Quotes about alleys, page 6
The name—of it—is "Autumn"
656
The name—of it—is "Autumn"—
The hue—of it—is Blood—
An Artery—upon the Hill—
A Vein—along the Road—
Great Globules—in the Alleys—
And Oh, the Shower of Stain—
When Winds—upset the Basin—
And spill the Scarlet Rain—
It sprinkles Bonnets—far below—
It gathers ruddy Pools—
Then—eddies like a Rose—away—
Upon Vermilion Wheels—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Widower
She left him in death's egg,
the bone sack & the gunny sack,
the bag of down & feathers-all black . . .
Somehow he couldn't get back.
It was night,
a night of shark-faced jets
winking brighter than blue stars,
a night of poisoned cities
mushrooming beneath the eyes of jets,
a night of missile silos
sulking in the desert,
a night of babies howling in the alleys,
a night of cats.
She left a death so huge
his life got lost in it.
She left a bloodstained egg
he had to hatch.
poem by Erica Jong
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The Autumnal Romance
1903
I watch you as coldly as never,
But can’t keep this pine in my breast,
Today sun’s in smoke of havens,
And sadness makes heavy a breath.
I know, I breed just a fable –
At least, trust to fables, - but you?…
Like needless oblations, in alleys,
Leaves fall in the mournful hue.
We’re joined by the fate that was blinded:
Would God join us ‘there’ – behind sky?…
Don’t laugh, if in spring days, delighted,
You’ll step on the lives that here die.
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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The Animals’ Status
It is quite uncommon for a friend
To commit many acts of obedience;
Fierce acts comprise the solid alleys
Of the thoughts we lust for and desire.
Maybe friends stay at home, like an enemy
That salvages the savages of the past.
Obey those human beings all in the night,
Losing is confusion, passion has been.
The conversationalists embrace me
As spoken words are flying towards me.
Let obedience be disobedience
When the flight of animals makes them high
In status, in esteem.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Brahmaputra-Guwahati
an early monsoon morning:
ferries begin to ply their day on the brahmaputra
four white egrets shoot across to the greens beyond
a clever mynah excuses herself to perch on a ferry
twigs of anonymous trees -
like promises rudely broken -
are carried away by swollen waters
while grey clouds gently take wings
to reveal the forehead of the distant hills
i suddenly uncoil myself
to walk -
the stinking alleys once again
----
(Written on 16th July,2008, at Guwahati.)
poem by Sunil Uniyal
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a Lovers Tiff...
Help me
Help me make it thru the night
I can’t go on with this fight,
It’s no use for love to fall
With your coat hanging on the wall,
No you no me to hold on tight
Lost alleys of blind hindsight,
Help me
Help me make it thru the night
I can’t go on with this fight
Why oh why from up above
We didn’t see the crack in love,
No me no you to stop this plight
No love no music ever in sight,
Help me, help me,
......... Let us find our rainbow bright
To spark our darkness into light.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Afraid Of Unknown
A patch on my shirt
was growing.
I could not, because I did not
want to remove it.
I took everything, without choosing,
a flag of my territory fluttered
without wind.
Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips
cryless eyes.
The body fails, climacteric defeat evident.
A satellite crashes in midsky.
A star in waste was rising.
Multiple setbacks start,
like the botched transplant.
Thieves were active in dark alleys.
Kicked at slump bodies, like
sleeping on road.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Coming Home
Desire calls itself home-
After languishing in the back alleys of yesterday-
Today dressed in casual attire...
Noteworthy this day are the heartbeats-
That complete themselves;
Dancing in pure harmony-
With the touch of your lips...
Carrying me to destinations unknown...
Flying as a bird on the wing...
Soaring through a Heavens grand theme...
[...] Read more
poem by Theodora Onken
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Women And Poems
With as much pain as a human being becomes a woman,
That much pain makes a woman a poet.
A word takes a long year to be made,
a poem an entire life.
When woman becomes a poet, she is totally a woman.
Then she is mature enough to give birth from her suffering heart,
Then she knows how to care for a word.
You have to be a woman first if you want to give birth to a poem.
A word without any pain is fragile, breaks when touched.
Who knows more than a woman all the lanes and alleys of pain!
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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Sails Flapped
The sails flapped over us,
The moments were dropping,
It was wrong to be pessimistic,
In ordinary human events.
Our housekeeper was away,
One hand hovering our ship,
The other a source everlasting bliss.
We were done reading the houses,
Down fields, across alleys.
The sea was our glove twisted,
Its integrity seemed to be absent.
Down into the sea we dropped,
Over us a calculation or goings on.
We were to swim further than this,
For my eyes were seeing doubly well
Now that storms aroused the passion.
poem by Naveed Akram
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