Quotes about hover, page 16
A White Butterfly And The Written Words
i am afraid
i really have
to keep
on writing
what shall happen to me without
the written
existence of this poem?
i am afraid
about the consequences of my
arrogant
submission that i can live without
all these
quivering of
scribblings
what if you have nothing to read?
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Be there an introspection
Parents type I:
You feed the dog;
It guards the yard.
You pay the maid;
She is your aid.
Bone and flesh,
Parents gave you.
Without their nod
You flee with a lad.
You are ungrateful;
Parents are indignant.
Parents type II:
Plants give flowers
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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Interlocked
Between the tremors
falls the face
in a glass of water.
Sometimes false teeth reverberate
through the pages of history; devastation
sinks in. A faun rubs the landscape.
Hatchlings come out when death-music
stops. A miracle tends to quieten the bones.
You should not hate me,
it was the method of ruines, the spirits
hover like vampires. Tell me have you
seen the street walking?
A table sings in a kitchen, the knives
peel off the stars, a moon dips in milk
of morality. The house was in disorder,
but the bougainvilleas were shedding
ceaselessly the colourful leaves.
Summer was coming.
poem by Satish Verma
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Burdens Eased
Carrying the broad shoulders of the world---
This afternoon reveals the tirades of rain...
In absolute wonder of the mysteries borne...
In awe of the unknowns and its cutting pain;
Raging 'tis the thunder and lightening spurned...
Circling in eternal winds that will not pass...
Even insects run for cover-removed from continual hover--
Hidden neatly 'neath the green blades O' grass;
These shoulders are oft' overwhelmingly heavy-
But as sisters of this Mother Earthed clan--
We are able to find enough grace-in this weighted place--
Mended with haloes of love we forever stand! ;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Who Is Rich?
I strive to be rich,
to travel on the roads,
of the capital cities,
in Sedan or limousine.
I work hard to be rich,
to find a lot in Beverly hills,
to buy an aircraft and
a hover to fly and float.
I work day and half night,
to be rich to others sight,
to smoke a cigar of an inch,
and a few girls to pinch.
scanty girls of Los vegas,
dress up, for a living,
trendy sad faced Indians,
walk alone for a living.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The End of the World
Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot
The armless ambidextrian was lighting
A match between his great and second toe,
And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting
The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum
Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough
In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb
Quite unexpectedly to top blew off:
And there, there overhead, there, there hung over
Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,
There in the starless dark, the poise, the hover,
There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,
There in the sudden blackness the black pall
Of nothing, nothing, nothing -- nothing at all.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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May
LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hover
In the air, as yet scarce warm;
Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,
Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.
Gently rolls and heaves the ocean
As its waves the bank o'erflow.
And with ever restless motion
Moves the verdure to and fro,
Mirror'd brightly far below.
What is now the foliage moving?
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Sultriness, this fullness loving,
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poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Divergence (Pleading with the Muse)
i see the bending
branch and curling smoke
twining, not so different from each other
rising, like spirits that bind
me to this earth
from burning sticks toward murmuring lips
my guitar’s steel strings chime
quiet like whispering rivers, silky
as a sated lover here
where shadows flicker and hover
near gnarling limbs diverged from root
or sky
inviting me to follow
but i dare not leave this smoldering sanctuary on a hill
of our own creating
where your memory lies
waiting in every patch
of moonlit music and stillness
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poem by Dylan ReyesCairo
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Saga Rue
I no longer condemn this man with the perilous knife
who struck down my life with torment and strife
he whose influence controls the vile rife
drawing his power essence form satanic ogre life
No longer I pray for the gates of hell to open wide
swallow this shrewd to its torment inside
but for his soul I cry for salvation to unite inside
to castaway the harrowing savage he desperately abides
No longer shall I fear his revolting rogue
prolonging his demonic legions to hover my saga rue
as I become a sole maverick in solitude rim spine
welcoming isolation inviting comfort of solitaire twine
poem by Tammie S. Wright
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There is still something to see
The artistic avenues of paradise
Seem to hover before me
In nature are the wise
There's still something to see
In those streams, in the tree
of fine dreams, of silent glee
There is still something to see
Meaning to show how I'd be
Basking in the sun's glory
Risking my thoughts to settle
Reading I am, a story
Of some shepherds and cattle
Speaking, the sound is admiration
Listening, with loves determination
In those skies is inspiration
I'd say darn this education
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poem by Vittal Vandavasu
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