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Angel’s Spit

Oceans have lost their waves.
Salt are melting with the crest of mud.
Sky has sent a marble table.
Some locked bottles landed on the shore,
speechless Spirits locked inside are bewildered.
Angel spits on devils middle eye,
His devilish horns lashes on Angel’s wings
From there on, Satan turns to an Angel
Angels starts hooligating in the wind
Nowadays……. I sleep between Angel and Devil’s laps.

poem by Shakila Tuba
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Honky Tonk in Cleveland, Ohio

It's a jazz affair, drum crashes and coronet razzes.
The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts.
The banjo tickles and titters too awful.
The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers.
The cartoonists weep in their beer.
Shop riveters talk with their feet
To the feet of floozies under the tables.
A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers:
"I got the blues.
I got the blues.
I got the blues."
And . . . as we said earlier:
The cartoonists weep in their beer.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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To A Noisy Contemporary

Your ego’s bad dream drums that vision
Encountered on page one, pages three to eighty-nine.
Count the wound-up places where we went aground.
As an entertainment, zero. Hero horror. Try the line

Of incestuous relations, hearty friendship, or the cult
Of the ectoplasmic navel and the ravishments of guilt.

Page two was delightful. And the margins were wide;
One was tempted by the imagery of bloody wrists,
Your hysterogetic spasms and italicized reproofs.
You may well supplant the tuba if the music lasts.

poem by Weldon Kees
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What You Will Miss Here

sinugbang tuloy in sicayab beach.
tuba laloy in the local market.
smooth ripe mangoes.

raw mangoes dipped in ginamos.
the spanish sardines of the montano's
the bibingka

puto cheese. dinuguan.
san mig beer and pulutan of pork pata.

smooth to the throat is the tanduay rhum
asia's best.

a stroll at the boulevard.
seeing the sun set there.

early morning walks at the plaza.
hearing the church bell ring.

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Band Concert

Band concert public square Nebraska city. Flowing and circling dresses, summer-white dresses. Faces, flesh tints flung like sprays of cherry blossoms. And gigglers, God knows, gigglers, rivaling the pony whinnies of the Livery Stable Blues.

Cowboy rags and nigger rags. And boys driving sorrel horses hurl a cornfield laughter at the girls in dresses, summer-white dresses. Amid the cornet staccato and the tuba oompa, gigglers, God knows, gigglers daffy with life’s razzle dazzle.

Slow good-night melodies and Home Sweet Home. And the snare drummer bookkeeper in a hardware store nods hello to the daughter of a railroad conductor—a giggler, God knows, a giggler—and the summer-white dresses filter fanwise out of the public square.

The crushed strawberries of ice cream soda places, the night wind in cottonwoods and willows, the lattice shadows of doorsteps and porches, these know more of the story.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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Saturday At The Canal

I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
Too close to dying to understand. The hallways
Stank of poor grades and unwashed hair. Thus,
A friend and I sat watching the water on Saturday,
Neither of us talking much, just warming ourselves
By hurling large rocks at the dusty ground
And feeling awful because San Francisco was a postcard
On a bedroom wall. We wanted to go there,
Hitchhike under the last migrating birds
And be with people who knew more than three chords
On a guitar. We didn't drink or smoke,
But our hair was shoulder length, wild when
The wind picked up and the shadows of
This loneliness gripped loose dirt. By bus or car,
By the sway of train over a long bridge,
We wanted to get out. The years froze
As we sat on the bank. Our eyes followed the water,

[...] Read more

poem by Gary Soto
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Kabul

Oh, the beautiful city of Kabul wears a rugged mountain skirt,
And The rose is jealous of its lash-like thorns.
The dust of Kabul's blowing soil smarts lightly in my eyes,
But I love her, for knowledge and love both come from her dust.

I sing bright praises to her colourful tulips,
The beauty of her trees makes me blush.
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-i-Mastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose Kabul to Paradise,
For her mountains brought him near to heaven's delights.
The fort's dragon-sprawling walls guard the city well,
Each brick is more precious than the treasure of Shayagan.

Every street in Kabul fascinates the eye.
In the bazaars, Egypt's caravans pass by.
No one can count the beauteous moons on her rooftops,
And hundreds of lovely suns hide behind her walls.

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poem by Mirza Muhammed Ali Saib
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Dies Irae

Dies irae! dies ilia!
Solvet saeclum in favilla
Teste David cum Sibylla.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando Judex est venturus.
Cuncta stricte discussurus.

Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionem,
Coget omnes ante thronum.

Mors stupebit, et Natura,
Quum resurget creatura
Judicanti responsura.

Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.

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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Sa Bukid Nga Bulawan

nunot sa pagkatkat sa taas
nga bungtod ug paglabang
sa suba nga galikos-likos
sama sa sawa

nadan-agan na gyod
ang payag ni anding
nga nagpatunga ug
gipailawman sa kakahoyan

nag-andam na diay silang tanan
sa iyang banay ug nagdukdok
ang iyang anak nga lalaki
sa dako nga agong

ug misayaw
ang iyang anak nga dalaga
samtang giihaw
ang usa ka itom nga baboy

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Woman On The Inside

Don't shame me
I am Woman on the inside
But Man on the outside
I am as straight as an arrow
But gay at heart
I feel every pulse surrounding me
I weep quietly sometimes
Other times I can't contain my floods
I am alive, I feel, I dance, I salsa, I tango with life
Every beat captivates my curious eyes
Magnifies my looking glass
When I hug you in the morning
I'll hug you over again
Morning, noon and night
I feel your sorrows
Before they knock down your door's heart
I laugh at your feet
When I see the hole in your sock
I reek with God's humanity
Freely I give myself to your cross

[...] Read more

poem by leaking Pen
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