God comes to me in the dusk of my evening with the flowers from my past kept fresh in his basket.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Memory Basket
The basket of memories
had started growing heavy
on my wizened hands.
The apples therein
looked as fresh as ever
Every fresh dropp of tear
added to their tone
Every latest spill of blood
improved their colour.
Few more yards on that
dimpled sandy shoal.
I can see the end
half clear; half blurred.
Somewhere I have to stop.
The roaring waves looked kindly
at me.
The evening sand under my feet
felt lukewarm.
The dusking Sun flashed his
last parting grin.
My only worry;
can I carry my basket till end
and......... beyond?
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Devon Maid: Stanzas Sent In A Letter To B. R. Haydon
1.
Where be ye going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there i' the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?
2.
I love your meads, and I love your flowers,
And I love your junkets mainly,
But 'hind the door, I love kissing more,
O look not so disdainly!
3.
I love your hills, and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating;
But O, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!
4.
I'll put your basket all safe in a nook,
Your shawl I'll hang up on this willow,
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye,
And kiss on a grass-green pillow.
poem by John Keats
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Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid?
WHERE be ye going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there i' the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?
I love your meads, and I love your flowers,
And I love your junkets mainly,
But 'hind the door, I love kissing more,
O look not so disdainly!
I love your hills, and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating;
But O, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!
I'll put your basket all safe in a nook,
Your shawl I'll hang up on this willow,
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye,
And kiss on a grass-green pillow.
poem by John Keats
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Evening's Dusk
Evening’s dusk, eerie forebodings,
Making one feel so insecure,
Blotting out distance, shapes of things,
Creating a scene, too obscure,
Shadows that hide the strange unknown,
Lurking when you are out alone.
Evening’s dusk creeps across the sky,
Twelve hours of night has just begun.
Moon hanging motionless up high,
Reflecting light, from earth’s own sun,
Lighting darkness with borrowed rays,
Lifting the black in many ways.
Evening’s dusk, rest for man, not beast,
Off to our homes, we go to rest,
All the days noise has slowly, ceased,
Animals though are on a quest,
For their nuptials they find at night,
When humans are well out of sight.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Noumenon
a thing-in-itself:
a wicker basket is a wicker basket
you cannot place love there, perhaps just plain fruits and
flowers
and perhaps even nothing
because a wicker basket is a wicker basket
nothing more nothing less
in the same manner, i am what i am
and you are what you are
what we feel for each other
or perhaps what i feel you alone
or only
is what i only feel
nothing more and nothing less
if i go somehow inventing that you shall love me
how absurd can this be!
for you are what you are and i am what i am
nothing more and nothing less
and so thanks, i am what i am and i will always be what i am
and you are you, and you do not know me,
and if i bleed, it is i who bleed only or
alone
and i have no right to let you know because you are what you are
and you shall never love me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Basket of Flowers
From Dawn to Dusk
DAWN
ON skies still and starlit
White lustres take hold,
And grey flushes scarlet,
And red flashes gold.
And sun-glories cover
The rose, shed above her,
Like lover and lover
They flame and unfold.
. . . . . . .
Still bloom in the garden
Green grass-plot, fresh lawn,
Though pasture lands harden
And drought fissures yawn.
While leaves not a few fall,
Let rose-leaves for you fall
Leaves pearl-strung with dew-fall,
And gold shot with dawn.
Does the grass-plot remember
The fall of your feet
In Autumn's red ember
When drought leagues with heat,
When the last of the roses
Despairingly closes
In the lull that reposes
Ere storm winds wax fleet ?
Love's melodies languish
In 'Chastelard's' strain,
And 'Abelard's' anguish
Is love's pleasant pain !
And 'Sappho' rehearses
Love's blessings and curses
In passionate verses
Again and again.
And I !—I have heard of
All these long ago,
Yet never one word of
Their song-lore I know ;
Not under my finger
In songs of the singer
Love's litanies linger,
Love's rhapsodies flow.
Fresh flowers in a basket—
An offering to you—
Though you did not ask it,
Unbidden I strew ;
With heat and drought striving
Some blossoms still living
May render thanksgiving
For dawn and for dew.
The garlands I gather,
The rhymes I string fast,
Are hurriedly rather
Then heedlessly cast.
Yon tree's shady awning
Is short'ning, and warning,
Far spent is the morning,
And I must ride fast.
Songs empty, yet airy,
I've striven to write,
For failure, dear Mary !
Forgive me—Good-night !
Songs and flowers may beset you,
I can only regret you,
While the soil where I met you
Recedes from my sight.
For the sake of past hours,
For the love of old times,
Take 'A Basket of Flowers,'
And a bundle of rhymes ;
Though all the bloom perish
E'en your hand can cherish,
While churlish and bearish
The verse-jingle chimes.
And Eastward by Nor'ward
Looms sadly my track,
And I must ride forward,
And still I look back,—
Look back—Ah, how vainly !
For while I see plainly,
My hands on the reins lie
Uncertain and slack.
The warm wind breathes strong breath,
The dust dims mine eye,
And I draw one long breath,
And stifle one sigh.
Green slopes softly shaded,
Have flitted and faded—
My dreams flit as they did—
Good-night !—and—Good-bye !
. . . . . . .
DUSK
Lost rose ! end my story !
Dead core and dry husk—
Departed thy glory
And tainted thy musk.
Night spreads her dark limbs on
The face of the dim sun,
So flame fades to crimson
And crimson to dusk.
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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Frangipanis
With bright arms spreading grabbing
the two frangipanis embrace each other,
reach with their fingers to the sun
in a age old gesture
and sometimes they look wild and disorderly
before their flowers burst out in light turquoise
and the wind spread their fragrance,
then they display flowers new and fresh,
while yellow weavers sing happily in their branches
and bees buzz past their flowers.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Coming And Going
wise dusk encircles old oak,
white flowers adorn ancient earth -
footprints of future and past
poem by Ashesh Das
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I Must Have This
On a good-boy Saturday evening
Walking with my father in the Park,
Linking heads and hands like players
In a tournament we have attended, we are sensible
In speech over a confused matter.
On this evening the sun made the day into dusk,
Our names became forgotten, strange as strange,
Offered to only some; the heated debate turned
Into an argument of considerable temperature.
I saw oak trees and flowers in the dark.
Each bed was perfect. We stopped to
Listen to each other, forming agreements
And new roses grew in our minds.
The maker of the conversations was me.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Flower in a garden
A boy on a bicycle
passes by
and whistles and waves,
but without looking at him
or twisting in his direction
the blonde girl
sprays water on her roses.
Two boys walk past
and call her name
and without looking up,
she shears a lavender bush
and sweat runs
into her eyes.
a Motor biker blows
his noisy cycle’s horn
and without leaving her work,
she keeps on shearing plants.
The girl works until dusk
and while the sun’s
last rays fall,
she is happy in her garden
and when the evening star
hangs in the sky
she is thrilled
with the blooming flowers,
of which the scent
hangs in the air.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Early Eve Of Remember
It t'was in the early eve of Remember---
Before twilight had come around...
Where i found you with a basket of love so true...
And in the air t'was a melody of new loves sweet sound! ;
You held me oh so very close--
Before the dusk cast its nightly cover...
Before the ebons velveteen sky...
Declared you-to be my forever lover! ;
'Neath the comforter of a diamond studded sky...
Together we embraced in this blanket of night--
So cozy we two-touched by the nights glistening dew...
Two brillant silouettes under the moon shining so bright;
Oh such a magical moment in time -for us....darling--
Before the twilight t'was even near...
Before the dusk finally cast its sheltering cover...
You became mine forever-my dear! ;
It t'was in the early eve of Remember...
Before twilight had come around---
Where i found you with a basket of love so true--
And in the air t'was a melody of new loves sweet sound! ;
May 29,2010
Dedicated to: RAW Hijackers
poem by Theodora Onken
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Burma Camp
Don't put your eggs into one basket,
Becasue wise people do not talk anyhow;
And i do cherish the love of your muse.
Scholarship and leadership,
The month of the rat and the month of the rabbit;
To Burma Camp i do recllect my past,
And from one judge to another!
For the retired army officers are still fresh in my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Poem Of The Evening Is A Quiet Poem
THE POEM OF THE EVENING IS A QUIET POEM
The poem of the evening is a quiet poem
It comes in gentleness with tired eyes
It does not know how long it will last
It believes a fresh breeze
And a simple song
Are all its needs
To feel happiness.
The poem of the evening this evening
Believes in life
Believes in Goodness of God
Believes it will somehow be alright.
The poem of the evening this evening
May be a foolish one
But it is a quietly happy one.
We need such poems sometimes
For life is hard in the long working days
And in the times of difficult idleness
When no dreams come.
Quiet and quiet
Soft as sleep
The poem of the evening this evening
Is a gentle one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Wonderful
Take a basket...
Fill it with who...
You think you are...
Mix it up good...
Be frank...
Now pull something...
Out of the basket...
It does not matter...
Whats in the basket...
Its your chatter...
That the basket holds...
It's you...
Not who...but...
You are a good person...
You are a bad person...
Mainly a good person...
That is who you are...
By far...you...
Are a wonderful star...
A real human-being...
Who can smile...
Who cares...
Damn what others think...
You are you...
In the pink...
whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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What About Us?
I have told you everything about myself and i am willing still to tell you more if you ask, if you are still hungry about what you want to know about me,
i am stupid, i am like a woman who spreads my legs to any man who want me in bed, but i can also be a very kind woman who opens my arms for every weary man,
i am not stupid, i am kind,
I reveales everything From a to z No secrets now From my family
No stone Left unturned No story Untold
If it makes You happy Or if it makes
You sad And you regret Having listened
I am sorry you ask for them so i give them all to you
like a basket of flowers and fruits,
(are you sick in the hospital why with these basket of flowers and fruits?)
I have done My duty As the messenger I have achieved
What was Left for me To do And It is all Enough i am happy now
The truth is Told and it Has set me free.
(The lies however keep on saying, what about us?)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Empty Basket
Alongside the path a man very old
At half rate fresh oranges he sold
In the dim light of an electric pole
For he wished to sell the stuff whole.
At the midnight he sat with a hope
Beside the brimming basket to cope
With the domestic needs of future
To smash, break an ensnaring rope
Of misfortune but no one came by
While he made a silent unheard cry.
In the morn when the sun rose bright,
To reveal the spot of fear and fright,
The vendor lay prostrate motionless,
Ah! The basket was empty at the sight.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Behold, the fool saith, Put not all thine eggs in the one basket, -- which is but a manner of saying, Scatter your money and your attention, but the wise man saith, Put all your eggs in the one basket and -- watch that basket.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evening In June
(Van Morrison)
By the light of the moon
When the night holds the secrets
Of the sleepy lagoon
I'm contemplating moonlight
On the water
When I'm walking with you
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
It can get so sentimental
When I'm thinking of you
And I can't think of anything
Except being with you
When the summer is through
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things
Taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
[Instrumental break]
On an evening in June
Well it lifts me up
When I'm talking to you
On an evening in June
When the flowers are in bloom
And the sky is so blue
Well there's so many things taking place
That it's hard to keep up with it all
Keep your eye on the ball
And to make the right call
When we're longing for fall
On this evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
On an evening in June
By the sleepy lagoon
By the light of the moon
By the sleepy lagoon
On an evening in June
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Furor of Friendly Fire
The eye of day was closing.
It was dusk at Leyte Bay.
Twenty ships lay at anchor.
A low marine layer covered
The entire bay.
It was that time of evening
When it is difficult to discern
The difference between a wolf
and a dog, as the French say.
A Zero broke through:
Pulled back, up and out, Before
Any ship's guns could fire.
All gunner crews were taunt and tense,
Waiting.
Then, through the cover came
Another plane. This time,
A furor of fire broke loose.
It was dusk at Leyte Bay.
It was that time of evening
When it is difficult to discern
The difference between a Japanese Zero
And an American Torpedo Bomber.
Death shut the eye of day.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Fresh Feeling
You dont have a clue,
What it is like
To be next to you.
Im here to tell you,
That it is good,
That it is true.
Chorus:
Birds singing a song,
Old pain is peeling,
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling.
Words cant be that strong,
My heart is real,
This is that fresh,
That fresh feeling.
Try, try to forget,
Whats in the past,
Tomorrow is here.
Love on the sky above,
Lie in your way,
Theres nothing to fear.
Chorus
Some people are good,
? ? ? the hood,
So pure and so free.
I make a safe bed,
Youre gonna get,
Whatever you need.
Chorus
That fresh feeling.
This is that fresh feeling.
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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