Chicken Cot UFO
It crossed the gloaming skies above the roofs,
in awe we followed then, its jazzy course;
mysterious would be the incensed spoofs
this ireful ship, upon us, would enforce.
..We said! Abominable was the ship
that traced its gaudy eights in air with hum;
predestined to avenge our ego trip,
atrocious poulets, would not succumb.
The chicken soldiers were a frightful troop
in pink-pistachio uniforms with spots,
that insolent, bombarded us with moop,
to hit our heads that were devoid of thoughts.
In order to placate the chicken troop,
some started to recite their verse to skies;
confronting that attacking chicken group,
- bird poems they opposed to battle cries.
The angry war-birds listened to the verse,
that was composed by stunned, exposed confreres,
their cackle was bemocking and adverse,
- upon their heads they wore rouge voluperes.
This myth reflected what would happen if
extraterrestrial cots invaded Earth,
relentless chicken-birds in martial tiff
would moop upon some artists of top worth.
© 12/11/2013, G. Venetopoulos
moop = Matter Out Of Place
Thinking of the lilt of your hair
and the flush of your cheek,
I search with hesitation for words
to my poem.
My heart goes flutter flutter
as with wings to fly.
I would soar with you
to heavenly bliss,
if bliss be pure as daisy petals--
for in spring thoughts turn from chill
to sun-rays warming everywhere.
My brow does not sweat from heat,
but something finer emanates
from my breast, that even
robins cannot sing.
Our love is like a kite
lifted to new heights by passion's gate;
the tongue cannot give utterance
to a voice so singing.
Your eyes are like the eyes of doves--
never does a sad tear fall
from those eyes, but only brimming
full of joy and light.
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
She's a golden bird with wings afire, like an eagle she appears
Her age be often very great some say one hundred years.
At death she builds her funeral pyre and puts herself to flame
But she will rise above the fire and she will live again.
This mighty bird rules Scorpio, a deep and mystic sign
Which births those brooding types of folk with questions on their mind.
Who's lives be ruled by transformation, who must rise above the fire
Yes Scorpios be here on earth to rise above desire.
It starts off with the Scorpion, boy she knows how to sting
She hides herself in icy water, to desires she will cling.
And she must grow into an eagle and fly high in the sky
She must peel away the onion layers and learn before she dies.
And then her golden feathers, come ablaze with orange fire
And the Phoenix bird she will rise up above those bold desires.
The fiery eagle will build her pyre and put herself to flames
This be the song of transformation, when life's no more the same.
Willie wagtail wakes the morning
With his song outside my room
He tells me that the day is dawning
And sings away all shades of gloom.
Lovely bird, back black and shiny
With his belly creamy white
He sits there on a roof so finely
Giving my Soul sweet delight
‘Morning’s here’ his song is singing
Every note so loud and clear
As his song to me is bringing
A feeling oh, so sweet and dear.
26 August 2013 @ 0657hrs.
Tell me of your peace.
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place
As it gently sloughs the pain away
Tell me of your peace
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease,
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within
Waiting for you
For you to let it be
Crown of Sonnets
I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!
Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM
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Little song bird in my tree
singing your sweet song for me
singing sweetly, singing clear
your song, it fills me with good cheer.
Little song bird sing your song
with all my heart I'll sing along.
A gift from God you grace the earth
there is no measure to your worth.
Little song bird, wild and free
when you leave, will you take me?
Together we could soar so high
across the endless, azure sky.
Little song bird, singing high above
your song, it fills my heart with love.
little song bird in my tree
with your song you set me free.
it was ill thought,
my idea spoken
that sat in the trees
that branched out
i tried to keep it quiet,
when the finger on your lip
screamed out to me to shush
but the lit bodies in your multi toned hair
never warned the raven black ravens,
not to tell.
the ones that took flight against a wallpapered sky
into a fully rounded moon.
they squawked it to the clouds
who warned the wind,
that blew it to the mountains
and they echoed it across the land.
that's when the silence broke.
but your other hand took the words away
they wonder what it was they knew.
My knees were the things that
kept me up and my skin is my
cutting board my eyes are the
rain clouds to the fire running
down my arms and my heart is
the fire place that keeps me
burning so calm
In love with it all
I’m in love with all of it
I haven’t got much wealth
I guess I’m getting older now
I’m running down on health
But I’m in love with all of it
Every blade of grass, each tree
I love it with my heart and soul
I adore its mystery.
Everything in life excites me
I don’t know why this be
But I don’t suffer anymore
With depressive misery
Within my world I am a king
Cause I have everything
Every day is dear to me
Each moment makes my heart sing.
That golden Sun there in the sky
Is looking down on me
As he colors all with wondrous glory
Creating so much mystery
As here I sit, so all alone
The whistling soothes my soul
As canary, caged, just sings for me
And the morning feels so whole.
16 September 2013 @ 1125hrs.
BEAK OF NIGHT
Following the glow in every star in my eyes
I lay here in the frenzy grass with swimming thoughts
Thunder hides in the still of the night
Doves fly high in an epic way
Swans glide in the mist of night
Everest tears, run down my cheeks
------- I left you-------------------
The wind carries the sorrow from a chime,
A touch with aromatic perfume, that turns out control
My shadows peeks around the warmth of a Phoenix mirage
My head is losing balance to a negative magnetic seal
Sleepwalking with the tendency to crawl
My feelings stray as I lay on this frenzy grass of snow
Years that come and years that go
Things In life I will never know
I pass the morning till the night popsicles away
A blanket of snow to cover my dream
Wings taking flight near the river stream
Mockingbirds protecting their branch
In every scream!
---------------- Far Away-------------
Leaves fall on me like an endless Odyssey Romance
I'm a lonely sparrow with an enigmatic look
A Gothic Dance, under the stars
Prancing under the devil's claw
I hold myself
Side to side
I lose myself to an ironic form.
Zero is what I can't perceive.
With and without a beak
The mystique of my lips
Is all billiard-up
My mouth sewn shut
--------------No Words, Indeed------
Ones who wage,
Ones who rage,
Ones who take,
Ones who pay,
Ones who craze,
Ones who rave,
Ones who crave…
Ones who fear,
Ones who breathe,
Ones who give,
Ones who need,
Ones who will,
Ones who weave…
Ones who plead,
Ones who beg,
Ones who beseech,
Ones who entreat,
Ones who appeal,
Ones who volunteer,
Ones who disappear…
The ones who follow,
The ones that don’t know about tomorrow,
The ones who don’t deserve the morrow…
The ones who sleep,
The ones who cry,
The ones who live,
The ones who die…
The ones who proclaim,
Those who say they create,
The ones who ache,
The ones who don’t wait,
The ones who hesitate,
The ones who don’t concentrate,
The ones who fornicate,
The ones who procrastinate…
Those who fall in temptation,
Those who get in frustration,
Those who sometimes feel desperation,
Those who keep going without caution,
Those in motion,
Those in tension,
Those losing notion,
Those being poisoned,
Those getting in distortion,
Those following the broken diction,
Those dying like the billions,
Those without unction,
Those washed in the oceans…
I might seem cold,
But it is you who is bold.
I might not express,
But it is you who doesn’t let me progress.
I might not seem like I seek,
But it is you who doesn’t know me…
I might seem like I need,
But it is you who might always be begging on your knees.
I might seem dull,
But it is the one that is fool.
I might not be alight,
But it is you who isn’t truly alive…
I will remain neutral,
I will remain silver,
I will remain gray,
I feel darkness,
I feel light,
I will remain hallowed…,
After all, it is you who deserves no life…
I am a metal hawk,
I am a mountain goat,
I am a silver bird,
I am a gray wolf,
I am a white tiger,
I am a mystic rose…,
I am I…
And I survive,
You are here,
However, it is you who deserves no life…
Being human does not imply that you have humanity…
trust yourself !
and don't fall down
and you will be happy
and be yourself
and be happy who you are
and you will grow wings and fly
fly to your dream
of something big
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
I am trapped in a dimension
Where only repetition exists,
That reoccurs the colour theme of black.
But the windows are very visible from the doom,
Delineating bright sunlight and pavement colour of the moon.
Best of all, I can see the birds flapping their mighty wings.
I unfold my arms with barely any strength,
And reach for them,
Hoping to become one of them.
Every night and morning when the outside of the windows,
Is beautifully shaded with calming grey that mellows.
And when it is painted in soft blended colour of thick orange and light yellow,
Birds fly between South and North through the colour of fallow.
I can tell very easily without effort,
Each of them holds great stories
Because I was like them once,
Who also held great stories.
Yes, I was one of those birds,
With pride and strength,
That glided through the treasure sites,
And enjoyed when the warm breeze kissed my cheeks
Over golden sparkling oceans.
But now my wings are broken,
Memories and valuables torn apart in ashes,
In to pieces that cannot be glued back.
So I always whisper to myself,
With solemn remorse,
I sure do miss those days.
The birds are coming
The birds are coming
The dusk be closing in
The evening silence, coming soon
Makes way for screeching din
Of crazy birds of pink and grey
All falling from the sky
Alighting near the feeding tray
As daylight starts to die
So beautiful, the sun shines bright
Pink feathers come aflame
As dancing, screeching, crazy birds
Enjoying life’s sweet game
They argue as each pulling rank
Will try to get first feed
Those pink and grey galahs they be
A somewhat noisy breed.
Too soon, they’re gone
So very suddenly
They hurl themselves into the sky`
As off and flying free
They fly up to their safe abodes
Among the tall green trees
To slumber neath the starry skies
So wonderful they be.
I am a heart full of love
that shook the pilars that held her colussium up
her heart filled with sorrow,
I swing such fury toward her heart and soul
she cowards away from me,
in fear of falling in love and not knowing what is in black
and not searching what is in the light of pure white.
I am a heart full of love,
she runs and takes the long dirt road,
through the raging mountains of the quiet countryside,
as the meadows of lilacs slowly die when Spring comes,
the blooming of the rose,
like the blooming of my heart,
a blossom on a cherry tree fall and harbour in the wintertime.
I swing toward her, she falls in fear of wanting attention and love.
Lost in the midnight twilight,
the flaming torch guides her through the dark holes of meaningless souls.
and like a frightened hummingbird,
she flees away from the secrets of falling in love.
A heart full of love ready to love,
it is diffcult to feel and to show,
but as if a rose that blooms in Springtime
my love is ready to bloom.
Pettles lay along a darkened atmosphere
lit up only with four wax candles
a portrait of a woman hung over a mantel piece
in honour of my one true love.
As the twilight shine though my bedroom window,
I show a heart full of love,
to take and to hold for eternity.
And as she slowly moves forward,
she takes me home with her,
and opens her chest and shows me her heart
with a glass of red wine and charming cigarette.
She sheads tears of pain and sorrow on my broud shoulder,
I curise her hair, silk laced hair,
shining against the twilight and the moonlit sky.
My heart full of love,
so divine, so original
a one of a kind.
We make love in the midst of the twilight,
as my dream girl is now reality and my pain is no more,
her pain is no more.
Too show such love makes a man feel free
and his soul lighter.
She holds him there,
as the sun rises over the mountains.
The birds sing a tune of cheerfulness,
and they talk about everything beautiful and kind,
that is still left in this cruel and empty hearted world.
Romance and love shared
with a heart full of love,
smile and kiss upon smooth lips,
feel me against your tight body,
and love me till the morning
when Blue eyed Death is staring us in the face.
and we go with him,
and play a game of risk,
and together forever,
onto a diffrent world
we shall love each other forever,
for you and I both have a heart full of love.
Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul
at this season.
Equatorial island exploring its amazed
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next
Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma
Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.
At event of recreation, campfire were
Nobody around us, private moments
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again
Hand in hand danced with the soothing
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her
Expecting the light around us to be dim.
The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand
She looked too pretty in her gold lame
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!
Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.
Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout
life in this lovely weather.
Will be your shadow, because your pain
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry
me, my Kindred Soul?
Softly sipping honey wine
Sipping softly honey wine
I hear the rivers song
Lovely lady by my side
With love so sweet and strong
How the river sparkles
It’s on its way to meet the sea
As softly sipping honey wine
We sit here you and me.
Softly sipping honey wine
There’s only you and me
As Pelicans fly us by
This essence, endlessly
Seeps in, as a boat goes by
And trees dance in the breeze
Softly sipping honey wine
We sit here hearts at ease.
Softly sipping honey wine
I know I love you so
No one, my love, could ever love this true
Softly sipping honey wine
I feel loves tender glow
As I look at you, and know you love me too.
Softly sipping honey wine
The two of us together
River reflects the somber skies
They’ll soon be rainy weather
Here in this cosy chalet
Telling you that I love you
Softly sipping honey wine
And sharing love so true
Early morning feelings
I sit me, here amidst the flowers
And play the poets role
As branches dancing on the breeze
Give magic to my soul
Sweet music plays on the stereo
As the birds, it seems, join in
And fill the air with harmony
That quietens minds dull din.
Then rose shrubs pink and orange flowers
Send their perfume out to me
As I sit here in my comfy chair
And listen endlessly
To the silence all around
That holds the many sounds
In this garden dressed in bliss
Such solace can be found.
No work for me, not ever now
I watch the day go by
And drink in beauty peacefully
That all around does lie
As I peer into my deepest soul
And see what lies in there
On this cloudy early morn
With sweetness everywhere.
Look, it's the first bloom of spring
A proud daffodil stands all alone
Soon to be joined by others
And light up our lovely home
Like the sun she beams so brightly
Announcing that Spring is here
There's no shyness in her yellow bud
She wants our notice that much is clear
So like a magnet I'm drawn to her
And to all that she represents
The changing of the seasons
Gazing upon her brings sweet content
The birds are singing a happy song
The breeze is waving its approval
New beginnings are bursting forth
Bright colors are Winter's removal
Sleepy beauty is waking up
The prince has placed his kiss
The lone daffodil is now surrounded
Together they dance in bliss
Kindly my Spring fever is satisfied
What once was hope has now arrived
And the world has come alive again
The long Winter I've survived!
Contest: Spring Fever
Sponsored by: POETESS DARKLY
The pleasure of the lake
Each day I charge my batteries
With a stroll down to the lake
It's a must, to walk those wetland trails
It gives the mind a break
From all the turmoil of each day
It's a journey into peace
As those dancing trees that ride the breeze
Give my soul such sweet release.
So many things there, one might see
In those wetland trails I walk
I find there at Lake Joondalup
A place where nature talks
With wild birds everywhere one looks
And frogs, and kangaroos
Little lizards, perhaps a snake
So much there welcomes you.
That such a place could dwell in Perth
This gives me so much pleasure.
Communing each new day with nature
To mne, this be a treasure.
This lake, it reaches out to me
And tells me 'Life is good'
It's such a joy to have this lake
Here in our neighbourhood.
22 September 2013 @ 0640hrs.
A wondrous day it is today
I sit here all alone
In the garden, chilling out
Like I have turned to stone
Then the birds, they get warbling
So I reach for my guitar
These birds they have inspired me
I’m making like a star.
I start off playing simple blues
That’s all I really know
And playing blues is guaranteed
To make my being glow
As the song birds seem to follow me
To accompany me somehow
And as we sing in harmony
It seems there’s only now.
Oh what things do touch ones soul
When you’re living in the now
And joining with those little birds
It seems to me that somehow
We are all in this together
With the breeze and the dancing trees
As I play my blues with all my heart
It gives me sweet release
23 August 2013 @ 1737hrs.
Lady from the hills
In a little cabin in the hills
There lived a maid of beauty
I’d place her on a pedestal
And no one would dispute me
One glance at her, and one would fall
Beneath this ladies charm
Her heart was filled with harmony
Her mode was soft and calm
Her kindness it was known by all
And folk would come and see her
For every time they caught her glow
Something within would stir
And as they trod their way back home
There feet would feel like feathers
She could even melt the heart
Of those with souls like leather.
Her hair was dark, her eyes deep blue
And every time she spoke
Her voice rang out like tinkling bells
As through the air it broke
All the birds and butterflies
Would gather on her flowers
And wolves, and bears and wild creatures
Would melt beneath her power.
One day a man with no compassion
Who had no soul at all
Did come into her lovely garden
And he was oh, so cruel
Even she could not melt him
This man of ugliness
His heart was cold his hands were rough
He was evil, nothing less.
He tried to have his way with her
But what he did not know
Was that all the wild creatures
They loved this lady so
They came at him with such aggression
And threw him to the ground
And to this day nobody knows
Where his body can be found.
2 December 2013 @ 1136hrs.
Questions for everyone
Has anybody ever sat?
In a garden filled with flowers
Have you felt the magic there?
Have you felt the power?
Have you sat there with the body still?
And the mind too, just the same?
Have you ever lost yourself?
As the mind stopped playing games
Have you seen those magic colours?
And really seen them too!
Have you felt the touch of the morning breeze?
Have you seen the way she do?
Touch those branches with her glory
Make them dance in the morning sun
As the sparkles nearly blow your mind
And you’re the holy one?
Have you ever heard the dove’s warm Coo
And that deep, deep ravens croak?
Have you seen the mulberry tree?
As she dons her summers coat?
And radiance and reverence
Are all that one can know
Have you ever sat there in the garden?
And watched the morning flow.
As the first rays of sunshine
wakes me out of my sleepy slumber,
I sat up in bed and looked at my hands.
The taste of stale cigarette smoke of cheap red wine
stained my taste buds.
I walked out of bed,
turned on the radio
(to the classical station)
and my heart beats to the tune
my life and soul smile as the sun shines in my room.
I hear God whispering in my ear
I hear all the words of the world
talking to me,
and I can hear my heart sing a little.
I read my poetry,
get dressed go for a walk,
I smile at the faces that I pass;
The cars I pass,
the dry lawns,
burnt and that have not been watered in days.
I smile at them and they all smile back,
and my heart sings a little,
and I dance to its simple tune.
My heart sings and I dance too:
rapid jazz and swing music
and waltzes to the chopin masterpieces,
and the romantic stories, novels, the poems,
that fancy your mind with its ryhme schemes,
and after I read such romantic beauty
I smile, and I listen closely to my heart,
and with every beat,
it lets out a verse or two, from a familiar song
that caught my ear on the radio,
and my heart sings
and I smile,
and the world smiles back.
Feeling such beauty
love and romance
it is such a good feeling to live with;
and as the night rolls on,
and the sun goes away
I sit at my desk
with a cigarette slowly burning away with time,
and I am stuck,
getting drunk of red wine,
I sit back in my chair,
and listen to my heart,
and he sings alittle
and I can write again.
So, there we sit together,
to the strike of nine
and we both sing songs of love and romance
The tree at dawn
I look at the tree
As the night begins to die
I look at him with passion
I look with zest do I
As he stands within his magic
This heavy mantled tree
And makes me feel like crying
The Pink and grey’s Galahs arrive
All squawking, loud and gay
Swerving, diving joyfully
The new days underway
It gets my heart to humming
In a gentle kind of style
Till soon the mind is silent
As heart, it wears a smile
I see the magic mystery
Of a little green leafed cave
It brings soft comfort to my heart
And makes my being crave
To delve into sweet mystery
And as the dusk comes in
The mind feels quiet and wonderful
Far away from worldly din.
Spring is coming
Spring is coming
I can feel it in my blood
The days, it seems are warming up
And feelings like a flood
Come gushing through me like a river
Oh Lord, it’s almost spring
Oh what love is in my heart
What joy to me this brings
Hallelujah, it is coming
The birds are getting frisky
The canaries sing a lovely song
And the dog he runs so briskly
All around the garden
Seems he knows that spring is here
The fish are chasing all around
And the sky is blue and clear
No one understands it
This thing spring does to me
No one could ever feel it
So wonderful it be
But when I know the spring is here
It makes me feel so sweet
Twenty eight days away from now
Then the spring time we will greet.
2 August 2013 @ 1447hrs.
When I’m in my garden
I’m a King, I have a throne
I sit here very solitary
I am happy on my own
All my subjects gather round
The birds, the flowers, the trees
And all those noisy Sand gropers
The frogs, and all the bees.
Canaries have a special place
They play music for my court
Often wild birds join along
As I sit wrapped in thought.
My courtyards are not tidy
All the bushes cling together
But hey, they give me so much shade
In our hot sticky weather.
So I sit and write my memoirs down
Like a good King really should
As I sit here in my kingdom
And I really feel so good.
28 August 2013 @ 1419hrs.
Fingers drift on a wetland,
swiveling through pewter of ink
as contour of heron’s limbs unfold
with plumes air-brushed by ripples;
and colors follow her along grasses
in lively strokes from a textured night,
to outline beams of pebbled eyes
while she, curling along a marsh
gently rests upon her tinted breast
in a lithe wu wei motion, that hands
layer the imprints on rice paper,
floating with the new sky.
Debbie Guzzi’s Chinese New Year Contest
*Brushed paintings of animals, flowers, plants
are used as decorations to usher the New Year.
*Wu wei—Taoist principle of “ going with the flow.”
By nette onclaud
Not the material guy
I’m not the material guy
Ambitions were never for I
I’m always the one
That gets noting done
I’m a dreamer, I cannot deny.
My mind it is not very clever
My heart is as light as a feather
My manner is free
Like a bird in a tree
And I never will worry, not ever
Just like a river I’ll flow
And always my heart it will glow
I won’t push the river
So life does deliver
A feeling that each day does grow
Until the day that I die
I won’t let a day pass me by
Without looking at me
At within, what I be
As always I’ll ask ‘Who am I?’
18 September 2013 @1800hrs.
Walking in the meadow of life on that summer day
Where she always loved to be at Una walked along the steady stream
As she picked up the white Lilly flower and put upon her hair of gold (princess of love)
And the daughter of a dander king
Una suddenly turned her head to the old orchard tree and begun to sing roman lullabies of joy
With tears of affection shed for the god who lives above the skies
At that moment she gazed back to the stream
And there the lion stood so tall just like a king eyes wide looked to una
As she went toward the mighty lion he went to her and utter'd thee words
I am a creature of pride with nothing to hide I am pure of heart true of courage with a mask of savage a mane gold as our hearts-
She became very happy and intrigued
As she laid her gentle hands on upon the lion she spoke these words
-I love thee lion and by sun and moon I love thee freely as men strive for right;
I love thee purely in my old griefs and childhood's faith
There a tiny lamb appears right next to her and the lion
So small and graceful like a gift from god above
The tiny lamb followed them further into the enchanted meadow sky as crystal blue and the wind is calm they drifted off strung into the world
To bring new love joy and courage to the world and spread good faith
Elayne will reach the mountain spring
fresh water in the jug to pour,
the nightingales are there to sing,
untamed her feelings lonely soar.
She fills her heart with music notes,
her voice will cause the leaves to stir,
for lovers' pain sole antidotes
are songs of birds and nightly myrrh.
And as her lyrics rise to heav'n,
and render modes of the soft wind,
her palms caress his name engrav'n
on her betrothal golden ring.
He left her world and promised that
one Sunday they would meet in church;
a framed old shot of surface matte
and daily trails her glances search.
Elayne of springs, on rocks awaits,
and recreates her wedding feasts;
the wraiths around her dance with fates,
for eons play in cotton mists.
As one of them stares in her eyes,
she gropes her heart because she loves;
upon the rocks mentates she nice,
her golden ring and two white doves.
© Giorgio V., 07-22-2012
Sometimes, I feel like a bird hiding
Under a thin hollow of a leaf
The bird which blinks at the sun
When a branch moves and starts
At a crack of a dry twig
Sometimes, I feel so abandoned,
So tormented, surrounded by
The huge trees, by big clouds
Of a callous, cruel world
But when I remember my poems
I see little flowers out of the grass
Like floating lamps,
I can smell the sweet scent
Of lime trees in June
I can hear the skylark`s morning song
And many birds fly above my head,
Trembling, painfully drawing out
These profound truths
Which need an enormous effort
To speak out
But here they are, comforting me,
Telling me that heaven is
Divinely merciful, infinitely benignant
For it has spared me,
Pardoned my weakness
Where the river meets the sea.
I’m camping here in Denmark
Where the river meets the sea
I’m looking cross the river
At a bent and twisted tree
I don’t know just what type it is
But I really love its beauty
It’s a piece of nature’s art.
And mesmerizes me.
It’s branches reach out everywhere
In a gnarled and twisted way
It’s the coming of the sunrise
On this soft and gentle day
And this tree it looks so splendid
As the silence calms my mind
It’s to be here in these mornings
For this I was destined.
The tree is filled with little birds
All dressed in black and white
I don’t know what they call them
But they fill me with delight
A sight without the labels
Is a better way to see
So I just sit here gazing
At these bird’s perched in the tree.
31 May 2014 @ 0725hrs.
There is a love so loud my ears will sing it
There is a truth so bright my face will shine
This rhythm has the birds and beasts all dancing
There is a secret that's unveiled every time
There is a hope so good my eyes will water
A dream that I can barely understand
There is a sword right-handed and it's clashing
A God that will uplift a simple man
Sits content on the ridge cap
of your roof, tweeting, mind fleeting
is happy to find a worm, a bug
cares not for the song
of the nightingale
just as well
you'd place him in a cage
to hear him sing
cares not for the eagles flight
you'd tame him, make him hunt
he is happy to be the sparrow
as that is what he was intended to be
how sad would it be
if there were no sparrows
in the big city marketplace
We humans so get off the track of life
end up derailed, marooned, shipwrecked
but of our own accord
carry too much baggage
What do we care about destiny
so are we caught up in our own
web of consternation
that we are blind to truth
You know that the mighty king,
the hippy, the judge, the baker
and the undertaker, and my dear reader,
even you, and me
we all stem from the same cell, originally
as we were taught at R I, in primary school
Yet all that matters little, cosmically speaking
as the earth spins about itself and about the sun etc.
it does not spin for or around you nor me
but it is so indescribably beautiful
that in the reflection of a puddle
in the street
we can see the moon, the sun, our faces
cathedrals and mountains
regardless of riches or poverty.
Like a sparrow
we ought to accept
what we have
as that is most likely
how it was intended.
The sensitive man
He loves he, the grass in the meadow
He loves all the flowers that grow
And loves living life with a passion
And watching the whole of the show
He loves he the sun that is shining
And the moon when it lights the dark sky
And he loves that he’s here
With a mind pure and clear
Though one day he knows he must die.
He likes to live life in the middle
And flow like a river at ease
And all of the clouds in the heavens
Their patterns his heart do well please
As he walks him the trails in the morning
Sweet dreams going round in his head
And there be a theme worth a poem
So he goes home and writes it instead.
As all of the flowers do touch him
And the birds they do sing a new song
He sits here beneath his lounge window
And knows this is where he belongs
As he’s lost in the dance of the morning
Nothing else enters his mind
He leaves all the drama around him
For he be the sensitive kind.
4 July 2013 @ 1400hrs.
Once in a wonder land I trekked –
Through the chaos and the wreck.
The earth was clothed in a misty layer –
Sown by the heavens’ unanswered prayers.
Cold hard steel, some sort of construction site –
The somber setting ignited my being with fright.
In this ebony that was once so white –
I slept to a hymn (now a dirge,) every night.
I shuddered; in attempt to shake off the opaque oppression –
Born from the theft of all of my precious possessions.
That left me Mute, Blind, Deaf, (predominated by regression,) –
Smashed up and shattered into debris of dank Depression.
Perhaps the sun will shine and goad my valves to thaw –
Perhaps I shall speak my mind, and unclench my jaw.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to grow razor claws –
To rip out and shred up my every flaw.
But it is I who drew this fiasco, who made this mess –
Who sold her soul, hurt and loved, but never confessed,
Who gave without return, her all, and nothing less –
A fool and compassion’s slave I am, one would guess.
Fanning wheat in a field of revulsion, (of my own making) –
Bestowed the unworthy, gave and gave more, without taking.
I grudged and judged, oblivious that I was simply mistaking –
Growing strong, (for a coward whose heart is breaking.)
In the wonder land once so placid, I descried something eerie –
Cacophonous odd footsteps, fatigue and weary.
“It ought to be the winds rustle,” my cerebration’s theory –
No living soul dare walk outside, (in a wonder land so dreary.)
But the preternatural noise hissed, and hissed more –
Its echoing murmurs and whispers I could not ignore.
Aghast, I spotted a movement in the sky, (a bird that soared) –
Curiosity held my hand, this bird's destination I shall explore.
I jumped, sprung, ran and raced so free –
Until I felt my pulse beating in my feeble knees.
There ought to be a cause for this bird to flee –
To a wonder land so dreary, this very night, above me.
After an endless chase, it perched on the cold ground –
I caged my breath, my helpless heart began to pound.
It’s a raven, my bloodshot and teary eyes had found –
For its glance pierced my soul (and its stare was profound.)
My heels clicked on the floor that was rock-hard –
Looking around, I found myself in a grave yard.
I carefully walked into the cemetery, (left without a guard,) –
Into the stack of buried souls, beaten and scarred.
~~Dreamer The Wood Nymph~~
Dreamer the wood nymph, with a jealous heart looked on
She wanted to trap Zeus the God and keep him for her own
Immortal life her children would receive if a God she mated
Although she may never age - for immortal children she felt she was fated.
Zeus was her God, her man, even though Hera was his wife
It cut her small nubile heart in two, the pain twisted as a knife
She must practice her weaving art to catch and hold him tight,
She dreamed of immortal children through days and into night.
She flitted through the woods, in naked and splendorous beauty
She tried all the tricks she knew right down to shaking her booty.
Watching the birds making their nests she hatched a plan to snare
To practise her weaving spells she began, for in weaving she had a flare.
The little Ploaceidae or the small perching bird was the one she did choose
She would practise her skills by making him weave, that’s whom she would use.
A gregarious little bird, she taught him what to do
With long grass and fibres he twisted and wove his nest anew.
The first time it fell apart - but Dreamer the wood nymph practised with him now
She needed it strong if Zeus she was to keep - it must stick to its bough
The weaver bird learnt and wove a magic nest, so proudly he showed it off
It held out the sun and rain and stuck tight - to the weaver birds our hats we doff.
Then to show it off he invited, the females in to come and admire
When one did like the design she moved in, and gave him his desire.
Dreamer our little nymph that wanted to mate a God
Decided to weave her house and invite him in, she didn’t think it odd.
Her nubile naked form, she danced in the entrance grand
Zeus spotted her and left the sky, she lead him by the hand
They loved in the wood nymphs nest that she had learnt to spin so well
Her child was born immortal but Dreamer the nymph began to tell.
Zeus was angry at her tales and his wife was not amused
He turned wood nymph Dreamer into a bird - now her skills to use.
Her children now immortal, weaving through the continents
Their little nests so competent because their skills were heaven sent.
For Tracie~ Indigo Dreamweaver's Contest: Dreamer the wood nymph who dreamed of imortal children but had to mate with a God to get them, her dream came true when he turned her into a Weaver Bird weaving their amazing nests forever. (not recognised mythology)
I give you me
The green grass all around me
Seems so velvet soft this morning
As two wagtails whistle tunefully
As we sit amidst the Roses
Your blue eyes look so gentle
And send your magic essence right into me.
My mystic, magic maiden
How you smile just like an angel
As the sadness in your eyes it whispers to me
That you have suffered cruelly
And because I love you truly
I know that I must treat you tenderly.
I’ll do my best, to make you happy
I’ll give you joy, I’ll give you me
I’ll give you all I have
so very joyfully
I‘ll give you me….All of yours I be..
I’ll love you magic maiden
Till the day we be no more
You have my heart, so treat it very gently
We’ll face our lives together
Through fine and stormy weather
You’ll always have my love
I give you me.
Sept 6 2006.
by the seashore
open your eyes
and you shall see more
of the world's magik
in front of your face
why oh why
would I ever replace
the memory of that foamy sea
crashing onto the shore
while the seagulls are laughing
with the children once more
who feed them with eyes full of wonder
to their curious delight
seashells from dead oysters
shine of the moon's pale sea light
as they mate like the birds and the bees
my sea kisses the sky when it rolls with the breeze.
I do not know?
The news was brief so take a breath
My "be aware" vision peered its head tonight
Poetry died a tired lonely death
And those damn poets caused the death of might
The carrion of poetry lay still with blood of ink
After years of neglet it finally gave in
As the "poets" unite to slay the beast
The "poets" unite to set it to sleep
Together they committed suicide
Together now turn to genocide
For "poets" forgot to feed its soul
Now the carrion of poetry lies down low
A bird of prey sits on a perch
The bird of prey from poetrys church
Now cleans her head of former blood
As she looks down to see the "poets" flood
She sees them cry so desperatly
Sobbing their ink of insecurity
She perches high to see the show
Of silly poets who killed their own
She elongates her wings to free
As they have been waiting constantly
For mooments like this are natures call
For moments like this bare souls to all
Her claws of might clutch to the sky
Grab a hold the tears of Gods cry
For HE created man to see
The death of themself from poetry
I once joined the procession of colors and lost my heart
Till a wave colors distilled through night knocked me down dead.
Besides the mountain, the midnight festival of colors is on.
Lying in my arms you imagine your blood is burning in my veins
I am only listening to the chariot of the queen joining the revelry.
I knew you were being vain when you came to see me
I did know when your heart missed a beat. For the air was my friend.
And the tiny bird building its nest in the rafters of my roof
Did not bring a straw as long as you talked.
You never said bye. For you wanted me to do that. But I had no time
And kept riding on the wave. The storm is not away. What if I fall.
Tomorrow I will be lying in these shores caressed to sleep by a smiling sun.
I don’t have the time to forget you in the endless expanse of this blank night.
Last night’s sun was but a spot hewn out of the tragedy of the heavens.
A tragedy that survived the ages to live in my heart in fire and smoke.
You keep away while I create my pieces in these desert sands. When I proceed
To give them the finishing touches, you shriek in despair. For you think
I am going to spoil the lovely piece of some great master with my clumsy hands.
Tomorrow is the illegal child of today abandoned in the dark.
I end up at night and my child is born at night, having passed
Through the summer that seared my skin and heart.
The cup of sorrow is never full, so there is no overflowing.
Yesterday we witnessed the winter night breathing its last.
Winter was in lament for the little bird that went up but never returned.
I bear no gifts for you. I know not your names. I know not who you are
But I recognize you without mistake against this backdrop of misery.
I come here with my empty bag to gather the drops of your sobs
And consign them to the flame in my mind leaving your smiles behind.
For: Catie Lindsey's Free Verse contest
Birds know not that they can fly
They walk through polluted air
while speculating the ground
Breathing with no stunts
Chasing dinner insects
They worry not of those underneath
their wings and armpits
Body spraying plastic smiles before plastic
smiles became master mind whistles injecting plastic smiles
For ages in miles mankind was found living in questioned ties
Believes that chased appetite and appearance in who convinced who?
Who’s believe is doper than who's?
Impressed innocent birds
school flying into a jungle
Trapping footsteps of time tapping bird instincts
Times when stones painted hardcore messages
Public protectors protected by the public over multiple times in public
Birds devoted to pose as public vendors
Selling binoculars that see tomorrow's pro reptiles
Reptiles tongue sucking any promised 2 second smile
Deeper than expected heavy duty attitudes
carried to carry on caring for
those who care not to fly over dark clouds
Birds know not that they can fly
They walk through polluted air
while speculating the ground
Breathing with no stunts
Now I am walking.
There's a sun in the sky
Early birds fly.
in the clouds going by
Life is a creative
A dance with
A non-sensical Mystery
Extending through and beyond logic.
Nothing holds it at both sides
Yet here it is. (There it is)
P eacock, the bird of love as it signifies,
E nthralls with its charm and delightful plumage,
A s it rains my heart ecstatically beats,
C adence to the swinging hues,
O ver and over my heart beats go,
C raving for my beloved,
K nows not my heart is swayed away by him
The chook defense
Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..
If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.
Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?
That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful
10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.
I heard the squawking screeching, shrieking
Oh, the sound was deafening
Looked up in that Banksia tree
So much joy to me did bring
Those pink and grey birds
Amidst the branches everywhere.
It’s morning time they’ve come for feeding
Ain’t no seed upon their, trays
As they perch among the green leaves
They shriek and scream and screech away.
I see me there the sight of beauty
All those pinks amidst the leaves
It was the way the sun was shining
Oh, such a picture it did weave.
I fill the seed trays up with tucker
I love me so these little guys
They come into my garden daily
I watch them feed it makes me wise.
Watching me, the song of nature
Taking photos writing poems
This be what my life’s about now
Oh, how such beauty keeps me glowing..
A small child laughs, a baby cries
As flowers worship sun
A small bird sings a song of joy
He knows the dawns begun
What hazy shades of bliss this be
As all, it feels like one.
A rabbit frolics on the lawn
As parrots in the trees
Give out their shrieks of pure delight
As dancing on the breeze
The trees fill me with mystic, magic
To give my heart some ease.
It’s not the same as yesterday
When I never saw those things
My heart, it now is open wide
And sweetness to me brings.
The fountain burbles with delight
My heart just sings a song
I love the whole wide world today
I feel that I belong
To this world so perfectly
Where nothing’s right or wrong.
29 July 2013 @ 1453hrs.
After the storm, trees that were bending with the strain
Will regain their posture and stand erect again
After the storm, birds that flew away to find shelter
Will return and sing their songs even sweeter
After the storm, the howling wind that raged with fury
Will turn into a gentle breeze to calm your agony
After the storm, the sun will shine once more
And comfort you like it never did before
After the storm, you will smile with no pain
And find the love in your heart to move on again
Bursting with luck
Dragons dancing in the street
it's not a decision.
it's a happening.
it's like contracting fever.
you don't decide that you want to have fever.
it just happens to you.
just let it be.
i have silently decided thing.
so i accepted silently and i felt good.
as i think you felt it too.
As dusk comes.
I’m at the window, looking out
Upon this light filled day
Billie Holliday sings softly
And the suns rich golden rays
Paint the world, all shades of green
As those happy children talk
And gentle people filled with life
Right by my window walk.
Today, it be a perfect day
With spring there just ahead
The sun shines down so perfectly
It seems the winter’s dead
As Rosella parrots filled with colour
Feed from a small seed bowl
And tiny wrens do twitter sweetly
And the evening soothes my soul.
People sounds can’t hide the silence
That comes just pre to dusk
The days soft story fades away
And does the darkness trust.
So mystic moon might shine on down
To paint the rivers grace
With the glory of her soul
And the essence of her face.
A Little Girl’s Peacock
The vision she must have had
A brightly colored peacock
Many artists saw the magnificent creature
They all spoke of it
Some called it a toucan
Others saw the peacock for what it was
She knew what she wanted
She wanted a beautiful bird
Peacock or toucan she got what she wanted
A beautiful bird that everyone wanted to see
She brought to life the entire spectrum of color
Such time she must have taken
Every feather in place
An eye that had so much life in it
The bird was ready to jump off the canvas
It was ready to take flight through a dense rain forest
How could she have such a talent?
No one taught her
She had the passion in her heart
So strong was her passion that every brushstroke was perfect
It was almost as if she had the bird within her grasp
For her age she made quite an impact
Not one person thought that she was only 8 years old
Such a talent at such a young age
Some called it a miracle
Others called it just a lucky shot
If you ask that little girl
She will tell you that it is just a painting of a peacock
Nothing more, nothing more
Just a peacock painted by a little girl
And that is all that matters
As frost melts
Revealing green grass
Sparrow finds fat worm
I see myself in
Languid spherical repose
I watch my eyes
In your eyes
Gazing into the wonder of you
I lose myself as
Windows of jade lash brief
Casting the very glow
Of my love’s desire
Upon the green waters of your soul
Turquoise hue paints the sky
Over my shoulder in your eye
A crimson bird does fly
Soaring both deep and high
Into the beauty of your uncharted mind
The most amazing image that I’ve ever surveyed is the warm light of forever falling through the panes of us…
Your song, A Beautiful Child,
touched my heart long ago,
inspired to love beauty I could never hold,
inspired to love beauty from afar.
I am the sleepless child who grew
tall enough to reach a star.
You sang of feelings that remain
After the Glitter Fades,
and I listened to the sound.
Late at night, I dreamed I was Rhiannon,
visions kept to myself of a bird in flight,
a night bird taken by the wind.
Unforgettable songs of love and joy,
sorrow and pain, wash over me
like Silver Springs, Violet and Blue.
The songs from your Book of Miracles
lift me on a White-Winged Dove.
Feelings of freedom soar in my soul.
The higher I fly, the more fragile love becomes,
but the heart is strong when we sing.
Resilient, I find the courage to carry on,
triumph over trials, leather compliments lace.
Your voice rings clear like a bell
in the still of night. You ask
the mirror in the sky, what is love?
Bolder with age, I seek to find
my own answers. The Gypsy in my soul
searches for more. Sometimes, I find
my own reflection and a brazen heart.
Sometimes, I find an innocent child,
shy and unassuming. All of life is lyrics set to music.
In the deep colors of night, I hear your voice.
for What Songwriter or writers Inspire you???? Contest
I do not know?
A rich yellow Balloon,
happily adopted by a little man,
Balloon thinks hold my ribbon,
and I will guide you lovingly.
Suddenly a gust of wind,
and the little man seems smaller,
an outstretched arm and a tear,
and with that, Balloon is all alone.
A city tower stands tall,
Balloon only knows up,
reflections in the windows,
of a bald yellow face ascending.
Six floors up, grumpy giants,
suits pointing grumpy orders,
twenty, and an uptight woman spills coffee,
Balloon wanted to save her notes.
Higher now, a sign reads elevater,
a secret card game on the roof,
employees on look out,
Balloon chuckles, he won't tell.
Time stops as Balloon sets gaze on Sun,
blushes from her and an idea, lightbulb,
Balloon inhales, rises smooth to Sunset,
little man witnesses the pop.
Skin floats gently to ant city,
little man shudders, can't bare to look,
little man bursts into tears.
You must be patient. Look the world and don’t say anything
look at you :The language is source of misunderstanding;
And your rebel golden hair is waving through
The maze that is golden, too: it will remind you…
I love the round of the wind in the maze.
I love the sound of the breeze, while I gaze
A playtful bird in a the sky an other bird whom run
-Karen calls this ,challenge, the moments of sun…
Bogardo`s song: “Forests` Fairy, be child again and play with me…”
I saw a green kitten that grew as cat whetting her claws on a tree;
Then ,as Green tigress running a stag in the silent green ;
Impressing dress, swinging long dress lovely waving so green…
This dream ,Daniel ,you may translate at the court of your Queen
You must come back at the same poem,at the same time
I’ll wait for you in the same blessed unforgettable rhyme
Happiness always tip-toes and suddenly brings
Not only words of optimism, but certain things
Ready to fly with us above the Fallen Crest
Brave Caryl, the most verses usually unwritten rest
Outside the entrance with many mirrors and wonders.
I’m trying to reply with verses to wonderful senders:
I don’t know why your names as fresh as a daisy
Sound me so familiar that they make me so crazy
To think I learnt your poems by heart once, in the past.
From my monastery called tomorrow, covered by light’s dust
Michael ,you wake up a dream whose echoing like rain
In my heart's joyous exile, has broken that chain:
Rapping, tapping, slowly entered my prayer
Taking part to the River Prayer, my dear;
But don’t bet on me, because I don’t know if It is written
In the forest to find what you search: I am a silent birch
With the inner song and the feelings of our High Church.
I am the happy lark who meets you, old pelerine Mark
I found …!I found good earth. I’m resting now on this Ark.
From swirled clouds ,the splendid lasting mark
Is hold in frozen seasons and forests dark?
As secret flame of love of life ,of kiss Of Mark
Admiring the flight of birds and, the song of the lark;
I stayed a lot and meditated in a hot milk afternoon:
Sue’s dunes like shapes of acratered
The wolves race through the woods...
A melancholic night breathing...
The moon weeping its elegant light...
As I drown in the lake of uncertainty...
A prodigious night...
A deceiver at command...
Portraying images of the divine...
The nature decaying to the bizarre setting...
As the wolves howl at the night’s mystical descend...
And as my heart cries a disheartening reverie...
The river turns venomous at the cheerless call...
The wolves pursue the divine call...
The eerie wind deceives their ears...
Far ahead I see a shadow of the pure...
But as I approach...the shadow is razed by the prevalent obscurity...
The winter birds seem to be early...
Nesting in the putrefied tree...
The venomous river appears frozen...
As a chilling breeze stings the heart...
A prodigious night...
A deceiver at command...
Portraying images of the divine...
The last few hopes seem to deaden...
As a cloud seems to darken the elegant moon...
And the heart craves for her warmth...
As the flowers anticipate the monsoon...
Why is it that her radiant shadows appear?
When illumination ceases to exist...
A bird rests on my shoulder...
And sings mantras of eternal hope...
An assurance of support...
And guidance...as the melancholic night descends...
The wolves howl to the infinite sky...
...And the lamentation of a lost soul...
Overpowered by their howls...
As the melancholic fire burns on...
The lamentation of a lost soul...
...And as I close my eyes...
The setting transforms to “heaven”
Where flowers are vivacious...
...And nature rejoicing the start of spring...
...As I lay in her arms...
The panorama vivid as ever...
That subsists within the broken heart...
And a last few dead branches...
The winter bird collects to complete its nest...
And now all is at rest...
Silence is what subsists eternally...
The lamentation of a torn heart
Ever so callous...
...As he putrefies eternally...
...In a Melancholic Blaze...
It flies and settles on a tree branch,
waiting for fish to pop out of the lake,
to enjoy the moonlight.
A group of kids sits around a bonfire,
trembling with fright,
as they keenly listen to the owl's hooting.
"The bogeyman is being ushered in...."
one of the kids says, with a breaking tone......
Contest: Night Owl
Alone On Limb, So Scared
Lost The Skill To Fly
& Will To Live or Try
(Watch The Raindrops Cry)
O' Have You Not Heard?
The Wind's Song Sung For You? ...
Across The Sky It Blew
(Lifting Higher Hopes Anew)
ONE, Calling You Has Cared
Keeps You Safe From Harm
Caressed & Sheltered From The Storms
(Your Broken-Heart-Wing Form)
Be Not Dismal Nor Deterred
If On Harsh Land, You're Grounded
JAH Will Float You On Faith Well-Founded
(in Aerial-Miracles Heaven's Son Surmounted)
Beauty-Vision Be Not Blurred
If Confined To Empty-Nests
Take Twigs of Time To Conquer Tests
(and Let Broken-Heart-Wing Rest)
... Gain Strength, Wisdom & Wit
Eagle-Span, Horizon's Width
Let Beating In Breast Be Stirred
Get Better, Broken-Heart-Wing Bird
(GOD's Tree of Life For You Is Shared)
Stretch Your Feathers To The Sun
"Trust" Is A Light-Flight, Bidding "Come!"
and Love Is The Soaring, Wonder-Word
That Heals All Broken-Heart-Wing Birds
(Even From Death's Cages - We're Set Free & Spurred)
So Find Those Behind Dark Bars & Buried
Tell Aviaries Everywhere How You Were Carried!
Upon The Path - Straight & Narrow
Thru Your Single, Sorrow-Arrow
(as A Broken-Heart-Wing Sparrow) ...
'Til The Broken-Heart-Wing Bird
Could Soar Again - Superb! ...
Written & Copyrighted ©: 10/08/2012
by: MoonBee Canady
The Cage is so dark and so misty, I can hardly breathe there.
The words that echo there are so melancholic and appalling,
The Voices can only whisper as if they are strangled by Fear.
How can a bird that was born for joy, sit in a cage and sing!
The constellations of night, the luminescence of rainforest,
The infinite azure sky, the crimson horizon, the cozy pond,
The ocean, the stony mountains, even the shady bird-nest,
Everything summons my Heart but still it cannot respond.
My Heart is a song bird that is imprisoned in an inner Cage.
How can a bird that was born for joy, sit in a cage and sing!
Let my Heart fly towards liberty, breaking bars of bondage
So that it can sing in a merry tune again by flapping its wing.
To Ever Young Spring
O enchanting flavor, of the beautiful Spring
Why you always look, so different to me
Seasons come and seasons go, every year
But why only the Spring, enchants everyone
Why the mind get lost by the flavor of Spring
Even birds returns from their migrating hides
Why sweet sensations runs in human hearts
Why life began to look so different in Spring
Why the Koyal* keep on singing and singing
Why the smell of Mango buds creates thrills in mind
Where on earth this intoxicating wine is being made
Which sweeps away our mind and heart in Spring
And where in Nature the nectar of Spring is hidden
Which intoxicates humans, birds and even animals
Why in Spring, images began to appear gradually
On the other wise sleeping, but turning pages of life
The Butterflies are flying from the top of the flowers
To invite Black bee and others to enjoy the Spring
What ever may be the stage of life in which, one may be
In the season of Spring only, one feels young and evergreen
Why my mind has started searching on its own
Sensing the dawn of the season of Spring near by
Why even in our life, we find some day that even in Spring
Even the enchanting fragrance too began to feign oneday
Why the mind cheated and illusion by seasons
Becomes anxious and began to feel young again
By watching the new born leaves on every trees
And finding them dancing with breeze in Spring
Why the singing of Koyal’s * kuhoo* kuhoo*
Leaves the impression of some anguish always
Silently the heart keeps on searching throughout the year
The grandeur and melody of the Spring singer
When the childhood has ever come back again
And when the youth has ever returned, once gone
Only on the pages of our memories and in our hearts
Their fragrance remain always alive and ever young
Kanpur India 2nd March 2010
* Koyal . A spring bird of India which sings mainly in Spring
While setting on the Mango tree branches
* Kuhoo Kuhoo . the melody song of the Spring bird
Similar to that of the Nightangale of John Keats
A caged bird wishes to be free,
To fly with the wind and flee,
Let me fly like a bee,
And explore where my eyes can see,
Over the horizon to the green golf tee,
I’ll set camp and build an Indian tepee,
Singing alone with a voice of three,
Someone yonder will think it a glee,
Who says only women are twee,
Emotions are emotions even if wee,
I want to feel freedom if only you agree,
Being a caged bird I envy thee,
Taking your family on a shopping spree,
Leaving me in bondage at no fee,
enlightenment came in the form of a finch, and perched itself on my windowsill.
for an infinite moment, existence was explained to me in complex simplicity. tears swelled in my eyes as the bird opened my mind to the meaning of the golden backlighting of the warm, summer afternoon- how fear doesn't exist and time is the essence and the grass is greenest where i stand, if i'd only open my eyes.
i listened, both intently and emotionally, to the unspoken wisdom of his flashing, yellow wings. in their movement, i felt the weight of existentialism and the nullity of perception and the importance of personal experience.
it was this day that the dawning was golden, and i soaked it in in a split second for a thousand lifetimes.
You see a bird of broken spirit,
that, no longer can sing.
Trapped within an aging cage,
with a lock, that will not spring.
Fed only seeds of self contempt
and water of isolation.
A single stick to rest upon,
holding on with desperation.
Once the bird had feathers bright,
a heart of the mighty Hawk.
With the will to fly and soar,
Never to be grounded and mocked.
But being wounded deep inside,
where the spirit dwells,
Left the bird a mere shadow,
trapped within an empty shell.
The cage, that now, surrounds the bird,
drained all the color from its life.
Stolen every thing she is,
cut out her song like a knife.
The cage grows new bars each day,
so that all that the bird was, is gone.
There looks as though there is no way out,
as it has been building for so long.
Somewhere, there is a key,
that will one day, click the lock.
Then perhaps, the bird, once again,
will fly with the heart of a hawk.
I am just the dreaming child of a king who resides in the heavenly skies above. The only thing that I have ever wanted to do was help people who were in need by building hospitals, bringing food, clean water, and promoting the recovery of lost dreams.
The only thing that I the dreaming child of a king desire to do is bring a smile to a downtrodden face, mend a weary heart, and remove the scars and cuts from someone's beaten and contrite heart before I depart from this earth now that to me is my true life's worth.
I the dreaming child of a king paints a picture with words to show that my heart is a heart of love, I also paint a picture to show those who have never met the dreaming child's soul that it is a soul that aches to help the dreams that were once lost be achieved again.
Destined to destroy dreams that was not what I was put on this earth for I was created to help those lost like me find their way back to Heaven's door. I was not created to shed other's blood, scar their hearts, or make them weak I was made in his image so me being the dreaming child of a king he is the only thing that my dreams and I truly seek.
I lie awake with the paint brush of my dreams in my hands using many colors and painting many dreams from different lands whether rich or poor the only thing that my dreams and I desire is to be like a free bird and finally soar. Being the dreaming child of a king haunted by his sins, forever trying not to fall into the pit, the only thing that this dreamer desires is to one day hear the words well done and as a result my sins will no longer cause me to run.
EXISTENCE is compatible with chaos.
The chaos’ time is never to be lost
whilst being an unconscious step towards more steps.
It fits extremely with tiredness,
while a wild fantasy drives body and spirit
across the unknown brighten jungles,
a coercion without handgrip.
A flower petal
Bloomed out against sky dancing ...
Humming bird hoovers
Wings and heart posing
On a pinnacle of leaf ...
The eye snapshots love
Leaking through slow leaves
Shadowing the humming wings ...
Hibiscus with wine.
Poised on wing, air still
Honey in the flowers heart ...
The humming bird feeds.
A broken gem spills
From flowers dripping with sunlight ...
The humming bird flies
The black bird sat down on a branch of the tree,
Fluttering with the long wings above my head.
The sun hid away behind the peak slowly,
Leaving dreams and troubles of this day unsaid.
My empty room greeted me with faint murmur,
Curtains cut me off from curious neighbors.
The moon lit the stars; winds brought the good weather,
Only my heart is full of clouds and showers.
Coffee in the small, fragile cup cooled long ago.
Like an insensitive stone, the phone seems to be.
My heart cries silently to express its sorrow.
Cold winds, and storms, and tearfall. It’s only me…
When the bird appears tomorrow and the sun,
When coffee cools again and my fears come back,
I’ll pray for a much more favorable season
With optimal temperature, without clouds in black.
But now I am like a spring tree that can’t blossom
For the frost inside I feel. I can’t fall asleep.
The wind strength and the rolling thunders are awesome.
Now I can only dream my forlorn dreams and weep…
I do not know?
Chirp, chirp goes the bluejay,
Flying about the clear blue sky,
On fine feathered wings,
Not worrying about a thing.
The small bird lands on a branch,
Overseeing the old ranch,
Horses run about here and there,
While longhorns are grazing everywhere.
The birds watches a cowboy rustle a calf,
And people gathering around the other half,
Clapping their hands and cheering,
As the bluejay sits on his perch peering.
The small bird flies away,
Not wanting to stay,
Flying into the setting sun,
For the day is almost done,
He will return tomorrow,
And never feel a day of sorrow.
Maybe a bird
traces its way across
A canvas of White
Stagnate and panning the landscape
it becomes enamored by
the amount of blank space left
From deep within,
a glow of Green,
blending with yellow and brown hues,
begins to wick its way
across the feathers of the Bird.
It glides close to the ground and encircles the bushes
the hues begin to passionately fill them in
turning twigs, lightly sketched, in to trees
blowing gently in the breeze
then glides up toward the breeze
sweeping back across the canvas
to wash its wings clean
Looking down, a feeling,
causes a glow, near its heart this time
filled with violets blues and just a bit of white
begins to wick in to its wings
it begins to flood across and down the rivers,
cascading over rocks gently placed
by a steady hand
Catching another breeze
it dips and turns towards the sky
allowing the shades of mixed blues to flow gently
on to the canvas
with each flap of its wings
shapely clouds fade in to strings over tree tops
giving a once clear sky
the bird begins to dance around the newly formed obstacles
slicing tiny details
giving movement for the flock to
Content with this the bird, the line,
or maybe a lost soul,
falls in to its place among the sun beams of a perfect day.
Soar high, little bird, soar high.
Stranger without cause, danger made up laws. Tyrants bleed like the weak, child plead like the meek. Flames descend upon us, terror builds within. The monster’s here and we all praise his glory. The monster’s here and we all raise his name. Fire blown out the mouth of the beast. Fire sapphire fire, blades are flying people dying and the war has begun. Fire, burn me send the flames into my brain. I want to burn alive, won’t the fires take me tonight. Fire’s circle me for all eternity. They will take my life and that should make things right. Follow me tonight into the sanguine sky, I will turn back time and then I’ll end your life…
Take flight my bird into the sanguine sky, jump up and fly into the sanguine sky. Draw your dagger dear and that should make it clear. Live without fear and dream that I am near. Sapphire’s build my desire, that’s what sets me on fire. Shadows hide the monster from the Darkness…..
[ edit poem ]
where is my flute today gone missing?
wether has thy flute gone oh krishna asked radha,
wether has it gone,
no sweet music heard,
no dancing peacocks, seen,
no lovely rain drencheth this vrindavan here,
its so dull in here dear krishna, where is the flute of thee gone?
peeping between every,
tree i here try to find,
wither have thee lost that lovely flute?
were there days , my dear krishna i felt obsessed why is this flute taking away you from me?
but minus the flute and just of you
shall no there is no life here in vrindavan.
so dear gopala,see to that along with thy venu do come
sitting by you i shall here enjoy the sweet notes of music that enamate from thy flute, rains may occur, peacocks may dance,
and this vrindavan shall in turn look so beautiful and aromatic,
that life becomes blissfull.
Batman is alone in the rain
Sits on a swing
Moving to and thro reflecting upon life
Why he has to be different
A mask which covers his nose.
Why can he not be like George Clooney
Were a suit
And be married to a lawyer?
He wore a suit once it was brown
But was totally ignored.
It was only now that he wears
A silly outfit
Climbing walls and catching thieves
He gets seen.
“Clowns are born boring,” reflects
As rain drops down
His funny nose.
There is a little bird that sings sad songs in her tiny wicker cage,
Her prison is situated against the side of a cold flint napped wall,
My heart and my thoughts understand how miserable and alone she feels,
She dreams of her past times when she was free in a sweet June valley.
Remembering glittering waters, green buds take her back to happy days,
When blossom filled the boughs of pear trees and sweet hawthorn hedges,
Flying, landing among brand new leaves sipping cool dew in the mornings,
Grass full of sweetest flowers bluebells, swinging and ringing, all gone.
The caged bird remembers careless days and hates her captivity and cage,
When living in the woods was fun, so much to do good friends all around,
But she got caught and put in a cage she was not watching a sad mistake,
It swells her heart almost to bursting she lost her freedom one sunny day.
A man sits on a wall listening to the birds sad songs he understands why,
He had been a prisoner for many years in a country miles across the sea,
So he creeps up to the cage and opens the door for the poor little bird,
Flying out she hoovers to the man as she tweets there is a tear in her eye.
they fly by
both fly high
some hum and sing
its there thing
BRIDS AND A PLANE
I do not know?
A young yet beautiful little bird to set free.
Motionless among the others but integrgated by the height of the tree.
The leaves set falling,the colors of the world.
The liscences yet not own,for the heart of this baby girl.
The ground yet settles beneath the plants so to speak.
The hightest level of elevation for this bird thats to weak.
The consumers of the family,yet know not to tell.
That the baby bird is not ready ,to come out of her shell.
The eyes of anticipation ,though wonders above the others.
A little more time for the baby bird to fly away from her mother.
Afraid to see the sun set,alone so the baby bird does not set free.
The breath of this baby bird is the true heart of me.
My heart sings a love song as
The red bird whistle..
A soulful serenade...
The white cap mountains open
While each snowflake shimmer
Through the wind
Singing the sweetest melody that
Flow through the mountaintops
Such infinite harmony with such
Felt and heard through all the land
Yearning for a romance of that of
Romero and Juliet..
The melody in tune with a love
As the turtle dove dance to the
Lullabies of love..
My heart sings a love song as
The red bird whistle..
A soulful serenade..
A forest stands
at the far end
of the valley
The leaves are
blown by an autumn breeze
let the wind do its work
we walk down
and see the brillant
colors in the distance
but for the present
we will just enjoy
what we can
there is so little time
We must make haste!
Somewhere in the
a bird is winging
to it's nest
We are strangers in
and must close
all too soon
Somewhere in the distance
the small bird is
It's out of sight
but we have seen
We're not birds
but our spirits can