What We Have Written Here

what we have written here
stays here and makes a carving
of a name.Yours and mine.
oh, there may be no use of them anymore
what is past is past and every verb
you have put in any line has
thawed like frozen cubes
turning into liquid, something that
describes us, we are past our age
of another year,
all these poems become nothing
but adjectives
simply stated, another part of speech.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Resting Needed Comes To Loom

Prolonged is this marathon,
Initiated by the budding of Spring...
And a thawing done once again,
With the dawning of promise...
Blooming within that seems not to end.

Prolonged is this marathon,
With a wish to witness and touch...
Daring an eye not to close too much,
Too soon.

But a resting needed comes to loom,
And linger,
Until...
Until,
A snore awakens from an unsuspecting nod.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Thatched House

Our thatched house perched where the sea meets,
Our love mends as the sea melts and scalds the heated skin.
Dew gathers clarity, then it thaws, like the sea of tranquillity,
Cliffs are our sanctuary, melting the rocks into the sea.

Waves wield as pines hurt, sea waves smother the rain,
Our thatched house is delighted in its Way,
The path of discovery and enlightenment,
Tossed boats work with anchors here, chained to the sea and land.

poem by Naveed Akram
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When Early March Seems Middle May

When country roads begin to thaw
In mottled spots of damp and dust,
And fences by the margin draw
Along the frosty crust
Their graphic silhouettes, I say,
The Spring is coming round this way.

When morning-time is bright with sun
And keen with wind, and both confuse
The dancing, glancing eyes of one
With tears that ooze and ooze--
And nose-tips weep as well as they,
The Spring is coming round this way.

When suddenly some shadow-bird
Goes wavering beneath the gaze,
And through the hedge the moan is heard
Of kine that fain would graze
In grasses new, I smile and say,
The Spring is coming round this way.

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Winter is getting on for the end

Grey snow,
flooded by the rays of sun,
thaws slowly,
in the rhythm of the spring birds music,
letting the earth
without its counterpane.

A snowdropp ventures
to raise its shoulders
over the little snow
that remained.

A snowdropp penetrates hardly
through the snow
that allows the snowdrop
to get a place,
and that bows
before a prince of spring.

From now on, winter

[...] Read more

poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Man to woman as sun to plant

Sun is a must, to excite a plant.
Else hormones are not to thaw.
Sun is the cause for scorching it.
Plant cannot dispense with the sun.
Woman cannot dispense with men.
Not to be burnt, she must sweat out.
03.02.2002, Pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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To The Stone-Cutters

Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Spring Will Always Come

this first snow that falls
but i have to recall
when snow melts
what does it become?
water? H20?
no for it will become spring
no matter how cold it is
the blooming of flowerz
the suns almighty powerz
spring will always come
spring, summer then autumn

poem by Lacey Peter
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The subtle hand

The hour hand in a clock
Shows not that it moves
When we see it at a glance.
Yet it responds to the minute hand.

The lady in the kinky pursuit
Finds not that she thaws
Though she virtually takes side
In her stand to the tempting man.

To put on move the hour hand
Twelve times runs the minute hand.
To get in touch with her mind
Multi times the man has to run.

The little hand never reverses.
Battery weak, it may halt.
Endeared lady! Don’t reverse.
If at all, you can stay where you are.
13.10.99

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pains of the Heart

The heart causes pain
More pain than fire
Though some say the world will end in ice or fire
I say this world shall end in pain
Pain of the heart
The greatest pain of all is how this shall end
The heart will burn with passion
Then the heart will freeze with pain
The heart shall burn again
With the anger and distrust after all the pain
Then when your heart finally thaws
It shall freeze once more
This time for eternity
Because we all know the greatest pain is the loss
Of
Love
And that is how the world shall

poem by Lexie Pauli
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Mountain Village

Sun and moon hidden all day and night,
Up here dusk and dawn, full of the mountain;
They contain rivers and streams for your view,
Days and months are endless from the top.
Villages are clearly present in their innocence,
I delight in them, from here contains ultimate happiness.
Much room is now present, dew is clear and then thawed,
Forcing my pen in ways so taught
By the owner of these mountains.
I think of the sun and my heart of hearts
Bespeaks in a philosophical tone.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Strange Hero

Behold him! On the dewy ground, dark and cold,
Like a strange marvel or hero of the night.
Will anyone tell me what he is like?
I saw him singing at his work,
On this dew that thaws like a beautiful chemical,
From the battles long ago.
I saw his face again on an occasion to trust
And no bird did ever chant such miraculous notes.
He is marvellous in his wishes,
And controls himself when in a fit of anger.
The third day of his war became the last,
And to call him an honourable hero
Was fit for the country and nation.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Dogs / Gods

a torment
is a mentor

a show
can be hows

a dog
can be a god

with a little
manipulation
of words

me
can
be
'em

thaw can
be

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Global Warming? I think not.

Snow has fallen, snow on snow.
The temperatures remaining low.
There is no sign of any thaw,
In fact we are expecting more.

It’s snowing intermittently.
With intervals of weak sunshine
but it is freezing constantly.
With dread black ice the bottom line

A hazard for the traveller
who has no choice but has to go
Though most of them would much prefer
to stay at home out of the snow.

Authorities are struggling to
ensure the major roads are free
of snow to let the traffic flow.
Albeit very carefully.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Road Works

Road Works

The loose pebbles off the road I picked
were cold and unwilling, but as they
warmed in my palm they thawed and
when I opened my hand they were sand
of time and told a story of a future strand
washed by swells of seas not yet born.

Life lines in my hands are mere blinks
when measured by cosmic seconds, yet
worriedly I asked: “shall I not be there
and witness a birth? ” This silence, so
telling, is free of sentimentality, but it
whispered about blameless perpetuity.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Seasoned Tears

Seasoned tears sad and fundamental
Gloomy lost thoughts became waterfalls of despair
Flowing over rifts without stops nor care
Sad are wild teardrops
racing down emotional streams
From depth with inn's
Past cheeks til chins
More and more grave teardrops
Roll and roll
Patrol and fall
From within the heart and soul

The season of sad teardrops
Precipitating without ending means
Thawing sobers from warm beams
A rainforest of frustrated dreams
In a sea of cold multiple streams

poem by Wes Mbanje
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How To Cook

if it is too big
chop it to pieces
if it is frozen
thaw it
if it is hard
soften it
if it is bland
put a little salt
and a little sugar
and some spices
and seasoning

life is simple enough
to be compared to cooking

use your common sense
don't worry be happy

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Tingle of Devoted Love

In a grip.
Held!
And,
Not in it to be snuggled.

Choking every bit,
Of freedom felt and known.
And quite disturbed by it.
This once close knit relationship.
A habit unraveling.
And one now outgrown.

In a grip.
Twisting in a noose.
One chooses to slip loose.
And breathe again freely.
Allowing remembered Sun to shine through.

Undoing questions,
Of whether a life lived can be saved.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Summer Return

the sounds of summer
starting up
in the revving, humming engines
of lawnmowers thawing out
from the long winter’s freeze

the voices of children
carried on the evening distances,
reveling in
sunlight after dinner,
homework laid aside for now
until late-night sunset beckons

the insistent birds and crickets
who cheer the warming air
as night’s cool breath
lets go and offers day,
one step closer
to the sounds of summer
starting up again

[...] Read more

poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
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The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill

I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie,
Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die--
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier, drift or draw;
In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, by avalanche, fang or claw;
By battle, murder or sudden wealth, by pestilence, hooch or lead--
I swore on the Book I would follow and look till I found my tombless dead.

For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss, and his mind was mighty sot
On a dinky patch with flowers and grass in a civilized bone-yard lot.
And where he died or how he died, it didn't matter a damn
So long as he had a grave with frills and a tombstone "epigram".
So I promised him, and he paid the price in good cheechako coin
(Which the same I blowed in that very night down in the Tenderloin).
Then I painted a three-foot slab of pine: "Here lies poor Bill MacKie",
And I hung it up on my cabin wall and I waited for Bill to die.

Years passed away, and at last one day came a squaw with a story strange,
Of a long-deserted line of traps 'way back of the Bighorn range;

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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