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The Dreamers

HAVE courage, O my comradry of dreamers!
All things, except mere Earth, are ours.
We pluck its passions for our flowers.
Dawn-dyed our great cloud-banners toss their streamers
Above its quaking tyrant-towers!
Making this stern grey planet shine with jewel-showers.

Our lives are mantled in forgotten glory,
Like trees that fringe yon dark hill-crest
Alight against the molten west.
The great night shuddering yields her stress of story—
The dreams that stir the past’s long rest—
Strange, scented night-winds sighing on our naked breast.

Through all the spirit’s spacious, secret regions—
By pathways we believed unknown—
Still thoughts immortal meet our own.
Ideas!—In innumerable legions!
Like summer’s stir in forests lone
Their various music merges in time’s monotone.

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poem by Sydney Wheeler Jephcott
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To My Eldest Brother, With The British Army In Portugal

HOW many a day, in various hues array'd,
Bright with gay sun-shine, or eclips'd with shade;
How many an hour, on silent wing is past,
O my lov'd brother! since we saw thee last!
Since then has childhood ripen'd into youth,
And Fancy's dreams have fled from sober truth;
Her splendid fabricks melting into air,
As sage Experience wav'd the wand of care!
Yet still thine absence wakes the tender sigh,
And the tear trembles in Affection's eye!
When shall me meet again? with glowing ray
Heart-soothing Hope illumes some future day;
Checks the sad thought, beguiles the starting tear,
And sings benignly still—that day is near!
She, with bright eye, and soul-bewitching voice,
Wins us to smile, inspires us to rejoice;
Tells, that the hour approaches, to restore
Our cherish'd wanderer to his home once more;
Where sacred ties his manly worth endear,
To faith still true, affection still sincere!

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Eat and be merry

Does the life mean to live and eat?
Marry and stay to make it sweet
School, youth and later on to profession
Troubles more and to lead with confusion

Always worry for two ends to meet
Absence of love to say hello when greet
Mind not at rest with so many wicked plans
No time to look back or have little glance

Time is money and busy is schedule
Some where to formant trouble and add fuel
Self interest first with top most priority
To consider one’s self with superior quality

No one can be blamed for simple logic
It is human tendency and forms very basic
Nothing goes with it as sentiments or feelings
Everything is done in agreement and as willing

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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No fights over

Some of the friends don’t want any fight
They openly admit and say they are for their rights
May be they are right in their own way
They will find and adjust their way

I was bluntly asked “are there some in your circle of friends? ”
“I respect gay people and their rights” I admitted at the end
Some of them are very descent and openly admit
I some how dislike the admission but not oppose it

My friend reminded me of my being open to all
Why then all of sudden hatred and reversal of call?
She stood for respect regardless of sex
But of course the question was complicated and wax

Any how such talks created irritation
Sexual abuse on their part was out of question
I was doing right thing and getting them away
I preferred to maintain silence and encouraged no more say

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cowardice Act

“To leave the field and run for life”
Leaving the children behind and wife
To hide the face and not face the challenge
To deceive somebody and retract the steps or renege

These are called cowardice acts
Everybody may come forward and sharply react
You will find no place to hide
Its implications are more and wide

Life may be sharp but not edge of the knife
You got to act when situation is rife
Kill or get to be killed is suddenly forgotten,
Thousands of thoughts invade and come often,

Who stands alone amidst ruins,
Bury the dead for honor and not coins,
Worries for dead to offer descent burial
Not to offer any excuses or denial

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Finally a liberation

Finally Arab world has heaved a sigh
All eyes were upon them expecting very high
It was going to great human tragedy
The same was not wished by almighty

It is not less than miracle
It has changed whole vitiated circle
World never dreamed of a bloodless revolution
The dictator was forced, make the decision to flee or run

The largest democracies of world too had to pass long ordeal
The Arab revolution was never expected to be easy or real
Long march to palace was blocked by anti people for road to seal
Not a single soul moved out from their position and sat without meal

Continuous staging in trusting only in almighty paved the way
The hostile reaction of public forced him retrace the steps and fled away
History has repeated same cycle of drama for forceful eviction
Even though that has not come off without any friction

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Abandoned House And The Man Who Drags His Shoes To Make The Necessary Sound

when you arrive in the house
(the house that both of you built 17 years ago)
no one is there
not even the three white dogs

you have accepted this face of loneliness
without a mouth

it is its nature now
gentle in silence

there is nothing to talk about with someone else
when someone else is far away and seemingly taking all the hearts out

the door and the hinges have to keep things for themselves
for in truth, those who left the stairs
they still love

you have the key to the door of the kitchen
and that is where you start the journey towards the living room

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Any Heart Breaking Over the World Is

ANY HEART BREAKING OVER THE WORLD IS

to the once and shining, Russia-
to Vladimir Ashkenazy's beautiful interpretation of Prokofiev's Cinderella...

any heart breaking over the world is
breaking off in mid-sentence
still, I believe in words:

in music tuned from words
in words inlaid in music
emerging with farthest meanings;

reduced to no one's ashes.

don't chronicle what no one
can endure, we'll be our own
country - after all - and

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poem by Mary Douglas
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The Only Daughter. Illustration of a Picture

They bid me strike the idle strings,
As if my summer days
Had shaken sunbeams from their wings
To warm my autumn lays;
They bring to me their painted urn,
As if it were not time
To lift my gauntlet and to spurn
The lists of boyish rhyme;
And were it not that I have still
Some weakness in my heart
That clings around my stronger will
And pleads for gentler art,
Perchance I had not turned away
The thoughts grown tame with toil,
To cheat this lone and pallid ray,
That wastes the midnight oil.

Alas! with every year I feel
Some roses leave my brow;
Too young for wisdom’s tardy seal,

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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Improvisations

And in conclusion...
You pretended too many times too long.
Too many times you claimed I was the one wrong.
And to me it matters not,
If that is argued until your lips drag and drop.
I'ved stopped my mental rendevous with you.
We've touched too much disgust together,
And we're through...dust busted.
Shakened up from the crusting rust.
This is what you wanted to do,
Since someone else laid their eyes on you!

Someone you trained to remain patient.
Sweeping you up in deluded imagination.
With unseen flings to chase!

Jealousy?
That act has been wasted!

How about a disrespect shown,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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