Thursday, May 16, 2013

Nature By Emily Dickinson (1830–86), a complete poem written in 1924.


A ROUTE of evanescence
With a revolving wheel;
A resonance of emerald,
A rush of cochineal;
And every blossom on the bush        5
Adjusts its tumbled head,—
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy morning’s ride.

 

 
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Tuesday, May 7, 2013

VOICE OF THE NOBLE by Bret Subbaraman DANILOWICZ



Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble
Deserves to be carried all through the cable
Without keeping the message just on the table!

Voice of the noble cry for peace
Peace, multiplied peace all with ease
Curse of the world should surely cease
Look at the world as one and not in pliable piece!

Voice of peace is sure the soul of wisdom
Choice of the world is to reach God's kingdom
Where love and peace is bound to rule
Where faith and truth is every one's tool!

Voice of the noble seeks the world of peace
Noise of the wicked breeds the world of war
Peace indeed is the nature's choice
Peace indeed is the right man's voice!

Birds and trees sing for peace
Cruel and the wicked stink with strife.
The senseless inflicts war on nature
Least worried about grace of future
Nature revolts with quakes and storms
Millions suffer in pain and grief!

Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble!




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Tuesday, April 30, 2013

BE AT PEACE by Aldo Freishtat Kraas


Be at peace angels from heaven
Be at peace mother
Be at peace my friends
Be at peace my reverend
Be at peace my God
Be at piece my saints
Be at peace birds
Be at peace Mother Nature
Be at peace sea
Be at peace farmers
Be at peace little baby
Be at peace fisherman
Be at peace moon when you shine at night
Stars be at peace also when you shine at night
Birds be at peace when you fly in the sky during the day


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Thursday, April 11, 2013

Violin (Xiao Ti Qin): Music Is some Kind of Nutrition


 Violin player via google.com



She cried for all the broken hearts,
Painted everlasting winters -
Floral patterns etched in ice;
A frozen tear to
Soften up the bastard bones.

Bow made love to needy string
In cooing fling - wanton whispers
Fondled under pianissimos,
Caressing callous hearts.

Melodrama swayed in satin sound -
Yet the player wasn't there,
Only creamy song - soothing, yearning,
Teasing bitter minds.

I sensed her persevering loneliness
For beauty of an evening,
Romance of a tune - laughing,
Sobbing at the fire.

Then a climax -
Writhing passion cutting deep -
Wounding macho flesh;

And all in a work of musical art:
Ephemeral stories, yarned of music
Honed impossibly through her tones.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

image credit; google.com

Friday, March 29, 2013

Hourglass



 The ocean is a blue cliché,
The pink sunset a rough-edged neon light through the smog.
Sand and seaweed scuff my toes in the tender spots,
Pillow the tough heels of my wave-buried feet and
Slowly cover my ankles.
There is sand everywhere,
On my face and hands,
Carried by the waves onto my clothes,
Even in the air as it is flung back,
Back into the sea that will toss and churn it
And round the sharper grains
So that some child's small pink feet
Will one day feel them,
Soft under the soft-skinned toes
Of one not even thought of yet
On our sand grain of a world.

Copyright © 1994 by Katherine Foreman.


 Google.com images on free verse, thanks for the informative introduction...