No, but Liza took went and took away from me, possibly my livelihood.
quote by David Gest
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Little Liza Jane
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute I'll get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
What's wrong with you what is it you want
Can't forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad it's called Little Liza Jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Hambone Hammer where you've been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man that's three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
the bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
[...] Read more
song performed by Nina Simone
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Little Liza Jean
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute Ill get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
Whats wrong with you what is it you want
Cant forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad its called little liza jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Hambone hammer where youve been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man thats three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
The bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
[...] Read more
song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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Liza May
LITTLE brown face full of smiles,
And a baby's guileless wiles,
Liza May, Liza May.
Eyes a-peeping thro' the fence
With an interest intense,
Liza May.
Ah, the gate is just ajar,
And the meadow is not far,
Liza May, Liza May.
And the road feels very sweet,
To your little toddling feet,
Liza May.
Ah, you roguish runaway,
What will toiling mother say,
Liza May, Liza May?
What care you who smile to greet
Everyone you chance to meet,
Liza May?
Soft the mill-race sings its song,
Just a little way along,
Liza May, Liza May.
But the song is full of guile,
Turn, ah turn, your steps the while,
Liza May.
You have caught the gleam and glow
Where the darkling waters flow,
Liza May, Liza May.
Flash of ripple, bend of bough,
Where are all the angels now?
Liza May.
Now a mother's eyes intense
Gazing o'er a shabby fence,
Liza May, Liza May.
Then a mother's anguished face
Peering all around the place,
Liza May.
Hear the agonizing call
For a mother's all in all,
Liza May, Liza May.
Hear a mother's maddened prayer
To the calm unanswering air,
Liza May.
What's become of — Liza May?
What has darkened all the day?
Liza May, Liza May.
Ask the waters dark and fleet,
If they know the smiling, sweet
Liza May.
Call her, call her as you will,
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Liza Jane
Well, I got a girl thats so good to me (woh, little liza)
Well, now she aint more than five foot three (woh, little liza)
Well, this little girl is so good to me (woh, little liza)
Yeah, this little girls nearly half of me (woh, little liza)
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
I got a girl, ? (woh, little liza)
Yeah, this little girl turn me upside down (woh, little liza)
Well, all of the little girls that I had (woh, little liza)
You know this little girl drives me to despair (woh, little liza)
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Yeah, I got a girl who loves me true (woh, little liza)
Now she aint more than five foot two, yeah (woh, little liza)
You know this little girl is so good for me, yeah (woh, little liza)
You know this little girls nearly half of me (woh, little liza)
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Little liza jane
Oh yeah, I love her
Little liza jane
Well, Im coming back to me love
cause shes driving insane
When will I meet her
song performed by David Bowie
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The Rivals
'TWAS three an' thirty year ago,
I When I was ruther young, you know,
I had my last an' only fight
About a gal one summer night.
'Twas me an' Zekel Johnson; Zeke
'N' me 'd be'n spattin' 'bout a week,
Each of us tryin' his best to show
That he was Liza Jones's beau.
We couldn't neither prove the thing,
Fur she was fur too sharp to fling
One over fur the other one
An' by so doin' stop the fun
That we chaps didn't have the sense
To see she got at our expense,
But that's the way a feller does,
Fur boys is fools an' allus was.
An' when they's females in the game
I reckon men's about the same.
Well, Zeke an' me went on that way
An' fussed an' quarrelled day by day;
While Liza, mindin' not the fuss,
Jest kep' a-goin' with both of us,
Tell we pore chaps, that's Zeke an' me,
Was jest plum mad with jealousy.
Well, fur a time we kep' our places,
An' only showed by frownin' faces
An' looks 'at well our meanin' boded
How full o' fight we both was loaded.
At last it come, the thing broke out,
An' this is how it come about.
One night ('t was fair, you'll all agree)
I got Eliza's company,
An' leavin' Zekel in the lurch,
Went trottin' off with her to church.
An' jest as we had took our seat
(Eliza lookin' fair an' sweet),
Why, I jest couldn't help but grin
When Zekel come a-bouncin' in
As furious as the law allows.
He'd jest be'n up to Liza's house,
To find her gone, then come to church
To have this end put to his search.
I guess I laffed that meetin' through,
An' not a mortal word I knew
Of what the preacher preached er read
Er what the choir sung er said.
Fur every time I'd turn my head
I couldn't skeercely help but see
'At Zekel had his eye on me.
An' he 'ud sort o' turn an' twist
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Liza Jane
Youve got my number
Youve got my name
So why dont you call me
Little liza jane
Youve got that body
Youve got that frame
So why dont you call me
Little liza jane
Girl I got it bad for you
There aint nothin I wont do
Just one kiss and Ill never be the same
Little liza jane, oh little liza jane
Now youve heard my story
Youve got to know my name
So why dont you call me
Little liza jane
Chorus
song performed by Vince Gill
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London Types: 'Liza
'Liza's old man's perhaps a little shady,
'Liza's old woman's prone to booze and cring;
But 'Liza deems herself a perfect lady,
And proves it in her feathers and her fringe.
For 'Liza has a bloke her heart to cheer,
With pearlies and a barrer and a jack,
So all the vegetables of the year
Are duly represented on her back.
Her boots are sacrifices to her hats,
Which knock you speechless-like a load of bricks!
Her summer velvets dazzle Wanstead Flats,
And cost, at times, a good eighteen-and-six.
Withal, outside the gay and giddy whirl,
'Liza's a stupid, straight, hard-working girl.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Rivals
Look heah! Is I evah tole you 'bout de curious way I won
Anna Liza? Say, I nevah? Well heah's how de thing wuz done.
Lize, you know, wuz mighty purty —dat's been forty yeahs ago —
'N 'cos to look at her dis minit, you might'n spose dat it wuz so.
She wuz jes de greates' 'traction in de county, 'n bless de lam'!
Eveh darkey wuz a-co'tin, but it lay 'twix me an' Sam.
You know Sam. We both wuz wukin' on de ole John Tompkin's place.
'N evehbody wuz a-watchin' t' see who's gwine to win de race.
Hee! hee! hee! Now you mus' raley 'scuse me fu' dis snickering,
But I jes can't he'p f'om laffin' eveh time I tells dis thing.
Ez I wuz a-sayin', me an' Sam wuked daily side by side,
He a-studyin', me a-studyin', how to win Lize fu' a bride.
Well, de race was kinder equal. Lize wuz sorter on de fence;
Sam he had de mostes dollars, an' I had de mostes sense.
Things dey run along 'bout eben tel der come Big Meetin' day;
Sam den thought, to win Miss Liza, he had foun' de shoest way.
An' you talk about big meetin's! None been like it 'fore nor sence;
Der wuz sich a crowd o' people dat we had to put up tents.
Der wuz preachers f'om de Eas', an' 'der wuz preachers f'om de Wes';
Folks had kilt mos' eveh chicken, an' wuz fattenin' up de res'.
Gals had all got new w'ite dresses, an' bought ribbens fu' der hair,
Fixin' fu' de openin' Sunday, prayin' dat de day'd be fair.
Dat de Reveren' Jasper Jones of Mount Moriah, it wuz 'low'd,
Wuz to preach de openin' sermon; so you know der wuz a crowd.
Fu' dat man wuz sho a preacher; had a voice jes like a bull;
So der ain't no use in sayin' dat de meetin' house wuz full.
Folks wuz der f'om Big Pine Hollow, some come 'way f'om Muddy Creek,
Some come jes to stay fu' Sunday, but de crowd stay'd thoo de week.
Some come ridin' in top-buggies wid de w'eels all painted red,
Pulled by mules dat run like rabbits, each one tryin' to git ahead.
Othah po'rer folks come drivin' mules dat leaned up 'ginst de shaf',
Hitched to broke-down, creaky wagons dat looked like dey'd drap in half.
But de bigges' crowd come walkin', wid der new shoes on der backs;
'Scuse wuz dat dey couldn't weah em 'cause de heels wuz full o' tacks.
[...] Read more
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Cyrus In The Moonlight
Oh the hills are full of spirits
And they walk when night comes round
And they speak to who they choose to
When the moon is shining down
And ramona loves the orchard
And liza loves the pine
And cyrus in the moonlight
Loves the flowing of the wine
Oh cyrus trusts the spirits
And they fill his life with grace
Yeah the father of his fathers
Passed him down the gift of faith
And one night you might hear it
Like a wailing from above
Its just cyrus in the moonlight
Singing to the one he loves...
And the two girls start to dancing
When they hear that drunken voice
Thats when cyrus asks the moonlight
Do I have to make a choice
tween liza with her red hair
And ramona with her blues
And with all these gifts they bring me
Tell me how can I refuse
Well the hills are full of spirits
And they walk when night comes round
And they speak to who they choose to
When the moon is shining down
And ramona loves the orchard
And liza loves the pine
And cyrus in the moonlight
Loves the flowing of the wine
And one night you might hear it
Like a wailing from above
Its just cyrus in the moonlight
Singing to the one he loves...
song performed by Cyndi Lauper
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Mixed-up Song
Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no
Little lamb, little lamb
It followed her to
Red Robin. Yum!
And crossed the street
In the middle, in the middle
Of the hole in the bucket
Dear Liza, dear Liza
There’s a hole in the bucket
Dear Liza, on the clock
And the party ain’t stopping
No-o-o-oh! No-o-o-oh!
But the party don’t start til Trale Lewous walks in…
Hey, it's me. Trale Lewous.
People have been eating since medieval times
Colors were invented in the 1950s
If the 1950s and medieval times had a baby, it would be Skitells.
Skitells are. Really good.
Fruit salad, yummy yummy
It makes me dance like a fool, forget that
Old King Cole was a merry old soul
And a merry old soul was he
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he makes me
Feel like I’m livin’ a
Teenage dream
The way he turns me on
I can’t sleep
Let’s run away and p-p-poker face p-p-poker face
I wanna hold ‘em like they do in Texas please
So no no no no baby no no no no don’t lie
Stop sstop stop sstop stop lying
Na na na na na na na-a.
Na na na na na na-a.
U-u, u-u, u-u, undo it!
The end.
Implanted Tragedies
What could be possibly said,
About that which is observed and denied?
When those are exposed to treason imposed...
And yet wish to protect this deception they chose.
It is best to shut and keep one's mouth closed.
Or defamation of character becomes a campaign toast.
But either way...
A stepping on one's toes is desrespectfully displayed.
What could be possibly said,
About what is there and on our streets?
With no direct discussion concerning what disgusts,
Other than what fibered diet is suitable for a regular flush...
That can not be beaten with a cleansing complete.
Without negativity thrusted with more trust,
That erupts!
People feed on corruption as if being fed a treat.
What could be possibly said,
To those addicted to be lead.
And be fed delusions they fight,
To keep in their heads in darkness,
As if glued to ensure this remains inside,
Snug fitting with a tightness instead.
While those who express they could care less,
Yet complain...
Seem to have a desire to inspire this,
As missions to claimed.
Leaving one to wonder,
Why many read the obituaries...
With a priority to see if their names are there.
Or someone they knew,
But never approached to speak to.
By the same folks who declare a devotion,
To communal unity with an ongoing hypocrisy.
What could be possibly said,
About these implanted tragedies.
Without negativity thrusted with more trust,
That erupts!
People feed on corruption as if being fed a treat.
What could be possibly said,
To awaken the dead?
Absolutely nothing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Charades
I.
She stood at Greenwich, motionless amid
The ever-shifting crowd of passengers.
I marked a big tear quivering on the lid
Of her deep-lustrous eye, and knew that hers
Were days of bitterness. But, 'Oh! what stirs'
I said 'such storm within so fair a breast?'
Even as I spoke, two apoplectic curs
Came feebly up: with one wild cry she prest
Each singly to her heart, and faltered, 'Heaven be blest!'
Yet once again I saw her, from the deck
Of a black ship that steamed towards Blackwall.
She walked upon MY FIRST. Her stately neck
Bent o'er an object shrouded in her shawl:
I could not see the tears--the glad tears--fall,
Yet knew they fell. And 'Ah,' I said, 'not puppies,
Seen unexpectedly, could lift the pall
From hearts who KNOW what tasting misery's cup is,
As Niobe's, or mine, or Mr. William Guppy's.'
* * *
Spake John Grogblossom the coachman to Eliza Spinks the cook:
'Mrs. Spinks,' says he, 'I've foundered: 'Liza dear, I'm overtook.
Druv into a corner reglar, puzzled as a babe unborn;
Speak the word, my blessed 'Liza; speak, and John the coachman's yourn.'
Then Eliza Spinks made answer, blushing, to the coachman John:
'John, I'm born and bred a spinster: I've begun and I'll go on.
Endless cares and endless worrits, well I knows it, has a wife:
Cooking for a genteel family, John, it's a goluptious life!
'I gets 20 pounds per annum--tea and things o' course not reckoned, -
There's a cat that eats the butter, takes the coals, and breaks MY
SECOND:
There's soci'ty--James the footman;--(not that I look after him;
But he's aff'ble in his manners, with amazing length of limb -
'Never durst the missis enter here until I've said 'Come in':
If I saw the master peeping, I'd catch up the rolling-pin.
Christmas-boxes, that's a something; perkisites, that's something too;
And I think, take all together, John, I won't be on with you.'
John the coachman took his hat up, for he thought he'd had enough;
Rubbed an elongated forehead with a meditative cuff;
Paused before the stable doorway; said, when there, in accents mild,
'She's a fine young 'oman, cook is; but that's where it is, she's
spiled.'
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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Ode to Liza Minnelli
I spray Paint Your Image on The
Graffiti Mural'd Walls
Between Dundas West & Keele
Subway Stations, As a
'Red Headed Beggar Girl'
Crawling Towards Me on Your Knees,
Against the Backdropp of The
Copper
Metal
Chasm?
With My Black Eye Liner I Draw You
As a Crude Stick Figure on The
Smudged Up Mirror, of a
Filthy Public Washroom,
I Finger Paint You as The
Forbidden Modern Primitive!
Wintering a Tropical Soundscape of My Heart,
I Scribble You In Gold & Silver & Violet Crayon
On a Pink Piece of Construction
Paper,
& Magnet it on My Parents Refridgerator,
& Wonder if They REALLY
Like it?
'There is No Chosen Race in Nature'
….The Droppings of Last Weeks Trip out
are Still Scattered upon our Floor,
You Stand, Sandwhiched Alone Here, WHOLE!
In a Divided Kingdom Between
Heaven & Earth! Death,
& Re-birth!
Ready to Flee away from Me
With Shelley's 'West Wind', You Stand!
Knowing
That 'The Elements in Modern Society
Destructive of The Best Qualities
Of Human Nature'
Have Been Laid out Mercilessly
For our Insatiable Eyes
Countless Times, You Stand!
Hands on Hip, Knowing that The Wise
Words
Of the Greatest Souls who have passed
Through this Terrifying
Place
Have Fallen Upon Deaf Ears,
You Stand for 30 Years! Where only The
Holy Ghost Shall
Shall Come upon Thee,
All the Infinite Beasts of the Bitter Fields
Yield to Ye!
[...] Read more
poem by Stedmond M. Pardy
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 28
It is related that an athlete had been reduced to the greatest distress by adverse fortune. His throat being capacious and his hands unable to fill it, he complained to his father and asked him for permission to travel as he hoped to be hoped to be able to gain a livelihood by the strength of his arm.
Excellence and skill are lost unless exhibited.
Lignum aloes is placed on fire and musk rubbed.
The father replied: ‘My son, get rid of this vain idea and place the feet of contentment under the skirt of safety because great men have said that happiness does not consist in exertion and that the remedy against want is in the moderation of desires.
No one can grasp the skirt of luck by force.
It is useless to put vasmah on a bald man’s brow.
If thou hast two hundred accomplishments for each hair of thy head
They will be of no use if fortune is unpropitious.
What can an athlete do with adverse luck?
The arm of luck is better than the arm of strength.
The son rejoined: ‘Father, the advantages of travel are many, such as recreation of the mind entailing profit, seeing of wonderful and hearing of strange things, recreation in cities, associating with friends, acquisition of dignity, rank, property, the power of discriminating among acquaintances and gaining experience of the world, as the travellers in the Tariqat have said:
As long as thou walkest about the shop or the house
Thou wilt never become a man, 0 raw fellow.
Go and travel in the world
Before that day when thou goest from the world.’
The father replied: ‘My son, the advantages of travel such as thou hast enumerated them are countless but they regard especially five classes of men: firstly, a merchant who possesses in consequence of his wealth and power graceful male and female slaves and quick-handed assistants, alights every day in another town and every night in another place, has recreation every moment and sometimes enjoys the delights of the world.’
A rich man is not a stranger in mountain, desert or solitude.
Wherever he goes he pitches a tent and makes a sleeping place;
Whilst he who is destitute of the goods of this world
Must be in his own country a stranger and unknown.
Secondly, a scholar, who is for the pleasantness of his speech, the power of his eloquence and the fund of his instruction, waited upon and honoured wherever he goes.
The presence of a learned man is like pure gold
Whose power and price is known wherever he goes.
An ignorant fellow of noble descent resembles Shahrua,
Which nobody accepts in a foreign country.
Thirdly, handsome fellows with whom the souls of pious men are inclined to commingle because it has been said that a little beauty is better than much wealth. An attractive face is also said to be a slave to despondent hearts and the key to locked doors, wherefore the society of such a person is everywhere known to be very acceptable:
A beautiful person meets with honour and respect everywhere
Although perhaps driven away in anger by father and mother.
I have seen a peacock feather in the leaves of the Quran.
I said: ‘I see thy position is higher than thy deserts.’
It said: ‘Hush, whoever is endowed with beauty,
Wherever he places his foot, hands are held out to receive it.’
When a boy is symmetrical and heart-robbing
It matters not if his father disowns him.
He is a jewel which must not remain in a shell.
A precious pearl everyone desires to buy.
Fourthly, one with a sweet voice, who retains, with a David-like throat, water from flowing and birds from soaring. By means of this talent he holds the hearts of people captive and religious men are delighted to associate with him.
[...] Read more
Murder
Murder
Coming to get us
Theyre coming to get us for the way we are
Murder
See it all around us
See it all around us for the way we are
Murder
Coming to get us
Theyre coming to get us for the way we are
The way we hide
Tie me to a tree
Tie my hands above my head
Sing a song to me
Sing a song like what you said
Ohhhhh... (murder)
Ohhhhh... (murder)
Cause theyre gonna murder me
Theyre gonna drag me down
Even before I sleep
I cry murder
Come spit at us
Come and throw your weight around
Come and fight with us
Try and knock us to the ground
Cause theyre gonna murder me
Theyre gonna drag me down
Even before I sleep
I cry murder
Murder...
Oh now what can it possibly gain
Oh what could it possibly gain
Oh what could it possibly gain
And what could it possibly gain...
(Cry murder, murder, I cry murder)
Murder
Coming to get us
Theyre coming to get us for the way we are
Murder
See it all around us
See it all around us for the way we are
song performed by Coldplay
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Hers And Mine
I look into my eyes
Beautiful kohl lined
Sad eyes,
Shiny with tears.
Tears unshed,
Tears controlled,
Tears saved from
Yesterday,
Possibly today.
I look deeper
Beyond the shine of those tears.
I see my soul,
Her eyes a reflection
Of mine.
Beautiful kohl lined,
Sad eyes.
In them,
I see the same wait
Which I see in mine.
I see the same pain
Which I feel in mine.
Tears unshed,
Tears controlled,
Tears saved from yesterday,
Possibly from today.
Her loneliness,
A bigger cry than mine.
But, something sets her apart,
There exists a difference,
There exists a spark,
Which I guess is missing in mine.
I see in her eyes
The spark called
"Hope"
A wish called
"tomorrow".
The determination
She will someday find
What she sought
Yet could not find
Yesterday,
Possibly will not find
Even today.
But tommorow
Will be the day
She will no longer need to cry
The tears unshed
Tears controlled,
Tears saved from yesterday
Possibly today.-anjali
poem by Anjali Kakati
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A Story About A Wedding and My Friend and Poverty and Joblessness
i met an old classmate
today
at the wedding of
a newly appointed high school teacher
my ex-classmate is jobless and his wife
looks like
an old sickly monkey with less hair on her head
(forgive me but that is
the only possible
adjective that
i can give)
he is fat and feels like
a louse
(i am sorry
i am intruding into his
own feelings)
he does not like me
his eyes are shouting at me
possibly because we look the same
possibly because we too
feel the same
possibly because our wives look
like twins
possibly because the weather is bad
and people do not mind us
because everyone is hungry and
there is nothing much to eat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heart...and...Heart
When the heart fallen in love then the heart will say...
The heart certain will be flowery.
The heart certain will feel sweet.
The heart certain always will miss.
The heart must always feel the love in the love.
The heart certain would be desire.
When the heart feel in the longing then the heart will speak...
The heart wanted the warm embrace.
The heart wanted the sweetheart's kiss.
The heart always wanted to be friends with the love in solitude.
Possibly the heart shouted and cried.
Possibly the heart was felt by pain and bitter.
Heart..and..heart.
Never i'knew how the heart situation.
Because the heart could fallen in love.
The heart could also become the wound.
Possibly the heart could smile.
Felt by pain possibly the heart missed.
Heart..and..heart how your situation?
poem by Dwi utami
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Little Different
Spider, though you are small
and I am big, we're
undisimilar, pal.
From luna wings
and flies red eyes
and rays of white lamp light
you spin the thin web
of your livelihood
from leaf to limb;
while from bread-crusts
and aliquots of wine
and the salt of quiet
I spin prayers
disguised as poems-a
livelihood, sort of, to blow,
subtle as smoke-
rings, over the horizon,
across the straits of soon.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Plight or Hunger
It is not plight or hunger
People are burning with anger
With decades and centuries passing over
They have yet to find shelter or cover
They have no means to find square meals
Someone is there at the top to steal
Their means of livelihood
Their only hope to live nicely in the neighborhood
We have stooped so below
We can’t see others happy or allow
We thrive on coffers business
No worry lines even on face
They have enough patience to tolerate
They know it is futile on their part to relate
Who has time to care for human values?
Their only aim is to deny the legitimate dues
Even sun does not spare them from burning rays
They have to toil hard with hard ways
Their babies cry for the want of milk or food
What else is there to feel so good?
Yet they have lion’s heart
They stand erect and look smart
They have high respect and honor for others
Except few essential things they don’t have to bother
No noise or flutter is created
Babies are silently cremated
River washes their remains silently
They watch it go quietly
I will give full marks to their tolerance
They deserve all kudos and praise hence
Poor are not burden on anybody
They are pulling on this earth for somebody
We may err if they are under estimated
Their position is not understood and clearly stated
They need proper care and attention
If basic values are realized and needs retention
It is not plight or hunger
People are burning with anger
With decades and centuries passing over
They have yet to find shelter or cover
[...] Read more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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