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To my Lord
( by Ritanshu Sharma, Poem💞Lover friend )
I live on a prayer
Folding my hands I stand
Uncertainty clouds my mind
It's the same old trend
Clouds of rights and wrongs
Hover over my blank head
Save me from this world O Lord
Where nothing has been done but enough has been said
Confused and dazed I walk along
I get the words so I write my song
But I don't know my destination yet
With countless wrong people I have already met
From above you see the entire drama
Wrapped up in the script you wrote
Where good people are dying everywhere
And the evil fill up their pockets with green notes
Standing down here I look up at the sky
Still folding my hands and closing my eyes
Wondering if you've heard anything that I have ever said to you?
After all the pain and suffering we have already been through
Jot down your thoughts they said
They might reach your Lord one day
I keep searching for you in temples, gurudwaras and mosques
Hoping my words reach the land beyond the skies in some way
Nations fight with people divided
All I see is blood lying everywhere
Do you see the madness we are going through?
Or just like others you also stand and just stare?
Endless questions and many doubts
About the world that we live in
Is this the end I am looking at?
With our souls soaked in our sins
Deep beneath I still wonder
About the world that you created
You filled it up with things and people
But everything good is now just hated
Don't you worry about me O Lord
I'm standing here with my hands still folded
Waiting for you to answer my prayers
War and fear, yes our doors are properly bolted
Patience
( by Sumaiyyah Nassir, Poem💞Lover member )
Patience had a face once
Familiar beautiful face ;
Ageless faultless perfect,
Oh I swear, I've seen the face I know the face because it was you
You had me pinned, clang to me ; You were glue
Yet it was a yellow you
And me hue
The colours of patience oh I knew ;
From orange, to red, yellow all pink sometimes black and even blue
Flowers and balloons
Holding hands in a sunflower field as the birds flew ;
Patience you have a face and its beautiful it's You
Oh patience, patience, the love I have you've no clue
The art I'd make with just your name
The galleries that contain your priceless face
The shake you cause my world ; quake
The honor of becoming your dame ;
Oh patience patience the love we could make
Wear me, adorn yourself with pleasure oh patience
But patience don't lie to me or change
Stay with me forever don't fade,
My heart is content and my mouth doesn't complain
Oh patience I'll bear you with pain
I'm learning to trust again
Patience you have my heart ; but I
Will be patient, because yours is worth a wait.
The Ideal Teacher
( by Naif Ahmed Ali,
Poem💞Lover member )
The teacher is the light symbol ;
Of him we get our enlightening ;
He carries knowledge it is brightening,
And shares it with his disciple ;
Truely he is the best example
For his words are still lighting
My memory for education and learning ;
So his respect is unshakable !
The teacher is generation_maker ;
In his teaching there is no difference
From a father, he is care_taker
In the students, here the reference :
He who does not do this be baker
For teaching is not his preference.
Cake
( Noah Eli Gordon )
Look, you
want it
you devour it
and then, then
good as it was
you realize
it wasn't
what you
exactly
wanted
what you
wanted
exactly was
wanting.
Girl from the north country
( Bob Dylan )
Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.
Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That’s the way I remember her best.
I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day.
So if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.
January
( William Carlos Williams )
Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derision
outside my window :
Play louder.
You will not succeed. I am
bound more to my sentences
the more you batter at me
to follow you.
And the wind,
as before, fingers perfectly
its derisive music.
So you say
( Mark Strand )
It is all in the mind, you say, and has
nothing to do with happiness.
The coming of cold,
the coming of heat, the mind has all the time in the world.
You take my arm and say something will happen,
something unusual for which we were always prepared,
like the sun arriving after a day in Asia,
like the moon departing after a night with us.
Darling
( by Naif Ahmed Ali,
Poem💞Lover member )
Darling, Stay, Stay
Untill the end of the day!
Be with me
Don't go away!
I ask you are you okay?
Smile to me
And with me sway
Like a flower
Blows everyday
Follows the Sun
And its ray;
Sing a song
Along the way
You will not go astray;
When I ask you
Don't say "nay"
My love for you
Will never decay.
La Belle Dame sans Merci : A Ballad
( John keats )
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
alone and palely loitering ?
the sedge has withered from the lake,
and no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
so haggard and so woe-begone ?
the squirrel’s granary is full,
and the hasvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
with anguish moist and fever-dew,
and on thy cheeks a fading rose
fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
full beautiful – a faery’s child,
her hair was long, her foot was light,
and her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
and bracelets too, and fragant zone ;
she looked at me as she did love,
and made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
and nothing else saw all day long,
for sidelong would she bend, and sing
a faery’s song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
and honey wild, and manna-dew,
and sure in language strange she said –
‘I love thee true’.
She took me to her Elfin grot,
and there she wept and sighed full sore,
and there I shut her wild wild eyes
with kisses four.
And there she lullèd me asleep,
and there I dreamed – Ah ! woe betide ! –
the latest dream I ever dreamt
on the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
pale warriors, death-pale were thay all ;
they cried – ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci thee
hath in thrall !’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
with horrid warning gapèd wide,
and I awoke and found me here,
on the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojurn here,
alone and palely loitering,
though the sedge is withered from the lake,
and no birds sing.
A Girl
( Ezra Pound )
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child -so high- you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
Her Sweet Deceit
( James Laughlin )
Love has many joys
and best are the
surprises as when
you changed the col-
or of your hair to
make me think you
were someone else
not that you fooled
me with your sweet
deceit I had only
to hear you laugh
to know both girls
were you
Stop fight for it
( by Vicky, Poem💞Lover member )
I walk on street without your hand holding me
There's I feel breeze on the gap...
Can't I ever hold your tender hand by my heart
A question rings on my heart
Why aren't you feel contained with me
I can't or not capable answer;
A question hard to explain either
Sometime word nice to hear
but action please to feel
Do you feel it
Do you my love
I walk in lonely road .
Will you fight have me front world
But I don't ever want to see that tear drop again love
Dont fight for me .
Let shake hands and walk off
Because there's nothing worth you have about me to fight for
Inspired by Blindness
( by The Wanamaker, Poem💞Lover member )
A blind beggar looked me in the eye while I sat pondering over my life. I gazed back in awe, at the eyes that saw only the darkness before it and felt the pain beneath it.
I perceived he conceived before him was a figure; perhaps a tree or a man,it was only apt that he stretched forth his calloused hand.
He asked for a favour, a penny for water but all I had was an empty pocket, melancholy and a few words to utter. Not to him but to myself, only if he realized how sad I felt. Not for me but for his fate, how life dares to enslave a man in such a state.
His thin body and wet face left me to contemplate,why a man has to sweat to fill his cup and lose his flesh to fill his plate.
Is that all there is to life?
Losing one's self in the bid to loosen this tight life vest.
In the end, rendering a man helpless when alas he is completely selfless.
His lot taught me a lot.
You see, tattered clothes and a walking stick was all he had but he didn't sit to nag about all the bugs. I saw a man making strides to save a life that marooned him. I saw a man that inspired me to smile and be thankful for today. I saw a penny as I reach out to my shirt pocket. I met hope at the hands of a blind old man.
Yet I Find It Not
( by Rajesh Chakravarthy, Poem💞Lover member )
There, in the distant summer sky,
Is the color of the ink I want
To write the verse of my life-time
I search for a pen that cannot
Spill the ink, yet I find it not
Here, in the depths of my soul,
Is the paper, willing to be stained,
With the ink of the summer sky
I search for a nib, that can stand
The weighty words, yet I find it not
Where, on this plane of finite life,
O Earthborn, can I find solace
Words are weighing me down
I search for a foothold, that with grace
Can hold me strong, yet I find it not
( send feedback to the author @cnbrajesh )
A Grey Perspective
( by Kemo779, Poem💞Lover member )
At a crossroads dividing who I am and who I want to be.
Lust, greed, misery and nothingness are calling out for me.
A grotesque face that reflects to others what I dare not see.
A fragile body of scars caused by a pathetic attempt to flee.
An unwillingly doomed birth to a victim of contingency.
Lonely with a pair of hazel eyes and consumed by sexuality.
Baptised with a shameful name that can't be washed away by the heaviest of rain.
A disfigured tool for love that's been cut by a fool who others view as a dove.
Wandering through the avenues of an attractive, seductive city.
Plenty of lovers kissing on the streets a sight that's peacefully pretty.
Yet the voyager sees no cheerful colours, the voyager's home is dystopian and black.
The voyager feels forsaken and lost, the voyager's life seems off track.
When the voyager's asked about his life and goals, the voyager replies he has none.
Yet all of his friends know, alone is not how he wants to be gone.
And as long as the sun rises from the East and falls back in the West.
The voyager's only treated in his home as a passing guest.
To see others living your dream, it's devastating regardless of how imaginary things seem.
To live every single day in a life consuming routine, and wait for the day you swim against the stream.
To live is to die and to exist is to suffer, one could question why even bother.
When matricide is committed by a brother and a daughter, you know that blood's never thicker than water.
When the mind is too sick and corrupted to make amends, it may be time for this voyage to end.
( send feedback to the author @Kemo779 )
A Woman Speaks
( Audre Lorde )
Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
but when the sea turns back
it will leave my shape behind.
I seek no favor
untouched by blood
unrelenting as the curse of love
permanent as my errors
or my pride
I do not mix
love with pity
nor hate with scorn
and if you would know me
look into the entrails of Uranus
where the restless oceans pound.
I do not dwell
within my birth nor my divinities
who am ageless and half-grown
and still seeking
my sisters
witches in Dahomey
wear me inside their coiled cloths
as our mother did
mourning.
I have been woman
for a long time
beware my smile
I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon's new fury
with all your wide futures
promised
I am
woman
and not white.
Re-statement of romance
( Wallace Stevens )
The night knows nothing of the chants of night.
It is what it is as I am what I am :
And in perceiving this I best perceive myself
And you. Only we two may interchange
Each in the other what each has to give.
Only we two are one, not you and night,
Nor night and I, but you and I, alone,
So much alone, so deeply by ourselves,
So far beyond the casual solitudes,
That is only the background of our selves,
Supremely true each to its separate self,
In the pale light that each upon the other throws.
Acquainted with the night
( Robert Frost )
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
My Twin
( by Kemo779, Poem💞Lover member )
I'm drowning in my melancholy and I've lost hope on the way.
A congregation of ideas sketch a black silhouette that hunts me as its prey.
Invisible to all but my eyes, the figure poisons but what can I say?
Always there writing the darkest of nights, always there clouding the brightest of days.
Reflecting in the eyes of a sadistic actor when he's off his agonising stage.
Born with the existence of man, feeds of tantrums and rage.
Its stare shatters souls like flames disintegrating a burnt page.
There's no escaping its grasp, only death frees from its terror.
Like a pale ghost staring back from the reflection of a mirror.
Feeling anxious and paranoid, I've become mentally destroyed.
Resisting like a maniac, I'm balancing above the void.
Crawling under immense pressure from above, slowly losing passion for everything I love.
Evolving into my arch enemy and yet my inspiring muse, becoming the executioner that ties my noose.
Turning into a fragile wreck of a man, becoming a willing victim of abuse.
The silhouette's closing in, we're merging into one and absorbing the world and its wrong.
As the transition ends, I realise we were meant to be together all along.
As Beautiful As The Moon
( by Naif Ahmed Ali,
Poem💞Lover member )
As beautiful as the moon!
As lovely as a flower !
As white as milk!
As soft as silk!
As good as gold!
Like her beauty,
I've never seen!
Like her absence,
I've never suffered!
Like her seeing,
I've never hoped!
I am alone as a sword!
All my friends have gone away;
Such feeling I've never known!
All the pleasures have gone
From my heart for my dearest one;
By and by we may laugh not cry;
And yet we will know why.
The Drunken State of Love
( by Sumaiyyah Nassir, Poem💞Lover member )
I wrote , but i ran out of ink
I planned to sing but no song is close so;
I gave thou hints but to thee, appeared parables
Ive gotten tired of probables
Now more than ever im provoked and ;
Ill write you a piece
Good words clean neat
Sophisticated and sober
Following my drunken state at the bar
You deserve a different fashion
Of being addressed , I'm
Unease , but please listen ; listen to me
How can I but say to thee
That I keep thinking wee
How can I stand upright
Drunken , unable to even write ,
But this is piece from me
If thou wouldst just listen
Perchance I might woo
But you disregard me , since I show weak
Unclassed by society I'm ashamed to even give my feelings a name
You deserve a better fashion
One that'll explain
Even if it'll be less , than Perfect ;
If i own but a mention in thou's heart ;
Then joy alas , if I owned a suit , hat or even boots
Then my wish be true , me a man and you me lady
I'd kneel propose honourably and come through ; but
In this society , that's a taboo
I'd be burnt at the stake drowned in the lagoon ;
If sending a white dove with a red rose was easy I would but the hunters shot it down
I would send a young wind but playfully would deliver to the wrong one
Wanted to come myself but I'm scared of rejection
Now I've sent my words to thee in peace
Clothed in an armor , a letter my poem piece
He'll fight and walk a long miles across all east ,central ,sahara and rest at timbuktu .
At each rest me heart increase the pace ,closer and closer ;
He must deliver , to thou
Otherwise I shall fail ,
With him is a heart , peacefully and safely it'll beat in your hands ;
And enjoy your feel
Your warm embrace , sweet kiss ,Alas ive found peace ,strong it'll endeavor prosper .
But only if you can listen to the rhythm of its beating ,
And accept a drunk , intoxicated by deep feelings of affection , Forget me not , reject me not accept me and I'm sober.
Travel
( Edna St. Vincent Millay )
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
All night there isn’t a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.
My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I’ll not be knowing;
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
No matter where it’s going.
Spring is like a perhaps hand
( E. E. Cummings )
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window, into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything.
Traces of you
( by Shubhankar Padwal, Poem💞Lover member )
Empty canvas, hardly a line drew
Unkempt Chaos, no one to cue
Enough of strings, melodies are few
Changing sky, perpetual blue
This place isn't the same without you
Hanging painting on the wall still reminds me of your face
And the priceless curve of your smile my fingers loved to trace
I sail in your memories cuz loneliness nooses around the neck
The ship is made up of my patience which is too quick to break
While drowning in the ocean of emotion, I find a wood floating with your name on it
I tie myself to the wood hopefully and it takes me to the coastline where we first met
By the time I reach ashore the sun is resting on the horizon
In his orangespell I search for the precious moments we enlighten
Treacherous ocean tides had destroyed the sand castle we built
Tides even engorged our timeless rose that was never supposed to wilt
I still remember
How stupid we were,
With time we developed something called us, with time we destroyed it together
For the time we discussed on life, we ended up digging graves for each other
Leaves fall down leaving traces of the spring on the path we walked on
The evening wind blows moving the strings of the song we sung along
Finally I stop under the tree where we tied ourselves with a promise
Of never letting each other go and keep the love flawless
Soon as the moonlight sparkles I will whisper your name
Your soul will trace the voice back if it still feels the same
under the name of our painstaking love let's eliminate the vanity
Let's walk hand in hand on parallel lines to meet at infinity
Will you now allow our souls to converge into one
Let's get tied up to each other, cuz I am too tired to run
For all the merciless curses of past that haunted us in solitude
Let's that past be disguised, just say "touchwood"
Poem without Angel Food
( C. D. Wright )
Well, a great many things have been said
in the oven of hours. We have not been
shaken out of the magnolias. Today was another
hard day. And tomorrow will be harder. Well,
that sounds like our gong. But we’ll have
the boy’s birthday and we will have
music and cake. Well, I will think only
good thoughts and go up and talk to the rock.
The Love Cook
( Ron Padgett )
Let me cook you some dinner.
Sit down and take off your shoes
and socks and in fact the rest
of your clothes, have a daquiri,
turn on some music and dance
around the house, inside and out,
it’s night and the neighbors
are sleeping, those dolts, and
the stars are shining bright,
and I’ve got the burners lit
for you, you hungry thing.
O sweet spontaneous earth
( E. E. Cummings )
O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poke
thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty . how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring)
In My Craft or Sullen Art
( Dylan Thomas )
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Not for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Pastoral
( William Carlos Williams )
When I was younger
it was plain to me
I must make something of myself.
Older now
I walk back streets
admiring the houses
of the very poor :
roof out of line with sides
the yards cluttered
with old chicken wire, ashes,
furniture gone wrong ;
the fences and outhouses
built of barrel staves
and parts of boxes, all,
if I am fortunate,
smeared a bluish green
that properly weathered
pleases me best of all colors.
No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.
The Wild Iris
( Louise Glück )
At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out : that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over : that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again : whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice :
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.