Glory and the smell of lightning
And I, my mouth full of salt
Gazing on the polished stone
Of a silk-purple draped palace

Pleading at the threshold
No heed for the crystal sphere
Already emptied from pockets
Stomach starving from fear

The already delivered cry
“Lord have mercy on me!”
A sound not heard from hell
But a lonely heart’s mourning

Warmed by a breeze of breath
Becoming known in knowing
Commingled but never confused
Many by grace one, yet many

(Non-commercial reuse free provided attribution)
http://nothinghypothetical.wordpress.com/2010/02/25/no-heed-for-the-crystal-sphere/

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at No Heed for the Crystal Sphere.

That day is nearer!
When the door for seeking forgiveness would
Be closed…

That day is nearer!
When the verses of Quran for guidance would
Be removed…

That day is nearer!
When the sun would be ordered to come closer
Toward the Earth

By: Rana Rimsha Ramzan
15 years old….

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at THE END IS COMING:.

When we last time gathered…

When we last time enjoyed…

When we last time joined…

That was the day of separation,

When we had no complains…

When we had no conflicts…

When we had no blames…

That was the pain of our separation,

Where no pain was more than that…

Where no heart wept more than that…

Where no one was departured like that…

That was the day of remini moments,

When the weather turned veer…

When the sky turned dim…

When the eyes turned brim…

By: Rana Rimsha Ramzan

15 years old….

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at DAY OF SEPARATION:.

There is no birdsong,
The silence is eerie!
A feeling of unease,
Fills my being!
As I look at
The foundations laid out,
Like graves.
I have visions of grief!
Panic and fear, of
People I’ve never met but,
Will not forget!

The rows of reminders,
And yes the gas chambers,
It’s painful to the eye!
A pair of huts are full
Of the inmates memorial!
A tangled, metalled mass,
A sculpture of a brutal past!

It is an August day,
I will never forget!
No where, no way, no how,
I’ll never forget the day,
And my visit to Dachau!

The torment they went through,
I can’t begin to know!
But I can honestly say,
My heart is filled with sorrow!

We all know where we were,
The day that Elvis died,
Likewise J. F. K!
But the day that’s most imprinted,
On my soul,
Is that day in Dachau,
When I was twenty-one years old.

George. L. Ellison
ã 08/05/2009

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Lest We Forget.

Underneath the tremors
There’s no Mother for a child
Underneath the rubble
Is what’s left of broken smiles

Underneath the bridge
Is a man without a home
Underneath the moonlight
There’s a child who cries alone

Underneath the remnants
Children played without a fear
Underneath the blanket
An infant clings to life so dear

Underneath the tragedy
It’s up to us to make a start
Underneath the grief
A chance to unbreak someones heart

Underneath the dreams
That were shattered in a glance
Underneath the ruins
Is help to build a second chance

Underneath the sun
Where lovers long to sail away
Underneath the gray sky
A child survives another day

Underneath disaster
Is a longing to reach out
Underneath this calling
Desire burns through all self doubt

JCM 1/2010

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Tremors.

I wish to be amidst green mountains
And rivers that sing a flute
Away from all the din and tension
With just nature absolute

I wish to sit gazing day long
Across the deep blue oceans
As the gulls and pelicans fly over head
With no worry of recessions

I long to dine with serene herbivores
The fresh and juicy greens
And play and flip all day long
With no call for medicines

I wish to rest on cushioned clouds
Watching the starry skies
Oblivious of the world below
And all its complex lies

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Spread your wings.

so many lay around in worry some just go through life in a hurry some fall down and some climb up ..i just ride around in my old truck living and learning and exploreing life to it’s best stopping at times just to rest in the life is knowledge abode… if you seek it then you shall find gold.. live not for the moment! but live for the end cause everything else in the middle is fun to the end
tis only as easy as making a pie! taking time to make it sweet and rise to the sky! the careing and loving you spend on such a thing , can bring you love and laughter when with someone else you share the same thing. life and love are like cooking a simple pie.. its the time you take to add the extra spice that catches one;s eye.. remember this always for in this world is a must, if you ere forget love will go abust .’copyright 12/19/2009 aka louintexas

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at tis it life?.

That still lives today on Christmas cards all packed up now? Is that so?

Would the lamps that light the pathways put a glow upon her face?

Are these images of fantasies all gone without a trace?

Is she staring from the window of a house, with fascination,

And now totally enthralled by crystal clear precipitation,

Lightly falling down, to make the grass a darker shade of green,

And still willing for the happiness she sought at sweet sixteen?

Is she smiling in the sunshine of the inner city skylines;-

Looking pretty as a photograph unsuited to the bylines

All contained inside newspapers circulating with great speed?

Is she reaching for the clouds, and hoping that she’ll soon be freed?

Could she be a long lost princess, well-concealed within the fog?

Is she now beyond her thirties, and yet free to kiss the frog,

Thus transforming him into the prince he’d never ceased to be;

And especially if that prince of hers is someone just like me?

Is she free of all commitments made before the time was right,

And now open to her destiny in silent streets one night,

To become that part of me, which I have yet to find for sure,

That soft part that fills the void, so there can be no need for more?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at LADY FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE.

Past yesterday’s townhouses.

In each nostalgic molecule

Is something, which arouses.

Old lessons learned so long ago

(Viola, drums or trigon)

Resurface, just enough to know:

Those tunes aren’t fully bygone.

A new sound crashes near the bay,

And shakes the stone rotunda.
The sky shows nature’s cabaret,

With sudden roaring thunder.

Brief moments pass, and summer heat

(Which caused the town to swelter))

Gives way to frantic dampening feet,

Which find a tunnel’s shelter.

Some recent wounds are laundered clean;

But past lives’ recollection

Remains, where tables and caffeine

Accompany retrospection.

The railway tracks are drowned in rain,

Up on the bridge, forestalling

The movement of the peak hour train;

As time froze memories falling.

An hour of this would irk some folk;

But nature gives a quarter,

So ferns and flowers can quickly soak
Themselves in purest water.

Then skies, which were extremely dark

(To back-project on lightning)

Conclude their cloud-to-cloud skylark,

With sunshine slowly brightening.

Those footsteps cling to water drops,

When they resume their movement:

Brief souvenirs of how life stops,

And starts with cleansed improvement.

Should company find its calling here,

The call would be for cuddles,

And sharing views of boats and pier,

With boots in smaller puddles.

Return to Top

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at CABARET OF THE CLOUDS.

Now that I lie beneath these big blue coat,
And rest my back on these green things that float.
On these pond of the truth and the moss,
But it isn’t a pond but a flood of the laws.
The moss aren’t the laws
And the blue coat isn’t the lies
The green floating things: moss,
And the blue coat : where the bird flies.
Then go back in time
Of the sky and the moss,
And float all those things:
Your lies and your laws.

-Debojyoti Sanyal

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Black pond.