Poems IV


Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

A voice in the dark speaking my name
I heard the sound of water falling
A mirror for an earthbound spirit
A cloud, a cloud sailing overhead
I reached for you but you were gone
You left me under the desert sky
For my heart to dry, for my love to die
I'm trying to get back but I am blinded
By deafening sounds and sights unseen
In the desert we will come together
Blowing like dust to the wind
Where we'll go or where we'll meet
The stars would know - I don't want to ask
I will wait for the perfect time
Maybe the desert will bloom, and loneliness creep away
Or maybe it's just an imagined scene, born of a desperate flame
All fall down to dust and ashes
Embers dying slowly, silent agony
Secrets of the blue sky, clouds but a shroud
Silence, space like a field of joy and sparkling water
Dancing like silver dew on leaves evergreen
Something to hold on to in the dark
When everything else is lost or out of sight
The shrine in my heart where you left it empty and cold
I will bury it someday, under a desert sky
Colours burning with the speed of light
And you will open your eyes to the new world
Tears turned into dew, burned into diamonds, for my hair, my crown
Yours is the flame of sunset, and daffodils at your feet
Turn towards the morning with me
This is my hope for the truth
Light of day will reveal shadows lurking behind
And you are gone gone lost!
Can you come back? Will you come back?
I would ask you under a desert sky
Won't you fill my heart with flame again
And we can set fire to the sky, and burn the brighter for the joy of it
Leave desolation
Reach the water
A midnight thought
A starlit song
Darkness hides my tears,
I will cry in silence
For your return.


Author: Rose ( u2desertrose@excite.com )

She looked into the drawer yesterday,
The last drawer in her dresser.
It had been ages since she had last opened it.
Now she was curious to see
What was inside.

She saw things she never knew she had.
There were two letters.
They were addressed to her,
But she couldn't recognize the return address
Or the name on the top.

There was a picture frame
All made of silver.
But what was strange was that
She could not recognize the picture
Or the people in it.

There was a book,
All covered with flowers.
It was a picture book of times long gone
And unremembered.
This she felt sure she had never seen.

A heart-shaped box was to her right.
It smelled of chocolates
Shared long ago.
This had been a gift once,
On a Valentine's Day.

There was a little box
Upholding the heart.
This she did not open.
The secrets remained

Lastly, there was a rose,
Long withered in a purple vase.
This only did she touch.
She washed vase and threw out the rose.
So that's where that vase had gone.

All these things she left as they were,
For fear of stirring up memories
She had purposely put aside.
She had once known all these things and memories,
But now they lay forgotten

Like the rose.

Author: Courtney Lavendar ( edgevox17@imaginemail.com )

Hearing the whispers in your brain. Most ignore them. 'Cos its kind of dangerous to listen. Gotta get thru the flow, against the wind. Sometimes it kills colours but maybe just maybe it's worth it. Now you mutter as you hit your head on the low doorway that isn't too low. The wall screams at you. Then, you realise it's Bono with his mouth open. Yelling for the ones who listen, who know. Hello you whisper and he takes your hand. Come with me he speaks gently. You answer him only with your eyes. So you walk thru that door, black at the end of the hall. You believe you're under the ground, then you know you are. He leads you thru nothing, everything. Shows you the corners but you just can't see. You know this is it, this is all, but you just cant seem to think. Your brain is shutting off and you look down at your hand holding Bono's. He squeezes it tighter and looks into your eyes.You're back before you were born doing the same. You remember. I know you you say but no sound is heard. You smile and you are his mirror. You reach to scratch your leg but your leg's not there and neither is your hand. Then without ears you hear singing. You hear Bono singing. September streets capsizing spilling over down the drain shards of glass splinters like rain but you can only feel your own pain october talk getting nowhere november.. december.. remember are we just starting again PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET UP OFF YOUR KNEES.. you struggle but you have no knees.. you struggle with your mind but you hit a wall. Bono, I'll do it for you, Bono, I'm trying Bono help Bono.. and still you drown. In deep, so deep. You flail without arms, cry without eyes, without tears. And you choke. Without anything. Bono PLEASE and he's not there anymore; he was never there. You're alone. So alone. In you. Drowning. In the darkness. In you.


Author: Wishes to Remain Annonymous

Hair so long
Now sees shorter days
A "working man's hands"
'Round a microphone they stay

A voice of rage
That sounds so sweet
A sideways smile
And you fall from your feet

Eyes so blue
So tender and young
Are still blue now
Softened with songs unsung

"Fuck the revolution"
His rebel cry
Did become more mellow

Three little babies
Each as beautiful as he
The "sweetest thing" his wife
May she ever be

Such a small man
Never saw such power
Everyone loves him
Loves his lemons so sour

He started as a "Boy"
But you better look out
Achtung, baby
You don't know what he's about

He's the cream of the crop
The best joshua tree
He's a man above men
This Wire can see!

It's been four decades now
Each one better than the last
We can't live with or without him
He epitomizes the past...

And the present
The future
All the times we can see
Dear God we thank you...

For May 10, 1960.

For Paul "Bono" Hewson


Author: Pia Lauridsen ( pialauridsen@yahoo.co.uk )

I hate when things take on the golden patina of memory
When they start to seem like they happened to someone else
We'd all like to freeze the frame, surround with sound
Nowhere near the beauty of now is memory
Cherish now and cherish max - you'll never be here again.