Poetic Song Birds' Nest

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POEMS
ALPHABETICALLY - BY TITLE

Angel With The Gold Halo - Peggy Meeks-King

Ganges In Twilight - Rahul

Insane - Zandra C

Internet Daze - Dan Thibodeaux

Singer, The - Dawn Thibodeaux

Somewhere In The Mists - Rahul

Touch Me, InMy Slumber~ Touch Me, In My Sleep~ - Peggy J. Meeks-King

Transformed - Dale Hilliard

Vesper Vase, The - Peggy J. Meeks-King

Waterfall - Cathrine L



TRANSFORMED ~~~

With all my thoughts bluer,
your trust was much truer.
And I’m headed with breathtaking speed.
To a place where we both fly,
above in the blue sky.
You’ve led me and furnished my need.
Empty moments much fewer,
all thoughts seem much newer.
You’ve shown me your fields filled with flowers.
The sunshine I can see,
with gray clouds behind me,
I’m inraptured with all of your powers.
Though dark was my in-sight,
you reached me with true-light.
The drapes have been pulled from my soul.
I hear the universe singing,
you have my heart winging,
Your love’s made me perfectly whole. ~~~~~

By Dale Hilliard ©
Copyright 1998
My Email: SkyBrush@aol.com



GANGES IN TWILIGHT

Amidst the home-bound crowd
After the hard day's work,
Marketing and selling vegetables,bangles and sweat
The westerly wind soothes
The heart and mind!
I forget counting the coins
Tucked concealingly in folds of the dhoti
The brick-red sky melts in the horizon
And the wind mingles with Ganges
People, busy people, busy after a hard day's work
Busy after selling vegetables,bangles and sweat
Rush to the ferry, they got to cross over soon!
There's a world waiting at homes, fire's waiting in their kitchens
But I forget to count the coins
Forget the sweat at the market
Forget the world and fire
And dream in this twilight by Ganges!

Note:Ganges is an important river in India besides which civilizations have flourished.

By Rahul ©
Copyright 1998
My Email: rahul_d1@verifone.com



SOMEWHERE IN THE MISTS

Did we meet somewhere, in the mists of the hill
somewhere in the north east
where there were those wet stalcites... and mist
you were dressed in robes of flowers
I could smell jasmines and from far off,
there was that tune of the flute
down there at the end of the abyss was that pebble strewn river
where you had played incessantly with the waters
splashing playfully with your legs
I woke up with that freshness
but now there is that mist and the flute
and there are bees in your hair
mists and flute...
flute and mists...

By Rahul ©
Copyright 1998
My Email: rahul_d1@verifone.com



ANGEL WITH THE GOLDEN HALO

I saw you out there on a winter's morn.
An angel with a gold halo, and long silver wings
that touched the snow.
Christmas trees were around
and about in each and every window there of
and a cheery smile from a snow man named Frosty
who threw kisses my way that odd day!
A day I may never forget!
You, angel
with
the gold halo
with a face of beauty that knows no bounds
and those lovely silver wings that played with the ground.
Even the dawn of this day could not
compare with you sweet face
in this place.
Your silver wings went all the way to the ground
and tiny blue stars danced all around--
you and your halo of pure gold.
As is told, that this is the kind of halo a fair
angel beholds.
I walked near
you on that day
and I wondered and I pondered where
you might go and I
wanted to follow you so.
Where would you go?
And to my great delight
in my eyesight all the white snow
where you stood became
grass of pale green
and you sweet angel had the most purple eyes
I have ever seen -who stood in the grass of
the palest green!
And
then all around you there
were jewels in your garden there as bright as
any star of above.
And there was the most radiant blossoms
of purple, pink, and white
what a sweet site and near you so near you
a jade colored hummingbird hovers ever so near
With no fear
I called out to the angel with the gold halo--
angel with the halo
of pure gold.
How can this be in the
middle of winter on a winter's day
you make all the snow around you go away?
You take and make this a summer's
season-may i ask you-your reason?
And you say with your gold halo --
because I can
and I want more color in my eyes -
that is why no more- no less-no test-
I only want the best - the colors of the rainbow
I want to behold
before I go.
Just then the angel took my hand and
lead me to a stream and she
the angel with the halo
touched one long silver
wing into the stream and
where the wing touched the stream become liquid
gold with pale silver tones.
with her next to me i did not feel alone
I loved the angels colors,
she even had stars of red next to her head.
So she looked at me and waved good bye
and she touched
a tiny strand of pure white pearls
around her neck
and flew out of this place
I will never forget that lovely face
full of heavenly grace!

By PEGGY MEEKS-KING ©
Copyright 1998
My Email: kingp@ncci.net



TOUCH ME, IN MY SLUMBER~
TOUCH ME, IN MY SLEEP~

My love, come to me as I sleep!
I lay my head upon my arm - to fall deep asleep -
your delightful charms I so desire to meet!
Oh morning star above - hold off your first sight
this day do not cause his face to fade away!
I sleep beneath a pale blue moon, where your face I
hope to meet once again and let it be very soon in this
lovely month of June!
Take me in yours arms once more I so do pray,
not to wake this day,
take me with you to the next evening star -
Oh how so very lovely and how so very far!
Bathe with me in the purple Nile and walk with me
near the pyramids of old,
where great love stories are ofen told,
under brilliant stars of gold.
I slumber in a long night-gown of faded orange
desire is the name of my soul.
My hair is long and light brown and sweeps the ground,
You take my fair face into your hands
and ecstasy is what I find in that place!
I do not want to awake.

By PEGGY MEEKS-KING ©
Copyright 1998
My Email: kingp@ncci.net



INTERNET DAZE

  I surf the internet by day and dream of bits and bytes by night
I work, and work on my web page until the HTML is just right

  Yahoo, Lycos and WebCrawler are now as common to me
as Ziplock, Lysol, and Bounty use to be.

  Hiss, buzz, and squeal is the language my modem does speak
Alas it has happened to me, I am now a true internet geek

  Dan Thibodeaux
Copyright 1998
My Email: danthi1@iamerica.net
I had to chuckle... Dan wrote this for,
and sent it to.... his wife, Dawn :)



THE SINGER

His eyes a vast chasm
His soul very deep
His thundering voice
Bold and gently weeps
He sings to my heart
And my heart he shall keep

  Dawn Thibodeaux
Copyright 1998
My Email: dawnthi@flash.net



Insane.

I nearly lost it
took a step too far
took a leap too short
and was pushed
all in one
for life
into insanity
pulling
and
scratching
my
way
back
has not
left me sane.

Zandra C
Copyright 1998
My Email: Zandra_C@hotmail.com



Waterfall

With you I step into a river.
With you I step into a waterfall
under
in
and there in the waters reflection
I see myself.
My face
in your thoughts.
Yet as the water cascades down my body
filling me with delight
it drowns you.
So I will step aside
into the cold
hard
air.

Cathrine L
Copyright 1997
My Email: Catht@hotmail.com



THE VESPER VASE

Two crimson red roses in a clear glass vase.
Takes me back to another time and another place.
A place of long ago and far away.
As time often can be.
A distant time of you and of me.
The background is painted in Chinese white.
The stems of the crimson roses are in the color of
emerald green--outlined in Bombay India ink of the blackest black.
And the seven brown thorns are there to be seen.
The stems start at the bottom of the long glass vase
and they start apart then they cross over at the
middle of the vase, then at the top of the heart, they forever part!
One stem is in front of the heart and
one stem is in back of the heart.
A symbol for we are always together -- but forever apart.
One red rose is open longing for love; one red rose is closed--
like it often is with forbidden love.
The lovely Vesper Valentine vase was a gift--
which was never given.
Under the stars.
It sets near me now.
Ever so near --yet so far.
And is now part of a painting on
a white canvas of hopes and dreams,
And of -wishes--that never came true--the
bittersweet dreams of you.
My thoughts go back to da Vinci and
to Michelangelo and to Rapeal and how
every time that they created they lost--
each time a little of their heart and a part of
their soul--with the black ink and the chalk
and the paint--a part of them was
lost too--never to be found again
in any place, or in any time or in any space.
Only gone like the heart upon the Vesper vase!

Peggy J. Meeks-King
Copyright 1998
My Email: kingp@ncci.net