Water Of The Flow-tide
the syllabus of the balcony
continues
the black-blossom just beneath your chick
can’t be extinguished
the waves
that are moving with their own axes
smile to the eyes
to make me more adult
the water of the flow tide
works for the whole day
at the end of the day it carries to home
five grains of the buds of the lotus
to maintain livelihood
the dew-drops
accumulating in the womb of the poetry
also want to change some warmth
riding on the football of 2-30 at night
the vermillion of the full-moon
on your forehead
all on a sudden
takes a sip
in the fishing-net of the tennis-man
poem by Murari Sinha
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Related quotes
The Fishing Village From Across The Bay
The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.
Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.
Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.
A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.
The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.
Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.
poem by Kevin Parkin
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Sonnet: Abortion- Murder, most foul in the Womb!
God makes the buds that blossom into flow’rs,
And flow’rs to form the seeds for newer plants;
God gives sun-light and bathes the roots with show’rs,
And nutrition, protecting them from ants!
God makes each species propagate on earth-
A mystery and wonder, all must take;
God takes care of their every want from birth-
Food, water, shelter, freedom from each ache!
God breathed life into clay and called it ‘man’!
And loved him, more than every creature made;
And made from him, his partner called ‘woman’;
His love for man (woman) will never fade!
‘Abortion- murder, most foul, in the womb! ’
Should mothers turn the sacred womb, a tomb?
Lovingly dedicated to all good mothers who
God-willingly serve to maintain the human race.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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The Man Parts the Water
The man parts the water with a simple stone,
turning when the laughter
of a child retraces the shattered waves.
The man remembers with a smile
the days when he walked the shore,
dancing with silver-eyed seagulls, and he
was always looking ahead as he
stands and tilts releasing stone,
watching it sail through the misty shore.
The child parts the water with shrieking laughter,
and dreams about the day he will knowingly smile
as his cocked man-hand reaches the stormy waves.
Watching the moon pull the scornful waves
that kick the sand onto the shore, now he’s
the ghost of a child that stands with a smile.
He parts the water with a simple stone,
listening to the moon’s blue shaken laughter
at a man awaiting his golden hour upon the murky shore.
The grains whisper into the wind. And the shore
is crowded with memories of waves,
filling a young boy’s face with laughter.
It permeates the darkness, yet he
still craves the stone
to bring the man’s euphoric smile.
Caught in a moment without laughter or smiles,
walking along the shore
he wishes upon a simple stone
for another chance to play and frolic in waves.
The child sees his reflection with an anxious smile, and he
becomes a man between the laughter.
And he will always remember the laughter,
and he will always long for an innocent smile
of waiting for the day that unknowingly he
could never return to the shore.
Churning as it breaks the waves,
the past is left in simple stone.
But for now there is laughter upon the shore,
riding along the whispering waves,
the child’s future still a simple stone.
(- for Nicolas Mathew)
poem by Matt Ullman
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Fragment
Moon of leaves,
Moon of the falling leaves,
To you I bring the slippers
of the sun.
That you may dance upon the
floor of sun,
My lady carries sun within her eyes.
Moon of the Unrevealed,
Moon of the gold-encrusted shield,
To you I bring the fragment
of my prayer.
Moon of the crinkled hair,
Tell me, will my lady yield
Eyes and mouth and breasts unsealed?
Will my lady yield?
Moon of the yellow streaked with red,
Moon that the sun would lead to bed,
Moon with the death's head
More than dead,
Why do you frighten the Goddess of Love,
Whose frail white fingers are moving above
The lover's white body lost in his love?
Moon, you are more than dead.
Moon of the ermine loist in the snow,
Moon of the frozen furbelow,
Moon of the nothingness here below,
Moon, you must go.
It is the Sun that tells you so-
Moon, you must go.
And I was dark beneath the moon,
And you were dark beneath the moon,
And we were dark beneath the moon.
Now I am gold beneath the sun,
Now you are gold beneath the sun,
Now we are gold beneath the Sun.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Evening
When little lights in little ports come out,
Quivering down through water with the stars,
And all the fishing fleet of slender spars
Range at their moorings, veer with tide about;
When race of wind is stilled and sails are furled,
And underneath our single riding-light
The curve of black-ribbed deck gleams palely white,
And slumbrous waters pool a slumbrous world;
--Then, and then only, have I thought how sweet
Old age might sink upon a windy youth,
Quiet beneath the riding-light of truth,
Weathered through storms, and gracious in retreat.
poem by Victoria Sackville-West
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The Seal
The ocean cold is it's home
Swimming all day it's livelihood
Slick fur black and mottled
Tossing and turning beneath the salty waves
Dark eyes glossy as chrome
Rolling and playing, making waves and foam
Laying in the sun on a raft of driftwood
Amongst the forest of seaweed they mingled
Exploring every nook of of a sea-cave
The ocean wide it's free to roam
poem by Benjamin Louter
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End Of The Season Drama
Nerves all jittery and fraught
fingernails chewed to the quick
this is the lot of the football fan
end of the season can make you sick.
One minute your team is staying up
the next you're on your way down
that smile you had on your face
is now replaced with a miserable frown.
With mobiles flashing up scores
and radios pressed to one's ear
it's either going to be bubbly Champagne
or crying into a pint of flat beer.
No time for a sun drenched vacation
Gardening, Fishing, or a spot of D.I.Y.
to the fan this is a really serious matter
but it's only football I can hear you cry.
Try saying that to the weary supporter
who follows his team home and away
when faced with the dreaded relegation
he drops to his knees to pray.
She's threatened to pack her bags again
and go back home to her Mum and Dad
but the thought of his beloved club
and relegation is what's really making him sad.
At last he knows his clubs fate
and their not going down after all
but when he hears that his lady has left him
he just shrugs and says she never liked football.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oriental selection
Bare winter branches
beneath the moon wreathed in mist.
Seem to bloom again.
Echoes of memories foresee
future in the past.
In the soft moonlight
blossoms from the cherry tree
Scattered on the ground.
purpose served, hey leave the stage
Autumn will grant them honour.
Sharp edged shadows cast
by the brilliant winter moon
on the earth below.
Poetry written on the snow
only lovers understand
The wind stirs the reeds
making music by moonlight.
Plaintive melodies
the wind needs no audience.
the moon listens silently.
The moon my lantern
the scent of blossom lingers
The moon lights my way
I walk beside the water
yesterday is gone.
Sun sets, moon rises
constant repetition
She follows her lord
Night without moonlight
restless spirits walk abroad
seeking solace.
Moonlight soothes my soul
as I meditate alone.
Trees whisper to me.
A pond holds the moon
why should the mind of man do less
achieving stillness
Gently moonlight falls
like silver rain silently
lotus blossom sing.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Strand beach
There’s a slight breeze over the sea tonight
and the tide ebbs out, but I can hear
the braking waves
and see the phosphorous
of their wake
and yet more silent
the brush of water on the sand
and the voices of the sea
sounds jubilant to me
and when the tide changes later
it grows stronger
and it’s as everything I hear
have the sounds of faith and hope
rising up louder and louder still
and as if we are moving into a new age
where man is beginning to comprehend
his role to his fellows
and the moon rises big and full
like a light guiding the way
and your hand in mine
burns with its own intensity
and the look in your big eyes
tells me how much you love me
with promises of a new tomorrow in them.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Tides Of Change
Life has had its ups and downs
Sometimes you think you cant last the rounds
But there is always the moon above
To make you see the love
Change is always there to surprise
Not sure when it will arise
Take this change and make it happen
Don’t be left slacken’
With each experience and each day
You must find time to play
Now the change will erase the past
Look forward to something that will last.
Tides ebb and flow
And with each tide you will grow
Are you ready to face the tide
Hope aboard and enjoy the ride.
poem by Alison Smith
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Crumbling Chalk
Beneath the cliffs of crumbling chalk was once a path
where you could walk. The walk would take you down to
the sand where fishing boats would come to land.
Now this crumbling chalk falls into the sea, where once
crabs and lobsters were caught for tea.
No scavenging left in this lonely bay even the gulls
have flown away; they have left the waves and the spray
are they to return another day.
Nets and pots have been swallowed up by the waves and
now their left to sleep in watery graves. A fishing village that was
once a boom has now become an empty tomb.
An oil slick just driffted into the shore and took away the beauty
that it had known before. Crumbling chalk that drops like tears
on the sand that's black made from the oil smears.
There is nothing left to self contain, oh will they no come
back again.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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My Young Beloved's Bag
my young beloved's bag is very big
as a fashı on nowadays in young girls
hanging on the shoulder
usually black
like the soldier boots she puts on
that she used to boot me
sometimes in anger
what are there inside the black big bag
you can never guess
she carries everything in it
as the mall she works in
sometimes she puts the mall key in
because she is very secure
and tough
the bag is as if all her life
first comes the cell-phone
though she cannot find it easily
then her loved ones
sometimes she hides them in it
whom she wants to hide even from me
tjen tweezers
a lot of maje ups
sometimes even shoers and slippers
may be abottle of rose water
or a bottle of drinking water
toothpastes..pads..tooth brushes
even cleaning papers, napkins, toı let papers,
lipsticks, boxes of creams, balms, clippers
my young is lş ike the mall she works in
what eles are there in the black bag
you can never guess
varı ous and any kinds of several things
you caN NEVER İ MAGİ NE
or can imagine
even she wants to park her car in it
but there is no room for the car yet
because she carries me in her black big bag too
and locks me there
in case ı can escape and leave her lonely
never the less
ı know
she loves me most
above everything
in her bag
she bears me and carries me everywhere
poem by Metin Sahin
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Grateful Water
Live if you can when the water runs dry.
Once in a decade perhaps, or never in a life
Save your tear so that you won’t have to cry.
Let the water flow and wash away the strife.
Dry yourself with water if any miracle you need.
Let the water run upwards for a change to fancy.
Feed the water well to run through the creed.
Run Water! ! Run! ! Flow in a stream of constancy.
Drop of tears, dew drops, even a single dropp of water.
In course of time can change a thing always for real.
Pool, pond, brook, lake will never stop to utter
The utterance of gratitude, in the way they feel
Sometimes to the greatest source of the sea
Even sometimes to the man’s ungrateful plea.
Written in the afternoon of the 12th February,2010
poem by Munia Khan
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Ode To Poetry
Poetry is the best thing since coming out of the womb
Because if I didn't come out of the womb
I wouldn't know about poetry
Poetry's in motion like a freight train
Moving it's words through interpretation
By what we see from what one has written
It can be raw or it can have finesse
Either way it is art
The art of thought
And the art of language
Words speaking of twisted pains
And unraveling beauties
Forgotten love
Or someones duty
I must proclaim my love for poetry
And for the love of everyone else's
Because poetry is much better
Than almost anything else
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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The Song of Tigilau
The song of Tigilau the brave,
Sina's wild lover,
Who across the heaving wave
From Samoa came over:
Came over, Sina, at the setting moon!
The moon shines round and bright;
She, with her dark-eyed maidens at her side,
Watches the rising tide.
While balmy breathes the starry southern night,
While languid heaves the lazy southern tide;
The rising tide, O Sina, and the setting moon!
The night is past, is past and gone,
The moon sinks to the West,
The sea-heart beats opprest,
And Sina's passionate breast
Heaves like the sea, when the pale moon has gone,
Heaves like the passionate sea, Sina, left by the moon alone!
Silver on silver sands, the rippling waters meet --
Will he come soon?
The rippling waters kiss her delicate feet,
The rippling waters, lisping low and sweet,
Ripple with the tide,
The rising tide,
The rising tide, O Sina, and the setting moon!
He comes! -- her lover!
Tigilau, the son of Tui Viti.
Her maidens round her hover,
The rising waves her white feet cover.
O Tigilau, son of Tui Viti,
Through the mellow dusk thy proas glide,
So soon!
So soon by the rising tide,
The rising tide, my Sina, and the setting moon!
The mooring-poles are left,
The whitening waves are cleft,
By the prows of Tui Viti!
By the sharp keels of Tui Viti!
Broad is the sea, and deep,
The yellow Samoans sleep,
But they will wake and weep --
Weep in their luxurious odorous vales,
While the land breeze swells the sails
Of Tui Viti!
Tui Viti -- far upon the rising tide,
The rising tide --
The rising tide, my Sina, beneath the setting moon!
She leaps to meet him!
Her mouth to greet him
Burns at his own.
Away! To the canoes,
To the yoked war canoes!
The sea in murmurous tone
Whispers the story of their loves,
Re-echoes the story of their loves --
The story of Tui Viti,
Of Sina and Tui Viti,
By the rising tide,
The rising tide, Sina, beneath the setting moon!
She has gone!
She has fled!
Sina!
Sina, for whom the warriors decked their shining hair,
Wreathing with pearls their bosoms brown and bare,
Flinging beneath her dainty feet
Mats crimson with the feathers of the parrakeet.
Ho, Samoans! rouse your warriors full soon,
For Sina is across the rippling wave,
With Tigilau, the bold and brave.
Far, far upon the rising tide!
Far upon the rising tide!
Far upon the rising tide, Sina, beneath the setting moon.
poem by Marcus Clarke
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The Surfer Moon
Theres a moon in the sky somewhere I know
Waiting for all the love to burn below
If you fall and it happens all to soon
Blame it all on the surfer moon
neath the hill hind the cloud one dreamy night
Rising up throwing down its golden light
If your heart hears this melancholy tune
Then youll know its the surfer moon
Brings the tide in
Takes it all away
Helps us ride in
Brings us waves each day
I say
Other moons have brought light and love before
Promising to remain for evermore
But they all disappeared with each new tune
They make way for the surfer moon
Moon
Moon
Moon
Moon
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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