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14 Thousand Eggs

now i am that chicken
that lays all those fourteen thousand eggs,

this small chicken
has tiny feathers
it cannot fly away but

it cannot lay its butt upon all these
fourteen thousand eggs

it is sad,
these fourteen thousand eggs
shall not hatch

how i wish i can hear the songs of
fourteen thousand chicks

what can their tiny voices be
to God? to those higher skies?

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moon!

I only fly to carve a scar,
to mark your name on moon's surface,
this pain herein my heart so marred,
comes from a love I can't retrace

oh fleeting thought, your face within,
casts me in awe of foul dismay,
a lost puzzle in burgundy,
false reality in portray

the distant moon which seems to cry
in our precious 'valse de la lune',
when only for you so stain I,
the tender countenance of the moon

as these heavy wings soar sn high,
shape the moon face into yours
as sharp as blades that these wings are,
tainting the sky with my remorse

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poem by Kite Remedy
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Why The Chorus of Remorse?

What has happened to the suddenness of your distance?
And why the chorus of remorse?
What has happened to the suddenness of your...
'Forget you, and that's it! ? '
And why the chorus of remorse am I now from you hearing?

I've mended and healed from those years embittered.
Those years that left me sitting with an unforgiveness,
Felt for you to inflict daggers.
What has happened to the suddenness of your distance?
And why the chorus of remorse?

I have long forgiven but not forgotten.
You left me.
Dd you think I would awaken and not remember it?
You left me.
And erasing you from my heart,
Is not going to take an effort...
On my part,
To retrace any feelings I wish to recapture.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lidia - (by LionTamer)

salty drops of painful tears
rolling on small rosy cheeks
looking up at her mom
as she walks away
crying for her mommy
to please stay.

a destiny suddenly defamed
when she spoke to her dad
about the plan her mom had
there was no one to blame
she was betrayed
by her own name.

a plan once in place
would of moved her life
to a land of freedom and grace.
just ninety miles away
a path she would never retrace.

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poem by Lion Tamer
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A different song for Friend Howard

Highways, byways and motorways
are very much the same to me.
I much prefer the bridle ways
Those quiet lanes are traffic free.

I care not where the path may lead.
I stroll along at my own pace.
I’m free from any need for speed
I am quite happy to retrace

my steps. Should I mistake
the path I follow get it wrong
What does it matter if I take?
a shortcut which proves to be long.

I opted out of life’s rat race.
I am at no mans beck and call
I choose my way and choose my pace
and don’t regret my choice at all.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Obstacles are challenges

The road I choose the path I take.
No different from the road I spurn
But what if I choose by mistake
a path from which I can’t return.

Sometimes our footsteps we retrace
when thorns and briars bar our way.
To try again another day.
Why should we fear a loss of face?
There’s nothing lost by the delay.

We merely bow to circumstance.
We’re wise enough to recognise
it is a hopeless enterprise
.In time we’ll get another chance.
In winter when the brushwood dies.

We will return to satisfy
our burning curiosity.
Explore these byways thoroughly.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Home

How do I find my way back?
I've strayed too far from home.
I've gone so many places
for so many days.
I've even been to Rome.

I have seen so many sights now.
It seems to me that somehow
that every place I've ever seen
were places in-between
from the place that is my home.

My search for brand new places
and all those other places
never filled the gap
as I crossed the map,
so far from my sweet home.

For I missed the landscape,
the place that I grew up in.

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poem by Edwina Reizer
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Walked In The Sight Of Pain

WALKED IN THE SIGHT OF PAIN

A young boy chased by the rage of pain
After being christen by the drops of rain
And bestowed a plague of pain at night while dozing away
He woke up with a sharp pain to his brain
Praying it would go but a family vacation he decided to reside in his brain
Trying to discern what lead to such pain and ache
Trying to retrace his steps to the foundation of the pain
But kept chasing to misleading places, which felt like an endless race
So he cried out loud like everyother child in pain
Calling unto his name but there seem to be no service
So he decided to go for church service
Saying maybe where two or more are gathered
The pain would leave like it never came but the fairytale he hoped for never came
So like every other believer he started to lose faith in his name
Just like the grief of being compelled to gamble yet no gain.

poem by Revvy Aina
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Je t aime beaucoup

the path between our eyes has somehow split.
tonight's kiss was the seal to the envelope.
i as the messenger must deliver..
on my quest to send this letter
where love told of endless fairy tales
the damsel in distress will one day return with your love notes as response

cold nights set aside for my travel.

our hands cross split between the cold...

as i wander through the streets i came to realize.
our fairy tale had no end.

it somehow closed the beginning

searching for a lifeless end.

poor messenger opens the envelope

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poem by Rocio Reyes
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The Rebel...

he is tired imagining those villages of
yore, hamletted natives, authorities telling them
how to live, where, when,

that is the bitter part of the question
when do you cease living? the gun is telling everyone the answer
follow or you die,
not the natural way, they will kill you in an instant and bury you
the very same day, without the christian rituals,

he is tired of the running and the convincing,
taking the chickens of other people and passing through the seven
rivers,

he is tired of being numb
to the consequences of the uprising
his ears are painful
his arms are failing him

he wants to retrace his steps back to the fold

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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