Related quotes: The birds spread their wings...

True Realities

The birds spread their wings
and close it almost simultaneously
as they sail with the wind
the dogs bark violently
to proclaim their territory
the horse throws its fist
stands on two hooves
and makes a picture of a muscular man modeling
the spider monkeys do superb acrobatics
but had never been a gymnastic medalist
the Lion roars
the Cock crows
but the Frog croaks
even the goat is foolish but does not know
and the Lizard nods as if it understands everything that goes
knowing these, Humans go on with their daily activities
forgetting God's love and His blessings
His hate for sin and judgement
and mostly His daily requirements

poem by Bernard Otumun
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

How Will I Daily Look Upon God's Face? (Cavatina)

How will I daily look upon God's face,
while I do sin
and still daily continually do fall?
When I begin
each day with a prayer, inside my heart
His love is in,
while He daily makes my life again new,
much more pure than all of the morning dew

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me & My Horse

riding together,
you and your horse.

as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.

your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.

the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.

poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Frog and the Lion

A LITTLE FROG WENT OUT ONE DAY
TO HAVE A FROGGIE WALK,
HE SAW A LION ON HIS WAY
AND STOPPED TO HAVE A TALK.

AND THEN THE LION SAID TO HIM,
THERE’S FLIES UPON MY BACK,
AND I AM FEELING PRETTY GRIM
WHILE STANDING IN THIS TRACK.

SO IF YOU CLIMB ABOARD MY FRIEND,
YOU’LL HAVE A LOVELY FEED,
I’LL FLICK MY TAIL SO I CAN SEND
THE FLIES TO FILL YOUR NEED.

SO FROGGIE CLIMED ON LION’S BACK
AND ATE AND ATE AND ATE,
AND LION STOOD UPON THE TRACK
TO WAIT AND WAIT AND WAIT.

ONE DAY LION LOOKED AT FROG
AND SAW HIS EYES WERE DIM,
THEN LET HIM DOWN INTO THE BOG
SO HE COULD HAVE A SWIM.

AND THEN THE FROG CAME BACK AGAIN
THE LION TO ATTEND.
HE CLIMBED BACK IN THE LIONS MANE,
THE LION WAS HIS FRIEND.

AS TIME WENT BY THE FROG GOT FAT.
AND LION WAITED ON.
THEN FROG WAS EATEN BY THAT CAT,
AND SO THE FROG WAS GONE.

THE FROGGIE IN THE LION,
JUST SCHRIVLED RIGHT AWAY.
THE FROG WAS FULL OF POISON.
THE LION DIED THAT DAY.

THE MORAL OF THIS STORY.
IS TWOFOLD, LISTEN ON.
JUST BE VERY CAREFULL,
BEFORE YOUR DAYS ARE GONE.

CHOOSE YOU VERY WISELY
THE FRIENDS WITH WHOM YOU GREET.
AND DON’T BE LIKE THE LION.
BE CAREFULL WHAT YOU EAT

poem by George Savige
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel Kisses

I don’t know what an angel looks like
I don’t even know if they have wings
But I know when I need a reminder
Something wraps around me and sings
It’s the wind in the trees
Makes me pause for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Invisible hand brushing my cheek

Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses

When I think about all I have to do
It’s hard to even know where to start
A day late and a dollar behind
But I try to play my music with heart
It’s the language of the birds in the trees
Floats me up for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Grabs my heart, takes my hand, close my eyes, I feel the..

I wish I could keep those
Gentle reminders
How do you stay peaceful?
Let me be kinder

poem by Patricia Genetos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind Horse

Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.

Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.

Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.

Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.

poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frog In The Log

There once was a handsome green frog
who resided inside an old log.
He had cut two small vents
in the log for defense
but the stork used, as cover, the fog.

And he swallowed the frog in the buff
though just one frog was never enough
for a frog in a log
who can't see in the fog
daily life can be utterly tough.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Day To Fly

(elliott, english)
Where does a dream belong
Locked in the mind on the edge of time
Like a ship lost in a storm
How do we find the key
Longing to see, through the artists eye
Maybe only birds can fly
The man must be insane who knows
A mind alive with images so strange
So close but never rode the sky
Watching the birds as they sail on the wind
Trying to figure out the reason why
Picturing wings held together with string
One day to fly
Someone said and I believe
Try if you dare, you can walk on air
A dream is all you need
A circle that takes you high
Lighter than air as the earth goes by
Through a spiral in the sky
The man must be insane who knows
A mind alive with images so strange
So close but never rode the sky
Watching the birds as they sail on the wind
Trying to figure out the reason why
Picturing wings held together with string
Just a charcoal sketch on canvas
Made them laugh but now they see
That the artist had a vision
That the wind could set us free
Its a bridge until tomarrow
Taking us beyond the sun
As the artist paints his picture
The storys just begun
Analyzing, criticizing
Fear of the unknown
Theorizing, visualizing
The road to take us home
If it takes forever
Someones gonna fly
We may never get to heaven
But still were gonna try
Watching the birds
As they sail on the wind
One day to fly
Vocals- graham dye
Guitars ian bairnson
Drums stuart elliott
Bass john giblin
Piano and keyboards gary sanctuary
The philharmonia orchestra conducted by andrew powell

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Cowboy at Heart

There are many kinds of cowboys
I think that this is true
Excitement of a kind they need
Perhaps that describes you

Some cowboys ride a horse
Fields of hay they grow
Daily chores like in the past
Makes their daily world flow

Still others have some wild ways
Their horse travels on wheels
They like to live on the ‘wild side’
Whipping up exciting deals

There are those who love an animal
That is also pretty wild
The CAT is what they really love
Completely another style

Out in the wide open country
Seems to always be a part
But these folks I think we can say
Are truly cowboys at heart!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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We are not cured of alcoholism. What we have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition. Every day is a day when we must carry the vision of God's will into all of our daily activities.

quote by William Griffith Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Are The People

I see a tree.
But knowing what it goes through,
On a daily basis to be a tree...
I can't say I know.
Therefore,
A knowing about it...
I can not prove or show.

I see squirrels, birds, cats and dogs,
On a daily basis...
To be what is perceived are animals.
Are they more or less intelligent than you,
Or me?
I can not claim to know this.
None have I met to chat with personally.

And that applies to people.
Many are the people with different ethnicities.
Many are their languages spoken,
And only fluent am I in one of these.
With a labelling by races and religious philosophies.
But can I claim to know them?
Not really. That would be too presumptuous of me.

But there are those who claim to know,
What is unseen.
They claim to know what others do,
Without having them on the scene.
Walk down any street anywhere and hear folks say,
Something about someone else to belittle and demean.
And not know one thing about them but they do it anyway.

Many are the people who would have others believe,
They know everything about someone else...
Including their history.
And these very same people are the reason why,
There is confusion and chaos in other people's lives...
From an ignorance known that shows.
And that fact should be prioritized as an agenda to realize.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The unseen presence of Him

The unseen presence of Him that created all
is constantly among us as we dwell in a world of sin
and He has been visiting like this from the very begin,
since the very day that Adam and Eve did fall

and as spring follows winter and summer moves in
all of nature rejoices in beautiful colours and fragrances
while daily insects, birds, flowers and trees enhances
the blessings that usually come unseen in the daily din.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys

there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'

how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?

If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.

a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?

what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.

poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sugar

On the vermont transit bus I leaned my arm into alittle chink of sun,
Going somewhere older than I was,
Strapped into something tight, keeping me small.
I dug into you like rock climbing;
Too scared of coming down,
Too scared of going up,
Too scared of rockface.
I shouldve split my sides or spilled my guts or hit you or something,
But I was good, and your fathers little pancakes
So round and perfect and me sitting up too straight,
Laughing in wrong places, kissing you,
Kissing up, kissing too soon.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?
And when you got me pregnant I stopped the party and
I stopped the typewriter and I stopped your dumb ball game in the red barn and i
Stopped your father and bled instead.
And I felt the lie - something sticky on the inside,
A bitter wind in my throat,
Stopping me wanting,
In my stomach, in my head and you said
Sugar sugar, you couldnt come come
Sugar sugar, without your mother
Sugar sugar, you couldnt taste it
Sugar sugar, in my throat.
When the cock crows
When the morning comes where will I go?
When the cock crows
When the love is gone where will I go?

song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hate

I hate me
I hate u for loving me
I hate that I need u
I hate that you love me
I hate that I can't close u out
I hate that u trust me
I hate that I hurt u
I hate that u cry
I hate that I can't help u
I hate that u try to help me
I hate that I will leave u the fist chance I get
I hate that u won't understand
I hate that u won't give up on me
I hate that I can't give in to u
I hate that u won't let me go
I hate that I will never be the friend u deserve
I hate that u can't see that
I hate that I'm going to die
I hate most of all that it's going to kill u

poem by Fernando Alvarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to the Spider

from whom does
the spider learn
to weave her
intricate web
so that she could
meditate on the
eight fold path?

two by two the
eight labourers (her legs)
of the path rest
after a day's pf work
and the master sits
the whole time
in the centre
of zero thought
- and heaven never
forgets to send
him his daily
requirements

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Collective Right

Dogs and rats are territory conscious.
Wild birds are also boundary conscious.
They are no freer than humans are.
The collective right to survive affects all.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bias

even when the lion
smiles at us
we still withhold
confidence
even if the lion is
sincere
and does not think of
evil
like eating all of us
as prey
we always think of
the worst
even if it is just a picture
of the lion
smiling at us
we still suspect
that this can be a trap
another deception

a lion is a lion is a lion
and will always be lion
no matter what

as simple as that
ask the wind

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Wind

What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.

What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.

What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.

7-18-2001

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Depend upon yourself. Make your judgement trustworthy by trusting it. You can develop good judgement as you do the muscles of your body - by judicious, daily exercise. To be known as a man of sound judgement will be much in your favor.

quote by Grantland Rice
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories Of The Male Snipe

Above his breeding territory in the night sky
with his wings and tail he sends out a warning as to and fro he fly
To the males of his own kind those living nearby
The sound that he creates seems like a goat like cry.

Often from the bogland road on evenings in May
In my northern Homeland from here far away
I heard the male snipe in his territorial display
He drummed out his warning 'til the dawning of day.

The snipe of the bogland elusive and shy
When flushed by day low to the ground in quick zig zag flight they fly
For the small game shooter the mottled brown bird with the long thin bill
Is the most elusive of targets to shoot at to kill.

The whirring flight sound of the male snipe to this day I recall
Above the quiet bogland 'til dawn from nightfall
With his wings and tail he makes a goat like sound
As above his territory he flies around and around.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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