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Psyche

Softly, with palpitating heart,
She came to where he lay concealed apart.
The lamp she held intensified the gloom,
And in the dusk wrought shadowy shapes of doom.

Her starry eyes
O'er-brimmed with troubled tears,
Her pulses throbbing wildly in her ears,
She stood beside him where he lay
Hushed in the deep
Of sweet unconscious sleep.
But as she stifled back her sighs
And tried to look upon that cherished form,
Remembrance shook her purpose warm,
And, chiding, seemed to say,—
"Why seek to solve, why, curious, thus destroy
The mystery of joy?
What doubt unblest, what faithless fear is this,
Which tempts to paths none may retrace,
Which moves thee—fond one!—to unveil the face

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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Part Of The Big Family Tree

retrace the steps
finding the footprints of my ancestors
their fingers carved in the limestones
of old spanish churches and
municipal halls

howling sounds of their sufferings
on forced labor and constant whippings
they found the escape on wooden boats
paddling their way
tossed by big waves
and uncertain dark nights
towards the Sulu sea

they found land where they are free
built their houses and made love all the way
bathe in the wide and long winding rivers
embraced the sea and acquired their territories
for years the wrote their names on the long lists
on tombstones

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Second Time

There can’t be second time for everything
Once missed then prepare for second thing
You can’t wait for thunder to strike
It has to any how come from the sky

Some of things are universal and can’t be changed
Animals may have striping on body and hence remain unchanged
We got to accept for our neglect and failure
Nothing in this world can be taken for sure

You will have to seize the opportunity
That is best sign and good quality
Nothing comes second time for good
You must strike and come out of wood

Prepare in advance for striking gold
That can only happen when you are bold
Don’t retrace steps at once failure
Double the efforts and make it sure

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Death Wish Of The Unfortunate Stand-by

sometimes, when i stand waiting for someone who does not come
i whistle

for death, as though it is a friend and i am the willing one to go with it in its new journey hoping that perhaps i may like it

finally, when i do not have to go back and retrace my origin and then regret,

and death hears it and comes to me and asks me if i am going with him
to an escapade,

an adventure,

for death is an escape,
a closing of a door,
a making of a wall,
a locking of a window,
a stopping of a noise of an engine
on the street,

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Finding Happiness

'Finding Happiness'
Yellowing pages curl as history flexes and bends.
With tangled stories and lives our mind we defend.
Life remedies by our kinfolk we have been told.
Folklore we have woven tightly within our soul.
On earth’s venture all life’s learning in soul we tote.
Each new moment seems to bring unfamiliar notes.
With a passion for peace within a confused mind,
We retrace our path hoping a better song to find.
Don't mind what others may do or what they say,
Take some time alone in nature admiring today.
Each moment is perfect as it comes from above,
Showering each of us with an unconditional love.
Be silent and still, clearing the mind of every thing,
Then we shall hear the daughters of music sing.
They play and sing for each of life's special song,
Healing our soul of ill will, making our mind strong.
Then we may dream walk right into the spirit plane,
Where we may relieve ourselves of grief and pain.
Though our mind may sometimes wander so far,

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poem by Joseph Blitch
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Two-way Traffic

i am shying away for a while from you.
i've been good, i think, i followed the rules.
i talk to you but i feel that it is only the air talking back to me.
i offer flowers they all wilt without being smelled by you.
i offer food like what the chinese do to their dead beloved.
they get moldy even untouched
cockroaches feast on the rice and fish.
i visit your place
no one is around
there is no note where you are
there is no number that i can possible contact you
i retrace my steps back to my house
and they tell me that you are a spirit and everywhere
i must be crazy talking to the air
the trees the grass and the clouds
i am so empty
you are not here with me
my heart is as hollow as a cellophane back filled with my own breath
i ask all these questions to you
at night when i am all alone

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am a Woman

I AM APHRODITE,
I AM ATHENA,
I AM A WOMAN.
I TRANSFORM THE WORLD,
WITH MY STEPS.
A WOMAN I AM,
A WOMAN I WILL BE...
HEAR HEAR WORLD,
THE OTHER HALF APPROACHES.
RESPECT IS MINE, DIGNITY IS MY BIRTHRIGHT,
ASK AND IT IS MINE,
CHANGE IS IN MY HANDS.
THE POWER IS MINE.
A WOMAN, I CAN.
BORN EQUAL IN A WORLD.
WOMAN - THE MASTER OF ROLES. THE SHAPE OF MY SKIN CANNOT DICTATE MY LIFE.
I, A WOMAN,
SEEK THE WORLD
OF MY RIGHTS, I AM WORTHY.
CHERISHED WITH LOVE,

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poem by shonu Haq
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An Interesting Ancestry

To some of us, a tortoise lives on land
while turtles only rarely leave the sea.
‘Chelonians' applies to any brand,
so here I'll use this terminology.

Land dwellers share aquatic ancestry
and most of us decided to stay put.
Chelonians agreed to disagree.
A flippered revolution was afoot.

A late Triassic turtle fossil shows
a hard-shelled belly plate and softer back,
presumably to ward off fatal blows
from deeper-dwelling predators' attack.

Did top shell metaphorically ‘dissolve'
when full-shelled forebear sought the sea's embrace?
Or did an unshelled forebear's shell evolve
in oceanic pilgrimage retrace?

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poem by Diane Hine
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A state of depression

Speak out my dear
Why hath thou in a state of depression?
Speak out my dear
I stand here waiting for thy confession

Depression is not a sign of weakness
Neither an indication of madness

I stand here not to judge you
Simply to take heed to what is true

Depression is not a crime
It only calls for love through time

Depression is a silent voice
Rooted deep inside to stop a crying noise

Speak out my dear
Why hath thou in a state of depression?
Speak out my dear

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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The king's consort

I

Love, was it yesternoon, or years agone,
You took in yours my hands,
And placed me close beside you on the throne
Of Oriental lands?

The truant hour came back at dawn to-day,
Across the hemispheres,
And bade my sleeping soul retrace its way
These many hundred years.

And all my wild young life returned, and ceased
The years that lie between,
When you were King of Egypt, and The East,
And I was Egypt's queen.

II

I feel again the lengths of silken gossamer enfold

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poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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