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A mountain speaks

I stood atop a mountain high
Surveyed the vastness of the sky
With arms extended outwardly
A moments thought inspirit me.
I pray you mount, I beg bespeak
Please share with me your grand mystique;
Bestow on me the things you know.
An echo thrice said, “No! .. No! .. No! ”
Why? I asked, disconcertingly
Meaning is all I seek, only
Please, please impart what I should know.
Again the echo, ” No! .. No! .. No! ”
Instantly it began to rain
‘Twas then my quest was all in vain.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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To Marvel

To marvel at the miracle is haste,
Much slaughter happens when one is weak,
This creature vanishes when it is chased,
A frenzy instant crazes us - bespeak!

The nature of our lives must hasten form,
The forms abound in riches each do weep,
Has treasure found a word indulged by norm?
Open the doors by force and be asleep.

Because of your creation of hitting,
One felt over the hills a sense of wish,
Internal whims practise abolishing,
Hills make us full of hate, to astonish.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Birth Of Verse

The words unspoken rest within the tomes
of dictionaries and thesauruses
Their overpopulated muted homes
await the poet to give them voices.
'Oh! Wordy friends, beseech your help I must.
Inspire me with living elements
that I may structure verse with words I trust.
Let truth bespeak my worthiness intent.
And give it rhythmic regularity.
Allow its message avenues of grand.
Have muse, Erato, speak with clarity
to humankind and make them understand
that poetry, the universe of love
and Truth is His only recourse thereof.'

poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Sketch

The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression; every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought. -He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold
With envy what the Old Man hardly feels.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Animal Tranquillity and Decay

The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the roads, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression: every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought.--He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect that the young behold
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Bespeak Oh Reverent Soul!

Bespeak Oh reverent soul! !
Tempest has falleth.
O’er the oceans of silence.
O'er the vapors of dream.


Nightingale sings peace.
A lover's seared heart whales.

Don’t you hear their call?
Through the canopies of trees?
Across the sandal forests.
Does not the breeze bring to you
The fragrance of lilies in your lover's garden?
Does not your heart desire to sing
In unison with the nightingale forgetting wrath and grievance?
Is your tongue so impure...?
That it shall stain the holy words of love?
Then what revere you soul possess?
What shall you speak?

[...] Read more

poem by Lama Abbas
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Trinity

All most mighty exist in a trinity,
Some simple or ethereal, others may
Bespeak a most puissant divinity;
Everyone affected by them everyday!

The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost
Hope, faith and love, they, to us, give host!
Ideals perhaps- learning, virtue and piety
In humble service to your omniscient diety!

Sun, Moon and stars encompass all supernal,
Awe-inspiring, daunting-night and day, a coronal!
Earth, wind and fire encompass all elemental,
Love and respect for each, vital and fundamental!
Mother, Father and child-triad of most import:
Ne'er shall any emperil or lessen their assort!

Maurice Harris,5 October 2009

poem by Maurice Harris
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Bricks

Bricks have succumbed today from fright,
Loathing them shall pray and subdue,
Forming statements of devils and demons,
The killers of their souls are right.

May the bricklayers build houses
And mansions of the readings
And writings of the holiness
That stays and remains with politeness.

This day, we bespeak and beam on the crowd
Looking sideways and observing the material;
The gale winds rush forward with facial
Hurts, and facial works, and facial feelings.

I have bricks in my soul that shudders
From the weight attached to the words
Of this poem that is right like the words
Inside the house we have defined with closeness.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Gliding In The Air

A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.

Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
Eventually they look like a mouth, as smooth as the air.

A strange spectacle has been captured in the rain,
After a bird, not reptile, does fly south, as smooth as the air.

When strangers bespeak a multifarious journey through the air,
I gather it is more than just levitation or youth, as smooth as the air.

I love the young journey to the east,
A happy rhythm up north, as smooth as the air.

Why do we hesitate to look powerful?
When we glide in the sky, as smooth as the air.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Thought's Garden.

I have within Thought's garden sat
And played with this sweet flower and that,
And touched my lute till each soft string
Was tuned to Love's remembering.
Then in the grass I've laid me down
And woven my heart a faery crown,
As one who in a dream might be
Intoxicate with poesy.
Until I felt my being grow
Pure as a flower, as white as snow,
Though through it did a rosy streak
The passion of my love bespeak.
And I would feed on fancies then
Till I came back to time again,
Like one who on a fragrant way
Had parted with the golden Day;
And in the twilight wandering home
Did then as to Love's cabin come,
And found within a mate who made
A glory of the coming shade!

poem by Robert Crawford
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