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Tell nothing than a Story

bits and pieces
of the navel recall the pain
and honey sweet
of the fangs of death, neither bedside
sleep the Catacomb of
deep slumber wins the shadow of
victory in the first day
as the open eyes
reveals

whether
the golden Daffodils
of the towering fresh of scented
perfume of Alleluia, the laughter of joy,
embrace the paradise
of long awaited life, hovering the moment
of where the decision quest
the ever changing
harmony of birth, viewed the endless
search of what is the coming

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poem by Antonio Liao
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Ravi Shankar’s Daughter

Ooh – I am in love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
And she doesn’t even know

Do you think her mother knows what she brought us
Do you think her father shouts from the hilltops?

Ooh – I am love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
And she really should know

My sweet love – Alleluia
I really want to see you - My sweet lord
I really want to be with you
So I can always hear you play
Hare Krishna

I am in love with Ravi Shankar’s daughter
The spirit in her fingers makes my body quiver

Ravi Shankar’s daughter
Rave Shankar’s daughter

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poem by Michael WheelerWyatt
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Hollow Holidays (Acrostic)

Hallowed be the time before Halloween was the first day of Christmas
Alleluia to the day when Carols did not play
Prior to Thanksgiving
Perhaps you remember it, to me it seems like only
Yesterday such was the rule.

How did we allow
Our priorities to change
Letting commerce lead the way
In deciding the final say
Delivering up the season
Against our better judgement
Yielding to the pressure of
Salesmen and Advertisements

Maybe we lost our way
Even without knowing
Ready to jump at the chance to
Run after ever more accumulations
Yet never having enough

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poem by Mary Havran
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Rochester Cathedral 2005

Pass by this ancient door and pause
Look upon it very history etched in stone
Wonder at its age and all who stood,
As you are standing now, looking.
The good and great of history
Have passed its portals just like you
Kings and Queens of every age
Have worshiped here, the Christ King.
Sit, be still, as voices young and old
Raise in perfect sound, the alleluia’s
To echo round the vaulted heights.
Kneel and pray as others have
So many times before through history
Evidence of the living God worshiped still.
Here Justus placed his knee in prayer
When all was daub and wattle
The imprint of history remains however
A time line of experience, and calling.
Today its mission written large in stone
To worship the alpha and omega

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poem by James Tipp
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A Song for Papa

There was no cloud
Yet the rain came heavy,
Our umbrellas were not ready
And we got soaked.
God the author of all, raised his sun
To dry us whole and to him we give Glory for all.

Papa scored from an offside position
But, if God the ultimate referee accepts the goal,
Ordinary mortals we are can never query
His command.
Eye remember papa’s hot furnace moulding
Us whole,
Like raw gold eye complained the heat, yet the goldsmith
Knew his job and made us to a perfect mould,
We thank you papa for you made us whole.

Eye thought the orange sun will be watched
Smiling to set but, a sudden cloud, thick,
Swallowed the glow and you said,

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poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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Leap of Faith

every faith holds every minute, hoping to gain
the last experienced of searching peace of
the entangled mind the tranquility of one self

forward as you go, direct what goes ahead,
willed that you can do and learn the painful
experiences what the spirit passed

leave nothing, but care that in every steps you
walk the thorny path belongs to you and the
prize leaves no winner to conquer the salvation
you waited for, always remember that all are
just a beginning to live in eternity of your
faith

every leaf over shadow suffering, for in pain
you attain the wisdom of God in your own
soul; for the true and genuine heart likes to
bring back the real meaning of your existence

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poem by Antonio Liao
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The Easter Decorations

O take away your dried and painted garlands!
The snow-cloth's fallen from each quicken'd brow,
The stone's rolled off the sepulchre of winter,
And risen leaves and flowers are wanted now.

Send out the little ones, that they may gather
With their pure hands the firstlings of the birth,—
Green-golden tufts and delicate half-blown blossoms,
Sweet with the fragrance of the Easter earth;

Great primrose bunches, with soft, damp moss clinging
To their brown fibres, nursed in hazel roots;
And violets from the shady banks and copses,
And wood-anemones, and white hawthorn shoots;

And tender curling fronds of fern, and grasses
And crumpled leaves from brink of babbling rills,
With cottage-garden treasures—pale narcissi
And lilac plumes and yellow daffodils.

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poem by Ada Cambridge
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My Conclusion

I come to the conclusion
that it was not wisdom that enabled her to write poetry,
but a kind
of anger
this desperation
and hatred for all men
and mankind

not of instinct even
neither inspiration
the one that you find
in seers
and crystal ball owners
or gypsies
and Cassandras
with a gift
to foretell the future
and the Armageddon
that is coming
to our town

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Angel An Echo Of My Soul

behold! an angel in the high above is in me,
.......a cloth of aura covers the whole area, an angel
has come, welcome a visitor that
brings good news, with a band of trumpet,
flute and lyre

alleluia let my soul rejoice, for a special winged human forms
......has turn in me a halos of wisdom and knowledge to
see more than i saw, believe more than i believed
and trust that leads my soul to the heaven i
adore

lou! my spirit move to the highest echelon of joy, an extraordinary
.....beauty that brings me to see beyond this universe as
i live, like a superhuman in a spirit form glows as
it touches in our human faculties, its the spirit
of God they brings

as the holy hosts of heaven, celestially lives with us, angels wings make
......its fast, to lead us near to God we trust, seraphim and

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poem by Antonio Liao
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Fragrance of the Star

life is full of fragrances, for each one is not meant to smell
to our own, this is the mystery of creation, one has to give
than to receive, the wisdom of existence lives behind in
each day, as we wrapped the gift that is given to us

it is the perfumes that we emit, that leads other to excel, to
do, of who they are in other lives, as people transcends
behind their limits they too experience tremendous changes
of whom they are in their lives

as life in it self gradually evolved, the trueness of in you
reveals that without other lives our existence is nothing to
live, like angels in the galaxy singing your song with the
joy of alleluia, perfect as to say that the celebration in the
universe is completed with the singing of Handel of praise

it is then a guarantee, that what life man possess is man's
best gift to others, it’s the smell that gives the meaning of
what is a purpose of your driven life, a sharing of breath
that makes a man perfect in the eyes of the beholder and

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poem by Antonio Liao
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