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Can I pull down the sun with a forked stick, or prevent it from running its course?
New Zealander proverbs

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forked tongues disappoint
what faith, hope, and charity,
commitment, anoint
(24 October 2006)
haiku by Jonathan Robin (24 October 2006)

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Envy
The slow turn
the burn
on my memory
the devil
faced me
his forked tongue
flicking venom
and thunder
for me daring
to write poetry.
poem by Vince Gullaci

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The darkness cannot quench
The darkness cannot quench
the light that You forked in me
where Your flames branched down sizzling
and even if destiny tries to stunt me uncannily
you free me from its tyranny
from the ghosts that accompanies it
and bit-by-bit you lead me to Your light
through this life, right through the night.
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cliches On Lying
you got a tall tale to tell
something to yank your chair
lying there like a rug
pulling your leg
giving me this snow job
about a cock and bull story
forked tongue you've got
up my ass you blow your smoke
and to convince me
that it is raining
you pee on my leg
so hard to swallow
as you pull that wool over
your eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Acceptability
no one's to blame for the rejection
it was you who wants to get inside
that door where everyone
seems to be preoccupied with
how they look and what others say
you should not have entered in the
first place, now you mix with the crowd
talking about their latest gems
and acquisitions, their tongues
are forked and you are not prepared
for this
why did you leave the pond, your house,
your garden, don't you see that there
was more peace and quiet in there?
look at you, you're sick and trembling.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For the Dead of the Revolution
Death-prone, the bodies
forked in mutiny
against the collar
of the uncooked plague,
your destiny cleansed
with the dark gesture.
By whom the paths are prepared,
to sink upon the grill,
death pitches forward still
before him, in reverence.
poem by Ernst Toller

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Pray
that you cannot be caught
off-guard
in your unguarded moments
oh, the hypocrite in you
is deeply religious
so much depends perhaps
your life in lies
your ways in deception
your tongue forked like that of the snake
woman
you body twisted like your mind
your soul long lost
in the fires of hell
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Evening....
that evening i smell the stinking truth
hidden inside your rain
clothes
when i get near you i am badly
bitten
by its sharp teeth
its forked tongue
makes me tremble
but because i love you
i swallowed all these in the deepest
layer of
patience
i shall enter the castle of your being
and so i still have to swim
this moat.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ginkgo Biloba
To my garden here translated,
Foliage of this eastern tree
Nourishes the initiated
With it’s meaning’s mystery.
Is its leaf one self divided,
Forked into a shape of strife?
Or have two of them decided
On a symbiotic life?
This I answer without trouble
And am qualified to know:
I am single, I am double,
And my poems tell you so.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burn 'Em Down
At a crossroads in your life
at a point to make a decision
do you play the game for monetary gain
or do you follow a code of ethics
having to deal with some
with the charm of a snake that speaks
with a forked tongue
they'll keep a casual bond to use you later on
disconnect yourself and get away
burn your bridges and don't look back
Burn 'em down
song performed by by Sick Of It All from Built To Last

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Lapse End Time Countdown
spiritual leaders dream peace
war generals dream strategy war
politicians dream expanding empire
Sitting Bull dreamed protecting people
forked tongued devils dream wealth
God spoke final end time prophecy
behold a new heaven new earth
poem by Terence George Craddock

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Top Choice Steak
There is nothing wrong,
With someone acquiring a taste...
For chopped liver.
Smothered in olive oil,
And seasoned with carmelized onions.
I see nothing wrong with that at all.
Forked or finger pinched to nibble.
It's just the expectations of someone,
Assuming to consume me...
As a fantasy to feed on.
And whether or not they like what I've got...
I will be no one's chopped liver.
Especially when it took me too long,
To be recognized as top choice steak!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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336
the main entry
of course in tonight’s activity
is the
crotch
I like it as a noun
And will always
Be itself a
Very hot noun
They say it
Might probably be an
Alteration
Of a crutch
In 1563
It was a pole with a forked end
A prop of old men
Actually as we see it
A crotch
Is just an angle formed by
The parting of two legs
This is the one
That I like best
An image of parting legs
Now this becomes
My favorite verb: parting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swansong
Nothing in the shade
of the sun divulges
its fate perched upon
the silver line on the horizon
for every gloaming
its supercilious flames
sank to its dark demise
and in the long furlough
it musters the starshine
so when the wintry moon
waned from her divan
he would shoot a flaming arrow
and shear the canopies eastward
revived with duplicitous hopes
unbeknownst to the tongue
awaiting to quell it again
in a forked and malcontent cycle
poem by Norman Santos

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homelessness
Bending the forked-stick to find
underground water ―
and immortality of thirst.
Lips were fragile. There were
no dew drops on the upper lip.
It tasted like a frozen moon.
Clouds had sucked the childhood.
No one picks up the fireflies
from dark bushes.
Tasered by stings, the moonlight
hangs by the window.
I watch you undressing.
After the blizzard, a rocking chair
waits. Hypothermia. The musical
return of the mute did not take place.
poem by Satish Verma

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Voice
Hey you
talking to me with your forked tongue
Go ahead
Keep telling me your lies
I can spot deception a mile away
You don't fool me
Just when I think you're gone for good
you show up again
putting me into a state of confusion and chaos
by saying what you think I want to hear
A constant tease that makes me
feel like a tangled mass of nerves
First you say you love me,
I turn around, and then you hate me
never seeming to make up your mind
Why do you do this to me?
Two faced bastard
I can't take this anymore
I won't listen
Get out of my head or you're dead
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Idle Pecking (2003)
Little itching, scratching, stabbing habits that ravage our souls
rape our best intentions
we're all angels infected with devils of the mind
ittle pitch forked menaces that keep us in line
bouncing back and fourth through weakened synapses
we're the walking, talking, thinking, breathing, fucking, product of our environment
searching out our next hit
we're highly trained specialists at selfishness
killer creating, combinations of actions & conversations
we're the end & begining
we're alpha and omega
human under ego, above all else
Golden Leap
at cremation ground
the flames were creating
strange words
he stood still, in void, between unfenced tears
there was no need to question the answers,
kicking up the history, of crossing the bridge
over the river of annihilation
of self, making a gift of forked tongue
of cobra, spiteful, as an old virgin
it was over without thinking, scribbling
on the margin, his name in different inks
a young smell floats an funny rocks of
events and the fish swims in eyes of dead
foetus in womb, with unclenched fists
poem by Satish Verma

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Road
i took a long walk with Jesus
down a moonlit dusty road...
listening, just listening, to every word.
when we came to the place
where the road forked,
He smiled... and gave me
a match, a candle, and a rusted nail.
this road often empty,
i have come to know...
the voices of stillness,
and the sound of the water
breaking over the rocks.
when the darkness swallows me,
i stop, and light the candle,
rolling the nail in my hand.
and i wait quietly for the moon!
poem by Eric Cockrell

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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