The Lips of Fine Gentlemen

Clowns inside the spirit of the indoor theatre—like
Housewives spread across the backyard pools a mile away
From the sea—
Like diamonds spread across the mirages of a desert—
And their time comes every afternoon—
And when they look up every cloud takes their vision
As they remember the Alamo
Or somewhere else they had to live for awhile
When their mothers were not home but went about kissing
The lips of fine gentlemen on the other side of the television—
And it sparked our interests for awhile
As the forest fires burned—and the airplanes leapt like fireworks
Skipping through the ashes of the sky.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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A Perfect Landing

A gaily painted butterfly hovers over
A dainty flower, as a miniature helicopter
Patiently waiting for a landing signal,
The flower welcomes the timely arrival

And guides it to its destination,
As there is no traffic congestion
It makes a perfect landing with precision,
Without any accident or collision,

The butterfly deposits its cargo
Noiselessly moving to and fro,
Flower offers nectar to the visitor
Later it takes off with a flutter.

Spellbound I watch this in silence
And my senses revel in the image.
Have I ever seen, I wonder
Two butterflies on the same flower?

[...] Read more

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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If I Only Had My Mind On Something Else

[verse 1]
I could be king of kings ; wear a crown and all the things
I'd want I'd never need.
I'd be an ace in an aeroplane and every year I'd fly to Spain.
If I could get the nerve to plant the seed.
[chorus]
Oh, tell me how to say goodbye.
I see her face in myself.
Why, tell me why I made her cry
If only had my mind on something else.
[verse 2]
Captain of the submarine beneath the icebergs never seen.
A hero with a medal for ev'ryday.
I find me fame,reach the top.
I keep on pushing never stop.
If I could just forget her name.
[chorus]
[end]
If only had my mind on something else.

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Music Of The Spheres

The soft music rose gradually
Like smoke from a freshly doused fire.
I listened to it intently
And my inner voice enquired,
“Where is the source of this music?
I’m positive I am alone
And doubt if it’s some sort of trick
Played on me by some asinine drone”;
Couldn’t be, it’s absolutely
Heavenly sounding to my ears
With its timbre simplicity.
It must be music of the spheres
Inaudible except for me,
The wind, and the eternal sea.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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What Has Happened?

The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced.
The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago
about tithes.
The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks.
Public officials are getting friendly.
The policeman points out the way to the man in the cloth cap.
The landlord comes to see whether the water supply is working.
The journalists write the word People with capital letters.
The singers sing at the opera for nothing.
Ships' captains check the food in the crew's galley,
Car owners get in beside their chauffeurs.
Doctors sue the insurance companies.
Scholars show their discoveries and hide their decorations.
Farmers deliver potatoes to the barracks.
The revolution has won its first battle:
That's what has happened.

poem by Bertolt Brecht
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Childhood Memories Are Always Green!

Our childhood memories are like
heavenly story,
Evergreen in every heart,
not bothering what one have,
Even piece of wood can be a car,
Or a stick can be a horse, Even a mat can be one's
aeroplane. When all pains were only
momentary,
All strains are happily forgotten,
Green will be that memory,
evergreen,
when that stone aimed at green mango,
Brought it down into dust,
And dust is rubbed against the
edge of shirt,
That sour mango
was sweet than any other! That first correct answer given to
how many fingers I have,
And that when mother said I am
correct in pointing at nose! When I learnt first to write zero,

[...] Read more

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Crepescule of Football Games

Transformed into
The petroglyphs
Before the songbirds who
Are out for no reason,
Dancing winged-
Songs stirred for the
Absence of housewives
With no more reason to
Love me;
The earth pushed a little,
Displaced from its godhoods
And toward catastrophe-
Dying a little the way the
Forest of angels
Drink sea salt- talk up
A little around
Graveyards- underneath power lines-
Why the sky is all blue
A little
F$cked up- punched in the face,

[...] Read more

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The Drone

I might have been a worker, but I'm nothing but a drone.
I tell my idle stories in a philosophic tone.
In a fuzzy, spiny mantle of remoteness softly furled
I lie and watch with half-shut eyes the stupefying world.

And they bustle and they rustle with their self-consuming din.
And eager feet go hurrying out and tired feet come in.
Like Bottom, when they hear a sound they all must rush to see.
They're always running after life. I let it come to me.

poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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Home Is Myself

long ago
i was unwanted
grandpa
never praised me
though i worked
hard
even for
one word, perhaps

love or
even a pat on my shoulder
which i never
really had

papa i remember
bought me
a toy chopper
but that was just
once

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broad Gate

The plague has come
Children of revelry infected
Night with tentacles of pagan masks
Parley with ancient gargoyles
Praise your temple of idols
No asylum, no peace, no salvation
The fever gone, surrender
Tossed with the wind
Love of money over humanity
Itching ears, loss of conscience
All your teachers can't stop death
Fields of evil, the harvest of hell
Drones of sex, Sodom and Gomorrah
Hearts buried and sold
Strange faces of Roman tempest
Lovers of pleasure more than God
False freedom
Fornicators
Given over
Hardened

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Corner Stone

Sterile these stones
By time in ruin laid.
Yet many a creeping thing
Its haven has made
In these least crannies, where falls
Dark's dew, and noonday shade.

The claw of the tender bird
Finds lodgment here;
Dye-winged butterflies poise;
Emmet and beetle steer
Their busy course; the bee
Drones, laden, near.

Their myriad-mirrored eyes
Great day reflect.
By their exquisite farings
Is this granite specked;
Is trodden to infinite dust;
By gnawing lichens decked.

[...] Read more

poem by Walter de la Mare
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So Much That I Could Learn

If only the aged trees could speak,
What tales they might have to recite.
This giant oak has stood for years,
Having grown to a massive height.

And as the decades have done their time,
So many things they must have seen,
As the centuries of human life,
Have passed across this Village Green.

Smart gentry and also tired labourers,
Staunch farmers and shy parlourmaids.
Coy lovers in their starry-eyed loitering,
Sly poachers intent on their trades.

Nannies with their precious charges
Out for a long summer stroll.
Travellers trudging through the snow
To reach their eventual goal.

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Their All Jolly Good Sports

Batsmen stand at their crease
the aim is to get them out
fielders dive about for catches
when the ball has been given a clout.
Boxers step boldly into the ring
they try and knock their opponent out
as they move and bob around
the crowd get excited and shout.
The dart player at the Oche
throws his darts at the board
while a Fencer thrusts his weapon
trying to win points with his sword.
The Formula One driver
has to have nerves of steel
as he tears around the circuit
sat behind his steering wheel.
Golfers with their putters
driving the ball towards the hole
as the football teams star striker
scores another winning goal.

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin Halls
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The Super Thing

Today what does it take to do the super thing
I'll tell you what it takes a very simple thing
Iron nerves like the pilot of a jumbo jet
Or a girl on the go who hasn't got there yet
Magnetic trumpets blowing
Synthetic saxophone
The evidence kept growing
From below
Hidden motivations
Buried in the past
Still gives us strength
For the super thing
The red alarm a rude surprise every time it rings
Means it's time to go beyond the normal thing
Pay attention and be prepared to do it right
The super thing the thing that makes you bigger than life
Won't you tell me what it takes
To do the super thing
Signals start to travel from a distant place
Lights go out electro shock then pleasure pain

[...] Read more

song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Into An Eager Morning Sun

Pollinating an instrument beside the
Bus stops,
While the fireworks worm in the overgrowth:
The silvery airplanes leap frog
Over the moon who is beginning to grow blind-
Like all the gods over their breakfast
An empty shell-
An empty grotto: the virgins fed upon, and now
All a cloistered in the barnacles-
Raped and nude,
Blushing wounds that sting in the tide:
The housewives shudder like fish in a glass sea-
The mermaids take the bribes of sand dollars-
An apiary bleeding golden sweat
The fish enjoy with their lips of haloes
Until they douse like pinwheels in her beds that
Separate
And disappear up into an eager morning sun.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: V

I had been an hour at Lyons. My breath comes
Fast when I think of it. An hour, no more,
I trod those streets and listened to the drums,
The mirth, the music, and the city's roar,
And found no sermon for me in her stones.
It was the evening of St. Martin's fair,
And all the world, its working bees and drones,
Had gone out to the quays in the sweet air,
To taste that thing more sweet to human breath,
Its own mad laughter at its own mad kind.
``An hour of prayer,'' I mused, ``for men of faith.''
Yet all these worshippers were only blind.
And I, no whit less blind, among them went
In search of pleasure for my punishment.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Blues Beach

I was scrapin' bottom
Groping in the dark
It takes a crusty punk to really beat
The mean streets of Medicine Park
So I shifted left and out of town
Then I clicked my heels and I doubled down to
Blues Beach, I'm frying
Sizzling in the merciful rays
And it's the long sad Sunday of the early resigned
I went to Central Station
To catch that early bus
They were gassed and runnin' in every which way
But unhappily not for us
Here come Trinathe child bride
I said hey pretty girlcan I cop a ride to
Blues beach, it's raining
I'm chilling at the Manatee Bar
Well it's a stone soul picnic for the early resigned
We can rent a paranymphic glider
My hypothetical friend

[...] Read more

song performed by Steely Dan
Added by Lucian Velea
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From The Sky

The talons of a man shall remain awake
To goad the dimmed lips of a man-at-war-with-himself.

The cloudless sky squirts a disaster,
To fashion the deranged into sanities
On the way to what is not asinine.

My claws cut and dodge the other birds
Who are men.
In their cribs the redness of their blood shines
Brightly, contradicting the veins.
In this sanctuary is an oversight,
That we are supposed to find,
And not mind to change into great dilemmas,
So that we gain more oversights,
Strangely enough.

The men at war shall define the century
In the cloudless skies,
When aircraft shake the shaken,

[...] Read more

poem by Naveed Akram
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Envy

Black drips the ooze that you secrete on all
That Honour's burin graves or Love holds dear:
At sacrifice you laugh, at virtue sneer,
And sour rebellion's must, the waking thrall
Would ripen into Freedom, with the gall
Of green suspicion. God of drones, you hear
Mutter of plots in all Success: on seer
And saint behold your own foul motives crawl.
O Gluttony that would but dare not gorge!
Theft of the heart that dreads the handcuff! Hate,
Too cowardly to hurl the bolts you forge!
And Lust that fears to pluck the flowers you smell!
Too low your lintel to seduce the great!
The meanest of the Seven doors of Hell!

poem by Bernard O'Dowd
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Prince William And His New Wife

Could we send an invite to Prince William and his new wife?
To maybe come to Canada and be our king and queen for life,
I know we could and should but do our politicians have the guts?
They might even look at this idea as completely nuts.

Or are we too politically correct to think about this?
I realize we don’t have binding referendums like the Swiss,
We don’t even have recall or proportional representation,
But we need something to give a boost to our Canadian nation.

But radical ideas out of the norm are not allowed,
And less than half Canadians even vote but still feel proud,
This is just an idea right now but worthy of thought,
A helicopter king with his queen and so we ought.

Jan 14th 2011

poem by James Bredin
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