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Untitled: II

…and on that stilled night
in that balcony overlooking
the sea that seemed
to merge with the sky
the two stood alone watching
a placid sea and a sky
that radiated subdued moonlight
teasing each other endlessly…

the soft flowing wind
tickled and adorned them
their inner fire gave them
a queer glow that reflected
on their parched skin

17jul2010
00.50hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Edge of the Water

On the edge of the water
Worrying more than ought to
river reflects back up at me
the water is cool and calm
a peaceful stream
enters my mind
takes over the steering for me
the river floats around a bend
I'm on the mend
with a tree overlooking the river's curve
two birds make a squawk
skim the river's surface together
river boat bells play to set the mood

poem by Ludvig Von Himmelstein
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Destiny

I stood on a hill overlooking the sea,
and wondered what my destiny be.
Would I be loved or would I be lonely?
Would I sail on a pirate clipper
in search of some lost treasure?
The wind ruffled my hair,
but the sea never spoke to me.
Every person has a journey,
for some it is long,
while others it is short.
No one can read our destiny;
we only make it what it is to be.

poem by David Harris
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A View Of A Man Arriving

the wall in this room is made
of glass

overlooking the plaza
where the rains are busy
discarding themselves

like a burden.

soft rain. no noise.
a big, muscular man
arrives

mustached, and
strong arms holding on

to a electric blue
handle of a motorcycle

he holds the key

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House Made Of Glass Door That Overlooks The Garden

the house has a huge glass door
that overlooks the garden
i mean it is a house with a glass door
at the ground floor that is overlooking a garden
where the cock feeds on worms with a red hen
that lays eggs on the haystack
near the back window,

oh it is not messy and it is far from what you think
nothing is poetic here
there is simply a day that drags itself to its sunset burial site.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Deciding On A Disposition For The Day...

early this morning
before my walk
i go up the house and
stay for a while at the veranda
overlooking a garden
of anthuriums and
mahogany trees
i take some long breaths
feeling my lungs with
fresh air

i stretch my arms and legs
and breathe some more

i put some numbers of this
inhale and exhale
cycles

and then
last night's storm inside my head

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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050210t Finding Good Cause

lady on rocks overlooking the bay
still there with her pretty parasol
she's waiting for her gentleman
who left for sometime full moon
foxes didn't howl nor craters moan
river does flow vigorously on and on

she looks at me with question's
in her inquisitive mind, i cower
i don't feel giving any answer
to her dismay she throw her shoes
that was worthy reasonable cause
i pick; put her hands on her hips..pause

poem by Manonton Dalan
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The Spell Of Spring

Exfoliative sycamore
Limbs splay low above the water
like giraffe's drinking from the shore
at some silty, placid river.
Where once their arthritic branches
at the mercy of winters winds
it's springs meliorative changes
that bring green budding knobby limbs.
Here I sit astride a boulder
overlooking the riverbank
awestruck by springs natural wonders
recurrent offerings enchant
me like a mesmerizer's spell:
enthralled, hypnotized, compelled.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Poem Sliding Down the Glass-pane

I look around
And retrieve to
My regular corner
The glass widow
Overlooking the sky

Everyday
Every afternoon
I looked at the baked glass
With its coat of dirt
In expectation

The clear sky
Always giving me
An apologetic glance

Lo, this morning
As the clouds dimmed
The corner, hope revived

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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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I Have To Leave

I came to camp here
On the riverside
Overlooking the mountain
Where I would say ho
And it would reverberate.
I had no companion
Till every morning
The birds woke me up
And made friends
I had no lover
Till the moon's silver
Crowned the ripples
And made love
I never knew
When quietly they came
And dug into me!
Now I don't want to
Leave the camp
My dreams don't spin
Tales of other world anymore!

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poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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