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Poet's Corner
federica
Seeker of the clear blue sky...Its better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak out and remove all doubt Moderator
Post or transfer all poetry to in here....
All work must be your own and original....
Read, Contribute and enjoy!
All work must be your own and original....
Read, Contribute and enjoy!
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Comments
I can see you.
I can hear you.
I know you.
I own you.
I control you.
I AM YOU
I am a spider crawling inside you;
You are a puppet,
I am your master;
You are my pet.
Answer to my command!
You cannot run.
You cannot hide.
I’ll chase you,
I’ll find you!
I’m like a shadow;
I’ll follow you.
You can’t escape.
I’m invisible,
Undetectable,
INDESTRUCTABLE!
I only die if you die.
SO DON’T EVEN TRY!
You are a puppet,
I am your master.
I am your thoughts
Your memories,
Your spirit,
Your conscience;
I AM YOU!
I’m like your shadow.
I follow you.
Everywhere you go.
I know what you’re thinking.
I know your emotions.
I AM YOUR EMOTIONS!
I am love. I am hate.
I am sadness.
I am loneliness.
I am anger.
I am jealousy.
I am guilt.
I am evil.
You are my puppet,
I am your master.
I’m like a shadow.
I’m a thousand knifes
Piercing your brain.
I’m a face,
Staring at you.
I’m your past;
I’m your present;
I’m your future.
I AM YOU.
I’m a messenger.
I’m a God.
I’m a devil.
I’m a monster.
I’m a master.
I’M YOUR MASTER!
I know what you’re thinking.
I can hear what you’re saying.
I know you.
I am you.
I’m with you.
Wherever you go.
Like a shadow.
Like a devil.
I’m just a fly on the wall.
You can’t see me.
You can’t hear me.
YOU CAN’T KILL ME!
I’m invisible;
I’m undetectable;
INDESTRUCTABLE!
I’m a camera.
Taking pictures.
OF YOU!
I’m a microphone.
Listening.
TO YOU!
I know you.
I control you.
I AM YOU!
And there’s nothing you can do about it!
SO BE AFRAID!
Because I’m not a nice guy…
Siddhartha Gautama
I’m going to tell you a story,
The story of a Prince.
He did amazing things in his life,
And been remembered for them since.
One day he left his palace,
About the age of thirty.
Round and around the town he walked,
There he saw plenty:
He saw a baby being born,
He saw a man on a walking stick,
He saw a dying woman by the road,
And an old person, very sick.
When he saw these four things,
He was unhappy with his life,
So he left Nepal and his dad,
To escape the trouble and the strife.
He searched for the meaning of life,
He walked for miles and miles,
Fasted for months and months,
And tested his life in trials.
One day in the north of India,
He meditated under a tree.
And then he had a vision,
Thus his soul was set free.
That day he was happy,
Happier than he’d ever been.
So he set about teaching,
To free the world from sin.
People listened to his teachings,
With great anticipation,
They told their friends and soon,
He was known throughout the nation.
And now throughout the world,
People know of him.
And his teachings are now practiced,
In the form of Buddhism.
Love’s Spite
Shall I compare thee to a rainy day?
Thou art more ugly and more desolate.
You’re rough winds that shake the sly buds of May.
And you’ve been with me all too long a date.
Sometimes too much hatred your black heart pumps.
And often is your gold face deceiving,
And when your round blue eyes become cold bumps,
I always be most certainly leaving;
But thy eternal rain will and shall fade,
And lose possession ‘cos to be you owe;
May death be you so you can lie in shade,
When in my English room thou shall now grow,
So long as men can breathe and eyes can see,
So long lives this, and spreads my hate to thee.
To put my name
On a poem?
I'm only a pair of eyes
Behind wet glass
In the rain
A blanket of frozen cold
Winter grips the dark.
Loved ones and cocoa
Windows and a bright fire
It's warm in my heart.
==================
haiku! oh!, bless you.
i thought that you were sneezing
need a zen hanky?
-bf
i bow to you o god of poetry,you are a poet and you are a prophet(i quote this from 'red hot chilly peppers' song lyrics)
I have another poem that I am quite fond of, however I have not posted it here because I feel it is inappropriate. It is entitled The Torturers
This is one that I have never shared elsewhere. I don't know why. I wrote it one afternoon, in Oxfordshire, towards the end of a day of writing poetry with a group of other poets. We used to meet, once a month, for a day, to write. We met for years and those first Saturdays of every month (I barely missed one) were wonderful.
The format of the day was always the same: we all met together and did some warm-up writing, games and so on. We would choose a theme for the day or continue what we had done the previous month and start to play with it. We would go for a walk, either alone or together, with some object in view or to allow something to arise (the old farmhouse was about 200 yds from a sewage works, right in the heart of the Oxfordshire hills). In the afternoon, after a great lunch: soup, bread, cheese, fruit crumble, we would work alone: the house and garden provided lots a little nooks and crannies in which to write. Then, finally, we would meet to share what we had been doing.
I wrote it at a time (1996) when gardening had become a passion for me. I had recovered finally from bypass surgery 8 months earlier and I was noticing the oncoming Spring. At the same time, London was under major terrorist attack by the IRA: the Canary Wharf bomb in February and the Aldwych bomb only a few days earlier. I had to find a way to make sense of the contrast between senseless, technological slaughter and the vital exuberance of Spring growth.
BLUE HYDRANGEAS
Sing a song of shrapnel
A pocket full of blight
Regiments of soldiers
Hidden out of sight.
When the war is raging
Metal from the skies
Falls on field and garden
To rot and oxydise.
When the war is over
Iron in the beds
Adds its lovely colour
To silent flower heads.
At first, I went, "Huh!?!?!"
Then I looked at the name of the author - and it all made sense.
Nice poem, Simon.
-bf
Not sure how to take that, BF. We were always taught that "nice" was only to be used to mean "precise"!
S-C-R-U-M-P-D-I-L-Y-I-C-I-O-U-S!
-bf
Dua Tiga kucing berlari,
Mana Nak sama si Kucing belang.
Dua Tiga bolehku cari.
Yang satu lagi sendiri ia pulang.
And another that I shall make up.
There once was this boy,
Deluded and lost.
His world was his toy.
He thought everything was his.
There was one day,
He met this friend.
One that would make his day,
To finally make him awake.
Thus he awoke from his slumber,
Needless of food for hunger.
He no longer when astray.
Always here,never away.
And one for the forum,
Tis the New Buddhist Forum,
Home to all,
To discuss and talk,
Plus to be merry and awed.
There's Brian,
The leader,the owner.
Always like a lion,
He prowls every corner.
Now there is Federica,
Cheerful like the sun.
Motherly till the end.
Always there to make everything right.
Now lets not forget Simon,
The master of words,
One whose knowledge,
To be awed and respected.
Buddhafoots here too!
A fantastic singer,
Another proud member.
To bring us joy and laughter.
Of course there are others.
For without them,
This would be nothing.
Not a home,not even a camp.
Thank you everyone for these forum and Brian!Sorry if the poem is not that high class.I tried my best:tongue2:
"May your faith in your religion remain unwavering"
-Ar.Aid
Online friends are people we may never meet.... We see pictures, we see cams...It isn't the same.... We grow close...We care and love one another.... One day we may not hear from one another.... Our hearts will break... All we see is a name on messenger but the person we don't see anymore..... We pray....."Please come back
Some day,
This time wil come around.
And I'll say,
It was a lot of fun but not right now...
[chorus] - So I close my eyes,
And listen to the Sound of the Sun.
So I close my eyes,
And listen to the Sound of the Sun.
I'll try,
To spend much time in the sky.
And I'll fight,
To keep the blue pools from pulling me down.
[chorus]
Tonight,
The walls will come crashing down.
And it's my right,
To make the call and let the demons out...
[chorus]
And all the better for it, BSF!
Nothing like a bit of angst in the morning!
Quiet nights are filled with dreams
I find I can't recall
So I talk with my old friends
These bleak and silent walls.
A sighing wind stirs upon my
Dark and weary mind
To touch the sheets and be the only
Solice I can find.
And though I rise, it's no surprise, it's just another day
Skies of grey are all I seem to
Wake to anymore
Not a soul stirring in the stillness
Of the morn
Ignore the pain that leaves me lying
Cold and sore
It's a wonder I can even stand
To find the door.
And though I rise it's no surprise, it's just another day
[c]
I don't want to wake up to
Another day
That seems just like today
I take the same old tired walk
The same old tired day
I take the same old tired drive
The same old tired way
And as I lay me down to sleep
Inside the settling night
I hug the sheets and dream the lie
Of what seemed oh, so right.
And it's no surprise, I could close my eye
And miss another day
-bf
i was not a son of privilege
and i never wore new fashion
i developed words for passion
and an end to suffering.
i have seen my next door
neighbors as they huddled in
the street
when we went from night to day
without a soul to feed.
jesus christ wept for us
and buddha wiped us clean
and shiva was the false idol
before moses was on the scene.
a call to prayer is daily
for those deemed obscene
while preachers pockets get fatter
and the follower's are lean.
our karma deems us bad or good
with each breath we take
but what about the soldiers
who nailed god to a stake?
what about the world at large
do we all just lie in wait?
what about the ones in charge
and those shattered in the wake
"this world is not", he said,
"emotions are all fake."
tell that to the lovers or
the gun in the desperate man's face.
when the sky falls away
will you come back or will
you stay?
i guess it all depends if
today would be a better yesterday.
Professor Piggy:
You know that we miss you
You know we want you back
If you don't return
Rosie'll give you a whack
PyroZ is dictating us all
Nocus is insane
If you don't rule the boards soon
Trust me, I'll complain
PawPaw is pestering
Titans Tower is grieving
Emma has confetti
And we have been weeping!
And of course there is Eve
She misses you too!
Truth of the matter is
We all do!
Without you here
The place isn't so groovy
Without you here
Things don't run as smoothly
Without you here
Point Count has stopped
Without you here
Challenges have flopped
Without you here
The place isn't the same
Without you here
I'll go insane
We need you here
Is what we're trying to say
So say you'll come back again
Please say you'll stay!
Expression
Abstract expressions
of psychedelic proportions
exude opaque symbols
and primary templates
Aesthetic postures
silhouetted in monumental space
The palette, the canvas, the screen
Behold the illusion of the surreal.
Impressions
Recorded impressions
create and imitate
avant-garde views
Imagine and reflect,
expose and reveal
The bold stylized symmetry
of the absurd masterpiece.
Melody
Image and shape
shimmer and light
essence expressed as harmony
illustrates and captures
dazzling unity,
manifesting grace
that will soon
give way to
beautiful melody.
Film Icons
Film icons
portray and fabricate
figures pointing
to the interior collage
Behold and imagine
colors and pictures
resonating satire and illusion
Inspire and create
the concrete sculpture of the self.
Goddess
The cool mist of winter
shines through in spring
Classical expressions
silhouetted in purple,
whispering beneath the void
There appears a goddess
dressed in stardust
to inspire the essential language
of the reflective moon.
Ballet
Beauty and grace
poetry in motion
the stylized movements
of the ballet performance
expose and unveil
the delirious language of the soul.
Truth Obscured
They say the solution is imminent
above thoughts in time and space
Curious questions abound
nothing is as it seems
A voice from within
beckons softly,
calling forth subtle memories
of times gone past
Things forgotten, never missed
Clever ideas pierce the opaque veil
juxtaposing sound and light,
revealing truth obscured.
Farewell, My Love
Thoughts of you
spin around in my head
I feel your absence
as my heart yearns for you
It knows where it belongs
With you, my love ... with you.
Yet that is not possible
Our circumstances will not allow it
A love so very beautiful and free
is no longer allowed to express itself
It has been held back
against it's wishes and desires,
no longer free to lead,
held captive and smothered
underneath fear's crushing weight.
Alas, it is time to bid farewell
There is nothing left that can live
We must move on,
confident that we will find
true love in another's embrace.
All is not lost, love will survive
It always finds a way
When one door closes,
another door opens and draws us in
to the love that we so longingly seek.
Farewell, my love ... my darling
It is time to bid you adieu
You will forever reside in my heart
through the ages and for all eternity
Farewell, my love ... farewell.
I think i'd better redo the last four years of my Writer's Course..I'm Sh**.
regards,
Richard.
P.S. thanks for depressing me.
FOR CHRIS
Written on my 52nd birthday
The evening primroses are flowering
in sun-rise yellow.
The tiger lily buds begin
to warm.
We've picked our first crop
of secret,
home-grown,
all neglected
strawberries.
My oldest friend
and my best love
are both with me.
And you and I watch the light
reflect like steel
on Severn from the hill.
In two days time,
a moment when
'they' stop my heart
And,
fifty two years in,
it feels
good
to be alive.
(4/7/95)
OMG, Simon! I will be certain to send you healing energy and good thoughts.
Oh, and I love your poetry!!
Drop us a line as soon as you are able.
-bf
Always
I am yours
Today
Tommorow
Now
Always
You are mine
Today
Tommorow
Now
Always
We are one another
Today
Tommorow
Now
Always
Just remember
Today
Tommorow
Now
Always
Always....
Every pine wears a white furry coat
The stream is in spate as it chuckles and leaps
And it all brings a lump to my throat.
As I stand and I stare at the beauty around
Tomorrow a memory past
I graps the impermancence, fragile and light
Nothing, but nothing can last.
I get good tables at restaurants.
I haven't stubbed a toe in twelve years.
I can destroy the universe with a thought.
- Jed McKenna
Maple sap rising,
Old woman wakes and streches arm
hard trees crack and shake.
caffeine addiction
man cracking old knuckles, snap!
arthritic best friend
Such positive thoughts on the subject, Don't you think? teehee
The revolution will no be televised
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.
The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.
to see
the whizzing
vastness of
the great energies
of my surroundings.
if mind is
emptiness,
what am i
trying to
empty my
mind
of?
Exultation
In the light of the morning sun
Her hair flows in the cool breeze
Her eys stare at me like precious stones in a desolate land
Her dress flails in the wind, her smooth sand colored skin dry from the night before
I stand before her, my emotions flowing endlessly through me
The feeling of water, when there is no oasis overwhelms me
Feeling unworthy of such a fair maiden
She speaks to me, yet I do not hear
Our spirits walking hand in hand in a world we do not see
Her warm, ambient words dissipate the cold breeze
Outside the window, the earth's warm embrace open to her
I look, yet I do not see
I speak, yet I make no sound
My spirit displays the reborn world in my eyes
I reach, but do not feel, for she is not meant for my touch
We lay in the desert sands, the earth our guardian
Where there is no savior from the sun, we feel water over our bodies
My spirit speaks to me, comforts me in my sadness
The sun shines ever so brightly, the water fills me
The sun warms my eyes, the light growing brighter
She slowly starts to speak, her words clearer
I am again able to hear, I am able to see
Her gentle touch draws our spirits nearer
I once again feel, I am able to speak
With my words, our spirits once again walk hand in hand
With our words, our spirits embrace, united for eternity