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Tears Caressed By The Voice Of Angel

Still, held my throat in suspension
Tears caressed my eyes but did not fall,
The pure sublime intoxication fed my eardrums
With bristles frozen on my neck reaching tall.
The belief that this singing voice was heaven sent so sweet
Flowed thru clouds, Welsh valleys and waves of the sea,
The tone as pure as to I only, with magic sent to greet
Charlotte Church all thirteen years young on stage an angel star to be,
Commands silence as God’s disciples may enter her vocal cords
The symphony and choir envelope the music pure glove on hand,
Soft and wonderful her rendition of the prayer of our Lord
The audience in awe, on their feet for this scene so grand’
Tears caressed by the voice of an angel.

The 1999 first DVD of Charlotte Church
The voice of an Angel which I only heard

poem by Ken e Hall
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Belie Harvest

When emotions
flux deeply stirred.
When wise heads
confess confused.

Emotional intoxication
helm be held. Restrained
by resolute will.
Inflexible infallible constraint.

Man’s nature
leaches like water.
Finding its own level.
Group emotions erode equilibrium.
Fabrication finds its level.

Bestiality appeals
to lower lesser instincts.
Resist being blatantly poisoned.
By Hatred. Rash Hearsay. Indisputable rumour.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Love: A Mystery

(Written By Javed Ahmed Translated By Muhammad Shanazar)

O! Love your existence is mysteriously baffling,
You are in the scattered shattered heart,
And with the intact ego too;
You invent the devices of cruelty,
And you are with the loyalty, fidelity too;
Your manners reveal a tale of darkness,
And enlighten the lamps of pleasing light
And then you are with the gushing blows too;
You are in the fondness of beauty,
You throb in the redness of blood,
And in the colour of Hina too,
Strangely relates your colour to my heart,
You are with the fragments,
And with the cracking sounds too,
Mosque, temple and church all are your prints,
You dwell in the features of idols,
And reside with God too,
You move in the evening gale and with the breeze too.

[...] Read more

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Retinue of Dionysos

Damon the craftsman (none better
in the Peloponnese) is giving the last touches
to his Retinue of Dionysos
carved in Parian marble: the god leading
in divine glory, with power in his stride;
after him, Intemperance; and beside Intemperance,
Intoxication pours out the satyrs' wine
from an amphora wreathed in ivy;
near them, Sweetwine, the delicate,
eyes half-closed, soporific;
and behind come the singers
Tunemaker and Melody and Reveller—
the last holding the honored processional torch
which he never lets die—and then Ceremony, so modest.
Damon carves all these. And as he works
his thoughts turn now and then
to the fee he's going to receive
from the king of Syracuse:
three talents, a large sum.
Adding this to what he has already,

[...] Read more

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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A Northern Night Out

A voice in the mirror,
God your good looking
The gladiators chin
And the eyes of Perseus
Captured in the energy of youth
This night belongs to him

But love has many players
Its Intoxication is addictive
Saturday night on the town
Wildlife on display

From the liar bird to the labra doodle,
To the lion and the jackals
Each eyeing the herds of Wilder beasts,

Displaying their courtship rituals
Dancing round the sacred handbags.
Ready to stampede at
The sound of last orders please

[...] Read more

poem by Steven Cooke
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The Genesis of the Butterfly

The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies

poem by Victor Hugo
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Heavens Jazz Note

Sitting under the moonlight with a beer in my hand
Drunken cries of disoriented ghouls arrange a formidable band
Music without soul sung by those dejected lost souls
Intoxication cannot stop the blood from gushing out of my ears

The sound a ballad of pain a sonata of ones fears
Demons fly above me laughing with infinite jeers
I throw my beer to the ground and panic with disbelief
I gain enough strength to run but the earth begins to fall underneath

And then a golden horn falls down from darkened skies
Lands into my hands and illuminates all in front of my eyes
The trumpet commences to play a triumphant tune
One fit for royalty seated in an alluring room

Gone is the sound of Satan's choir, no longer that impression of doom
But the most glorious melody eradicates the gloom
The skies are now paradise as the sun shines on my face
I thank that jazz note from heaven for allowing this grace

poem by Sam Edison
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Romance Seconds Me, Where Ever I Go by Ray Subrata

In your old age you too are trailed romantic,
Adolescent, manhood, triangle, -the tricks.
Love in any form is romance,
It is either an intoxication or trance.
When romance says you good bye,
…Love from your life by itself flies..

When I write a poem, -I cry,
I had tried, I failed, I try.
You beauty your hello lips,
Mellow voice, willowing-cave,
Youthful shape, flash in my tape,

When I paint, -the Eye –romance,
The eternity peeps, and dances,
I say, simply, it is a romance.

Shakespeare for the Dark Lady,
Turned romantic and shady,
Tagore, -swam in Labana’s lake,

[...] Read more

poem by Ray Subrata Ray
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Soulful Excess

If to know thyself is truly the path of wisdom
Then who are they our ‘masters’ to lay down
Laws in dogmatic tainting upon the fuel of
Our intoxication, are we not those that seek
Redemption upon a path of soulful excess?
If it is true that only in knowing the colours
Of our deepest, most shadowed shades that
We may fade beyond the ego and ascend.
In soaking our minds with the angel of
Awakening we are finding ourselves just
As we are loosing our minds to seek our
Souls, we must dissect before we are
Whole, and in doing so in many different
Mindsets we are born again as those who
May forget the sickening pulse of subservience
To laws that hold no grounding in moral justice.
I seek to know myself and in doing so I
Feel just and true in the opening of every
Door I come across, just as Alice I seek with
Curiosity the rabbit holes of my mindscape.

[...] Read more

poem by David Lacey
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Above All Shady Things!

All the heaviness of the heart wears not, like, rising the carousing sun,
Spills rainbow jewels, on the blade of every grass and leaf undone,
Curbed by things low and mean, pebbles hurled over water,
To even out the seams of the creased uneven world's border,
Like clouds surmounts lofty peaks, attempts things above its strength,
Untangled in any tempting prosperity breaking through the reserve of mine,
Pleading no excuse of impossibility, tossed to the wind claim the pollen,
Seeing things to their end, unruffled by the mock of the bow of heaven,
Where others would faint and fall, fear urges on, without despair,
Weary but not tired, to press on towards the sea, like the river,
To keep it close to the heart as the stars in the dark keep their light,
Forcing itself upwards like a lily above the betraying surface, buoyant,
Revealing things you withheld from me, holding my hand,
Now in your absence leave me with the intoxication of your presence

poem by Seema joglekar
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