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YYYYYYYY I Am Lonelyyyyyyyy

Lonely I, lonely love you,
Lonely I, surrounded by nothing,
Lonely I, pieced and waiting,
Lonely I, cursed without you.

Lonely I, sit and think,
Lonely I, was before I met you,
Lonely I, hopeless still love you,
Lonely I, pain and nothing.

Lonely I, in the darkness,
Lonely I, with my tears,
Lonely I, sorrow and hate,
Lonely I, is this my fate?

Lonely I, Thinks that I should wait,
Lonely I, Am I so Late?
Lonely I, Lonely Love you,
Lonely I, Always Dreming of You........

[...] Read more

poem by Maddy Saxena
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Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things --
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted |&| pieced -- fold, fallow, |&| plough;
And {'a}ll trades, their gear |&| tackle |&| trim.
All things counter, original, sp{'a}re, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckl{`e}d, (who knows how?)
With sw{'i}ft, sl{'o}w; sweet, s{'o}ur; ad{'a}zzle, d{'i}m;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is p{'a}st change:
Pr{'a}ise h{'i}m.

poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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A Heart Broken Into Pieces

piecing together the broken pieces
takes so much of my time
this heart is broken and the pieces
shattered pieces
are too tiny to be pieced again
i am a very impatient man
on love
on matter of the heart
i give up, i cannot piece the broken pieces again
too much pain
guess what? i have just thrown my heart away
look at me?
my eyes are calm, my body stable
pierce my skin with a needle
it does not hurt anymore
my eyes have no tears
my mouth does not tremble
my legs are tall and stable

heartless, i shall love no one this time.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Happy Thanksgiving

It's time for Tom to lose his wattled head.
He's designated martyr for the feast.
We pluck him naked and stuff him with bread
Then roast his hapless carcass whole or pieced.
We carve, dismember, separate his flesh
and pile it high upon a festive plate.
Oh, Butterball you juicy thing, so fresh
and tasty, every bite is simply great.
Although we never heard him gobble
without a head he cannot demonstrate.
A turkeys future cannot be squabbled
his life is brief and predetermined fate.
Without a turkey there's no misgiving
there would not be a Happy Thanksgiving.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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When the Pain Begun Begins to Mend

When the pain begun begins to mend,
The sky is brighter.
The clouds then start to drift.
The rain dries and the thunder stops.

When the pain begun begins to mend,
A freshness occurs.
The Sun invites a rendezvous.
Just to sit with it,
And feel...
A soothing come over you.

When the pain begun begins to mend,
And you are there...
Ready to be healed,
Feeling a once broken heart...
Being pieced back together,
Completely.

When the pain begun begins to mend,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Excited Magic

Perceptions kept,
Remains the 'key'...
For anyone with firm beliefs,
A philosophy adopted...
Keeps a life on a path free,
Of mental strife.
And living an existence one likes!

Uncluttered by deceptions...
Coming to sweep so many,
Into embittered confrontations.
To leave them drifting 'to and fro'...
With inclinations hidden.
That mask insecurities no one knows.

Perceptions kept,
Remains the 'key'...
To erase wrongs pieced together desperately.
With attempts to fit into a world...
No longer sustaining an excited magic,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I See You Have Come Prepared

This is the first time,
I have actually come inside your store.
There is so much variety.
Where should I begin?
And what would you recommend?

'I would recommend having patience and time.
And I would suggest,
Not making up your mind to quickly.
Each item you see has meaning.
And has been carefully pieced together for a purpose.'

So you are saying,
Nothing I see should be viewed...
Just on the surface.

'Bingo.
I'll come to find you,
If I think you have lost yourself.
Some have become offended...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Cry from the Gate

A belly, heaving, a body that shivered in cold
A cry so distant, piecing hearts gone cold
Its head, veins ran like ropes, tying fire wood

An alarm it raised, a siren it blew
A mother, cold hearted, a mother who knew
The initial journey, when it started out of blue.

A life, brought, to a world, his dreams knew not
Instinctual desires, comprehension, not
Reflex for survival, steamed, energized, death, here, not

A nun, a Virgin Mary, had never experienced child making
A cry from the gate, pieced her heart, in sanctity, reached, and carrying
The baby, in her armpits, forehead kissed, a new window opening.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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2/7/12

You are not the tears I shed

and I am not the words you speak

as we are not these things that make us

Separate/together

What is the sum of us

words and tears

The whole seen in fragments

Like the items thrown haphazard into an overnight bag

for a weekend tryst,

forgotten, put aside

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poem by Ryan Cole
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Easter Communion

Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast:
God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips.
You striped in secret with breath-taking whips,
Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced
To crosses meant for Jesu's; you whom the East
With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips
Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships,
You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased,

God shall o'er-brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.

poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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