mourning dove cooing
meteor arching the sky
stone skipping on lake
all must fall, become silent
yet not grief for a drowned child
tanka by Lillian Susan Thomas
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The Ballad Of What The Wind Said
Eternity may well
Be only a river
Be a forgotten horse
And the cooing
Of a lost dove.
As for the man who distances
Himself from men, the wind comes
Telling him other things now
Opening his ears
And eyes to other things.
Today, I distanced myself from men,
And alone, in this gully,
I began to gaze at the river,
And saw a horse all alone,
And listened all lonely
To the cooing
Of a lost dove.
And the wind came close,
Like someone passing by,
And told me:
Eternity may well
Be only a river
Be a forgotten horse
And the cooing
Of a lost dove.
poem by Rafael Alberti from Ballads and Songs of the Paraná (1953)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Acushla
I NAMED her twice, I named her thrice,
I named her ten times over;
The wind heard, and the singing bird,
And the bee in the creamy clover.
Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
It's little that a man may do,
Whose heart is hot with wooing.
I left the field, the harvest yield —
The grain was ripe to falling —
And ran, and ran, a crazy man,
And I the whole time calling
'Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
When Love is keeping holiday,
What work is worth the doing?'
Her feet were fleet, her pretty feet
Upon the hill and hollow;
She bade me stay, she cried me nay,
And still her eyes said 'Follow!'
Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
To capture her was sweet, indeed,
Yet sweeter the pursuing.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Suffer In Silence
silent are the dreams
silent are the screams
wither, i will crumple and faint
silent are the tears that flow down my cheek
silent is the storm that is brewing
silent is the bleeding wound
quiet is my sorrow
grief in chains
mute and mourning
my sorrow in despair
in violence tranquil
wailful in silence suffer i will
coz that my love is your wish
poem by Reshma Ramesh
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Little Andrew
Air -- "Gypsy's Warning"
Andrew was a little infant,
And his life was two years old;
He was his parents' eldest boy,
And he was drowned, I was told.
His parents never more can see him
In this world of grief and pain,
And Oh! they will not forget him
While on earth they do remain.
On one bright and pleasant morning
His uncle thought it would be nice
To take his dear little nephew
Down to play upon a raft,
Where he was to work upon it,
An this little child would company be --
The raft the water rushed around it,
Yet he the danger did not see.
This little child knew no danger --
Its little soul was free from sin --
He was looking in the water,
When, alas, this child fell in.
Beneath the raft the water took him,
For the current was so strong,
And before they could rescue him
He was drowned and was gone.
Oh! how sad were his kind parents
When they saw their drowned child,
As they brought him from the water,
It almost made their hearts grow wild.
Oh! how mournful was the parting
From that little infant son.
Friends, I pray you, all take warning,
Be careful of your little ones.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Bison
How great a front is thine
A lake of majesty!
Assyria knew the sign
The god-incarnate king!
A lake of majesty
The lion's drowns in it!
And thy placidity
A moon within that lake!
As if thou still dost own
A world, thou takest breath
Earth-shape and strength of stone,
A Titan-sultan's child!
poem by Padraic Colum
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My world is beautiful!
My world is beautiful,
My worlds are beautiful,
Always it will,
Life is full of Nature's bounties
My sweet mother caress and
cares me,
Me and my friends, We look beautiful with what she
gave us,
We make our world happy and
beautiful,
Not worrying,
what she didn't give! I and my friends play hide and
seek,
Colourful butterfly,
Hide behind Flowers,
How thrilling to find these flying
flowers, butterflies dancing to my Heart's silent song! Flowers filling perfume to air,
Adding colours to life,
Shining Sun make them bright,
Lonesome dove sings at dawn,
Goodmorning dear,
Wake up and look at the world, sailing clouds say,
' have a nice day'
Gentle breeze keeping us cool,
Plants swing to my silent song! Flowers smiling in my lap,
Filling my heart with joy,
Dove fly around me and sings in
ears,
Look at smiling innocent flowers,
They smile at you, Though you kill them,
Separating their mother,
Listen to silent cry of plants,
Silent mourning of butterflies,
Can't you mourn,
yes now I am mourning and my heart weeps at death of smiling
flowers! Taking oath in presence of my
friends,
'Never will I kill flowers '!
my days will be more happy and
nice,
With playful smile of flowers!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Mourning Air
Did I see a moment with you
In a half lit world
Im frightened to believe
But I must try
If I stumble if I fall
Im reaching out in this mourning air, ohh
Have I got the strength to ask
Beyond the window
I feel this fear alone
Until we have
Total honesty
If I tremble or fall
Im reaching out in this mourning air, ohh
Should I feel a moment with you
To softly whisper
I crave nothing else so much
Longing to reveal
Total honesty
I can feel your touch
Im reaching out in this mourning air, ohh
Im reaching out in this mourning air, ohh.
song performed by by Portishead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The big, huge meteor headed toward the Earth. Could nothing stop it Maybe Bob could. He was suddenly on top of the meteor---through some kind of space warp or something. 'Go, Bob, go' yelled one of the generals. 'Give me that' said the big-guy general as he took the microphone away. 'Listen, Bob,' he said. 'You've got to steer that meteor away from Earth.' 'Yes, but how' thought Bob. Then he got an idea. Right next to him there was a steering wheel sticking out of the meteor.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song: Memory Lake
Memory lake
Remember when we carved our names on the rail,
Back in our younger days.
Remember when we’d stay out late and talk,
until the sun found it’s resting place.
And we’d sit and watch the planes fly high and the birds fly low,
As we talk about our day.
Remember when we promised each other,
Some day we’d leave this place.
But I never knew,
Your wish would come true,
And you’d leave me alone,
But just so you know.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
By the dock was our place.
Remember when our smiles shined and we crossed the line,
Every step that we’d take.
And remember when we’d laugh our troubles away,
Then make double just for laughter’s sake.
And we’d find a way to argue but in the end I knew,
That nothing could make us break.
We had our tears and had our trial, dealt with pain by open smiles,
Right there on memory lake.
But I never knew,
That your wish would come true,
And you’d leave me here all alone.
And who would have thought,
That a broken heart would be,
The closest I’d ever get, to snow.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
On memory lake, oh,
Memory lake.
Don’t take it away, don’t take it away,
Don’t take away, memory lake, our lake.
I’ll be picking the flowers and laying them on the water,
And watching them float away.
I’ll be picking up the stones and skipping them trying to,
break that record you made.
And I’ll be watching the sun as it sets,
Remembering never to forget,
Your face,
And the memory’s we made.
On memory lake.
poem by Joey Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Language Of Grief
tears are the silent language of grief
Taht mostly provide us comfort and grief
When once they quietly all fall down
On grass that's green or on mud taht is brown
Because they are very precious and rare
that no one whenever wants can spare
Becaus eit only comes with the pain
that we get like an unpredictable rain
So then after facing agony and distress
And all life's lies, fib and mistrust
What is left for us to feel
That afterwards every one has to deal
Is the silent language of our grief
that gives us way to find a relief
Through the path of life's precious tear
That not only sounds but is very rare.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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A Child Screening A Dove From A Hawk. By Stewardson
AY, screen thy favourite dove, fair child,
Ay, screen it if you may,--
Yet I misdoubt thy trembling hand
Will scare the hawk away.
That dove will die, that child will weep,--
Is this their destinie?
Ever amid the sweets of life
Some evil thing must be.
Ay, moralize,--is it not thus
We've mourn'd our hope and love?
Alas! there's tears for every eye,
A hawk for every dove!
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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The Dove of Dacca
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Quest for Shaded Truth
Dove came to Raven in a dream.
He was whiter than snow.
Raven woke with his croaking scream,
A creature of light had visited.
It was not just a vision,
The Dove soon arrived in flesh.
Raven stared in derision,
As Dove was loved more than he.
What have I done, thought Raven,
To deserve such hostility?
Must I stop eating carrion,
Or carry a branch in my beak?
Dove is loved by all,
With his smooth, snowy plumage,
And his slow, cooing call
That so comforts Man’s soul.
As the wind whispered Nature’s
Thoughts into his ears, he realized
That without the dark there
Could not be light.
Raven watched fires angrily destroy,
And rain patter softly on earth.
He saw shrubs, stooped like haggard men,
While tall trees towered tyrannically.
But who made the rules about
What should symbolize purity,
And what should represent
Repulsion and evil?
Skipping!
A little girl was skipping;
As she swung her skipping rope
The neighbors heard her singing
And the song she sang was - Quote:
'Mummy's in the parlour
And she's there with Uncle Fred,
Daddy's in the garage
Says she's doing in his head,
Auntie Jane was crying
Now she's swimming in the pool
And I must keep on skipping
'Til it's time to go to school.'
The neighbors saw her skipping
All along the afternoon,
She skipped a hundred singles
As she sang her little tune:
'Mummy's saying nothing
But she hasn't any clothes,
Uncle Fred is staring
With a chopper through his nose,
Auntie Jane is floating
But her face is turning black
And Daddy's in the garage
With a rope around his neck.'
A little girl was skipping
But there wasn't any sound,
I guess she'll still be skipping
When the sun goes down…
1 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The silent child
The silent child is not a blind child
eyes wide open while yours are closed
you speak to much and listen less
this child of yours will take over
your own creation outsmarting you
he can now see between the cracks
the child realises you are not what you sayd
that you dont do what you say you do
the silent child knows but wont speak
poem by Vincent Brisebois
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Sift And Shift
with grief are black veils of women
trying to filter the gleaming of tears
with grief are the hands trying to
sift and shift the sounds of the cries
with grief are women
mourning for the deaths of men
for the loss of children
for the rape of the earth
the thin crust of morals
dirt of the feet
dusts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stand Alone Complex
I stand alone,
I fall apart.
In my deepest sorrow i grief.
I grief for a touch, for a smile...
I grief for love;
I grief for live...
I grief and i beg,
For the heat of an angel to save me...
For the simplest touch of a lover...
For the complex soul of a writer...
And i fall apart
I stand alone...
I stand alone complex.
28th January 1010
poem by DarkShaya Naiyamoto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Skipping-Rope
SURE never yet was antelope
Could skip so lightly by.
Stand off, or else my skipping-rope
Will hit you in the eye.
How lightly Whirls the skipping-rope !
How fairy-like you fly !
Go, get you gone, you muse and mope -
I hate that silly sigh.
Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope,
Or tell me how to die.
There, take it, take my skipping-rope,
And hang yourself thereby.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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