One Has To Move

I drive a car
He rides a motor bike
Everybody moves the way one likes
Go place to place by some means
Camel and bullock cart
In the villages
Some ride
Donkeys and horses since ages
People who live near to water
Move by ship or steamer
Rivers are not big as the sea
One uses boat or ferry
When they move they make merry
Aero planes and helicopters
Reach you faster than others
Riding a bicycle two by two
Is slow but steady
In truck or bus
One has company of many
Travelling by train is very enjoying

[...] Read more

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Home II

Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I'm lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm I've got to go home

Let me come home
I'm just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I'm living someone else's life
Its like I just stepped outside when everything was going right
And I know why you could not come with me
But this was not your dream but you always believed in me

Another winter day has come and gone away and even Paris and Rome and I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I'm surrounded by a million people
I still feel alone

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Conseco
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Swaying

A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.

The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic?

Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.

An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.

Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.

poem by Satish Verma
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Clouds And Roads

On a sizzling riverbed, how many suicides
will make up the loss of a green moon? Must
we count our rags in sleep? Victims of a
manipulated music of bricks!

I thought, I will give you more, taking
less of you, have finally laid to rest the attacking
needles in the black holes of flesh. In rains we
will cry endlessly.

Another promise broken, would watch the stars
to set forth the eggs. A melon sweetens the
tongue of dissenters and robes are taken
off after the helicopter crash.

On the palms opium grows, bubbles learn
to float with the words of priests who were
reciting hymns to anoint the new incumbent,
will start the black magic again for mass slimming.

poem by Satish Verma
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Art of Sound

brought by air
crossing the distant
passing the time
planted in memory

wisdom of earth
siren of wind
chat from creature
call from body

a laugh, a sigh
a whistle, a whine
a boo, a clap
a speech, a melody

calm or alarmed
bird or airplane
husky or screechy
rain or cricket

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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On Death

A physician that relives,
Pangs of all maladies,
Indiscriminate to small or great;
Treads under the heavy hooves,
Who are too raised in the world,
Presses them hard to flatten
But it touches them gently,
Who crumble their rebellious ego.

A frequent visiting phenomenon,
Yet forsaken by the victims,
Rough to arrogant and proud,
But subservient slave to Omnipotent,
Fears not obeying His commands.
Removes the screen opaque or green
Eclipsing inevitable final reality.

An open door where from,
Each one has to go through,
The weak, fragile and humble,

[...] Read more

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The great creators—the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors—stood alone against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great new invention was denounced. The first motor was considered foolish. The airplane was considered impossible. The power loom was considered vicious. Anesthesia was considered sinful. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead. They fought, they suffered and they paid. But they won.

Ayn Rand in The Fountainhead
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song of Mother Africa

The old man sits beside the Council Chamber, stretches out his hand
The officers pass by, their minds on paper
The small shields of security drawn around him by the month
Don’t protect him from the night and dusts of winter

The land used up and over, cattle die up to their necks in mud
Choppers cross the border to machine-gun ivory
The villages have lost their trees and cannot nurse back any
So many children science left, to mothers of this Africa

They wait within prefabricated words and walls
For the big black pots to fill with food of conscience
And when the meal is over, the bells of cities ring
For shifts of building bricks in export industry

The shopping mall is crowded when the pay is out
The queues of supplication jumped by family or favour
The dust of town is somehow of a much more bitter flavour
Than the early morning milk of Mother Africa

[...] Read more

poem by Frank Bana
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Big Snake

The Venerable Luang Pu Soh
is a famous teacher of meditation.
He is eighty-seven years old.

In the second year after his ordination,
while he was sitting in his kuti,
a large golden snake, six metres long
and as thick as a house post,
entered the hut, slithered straight towards him
and lifted him up so that he was seated on its coils.
It pushed its head into his body, but he felt no pain,
and seemed to push it out again
between his shoulder blades.
When he reached up carefully with his left hand,
he could feel its head above his own,
just as it is shown
in images of the Buddha.
After a while it crawled out and away
and he could feel his bottom touch the floor again.

[...] Read more

poem by Brian Taylor
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The Kids Grown Up

Writers: leo sayer & frank farrell
Southdown motor co
2a bus
You can see right inside
My parents house
Sitting at the table and my dinners up
Its gonna be different when
The kids grown up
Gonna save some money
And quit this job
Light the way
Clear the stage
The kids grown up
Used to play in the underground
Hyde park
Now Im riding in a limousine
Through the underpass
Im sitting in an aeroplane
Its all such a rush
People all around me making

[...] Read more

song performed by Leo Sayer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Elixir

Starry fishes pierce in silent shimmer
Distant crows caw in freshened flutter
Bhupalam breezes in to roll on
The matted expanse of faceless Brahman

Bauli drones in to cringe
Goddess Usha wakes up in streaky orange
Bilahari empowers the temple gods
Energises Saranga with noon-time consonance

A treat of Madhyamavathi to doze
Yet the routine after noon steadily goes
Day-time stress Vasantha to replace
Evening bliss Malayamarutham to solace

What more for the slumbering starry night
Tranquil lullabies Neelambari to delight
Time theory of ragas thus on goes
Heaven of elixir there, in goes

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Stranger To Each Other

Looking up through the jungle outside of my
New window:
I can hear the airplanes roaring, the women on them as
Silent as snakes through the reeds;
And I remember a child hood of classrooms on cinderblocks:
I remember coming across her own childhood once in awhile,
And moving through it,
And speaking softly and reverently like a mouse in a hurricane
In a library;
And maybe her eyes lit upon my childhood, as she sat down on
The floor held up by the cinderblocks too,
And turned her eyes towards the teacher as our two childhoods
Separated, going away, becoming stranger and stranger to
Each other.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Awareness

Unnumbered people on the floor
with full comfort and tension free sleeping.
while few people find it difficult to sleep
along with dun lop pillow bed surrounded with tension.
hundred of thousand children going to school
for high class education on the other side
lac and crores of children do not understand.
what is school and actual meaning of education.
few people earning thousand and crores.
and unnumbered people hardly earn hand to mouth.
counted people travelling in car and aeroplane.
uncounted number of people still travel in bullock cart
when will wake-up and realise the economic disequilibrium
this difference must be minimise at any cost
only important point is awareness among people
wake-up...wake-up.....from deep sleep.....will you?

poem by Ajay Srivastava
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Settler's song

I tried so hard to make it to a place where I was sure
I made myself a shell on the sand but the sea was insecure
I washed the pain in the summer rain, but the clouds were moving north
I turned the page on another age, but the people starved for more.

I went inland and wrote in sand of the birth of the aeroplane
I sang to the bush of the city confusion, tightening the pain
I danced to some thumb-piano and drum, before I fell to faint
The hunt was loud and refugee cloud was gathering again.

I left the rhyme and the travel of time to the hungry and depressed
The hunters hide and the sailors cry, for the game is emptiness
For the seeking man doing what he can, for an hour in the dust
Of the wasted warm electric storm, your love held me in trust.

poem by Frank Bana
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Sometimes I Can Hear the Confusion and Sorrow

The television buzzes and pops
and the dishes loom in their piles
while the dog looks up from
her empty water dish,
the laundry is folded in sorted piles
yet to be claimed by the household,
and the internet is on
so nobody calls,
and under the three remaining bulbs
a yellow light is cast,
thrown among crusty plates,
and the papers are spread out
in categorized piles to show
if we can afford to just throw away
the spaghetti hardening in the pot,
while the cat yowls at the doorknob,
but nobody hears
over the sound of things falling apart
while the television drones on
about tornadoes.

poem by Ayn Timmerman
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Outside the Café

Outside the Café
where I was having coffee,
a red BMW without number plates
died on the driver
and was flashing lights
and its hooter went off.

Inside of it I saw a face
of a ugly white man,
with a wig upon his head
and the look in his eye
spelled out dread.

Be careful
he’s got a gun,
the café’s owner warned
and I looked away
as if the man was not there.

Thrice I called

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Natural Green

Who coloured the green trees?
Who coloured the green grass?
Who coloured the green hills?
How about my green spider plant? ?

Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.

Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life....

A ride on a helicopter over the huge Rain Forest and see nothing, but acres & acres of simply gorgeous green!

Green, Green, you are so glorious green...
An abundance of beautiful green, not coloured, but just natural and kind.

Makes me wonder how your creation of green came to life...

GREEN, I admire and respect the vitality you bring in the air that I breathe...

poem by Premila Patel
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The quiet from the road

I wonder will they bring the quiet back from the road;
The quiet where the trees fingers reach the sky,
Quiet of the graceful geese sweeping by,
Quiet of an airplane shadowed above,
Peace of the fence line's lowly shrub.

The low keening of a coyote's howl,
More silent preening of the wild fowl,
The quiet of water in trembling spring,
But silence above everything else seen-

And I wonder will silence stay close by,
Or slowly wander, a cloud in a sky?

poem by Patti Masterman
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Miss the Mountains

I pine for eternal snows -
hanging higher when draped in white;
Whe I went there and my breath blew
hard and visible, I derided city life:
the belching buses, the encapsulated airplanes;
Where are these people going anyway?
What vacuum is sucking their heads dry?
Where is is wrttten that they cannot enjoy
a simple dawn, and foresee what can be done with life?
In lieu of mesmerizing clocks, adjusted
by governments; damned be Ben Franklin,
who it is said jokingly inventede 'saving' time...
Lousy joke that, as it kills the lovelorn hills
Grasping twilight that comes too late
in the polluted summer dew.

poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Bihar Floods 2008

Fed by the melting snows from Himalayas,
And seven tributaries through the year,
The river Kosi still remains untamed!

A giant ‘water-snake’ that moves side-wards,
Flooding the fields and washing off all huts –
A river that is annually ‘in spate’!

The ‘Kosi’ is the ‘sorrow of Bihar’!
A million people have lost huts and homes;
Many are stranded without shelter, food.

The plight of people is so pathetic;
The helicopters can rescue but few;
The food-packets don’t reach the hungry souls!

They blame a broken barrage near Nepal;
But embankments can’t stop the annual floods;
The river changed its course so many times!

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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