Bury your fingers
In the shards of what you once prided for
Carry your need to feel
Upon your shoulders
Crack...you can't support
The weight of your own mistakes
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shards Of Glass
Two large full brown beer bottles
drunkenly thrown up into the night sky
among the libation begging darkness
covering a path of planted planned trees
arch intersect implode
in whoosh frothing braved beer
glass shards rain down from
magical impossibly dark night sky
offering to alcoholics dream
fools paradise rain down
a heaven on earth thirst quenched
paradise craved desire fulfilled
a hell on earth glass sky
full dew point grasp beer
alcoholic river rages intoxication life
every precious dropp shards mixed denied
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Small Windows
This road trip to moon will not end
through the shards of shattered,
small prints of sleep.
A ravaged nest lived behind tomorrow
in necklace of past apologies.
Hanging by fan was ending of today.
We talked of dirty nights and bright glasses
in the strange land of gobblers. The
greed was the keyward.
I was not ready to comb the promises.
Power of poverty and deprivation
has brought together the broken hearts.
Let’s kill the syllables after inferno
dousing the truth of life. Who knows
when we will meet in darkness.
poem by Satish Verma
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I Sit At My Desk Alone
I sit at my desk alone
as I did on many Sunday
afternoons when you came
back to me,
your arms aching for me,
though they smelled
of other women
and your sweet head bowed
for me to rub
and your heart bursting
with things to tell me,
and your hair
and your eyes
wild.
We would embrace
on the carpet
and leave
the imprint of our bodies
on the floor.
My back is still sore
where you pressed me
into the rug,
a sweet soreness I would never
lose.
I think of you always
on Sunday afternoons,
and I try to conjure you
with these words
as if you might
come back to me
at twilight
but you are never coming back
never.
The truth is
you no longer exist.
Oh you walk the world
sturdily enough:
one foot in front
of the other.
But the lover you were,
the tender shoot
springing within me,
trusting me with your dreams,
has hardened
into fear and cynicism.
Betrayal does that
betrays the betrayer.
I want to hate you
and I cannot.
But I cannot
love you either.
It is our old love
I love,
as one loves
certain images
from childhood
shards
shining in
the street
in the shit.
Shards of light
in the darkness.
poem by Erica Jong
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At the red sea
In the distance he see them coming,
war chariots filling the horizon
and the rumbling of horse hooves
are getting louder
as they are getting nearer.
Caught between the deep blue sea
and the desert
men, women and children stand
around him
and fear is in their eyes
for the vengeance of Pharaoh
who regards himself equal to God.
They glance away
from the cloud that gives shelter
and the morning’s manna
that was sweet on their lips,
are also already forgotten
and most are truly convinced
that he is leading them
to utter destruction.
Horses neigh a lot closer
when he hits the sea
with his mighty staff,
the sea cleave open
and walls of water glide away
and gather at two sides
till a dry road
leads right through to the other side.
There are thunder rumbling ominous
from the cloud above them
and a strong eastern wind
spraying water
like vapours of rain from the sea
and blowing it to the enemy.
While Pharaoh and his soldiers
witnesses these things
they come at speed
following the path through the sea
and in the middle of the waters
they begin to sink in
and the last
of his people are through
and he lift his eyes up
to where more lightning bolts
now come from the column of cloud.
Then he reaches his hand out
over the red sea
and hold that mighty staff
into the air
and everywhere
thunder hits reaching over the sea
and suddenly walls of water break
with angry power
and enemy chariots, horsemen,
horses and men are gone,
covered by water
and every one there
know from where
their salvation comes.
[Reference: Exodus 14: 1-31.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Shattered
A broken heart
Lays scattered;
Strewn shards of
Jagged sharp edges
Across a love
Worn field
Of egg shells
And land mines;
Clusters of time
In each piece
Mind recorded
Moments of
Loving bliss
Soul numbing
Ignorance
Overcome by
Lust;
Shattered in
Just one nano
Second
One fraction
Of one minute;
When your lips
Met hers
Instead of mine;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Cloud Walker
In above realms where light emits
Comfort abounds all over
The cloud walker tries to send
All the light to subjects below
Beyond, two lovers swathes in the light
Surging with love each breath
The walker of the clouds gladly glows
And bathes the two with loving light
Unfortunately the superior light that graces
The sweetheart two whom which illuminate
Seems to have a fluctuation within its power
The cloud walker falters, and lowers
Loves most powerful gracious light
Loses some of its glow, downward plight
The female of the couple loses sight
Of the cloud walkers ever powerful light
Sadness creeps in, so horrible the confusion
The cloud walker steps his foot on fading
The couple now weeps as it knows the fate
The end of the cloud walker is close
Feeling the light dissipate before their eyes
The woman holds her lover and horribly cries
Her hopes and dreams were left and denied
Her tears leave her heart separate and untied
Crushing beneath the cloud walkers flicker
The couple lays defeated on the ground
The world has beaten the amazing light
The cloud walker is dead, it is now night
poem by Russell Sivey
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The Rain
Come on, where are you, long lost sun,
the rain looks finished, I’m sure its done.
I spoke too soon, its coming down again,
it’s even swamping the house’s drain.
The rain’s surging force as it hits the ground
creates a noise like no other sound.
Our wheelie bin is being beaten like a drum.
Oh, where has that hidden sun gone?
I can’t even see through the windowpane,
it’s covered with huge drops of rain.
Look at it streaming down that outside wall,
the guttering looks about to fall.
There it goes; it’s shattered against the ground
but the rain has dampened its crashing sound.
I keep looking for that cloud break in the sky
for the sun to push through, or at least have a try.
That man on the street looks soaked to the bone,
with no coat or umbrella to shelter him home.
I can now see clearly through the windowpane,
the sun is bursting through the clouds again.
At last, the time has come to go out for some fresh air
the clouds have gone, so there’s no need to despair.
I won’t need to take the umbrella or even my coat,
and I’ll certainly won’t need a rowing boat.
Less than thirty metres from my front door,
and there’s another heavy downpour.
Looking up I just cannot understand why,
there isn’t a cloud in the sky.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Seven Gifts From Our New Poet Laureate
Sir, it is not just your love of fine old trees
Or sharing the deep shards of truth's light
Your honesty about fear of money's power for instance
Your willingness to give your life away
A relationship of fifteen years that culminates in classic love
It is your assertion that poetry is not dead,
And the comfort that neither are you.
poem by Bill Grace
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Shattered
It was in the virgin snow
Of many a winter's past
Where memory grew some wings
It was in the form of Snow Angels**
And the winter airs crisp sting
It was a total recall of sorts
Of a broken friendships shards
It cut like glass, as it came to pass
But the snow still covers the yard
It never melted from an apology
As none ever came to pass
And so the snow remains
Along with the pain
And the shards are still sharp as glass
poem by Theodora Onken
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