Buried epitaphs
For a wilted wallflower
Tirade of morose
haiku by Norman Santos
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Wallflower
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im sad and lonely too.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im fallin in love with you.
Just like you Im wondrin what Im doin here.
Just like you Im wondrin whats goin on.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
The night will soon be gone.
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze
And I know that youre gonna be mine one of these days,
Mine alone.
Wallflower, wallflower
Take a chance on me.
Please let me ride you home.
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
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Wallflower
I remember when I was young,
the wallflower I used to be.
I would sit and watch
others gaze into each other’s eyes,
seeing the passion burning there.
All the time I was thinking,
will this ever happen to me?
Many times, I tried to excerpt myself,
and for my effort
received questioning stares.
Who is this weirdo?
Where did he come from?
It was a frustrating time, for this wallflower,
who on the shelf would remain.
I had no chat up lines,
only a pen and pad,
everyone who looked at me,
must have thought that I was mad.
I’d go to a party on the odd occasion I was invited,
sit in the corner on my own.
No one would talk to the odd man out.
Therefore, I would leave,
just the way I had come,
no one on my arm,
for that lonely trek home.
All the time I wondered,
is this the way my life is going to be.
A wallflower on a lonely shelf.
Shyness is an awful thing,
and it is very lonely.
For friends seem so very few.
I found out much later.
That I just had to let myself go.
Much to my surprise in doing it.
I was no longer a wallflower on a lonely shelf.
poem by David Harris
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Wall Engulfed By Shy Flowers
There is a rendezvous with flamboyance -
a stillness gilded by the peace of detachment
as tacit as the uncurling of moonflowers
when the night sprawls on her divan
and raises her goblet to the distant stars -
and he alone, in his howling dungeons, can
usurp the esoteric grandiosity in malcontent
Everything is intimate and close
in the sterile skin of your vulnerability -
the drifting autumn wind, the lifted eyelids,
the dancing lips, the glaring waltzing feet
But in your soliloquy - unraveling threads
that strangulates your recuperating breaths,
your swallowed words raving in the dark
fanning the embers of your glassy heart
the spurious tides of the oceans crash
into a lull amidst your redundant tremors
and everything sink into the unfathomable
There is an agog pleasure basking in
the immensity of monastic pendulums, whilst
the world gyrated in blurs and drifting lights
where the perfume of bliss passes above
the stagnant wind sculling our little breaths
the montage reels in the infinitesimal gilts
elsewhere held from the malingerers
There is an effulgent hymn immersed deep
in the cacophony of the world's manifold rhythms
like cathedral bells trembling from the hollows
that echoed through the gold insularity,
like a siren scintillating in the furnace of the sea
a charade, a riddle, born by loquacious maladies
When the pastels are pillaged to a halt,
when the only judge is the frost and fog,
when solace is the thief of the endless night,
he indulges into a dance and a song -
A fire burns underneath his sole and
a lilt titillates from his lifted susurrations
and reticence was eroding with the embers
whilst loneliness burns like red roses
and the web of bridges suspended above
The clockwork salutes fell unbeknownst
into a bottomless ocean of rigmaroles unto
the fusillade of your silence - a salient armada,
a sentry amidst the collapsing of confusion,
a terse bridge that burns with inner caliginosity,
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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Allurement
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Seals loves secret with a beautiful kiss
Into the lake, her soul then dips
With loves secret that our own hearts miss
A morose muse, following capricious whims
Wanders to the lake azure, searching for bliss
And in its beautiful waves his heart swims
So with his body the muse jumps in
Bliss! Bliss! Swimming in her mist
The morose muse searches beneath the lakes pretty surface
And sees an emanating jewel, a violet amethyst
With gold brewing in the center, like a ardent furnace
Echoes of love, his ears tenderly hear
Emanating from the jewel at the bottom of the lake
With a torrential gush, and no fear
The muse swims to the jewel, for its beauty to take
"Lost in thy lake, lost in blue! "
The morose muse hears the amethyst express
"Sad I am, I'll drown for you!
The morose muse utters in a profound profess
To the amethyst's heart of gold mortal distress
The morose muse looses breathe and sinks slowly
To the bottom of the lake of deep azure
Ascending to the heights of the sky holy
Falling in the traps of his beauties allure
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Breaks the stone of her love's amulet
And kisses the lips, of the drowning muse
And dies, like the heart of Romeo's Juliet!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Buried Alive
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I hate my life
The miracle is coming its just a hole
Nothings wrong with you, just maintain control
Everyones asking questions, your place is safe
Ill forfeit resurrection to escape the pain
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
The storm of thorns is growing
There is no end in sight
Chaos claws my jaw
Thank Metal riot
Im in the mouth of madness with this tongue of poetry
I ate the spine of atlas, now the world is crushing me
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
Buried behind enemy lines
Surrogate child for the sins of all mankind
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
For the sins of all mankind
song performed by Otep
Added by Lucian Velea
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Buried Treasure
Now if the aim in your life is to settle me down
I couldnt change my point of view
I got a lady in red at the back of my head
But the women in white is you
Do you wanna be the only one
Fade away in the morning sun
I could love you all of my life
You are my wife
Havent I let you know
We dont need no buried treasure
No buried treasure - we dont need it
We dont stand on ceremony
I love you only - Im proud of it
You can never be all you wanna be
When youre living for gold
We dont need no buried treasure
I still got you
I still go you in my soul
Well its a long way down and you gotta get up
You got to figure on a master plan
You couldnt do it if you dont get ready
When youre beaten by the other man
Do you wanna be the last one in
Play the game that you just dont win
I can see me making you cry
Saying goodbye
But I could never let you go
We dont need no buried treasure
No buried treasure - we dont need it
We dont stand on ceremony
I love you only - Im proud of it
You can never be all you wanna be
When youre living for gold
We dont need no buried treasure
I still got you
I still got you in my soul
Well youre taking my life in the palm of your hand
Make you mine for another day
Aint nobody doesnt need anybody
When the good times turn away
I dont wanna be the lonely one
Fade away in the evening sun
I could love you all of my life
You are my wife
Havent I told you so
We dont need no buried treasure
No, buried treasure - we dont need it
We dont stand on ceremony
I love you only - Im proud of it
You can never be all you wanna be
[...] Read more
song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Buried Alive By Love
Again the burden of losing
Rests upon my shoulders
And its weight seems unbearable
Your tomb is where your heart is,
I should have told her
But within me hid a secret so terrible
To cry is to know that you're alive
But my river of tears has run dry
I never wanted to fool you, no
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been buried alive by love
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
Rescue me with your smile
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
Rescue me with your smile
The kiss of vanity you blessed me with, spiritual woman,
Face the gods of war insatiable
Your home is where the dark is, I should have told her
Embrace the fire indestructible
To die is to know that you're alive
And my river of blood won't run dry
I never wanted to lose you, no
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been buried alive by love
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
rescue me with your smile
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
Rescue me with your smile
And they say to cry is to know that you're alive
But my river of tears has run dry
I never wanted to fool you, no
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And a deserted soul is gone
A cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been buried alive by love
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
Rescue me with your smile,
If I should die before I wake
I pray no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
[...] Read more
song performed by H.I.M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Claim To Honour!
I’d been thinking
To be a very great man,
My attribute being poetry,
And my poems highly rated.
I had genuinely believed
That poetry is great gift,
Poet is a superman
And he was venerated.
I had discontentment
That I didn’t get the credit
Which I truly deserved
For my superior poetry.
Poets much junior
And close to political bosses
Got awards and honours.
For, they wrote base flattery.
So, when I died I wrote
An elegy on myself,
A long narrative poem,
Superb in its contents.
Carrying my dead body
I went around the city
Reciting my elegy
To my heart’s full content.
From gate to gate I moved
From street to street I went
At road junctions I stopped,
To drum up support in my favour.
I was firm in my resolve
To get my rightful honour
Which the state had for long
Overlooked to confer.
Sans any modesty
My elegy compared me
With many other poets
And stated my claim.
The elegy eulogized
And compared my talents,
Exalted my skills,
And extolled me to the brim.
“…………………………………………………..
Internatio nal poet …………………………….
……. Multilingual Poet ……………………..
…………….. Mystic, epic poet ………………
[...] Read more
poem by P.K. Joy
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Canto the Fourth
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.
III.
In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.
V.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, thron'd on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she rob'd, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increas'd.
III.
In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone -- but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade -- but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city's vanish'd sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away --
The keystones of the arch! though all were o'er,
For us repeopl'd were the solitary shore.
V.
The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create
And multiply in us a brighter ray
And more belov'd existence: that which Fate
Prohibits to dull life, in this our state
[...] Read more
Buried Alive By Love
I carry the burden that pulls your
Wrist upon my shoulders
And this weight seems so unbearable
Your tomb is where your heart is,
I should have told her
Everything made it seem so terrible
To cry is to know that youre alive
But my river of tears has run dry
I never wanted to fool you
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been buried alive by love
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile
Yesterday was the first time youre so much colder
Then you got someone insatiable
Your home is there in the darkness,
I should have told her
And embrace the fire indestructible
Well to die is to know that youre alive
And my river of blood wont run dry
I never wanted to fool you, no
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been buried alive by love
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile
Oh,it seems to cry is to know that youre alive
And my river of tears has run dry
I never wanted to fool you, no
But a cold heart is a dead heart
And its dead since oh youre gone
A cold heart is a dead heart
And it feels like Ive been
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die,
Rescue me with your smile, oh, baby
If I should die before I wake
There aint no one my soul to take
If I wake before I die, rescue me with your smile
Ive been buried alive by love
Ive been buried alive by love
Buried alive by love
[...] Read more
song performed by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Added by Lucian Velea
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Buried Treasure
Now if the aim in your life is to settle me down I couldn't change my point of view
I got a lady in red at the back of my head but the woman in white is you
Do you wanna be the only one, fade away in the mornin' sun
I could love you all of my life, you are my wife, haven't I let you know-ow
We don't need no buried treasure, no buried treasure, we don't need it
We don't stand on ceremony but life is phony in spite of it
You can never be all you wanna be when you're searchin' for gold
We don't need no buried treasure, I've still got you (still got you, still got you)
I've still got you in my sou-ou-oul
Well it's a long way down and you gotta get up, you gotta figure on a master plan
You couldn't do it, if you don't get ready, you'll be beaten by the other man
Do you wanna be the last one in, play the game that you just don't win
I can see me makin' you cry, sayin' goodbye, but I could never let you go-o
We don't need no buried treasure, no buried treasure, we don't need it
We don't stand on ceremony but life is phony in spite of it
You can never be all you wanna be when you're searchin' for gold
We don't need no buried treasure, I've still got you (still got you, still got you)
I've still got you in my sou-ou-oul
Well you're takin' my life in the palm of your hand, make you mine for another day
Ain't nobody doesn't need anybody when the good times turn away
I don't wanna be the lonely one, fade away in the evenin' sun
I could love you all of my life, you are my wife, haven't I told you so-o
We don't need no buried treasure, no buried treasure, we don't need it
(Baby we don't need i-i-it)
We don't stand on ceremony but life is
song performed by Kenny Rogers
Added by Lucian Velea
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The War Game
I am buried by time,
I am buried by love;
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
I am buried by the heat,
I am buried by the cold,
I am buried by the wings of nature!
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
Keep talking it,
Keep saying it,
Keep doing it,
Keep walking it,
Keep dancing it,
Keep swinging it,
Keep climbing it,
Keep trying it,
Keep asking it,
Keep working it,
Keep moving it,
Keep flying it,
Keep acting it,
All in the time frame to be buried;
Like the War Game in Afghanistan.
Buried under the nature of things,
With bombs exploding from left and right;
Like a message from Herat in Afghanistan.
The War Game,
All in a time frame to be buried;
Keep rolling it,
Keep changing it,
Keep trading it,
Keep building it,
Keep covering it,
Keep painting it,
Keep writing it,
Keep blocking it,
Keep cookin it,
Keep posting it,
Keep accepting it,
Keep driving it,
Keep bombing it,
Keep squeezing it,
Like the war game in Afghanistan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Lambaste Unto Your Shattered Reflection
Softly, the mist came with its trifle attention
lackadaisically promenading in the silver stillness
but nothing in this quiescence is intimate enough
to quell the raving flames of your furnace
shorn openly to desecrate the lacings of faith
I picked up the debris of your blaring tirade,
I cupped the ashes of your sterile lambaste,
I reckoned the vicarious pirouettes with death -
our hands are both tarnished but my soul stifles
under the condemns of your querulous parasol
The godly hands eloquently wove webs with you
until your fulminating repose was a perfect ensnare -
a wreck gnawing on your seams, sifting your dreams
shifting the crooked hands of your maladroit petals
Not now, but little by little, you'll know what I mean
When you catch a glimpse of horror by accident
and your mirrors unveil its light to the effluence
of masquerading faces and words you never knew
The mirrors are muted before your new form
and the light is siphoned by your lamentations
Whilst the phantoms deferred their dissipation
I sing these lamented auguries out of sympathy
and no one is listening but the early dews:
Your destruction cradles a raging tyranny
If I can only convince you to trust me on this
Unmake me a memory, pensive flower
Wither not as you strangle the crumbles of me
with your brambly veins and esoteric maladies
For I have grown abiding to your lingering graze -
A fastidious palette in my lackluster wallflower
poem by Norman Santos
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No Valentine
He waited.
He waited...
But waited too long.
It was unexpected-
The debris was everywhere-
His hope.
He cried till he laughed...
Lonely laughter-
Roses wilted.
His sanity wilted.
His love wilted...
Wind howls...
Rain mourns...
Thunder moans from grief...
Lightning shows sadness...
The sight of heart-shaped balloons,
Teddy bears, chocolate boxes,
Fresh roses-
He leaped off into peace of mind.
poem by Eon Ezkiel
Added by Poetry Lover
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Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 01 - Summer
"Oh, dear, this utterly sweltering season of the highly rampant sun is drawing nigh, and it will always be good enough to go on taking daytime baths, as the lakes and rivers will still be with plenteous waters, and at the end of the day, nightfall will be pleasant with fascinating moon, and in such nights Love-god can somehow be almost mollified...[who tortured us in the previous vernal season... but now without His sweltering us, we can happily enjoy the nights devouring cool soft drinks and dancing and merrymaking in outfields...]
"Oh, beloved one, somewhere the moon shoved the blackish columns of night aside, somewhere else the palace-chambers with water [showering, sprinkling and splashing] machines are highly exciting, and else where the matrices of gems, [like coolant pearls and moon-stone, etc.,] are there, and even the pure sandalwood is liquefied [besides other coolant scents,] thus this season gets an adoration from all the people...
"The beloved ones will enjoy the summer's clear late nights while they are atop the rooftops of buildings that are delightful and fragranced well, while they savour the passion intensifiers like strong drinks and while the ladylove's face suspires the bouquets of those drinks together with melodious instrumental and vocal music...
"The women are ameliorating the heat of their lovers with their chicly silken coolant fineries gliding onto their rotund fundaments, for they are knotted loosely, and on those silks glissading are their golden cinctures with their dangling tassels that are unfastened on and off, and with their buxom bosoms that are bedaubed with sandal-paste and semi-covered with pearly strings and golden lavalieres, and with their locks of hair that are sliding onto their faces, which locks are fragrant with bath-time emulsions, which are just applied before their oil bath...
"Brightly coloured with the reddish foot-paint that is akin to the colour of lac's reddish resin, adorned with anklets that are festooned with jingling bells, whose tintinnabulations on their stepping after stepping mimic the clucks of swans, with such feet those women with bumpy behinds are rendering the hearts of people impassioned, in these days of pre-summer...
"These days the bosoms of womenfolk are bedaubed with scents and sandal-paste, and they are given out to snowily and whitely pearly pendants that are sported on those bosoms, and even their hiplines are with the dangling golden griddle-strings, with such a lovely ostentation whose heart is it, that does not fill with raptures...
"The seams of limbs of ladies of age are conquered by the often emerging sweat, thus those peaky bosomed lustful ladies are presently banding their bosoms with softish fineries, casting aside their roughish apparels ...
"The rustles of air comprising the aroma of watered sandal-paste, blown off by the fans with peacocks' plumage, and the rustle of strings of pearls when the roundish bosoms of loves are hugged, together with the subtle melody of string instruments, and subtly sung intonations of singers, now appear to awaken Love-god, Manmatha, who is as though asleep after his manoeuvres in the last spring season...
"On leisurely seeing the faces of the maids that are comfortably sleeping well on the tops of whitish edifices, the moon of these nights is highly ecstasized, for he is unpossessed with any such flawless face, as his own face is flawed with rabbit-like, deer-like foibles, and when the night dwindles, he doubtlessly goes into state of pallidity, as though ashamed to show his face to the flawless sun...
"The intolerable westerly wind of the summer is up-heaving the clouds of dust, even the earth is ablaze, set by the blazing sun, and the itinerants whose hearts are already put to blaze by the blazing called the detachment from their ladyloves, and now it has become impossible for them even to look at the blazing earth, to tread further...
"The reigning sun's torridity rendered the animals parched, and with unquenchable thirst highly shrivelled are their tongues, throats and lips, and on seeing kneaded blackish mascara like mirages on the sky in another forest, that are cloudlike in their shine, those animals are rushing there, presuming them to be water...
"The women of charm are with smiles and slanted looks, and now they are on par with the twilights that are ornamented with a beautiful ornament called moon, and they are now decorating themselves confusedly and they are inciting the incorporeal Love-god in the hearts of itinerants...
"Extremely seared by the rays of sun, and even by the already seared dust on the pathway, with its slithery motion and downcast hood, repeatedly suspiring when being scalded thus awfully, that serpent is sinking down under the pave of peacock's plumage, distrait of the fact that a peacock is an enemy of serpents, thus distrait is the relative danger from a born enemy or from the searing summer...
"Thwarted are the valorousness and venturesomeness of that king of animals, the lion, for the thirst is abnormal, thereby gaping his mouth much lengthily, and suspiring repeatedly with a lengthened and dangling tongue, and repeatedly whisking his frontal hair of the mane, that lion is not pawing the elephants, though they are at his nearby, and though they both of them are born rivals, thus the scalding summer cooled off their mutual contempt...
"Verily dried up are their throats, but somehow some cool water remaining in their trunks is brought to those dry throats with the prehensility of their trunks, but too scanty is that water for those mega-vores, further muchly scorched by sun's scorching rays and overpowered by heightened thirst, even those water-seeking tuskers are unafraid of those nearby lions, as negligible is the physical danger than the natural danger...
"The scorching sunrays that are akin to the tongues of blazed up Ritual-fire, by them the bodies as well as the souls of peacocks are wilted, thus they wedge their faces in the pack of their plumage for certain coolness, and though they mark the serpents that are milling about under the very same plumage through the plumes and feathers, they peck not those serpents to death, as their priority is to cool off their faces and heads...
"The slime in the ponds is dried up but in some areas Bhadramusta grass is available, and while the herd of wild boars is digging up that grass with their long and broad snouts for a piggish slumber, the sunrays have highly sweltered their backs, but that herd dug the dry swamp more and more, as though to enter the interior of earth, to get a mucky, miry, muddy slumber...
"With the unbearable prickly heat of sunrays highly seared is a frog, and jumping up from a pond with mud and muddy water, it jumped to sit under the shade of a parasol, called the hood of a snake... neither thirstier frog is aware that it is the shade of a snake's hood, nor the thirstiest snake is aware that it is shading a thirsty frog...
"When each other elephant is highly huddling, belaboured is that lake by their elephantine limbs, and completely uprooted are the tall slender stems of lilies and lotuses of that lake, without any remnants of standing lotuses or lilies, thus trampled and agglutinated with mud, they are heaped up under the feet of elephants, and ill-fated are the fishes when trodden by elephants underfoot, and the Saarasa waterfowls are fleeing with fear of this rumpus...
"Akin to sunshine upcast is irradiance of the jewel on its hood, and wigwagging is its twinned tongue licking the air, and it is seared by its own venom, by fiery soil, and by the searing sun as well, and thus tottering thirstily, that hooded serpent is not draining the dregs of frogs, to the dregs...
"Frothily gaping and reeling are the two-pieced snouts, and jerkily extruding are the lightly reddened tongues, and staggering thirstily looking for water with upraised snouts, those herds of she-buffalos are extruding from the caves of mountain with such snouts and gaits, wherein they took shade from the scorching sun so far, but thirst drove them out of those cool caves...
"Extremely withered as though by wildfire and utterly shrivelled are the tender stalks of crops, and windswept by harsh winds they are uprooted and completely wilted and reduced to straw, and all over scorched are they in an overall manner as the water is evaporated, and if seen from highlands till the end of forest, this summer is foisting upon the onlookers a kind of disconcert, as the straw in the wind about the monsoon is unnoticeable...
"Perching on the trees with wilted leaves, flocks of birds are hyperventilating, the overtired troops of monkeys are going nigh of viny caves on the mountain, the water-craving herds of buffalos are rambling hither and thither, the straight flying Sharabha birds are nose-diving into wells and easily lifting up the water...
"The wildfire, that is simulative of a just blossomed bright and fierily ochreish safflower, is exceedingly speedy and further whipped up by the speed of the wind it is eagerly embracing the treetops, that are on the banks of lakes and rivers, with tongues of fire, onto which trees the apices of climber plants are eager to embrace, thus that wildfire has burnt down every quarter of land, in a trice...
"That wildfire, now intensified by the gusts, is blazing the valleys of mountains, and thus skittering across it entered the stands of bamboos, only to shatter them in a second with clattering rattles, then escalated by gusts it is overspreading the straw fields, then from their within, on smacking the perimeter of straw-field, it is broiling the herds of deer, tumultuously ...
[...] Read more
poem by Kalidasa
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The Wilted Rose
I once observed a wilted Rose
Clipped before its time
How sad it was to see
It broke this heart of mine
I thought of what might have been
Bad this Rose been left to grow
The beauty of a single flower
For all the world to know
But then again I thought
There's more here to learn
The thought of resurrected love
Does make my heart to burn
Herein lies the secrest of love and life
For all of us to share
Give thanks and praise to God
For wilted Rose to bear
This Rose I saw and understood
That hang upon the tree
He wilted, died and rose again
Just for love of me.
poem by Dan J. Najvar
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Wilted Flower
She was a wilted flower
When I first saw her
Standing against the wall
She became a movie star
A glamorous, breathtaking
Movie star
I saw her yesterday
She is a wilted flower once more
Hoping
Praying
Dreaming
That someday
She will bloom again
She was a wilted flower
When I first saw her
poem by Gary Revel
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Flower In The Sun
Oh please don't you think baby that i have been wrong to cry, yeah.
You loved me, too,
So how come you just sit there and laugh
And laugh and laugh and laugh ?
Things just can't be this way
Not for very long
No no no no no no no no no no no no no no.
Our love affair, yes it's just history, yes it is.
And i tried to love you in my own way,
I think that you know i did.
But to have you here, to see you living,
Oh so near to me, yeah, hey, hey, hey.
Oh but you are distant and so it's dead
And so often people are glad to be old, 'cause yeah,
Our love affair is just history, yes it is.
Once in a green time a flower
Oh, fell in love with the sun.
The passion lasted for an hour
And then she wilted from her loved one.
Once in a green time a flower
Oh, fell in love with the sun.
The passion lasted for an hour
And then she wilted, wilted from her loved one.
And i see you looking up at the sky, how high it is.
You wonder if there is, whoa another me
Now how can that be, honey how can it be ?
Well, i sit here and i ask you, why all this ?
I just got toni-ni-ni-night
Our love affair is just a history
Well, it's all over, baby, it's over, baby,
I can't stand another lo-lo-lonely,
I'm never too lonely.
It's over baby,
I can't help it 'cause i just cry inside,
I just cry inside,
Oh baby, oh baby, don't you feel me moving,
Oh baby, oh baby, don't you hear me crying ?
Well i don't, i don't have to, yeah,
I said now i hurt you, hurt me too now,
Oh baby, oh baby ...
song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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