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Stolen Moments
Because you were stillborn my little niece
The moment of me holding you in my arms for the first time has been stolen.
I’ll never have that moment of hearing you say my name that moment has also been stolen.
I’ll never feel your sweet kisses on my cheek or your hugs around my neck more stolen moments.
A lot of the special moments we would have shared have been stolen.
But I want you to know the moment of me loving you my little sweet angel was not.
The moment I knew of you; you stole my heart.
I’ll love you in this moment and every moment for the rest of my life.
This poem is dedicate in memory to my little niece who I passed away today 3/1/08. She was stillborn
Stolen Smile
Goodbye, Sweet smile
From a friendly face you emerge,
Destroyed by a frown so vile
And violently scourge
Goodbye, sweet smile
Welcome, idle eyes of mystery
Which drench a silent servile,
An aura of translucent misery
Goodbye, sweet smile
Goodbye, goodbye
From happy face you exile
Now fall into the shadow to die
In a cold morning’s guile
Distraught by a fixating need
To find a stolen smile
The very one I missed indeed
Fallen into the trident of Poseidon
Battled the hardship of the seven seas
Swam through the gorge of Caspian
Chilled by the wind avenging breeze
To eradicate my impassive stare
Caused by a stolen smile
The radiant glow that is too rare
A smile so worthwhile
Goodbye, sweet smile
Your years come to an end
Only the trail of your lifestyle
That frown has unexpectedly rend
Goodbye, goodbye my sweet smile
Welcome to an impassive stare
That has stolen my smile
That has stolen my irresistible glare
poem by Jhonny Jean
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Of Africa
Africa, my Africa, please don't sell out this land.
Brothers, sweet sisters, please come back to motherland.
Africa, mother Africa is calling;
Thy fatherland is being stolen.
Forget the pleasures that lie on the shores of America
And hearken to the voice of a dying mother.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fairy Song
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by Thomas Randolph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home, Sweet Home
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
poem by John Howard Payne
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Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stolen
Let truth be told
Until its sold
Silence is golden
Too bad its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
Our defense is your defense
Your defense in some sense
Some sensless way unfolded
Folded cause its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
The more you hunt the more I sing
Then quickly rewrite everything
Truth returns bloated, swollen
Then dissapears - its been stolen!
Stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
Its all been stolen! [x2]
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pleasures of Ordinary Life
I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.
poem by Judith Viorst
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O great golden head lie in my lap
O great golden head lie in my lap,
Sweet, sweet, lie there.
Sleep and I'll watch thee lest evil behap.
Sweet, sweet and fair.
O great golden head lie on my breast,
Sleep, sleep thou there,
Who in thy beauty hast stolen my rest,
Sweet, sweet and fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Christmas Cards
Every christmas card I write
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Has been stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write has been stolen
Stolen
Has been stolen
Every christmas card I write
On the little desk in the corner of my room
I find stolen the next day
I find stolen the next day
All of the christmas cards I write
Become stolen the next day
From my room
In my little desk in the corner of my room
Every christmas card I write
Is stolen
Is stolen
Every christmas card I write
Been stolen
From the little desk in the corner of my room
Its been stolen
Every day
Every christmas card I write
Has been stolen from my desk
I dont know why
Its been stolen
Its been stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
Stolen
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth And Age.
The last fruit off a tree is oft more sweet
And finely flavoured than the first, and so
Within life's autumn men may pleasures pluck
As sweet as youth's, and more sufficing than
The rank and rare enjoyments of the boy.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Golden Coins
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
Say youre mine, then ask me what you will
All your dreams, my darling Ill fulfill
Golden coins, I will bring to you
Silver trinkets and rubies too
In return dear Im begging you
For the pleasures of love
Ill bring gifts, like you never saw
Priceless garments that youll adore
Persian rugs to enhance your floor
For the pleasures of love
Darling, choose anything you please
Rich brocade, or woven tapestries
In exchange, I plead on my knees
For the pleasure of love
Golden coins, Ill place at your feet
Precious jewels to make life complete
All my treasures are yours my sweet
For the pleasures of love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The last two elections were stolen. They were stolen and so we will not rest until we reclaim our democracy and this is what today is all about.
quote by Barbara Lee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I justified my act
Having known in the literary circle
That what I have stolen from him
Had itself been a stolen one,
I ceased feeling guilt of my act
26.02.2008.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Oh What Pleasures
Oh what pleasures I have had
with just my thoughts of you.
I could not say them all aloud
for none would think them true.
Only I can treasure these.
Only I can know
what these pleasures have done to me
and where they had me go.
Into the garden under a bough
with no one there to see,
under the starlit evening skies
with your arms enclosing me.
Onto the fields in broad daylight
trying to avoid the sun,
succumbing to nature's mating call
We two become as one.
Oh what pleasures my thoughts do give
but never would I say.
I keep them silently in my mind
and pray they're true someday.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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RedRum
The dagger slips through the skin
You know that you will win
Oh sweet red rum
The blood drips to the ground
You are careful to make not a sound
Oh sweet red rum
The feeling inside; of hate
By the time they come it will be too late
Oh sweet red rum
The body is still in your hold
You feel the skin go cold
Oh sweet red rum
Again you have stolen life
With the same red tinted knife
Oh sweet red rum
You feel hate no longer, your heart fills with sorrow
For you there will be no tomorrow
Oh sweet red rum
The dagger slips through your skin
You know the knife will always win
Oh sweet red rum
Your blood drips to the ground
You shall not make a sound
Oh sweet red rum
Feeling inside is no longer
For you are no longer
Oh sweet red rum
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I told him if he had stolen a railroad he would be a United States Senator.
quote by Mary Harris Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stolen Innocence
Her face is beauty
Yet marred by the pain in her eyes.
The tears she sheds
Fall to the ground
Like liquid diamonds
And shatter there alone.
And I cry for her
Stolen Innocence.
Tis a beautiful thing,
The raw purity of
Innocence in Youthful Bloom.
It's meant to last forever.
Meant to eternally bless those
Endowed with such a gift.
But when choice is stolen
And Beauty turns to Brokenness
I weep for its
Stolen Innocence.
poem by Sunny Grace
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