Quotes about tuning, page 10
Cupid And Swallows Flying From Winter. By Dagley
'We fly from the cold.'
AWAY , away, o'er land and sea,
This is now no home for me;
My light wings may never bear
Northern cloud or winter air.
Murky shades are gathering fast,
Sleet and snow are on the blast,
Trees from which the leaves are fled,
Flowers whose very roots are dead,
Grass of its green blade bereft,
These are all that now are left.
--Linger here another day,
I shall be as sad as they;
My companions fly with spring,
I too must be on the wing.
Where are the sweet gales whose song
Wont to waft my darts along?
Scented airs! oh, not like these,
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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Digressive Detectors
I've been told on a few occasions,
That I don't spend time fine tuning my poems...
To enhance any 'suspected' relevant,
Thought process.
Digressive detectors,
Are all over the place these days.
And I share with those critics...
They have no idea of the amount of time I spend,
Seeking new avenues to avoid making sense at all.
Or ease into a way to expose my humility.
Please!
I have achievements to accomplish!
To add additional clarity...
For those probing.
I look at it this way...
Anything anyone should find of mine,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Well in advance
The destiny is decided well in advance
No one can alter or change it t once
It has to sooner or later surely to come
We have no option but to welcome
Since that has been and is understood by all
Why unnecessarily end the life without its call?
Why in despair we count each moment to come near?
Why has such things gripped our mind with fear?
Human life is not assured in another birth
Not even any body has knowledge of death
We have to breathe till the last as destined
It is clearly understood and well defined
No one may want to deliberate
No one has any insight to narrate
It is purely coincidence that we are human
It is by chance that we are called man or woman
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A heart and mind
Heart is clear reflection of mind
Your mind can be easily read and find
The eyes clearly reflect what is going on
The opponent is conveyed the message and easily won
No one can hide the emotions
There may be lots of questions
Heart and mind may not synchronize
But they will well behave and organize
There is some linkage
Both have complete harmony and no leakage
If one is sad the another one feels in cage
Both have to stay together for coming of an age
Heart is like mirror
It can catch any human error
Even though you may be terror
Still you will be acting as minor
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Fateful days of life
It is believed that all pairs are decided in heaven,
Many agree and accept golden phrase even,
Lucky are those who get desired partner,
Unlucky are those who become good listener,
God gave us sense to think good or bad,
Some doesn’t learn even after becoming dad,
Life seems to them on earth like living hell,
Nothing goes right for them and not doing well,
Knowing fully well but still trying to knot,
Never asked question about it is for what?
All were going for marriage so did I?
Never knew it well before we met eyes
Initial days were fine and not so boring,
Problems were few but gradually started pouring,
Preferred living out and most on touring,
Relations got strained and started soaring,
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Foot steps
I heard some foot steps with knock
it was midnight as sounded the clock
I saw one imaginary fairy in white frock,
I stared at her motionless as hard rock,
I too heard distant call and noise,
It was gentle walk in corridor with some voice,
I could not believe with my naked eyes,
Was it she waving and saying byes?
Oh, dark night even was not offering silence
Night’s presence seemed to me complete nonsense
it was difficult to gather what she wanted to say?
Dead calm too proved hurdle for attention to pay
Stars you stop twinkling as she wants to say something
I am not at all in position to say or hear anything
Moon you too light little more so I can see
Allow me to watch her under the big tree
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Golden phrase
It is believed that all pairs are decided in heaven
Many agree to and accept “golden phrase” even
Lucky are those who get best partner
Unlucky are those who become good listener
God gave us sense to think good or bad
Some people don't learn even after becoming dad
Life on earth seems to them like living hell
Nothing goes right for them to do the well
Knowing fully well the result they are still trying to knot
Never asked question about fate or asked what?
All were going for marriage so did I?
Never knew it well before we met our eyes
Initial days were fine and not so boring
Problems were few but gradually started pouring
I preferred living out and spent most on touring,
Relations got strained and started soaring
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Boy Next Door
There's a boy who lives next door;
And this boy is just as bad
As a boy can be; and poor!
He's so poor it makes me sad
When I see him. Out at knee;
And no shoes; and, more than that,
Hardly any shirt or hat.
He's as poor as Poverty.
II.
But I like him; yes, I do.
He can play 'most any game,
And tell fairy stories, too;
Funny stories, just the same
As my father does. And he
Told me one about a frog,
Living near a lake or bog,
Frog that married a bumblebee.
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poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Flowers Adrift On The Fragrance Of Their Own Foregoing
Flowers adrift on the fragrance of their own foregoing.
In the night that takes me under its wing
to shelter me from myself, arrival and passage of spring.
Fish nibble at the wafer of the moon on the tongue of the lake.
The wind bitter as a green apple with an innocent cruel side.
Saturn at dawn, Venus at dusk, things abide in their own good time
without knowing for whose sake they shine until the mind
can't keep a secret anymore and let's the heart know
what the heart has always known. Reason is colour blind.
Everything that's hidden out in the open isn't invisibly camouflaged
to look like God at a quick glance. Flowers don't dance
with their deathmasks on. Things may have changed
since I last walked here, but they haven't aged. Autumn
not an older season than spring, spring not younger than yesterday.
Water's never heard of a virgin birth that ends in a real death.
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poem by Patrick White
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Milestones
Gay balloons and coloured streamers,
Gliding figures, footsteps light,
Flannelled youths and short-frocked maidens
Jazzing gaily through the night.
Music quaint and queer and catchy,
Lilting cadence of the band,
‘Tis a scene of harmless frolic.
Youth and pleasure hand in hand.
Laughter, frank and merry hearted,
Careless banter – burst of song-
“While the red, red robin
Goes bob-bob-bobbin’
Goes bob-bob-bobbin’ along!”
Small Miss Anne is sitting, dreaming
In the vine-clad window-seat
Listening to the lilting music,
To the trip of dancing feet,
But her vision sees a ballroom
Where the swaying lanterns glow
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poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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