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Every sheet has parted. [Every hope has vanished.]
Black Velvety Sheet
Red velvety sheet for fun
Blue Velvety sheet for love
Pink velvety sheet for fun
Black sheet for stealing love
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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For You, My Dear, When You Are So Blank
white sheet. a paper. like you.
iwant to write something
just to fill this white sheet a little bit
some words. i can utter them.
but i like writing them
just to make this white sheet looking
full. like
'i love you'.
the rest need not be written.
i know you know and you know that i know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Yad Mordechai
Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here
still look out the windows like sick children
who are not allowed outside to play.
And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted
for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron
rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life
and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,
sheet iron that clangs and clangs.
And I said to myself: Everyone is attached to his own lament
as to a parachute. Slowly he descends and slowly hovers
until he touches the hard place.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wish Life Were Like It
when i was a child
mama would give me a blank sheet
of paper where i can draw lines and circles
where my imagination runs
unstopped like it were the wind
blowing anywhere
all colors swirl and figures of angels
and fairies and castles and horses are drawn &
after a while all these become too
crowded inside the four corners
of the large white sheet
and then tired of such figures and lines and
circles and colors crowding on that large white sheet
i decided to take it away and
crumple it and throw it on the waste basket
and i would tell mama that i am taking
another blank sheet for my use
and she says 'It's alright'
I wish my life were like it. Something that i can
change the moment i do not like it.
Something to crumple and throw when
necessity dictates it.
And then i take another for good start.
I wish it were like that. But simply said,
it isn't.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something Got Me Started
Something got me started
You know that I will love you
Lately since we parted
I truly know that I need you
Id give it all up for you
Yes I would
Totally broken hearted
Guilty of what I did to you
Lately since we parted
I truly know that I need you
Id give it all up for you
Yes I would
Youve got to help me help me help me
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Love Endures
True love
requires no proof
needs no proving.
True love
cannot help but
prove itself
over the course of time.
True love
stands the acid
test of time
with indomitable will
of true lovers
who cannot bear
to parted be.
True love
despite all adversity
unleashed
cannot parted be.
True lovers
live in the hearts
of their beloved
amazed at the beauty
two souls invoke
that cannot parted be.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Blank Sheet Of Paper
I'm just a blank sheet of paper
This fool's about to write you a letter
To tell you that he's sorry
For the way he did you wrong
To ask for forgiveness
For leaving you alone
He's been looking down at me seems like forever
he takes the top on and off his pen
It's like he can't decide
Just what he wants to say
If he'd just tell the truth
I'd be on my way
Chorus
But he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he doesn't want it to end
And now it's one hour later (four hours later)
I am still a blank sheet of paper
Sunlight is shining through the curtains
He's almost asleep pen in hand
There's a tear in his eye
That refuses to fall
If it would land on me
That would say it all
Repeat Chorus
And he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he wants it back again
And now one broken heart later
I am still a Blank sheet of paper
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Superman
I cant stand to fly
Im not that naive
Im just out to find
The better part of me
Im more than a bird...Im more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
Its not easy to be me
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home Ill never see
It may sound absurd...but dont be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but wont you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
Its not easy to be me
Up, up and away...away from me
Its all right...you can all sleep sound tonight
Im not crazy...or anything...
I cant stand to fly
Im not that naive
Men werent meant to ride
With clouds between their knees
Im only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me
Inside me
Yeah, inside me
Inside of me
Im only a man
In a funny red sheet
Im only a man
Looking for a dream
Im only a man
In a funny red sheet
And its not easy, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm...
Its not easy to be me
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Explorations: X
They met
They parted
What's of it?
So what?
Doesn't everything in nature
Come together and part
Once purpose is fulfilled?
Aren't we a small part
Of that nature that comes
Together and later falls apart?
They met
They parted
So what?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Song Of Long Ago
LONG ago, long ago,
When the hawthorn buds were pearly
And the birds sang, late and early,
All the songs that lovers know,
How we lingered in the lane,
Kissed and parted, kissed again,
Parted, laggard foot and slow!
What a pretty world we knew
Dressed in moonlight, dreams and dew,
Long ago, my first sweet sweetheart,
Long ago!
Long ago, long ago,
When the wind was on the river
Where the lights and shadows shiver,
And the streets were all aglow.
In the gaudy gas-lit street
We two parted, sweet, my sweet,
And the crowd went to and fro,
And your veil was wet with tears
For the inevitable years--
Long ago, my last sweet sweetheart,
Long ago!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Song—The Winter it is Past
The winter it is past, and the summer comes at last
And the small birds, they sing on ev’ry tree;
Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.
The rose upon the breer, by the waters running clear,
May have charms for the linnet or the bee;
Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest,
But my true love is parted from me.
poem by Robert Burns
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New Year Snow
THE white snow falls on hill and dale,
The snow falls white by square and street,
Falls on the town, a bridal veil,
And on the fields a winding-sheet.
A winding-sheet for last year's flowers,
For last year's love, and last year's tear,
A bridal veil for the New Hours,
For the New Love and the New Year.
Soft snow, spread out his winding-sheet!
Spin fine her veil, O bridal snow!
Cover the print of her dancing feet,
And the place where he lies low.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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2010/05/16 Outlawed
Psychologically preparing for returning to
work tomorrow, making lists, Production
Sheet of everything I did during the month
Month Sheet for everything we ALL did
during the month
Work-On-Hand, a list of work to be done by
me in the coming week, another list of work
to be done by the whole Section during the
coming week, sheet upon sheet, a list of
lists to be listed
By the time we are finished listing I will have
done so much soul-searching, seeking out
shortcomings in my conscience, I shall know
I am a criminal, guilty for being born, even more
guilty for living on
Guilty for breathing and dreaming of a better world
where freedom and joy, love and acceptance abound
guilty for being a flawed human being who should be
kept in the straightjacket of legislation, laws and
regulations - guilty for being
A specimen of the species homo erectus - bureaucracy
has been designed to strangle all humanity out of me -
but I learnt to love breathing because breathing
has been outlawed...
*
Let’s kill the world, let’s all die out, it’s my highest dream
to become extinct, let’s kill the world, let’s all die out,
my highest vision is one of extinction...
poem by Margaret Alice
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It Rained So Hard In The Mountains
it rained so hard in the mountains
and the water ran
together toward the blue sea
a conquest
between brown and blue
i am looking.
the sea is parted.
brown is about fourteen meters.
and blue is driven away.
the trees are bald.
a coconut falls.
we wait. we see how
brownish things murk
the bluish shade of this world.
i am this Filipino.
I am brown. I am what
is this murkiness all about.
we parted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God’s balance sheet
In God’s balance sheet
There is no profit, no loss.
The profit in your balance sheet
Tallies with the loss elsewhere.
19.11.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Under The Sheet
What a terrible night! Does the Night, I wonder-
The Night, with her black veil down to her feet
Like an ordained nun, know what lies under
That awful, motionless, snow-white sheet?
The winds seem crazed, and, wildly howling,
Over the sad earth blindly go.
Do they and the dark clouds over them scowling,
Do they dream or know?
Why, here in the room, not a week or over-
Tho' it must be a week, not more than one-
(I cannot reckon of late or discover
When one day is ended or one begun),
But here in this room we were laughing lightly,
And glad was the measure our two hearts beat;
And the royal face that was smiling so brightly
Lies under that sheet.
I know not why-it is strange and fearful,
But I am afraid of her, lying there;
She who was always so gay and cheerful,
Lying so still with that stony stare:
She who was so like some grand sultana,
Fond of color and glow and heat,
To lie there clothed in that awful manner
In a stark white sheet.
She who was made out of summer blisses,
Tropical, beautiful, gracious, fair,
To lie and stare at my fondest kisses-
God! no wonder it whitens my hair.
Shriek, oh, wind! for the world is lonely;
Trail cloud-veil to the nun Night's feet.
For all that I prized in life is only
A shape and a sheet.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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