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Full Lips That Kiss
it is cold tonight
and it was only our good fortune
that let me find this place for us to sleep
and blankets and i have your warm breasts
and you brought other friends that you say
need to be made full as well
knowing i have a special fondness for soft ever growing
bellies filled thus with mine and free milk
though it works i know both ways and you have told them
that it takes much, much more for me to give out to they
and while i sleep it flows how like rivers it all flows
and such are the lips in need that one never feels them
as they move with such firm purpose and while one
holds the stones and the other squeezes one then
the other untill it is made freely thus
and already i have many soft bellies filled thus and some
few their milk is sweeter but i say nothing as preferably
and i sleep now with my belly full of rich milk as they forage
furring the day..and life is as it once was and as it should be
and hard ship all around us
and we all sleep warmly and contently knowing
that it is thus
and even now one is in need and being responsible, i sleep.
while all around me the bellies are kicking and pushing.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Your Spirit Right
Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!
Be active in the practice,
Of prayer...
Everyday.
You can!
Care less about the he said,
Or she said...
Conflicting pickers of fights.
They'll keep you awake with sleepless nights.
Be true to your practice,
In active...
Prayer,
Everyday.
You can!
Erratic tactics,
Keep captive...
With distractions,
To minimize your pride.
Don't worry about their appetites...
For doing things the wrong way.
You stay on the side of what's right,
Now!
Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!
Be active in the practice,
With swift actions of your prayers...
Everyday.
You can!
Get your spirit right!
Let backbiters do what they do.
You can choose not to approve!
Just keep your practice,
Active...
In prayer,
Everyday.
You can!
Don't worry about their appetites...
For doing things the wrong way.
You stay on the side of what's right,
Now!
Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Balloon Of The Mind
HANDS, do what you're bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags in the wind
Into its narrow shed.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where is one active.?
To steal is static; not to steal is active.
To lie is static; not to lie is active.
To hate is static; not to hate is active.
To love the opposite sex is static.
You are active when you are forbidden.
You are alert where you are forbidden.
18.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Fireflies Under The Full Moon
shiny creatures
of the night
you glow
in full splendor
with fire in your
bellies
the day
remembers you
as a meadow
resplendent
with wild flowers
by the side
of the mountain
forest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Hands
My hands once warm,
And clothed in yours,
my hands once full,
and held in yours.
Empty hands,
Cold hands,
my hands have lost their,
Partner as you once were for me,
Your hands at once rough,
and soft,
Always gentle when in mine,
our hands would meet to fill the cold,
My hands now empty cover tears,
my hands once warm now with
a freezing touch,
your hands are gone,
the warmth they held has left,
these hands of mine.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Hystrion mute dressed in metaphors
transferred the silences
raft across the rivers
kept rowing with bare hands
downfall water foam
upstream strong strokes
in vessel stolen hearts
lotus like ripples
tears full of cheeks
hands full of slaps
lips full of hope
took it all over
over and over again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Why's Phone Not Active?
active is a distraction
an active slow down
don't bring me down
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Now Herod was an active man, and soon found proper materials for his active spirit to work upon.
quote by Flavius Josephus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Hands
my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,
my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open
they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon
you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea
'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '
i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.
let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alms
Yes
Today
I will
Give her alms
But only
If she asked
Which she always did
Mysterious cruelty
Not a single glance
As she passed
Hands full of alms
No
Alms full of hands
Yes, My, My hands.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Berkeley had a liberal element in the student body who tended to be quite active. I think that's in general a feature of intellectually active places.
quote by John Searle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are we serving others for a living?
If I want to drink,
I can hold,
two hands full.
If I want to eat,
I can fill,
one mouth full.
If I want to breathe,
I can fill,
two lungs full.
If I want to fill,
I can fill,
One stomach full.
We are filling up something,
all our life without thinking,
filling is not a simple process:
fulfilling the needs of others,
may make us the true human being,
as our hands for repetitive doing,
our minds for constant caring,
our hearts for intense loving and
our existence for simple serving.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Man In The Ocean
This is a song for the man who went down
This is a song for the man in the ocean
This is a heartbeat
This is a part of me
Everyone's reading in, in the papers
Feeling the fear and forgetting it later
This is a heartbeat
This is a part of me
This is the first step learning to fall
These are the wings, this is the call
This is the first kiss, bringing it home
This is the breath and the sex and the bones
And my hands, are full of life
And the rhythm in you, is the rhythm in me
And my hands, are full of life
Oooh, you make me feel
And this is the curse to the wave, that threw you
This is the shame of the years I slept
This is the glory, these are the tears
This is the longing in your belly
This is the siren in your veins
This is the light in the eyes of angels
This is the dark in the heart of danger
And my hands, are full of life
And the rhythm in you, is the rhythm in me
And my hands, are full of life
Oooh, you make me feel
We live forever our minds
A bit still we know there's never time
Enough to share the ones we loved
Enough to have to care to live above
I feel the chain that brings to time
I feel the way you left behind
I feel, this is a part of me
And my hands, are full of life
And the rhythm in you, is the rhythm in me
And my hands, are full of life
Oooh, you make me feel
And I know how loud a heart can beat
And the rhythm in you, is the rhythm in me
And I know, I know
Cause I've heard them scream
This is a heartbeat, this is a part of me
This is a heartbeat, this is a part of me
This is a heartbeat, this is a part of me
This is a heartbeat, this is a part of me
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What an Irony
My nation is celebrating good harvest this season
Behind tones of grains lying rotten
Insects having feast on them
Highest courts have ordered to distribute,
Why waste them
Who are bothered, swollen bellies unattended?
Record breaking harvest on one side,
People dying of hunger other side...
What an irony...
Hunger bellies caught in dirty politics
Who is bothered, everyone self centered
The court rightly said
Even god cannot save this country...
poem by Jisha Viswam
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Song
The song reminded me of school,
it echoed of hymns sung
in big draughty halls,
reminded me of teachers,
leaning against cool radiators,
blue fingers, clasping hands in prayer.
It took me back to lines of children,
worn shoes, mornings with empty stomachs,
bellies full of fear.
It took me back to times
when teachers would hide
a cane behind their backs ready to strike.
At playtime we'd run wild,
take big gulps of fresh air
pretend we could run away
Then the bell would ring,
we'd stand stock still, hearts pounding
dreading the march back into school
and as I heard that song and hummed its tune
I sensed those never ending days.
poem by Ruth Walters
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Apocalypse
An abundance of water dresses our coats,
For while the clouds do rage on the boats
My accusation is similar to intelligence
On the limited number of sailors of no importance.
My fearsome nature carried power on the ships
I antagonise, and they shall suffer an extraordinary apocalypse.
For they hurt my sailing and mission,
Toads of a bursting abdomen,
Bellies of wine and apish quality,
Endangered by triviality.
A chopping sea empties its contents
To the boats blessed by comments.
Our ships waste the dress of admirals
Their bellies are big, even need funerals.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Great Blue Sky
watching the great blue sky recede into the black space it really is,
listening to the lapping of an active lake under the great blue sky,
feeling the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
smelling the lotion passing into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
tasting the freedom of summer as the lotion passes into the soothing warmth of an active lake under the great blue sky,
the great blue sky which recedes into the black space it really is.
poem by Kale Beaudry
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Do Not Sleep Yet...
do not sleep yet
for i am sad and like all the sad people of this world
i need a little time
to keep me company
talk
talk to me
whatever that be
i may listen and look at every word that you utter
as some butterflies or bees
or flowers on the foot of those green hills
breasts of some mountains
thighs of some river banks
soft hands of the creeks
bellies of the valleys
i want to imagine the anatomy of nature
like they are all naked women
and you shall think of me as the lusting sun
licking all those
tasting everyone
do not sleep yet
i need to look at your words as flowers
for now my intentions are honest
pure as gold without the bones
of adulteration
soft and yellow
shaped by the gentleness of your hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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