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Dysfunctional families have sired a number of pretty good actors.
quote by Gene Hackman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Forever
Vines like cement minds quench the night
Nothing open to the mystic sexual
I am a lion
You are a moon child of roses
We feel the eagle wings
Sired in great Greek desire
Born in the sea of wild night
Shall we become lovers?
I am a burning fire
My heart waits for your eternity
Bring back the garden
You are a wedding
You are the sweet spring
Let us be one forever
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Triumphus
A man, made
In the image
Of God,
Became a
Beast, in the
Form of a man.
The beast
Sired a son,
Not a beast.
The beast
Abandoned
His son.
His son
Has a son,
Not a beast.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon Receiving The Wedding Invitation
i once told her
marrying the one you love is not just a matter of luck. she has to accept
it is not always beauty that wins
the updated ones get the best news in town
and those who have taken the first move
gets the prize.She is getting older, and not as beautiful as the rest who already
married and sired their man with many children.
the early bird gets the worm.
the beautiful woman loses to the flirt and the daring.
it is not just the wisdom, it is also the scheme of things
the way she arranges her hair, puts her best foot forward, lying sometimes about
age and experience,
or whatever, she must know better than i who was also caught in this web
of deception
where love suffers, where a woman sometimes has to take a man
because it is getting darker
not the kiss but the child,
that which time secures her the days of her wrath
the time of her
sunset,
when the flowers finally wilt because the roots
have never spread their tips farther
now he has to lose because she stoops for no reason at all
but to conquer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lanterns
Light reigns the glimmering forest
I am the forsaken sea
The heart wanton with stars
Sired by fears of the forlorn world
A way has been shown
Path travelled by the waves of shame
Shame as deep as Calvary
My end has begun
Broken wings fly
Brothers and sisters appear like doves
Nothing matters without redemption
Fade away gray and black
I am still me but better
I see you and I am coming for you
No more stumbling holes
Angels have come in prayers
Lanterns light the night
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Time Hasn't Come Yet Baby
(words & music by hirschhorn - kascho)
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a lot of dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
But when it does your heart will know
You're gonna be a beautiful woman
Because you're such a beautiful child
And when you start to bloom
Just like a rose in june
I bet the schoolboys all go wild, but right now
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
Your life's still a lollipop heaven
Your teddy bear's at the foot of your bed
The little boy next door who only makes you sore
Is gonna some day turn your head but right now
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
You're gonna grow over night into a lady
With a devastatingly smile ???
And then a lucky guy will see you
And wanna walk you down the aisle, but meanwhile
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
When it does your heart will know
When it does your heart will know
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Benjamin Franklin
Franklin fathered bastards fourteen,
(So I read in the New Yorker);
If it's true, in terms of courtin'
Benny must have been a corker.
To be prudent I've aspired,
And my passions I have mastered;
So that I have never sired
A single bastard.
One of course can never know;
But I think that if I had
It would give me quite a glow
When a kiddie called me 'Dad.'
Watching toddlers at their play,
Parentage I'd gladly claim,
But their mothers smiling say:
'You're not to blame.'
Ben founded the Satevepost,
And for that I much respect him;
But fourteen is quite a host
Paternally to elect him.
'Fatherhood is not a crime,'
Deemed fat Ben, 'there could be others . . .
Darlings, I had not the time
To wed your mothers.'
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Annulment Everywhere
Liza says
it was her last option
otherwise she will simply be hurting herself
like poking a stone on her head
or stabbing her own heart
with her own knife
from her very own hands
last option: annulment
the man she says is irresponsible
incompatibility was discovered late
then follows Maila
again separated with a man sired her a boy
it is the boy that she loves more
and not the man
and so with Verna
she finally finds her man on top of another man
right in their conjugal bed
she could not fire a gun
that is her regret
the family court is constantly hammering
the gavel
for another annulment of marriage
and everyone seems happy
celebrations is occurring here and there
balloons are bursting
firecrackers on the month of June
my Emma is silent
perhaps disturbed by this legal turbulence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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East And West
The Day has never understood the Gloaming or the Night;
Though sired by one Creative Power, and nursed at Nature's breast;
The White Man ever fails to read the Dark Man's heart aright;
Though from the self-same Source they came, upon the self-same quest;
So deep and wide, the Great Divide,
Between the East and West.
But like a shadow on a screen, mine eyes behold, above
The yawning gulf, a dim forecast, of structures strong and broad;
Where caste, and colour prejudice, by countless feet down trod,
With old traditions crushed by Time, pave smooth the bridge of Love;
And all the creed that men shall heed
Is consciousness of God.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Severed
Severed!
From a maddening treachery
Inbreds keep in beds...
Sickened by duty,
Beyond comprehension.
And foiled through time.
Barking mongrels!
Thoroughbreds are desired,
Sired by tainted thoughts and deeds.
None of them are any of these
With a purety of consciousness.
A wickedness flows...
Streaming from the core of their foundation.
Eroding anything that's meaningfully clinched.
This incredible debauchery will never be cleansed.
Their ways are demented and fermented in self importance!
Unfortunately,
They are also severed.
Out of reach from a reality they preach
Thinking words alone sustains control.
There is so much that has rolled along unattached!
They've been severed from meaning.
Severed from a purpose they can't understand.
Severed they are...
And rotting!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pluck A Plum Where There Is No Tree
PLUCK A PLUM WHERE THERE IS NO TREE
God who freed
from fruit the seed
can pick a pear
from a baby tree.
God who sired
the hallowed fig
does harvest fruit
from a barren sprig.
God made blooms pastel
and bright fruits
and can a kumquat take
from a tree of quince.
Who made Pluto and
the Pleiades
can pluck a plum
where there is no tree.
================================ =====
(to Senator George Mitchell
.. tireless worker for peace
in America and Europe)
The Sanskrit word for the Wish
Fulfilling Tree is Asritakalpalateeka.
It is spoken of in Revelation.. the
tree with 12 kinds of fruit.)
poem by Saiom Shriver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Gentle Fire
Song of red satin longing
You are the dream of my heart
Thespian sea of mystery
Regal quandary of my limericks
Do you know I want you?
Do you feel me like the tide?
Will you wear my words like silk?
I sit by the sea like an ancient rock
Come home before the harvest
My arms are ships of love
Turtle doves with bright wings
Necklace of golden poems
Rings of Irish mist
Basil and garlic butter
Honey as golden as a mystic dawn
Wine like rivers of prayer
Velvet touch sired in purpose
Scarlet embroidery of the highlands
Your love is the spring of my validation
I will always need you
Be simple like a rising moon
Be brave and fear not
Your gentle fire consumes me
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crazy Clay
Is it sweet destiny that I am in your hands?
Molded to your desire on bracing fire
I wake up to lazy, latent earth trysts
As your potent fingers tease me to life
I arouse to a man's enigma, sensuous as earth
Revel in caresses that melt my brown life
Thrill to heady moments riding high
As passion waltzes her way between us
Does your woman know you in this obsessive state?
In this intimacy that riots through you and me
Perfecting union in those feverish hours
Creation at her sultry, rapturous best…
I am earth and clay most of my life
Sired by Gaia when the gods were playing
You were molded from me and breathed alive
Destiny turns a full circle now, I smile…
poem by Bindu Vijayan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lickerish
*Irish archaic: eager to taste or enjoy
A wood most wild,
Deep,
Afar on a knoll,
Bades a good man swamped
to wade and weed a corporate maelstrom,
Too mired in nothing natural but greed,
To come and claim again
The fine hiding of unswept forest
That first sired his boy joy
And a strong love, whose Lady for 33 sweet years
Helped anchor his truer, more noble, most simple
Yet real aim.
Their created purpose:
To dance ridges and hollows
Of the Tallapoosa plain as old man McCrary must have
Long before cars, current, or running water
Made it easy to lay waste and kill
The heart of GOD
He found and brought back
Just
In time, fully the broadest grin on a tractor ever known.
Her lilting ballad penned the yen for
Their best dream
Ever as one,
And they'll get there
From now on.12-31-05
by eserof
poem by Edward Serof
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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i will not be fooled by Prudence
i have seen the old man
die. His face spell regrets
and no matter how the funeral
make-up artist stretched
his slips, he never formed
a smile.
I know him.
He was during his younger days
a very prudent man
He observed strictly the codes
of restraint
and refused an offer of
looseness and being
free.
He prays a lot
and reports to God
all his misgivings.
He was a handsome young man
and women adored him
But he only had one wife
one woman all in his lifetime
who never sired
him a child.
This was his prime
misfortune.
He was erased from
the genetic tree
Forever.
His wife died ahead of him
and He prayed a lot
not to betray her
even when
more women still
are willing to sleep with
him.
For after all despite his age
he was still a man
with a lovable face.
Then suddenly he died.
Absurd. He died in sleep
A happy death perhaps without
the accompanying torture
of pain and
waiting.
But no matter what,
his face in that coffin
never shows
a hint of the joy
of eternal
peace, that inevitable
rest.
I know him
He has a misgiving.
He was fooled by Prudence.
He was a slave of
His own morality always fearing
what society may name him after.
He died a lonely man.
Erased by time.
Fooled by his own Prudence.
I look at him before he was buried.
And i made a promise with him.
I am not a fool and i will not be fooled
to suffer the same fate he had.
I will choose looseness.
Happiness. The one which is always free
Unrestrained by anyone else's code of Morality.
Subjective, as i have always known
it to be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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September 24th 1945
The most beautiful sea:
hasn't been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child:
hasn't grown up yet.
Our most beautiful days:
we haven't seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven't said yet...
poem by Nazim Hikmet
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Chaconne
Wood polished into angel sighs
World of pirates hears the morning
Great steeples chime like hope
Masons sending their sons to masters
Good men born into fire
Stradivarius in the hands of love
Medieval wood varnished in renascence
Hellene in Austrian Pines
Tchaikovsky sees a star
Echoes of reason romantic as science
New fronteers sired in enlightemnet
Preludes with kings with tears
Lovely rosewood tables
Cherrywood chairs on blue gold carotets
Sculpted maidens of the river chalice
Sequitor sirens chittel sumptous limmericks
Born into the rezins of beauty
Ballay graceful as dignity
Ideals unfold on a elegant violin
Johann Sebatian Bach is immortal
Chaconne like wings of heaven
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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El Coyote
They call him a bandit
And you know the notches
That he ought to wear on his gun
He sees you through eyes
Hes partially blinded
>from staring to long at the sun
But hes true to his school
And hes nobodys fool
And hes lucky to still be alive
The wolf pack will die
When its scattered by man
Lonesome coyotes survive.
He burried his feelings
And life was a mountain
That he was determined to climb
Then he caught the scent
Of a sister in spirit
Who taught him to love her in time
Somehow or other
She gathered together
The cubs that he sired on the way
And they run by his side
Through the chill hungry night
And they sleep to his sweet serenade
Theres a part of his heart up in heaven
And a part that will always be wild
And all he can leave them is love and a reason
To run for the rest of their lifves
Lonesome coyotes survive.
Theres a part of his heart up in heaven
And a part that will always be wild
And all he can leave them is love and a reason
To run for the rest of their lifves
Lonesome coyotes survive.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Birthday Party Of My Sister
she had her storms the past few months
her husband
sired a baby with another woman
and she cried in all these blunders
events she cannot accept at first
the seas will be rough
and she will be in a boat where she will find it hard
to move and breathe
she sails and she is now back home
to her senses
it is her birthday today and my brother-in-law greets her
with a kiss and perhaps more promises
she will smile with the guests
us and the rest will cheer her and sing her
a birthday song
all along we pretend that we do not know a thing
about the storm
whether there were those who sank and drowned
and counted as a number
a casualty
who wns who loses
we cannot count with our fingers the
minuses and the plusses
the party goes on with more food,
desserts and
hard liquor
we pretend all along that we do not know a thing
like life
my dear sister, life goes on
stick with it, let them those who hurt you
sink and be forgotten
the sea is calm you might as well decide to take your
happy swim
or just take a dip and wet
a part of your lip
see? nothing happened and those that happened
have become
stories merely not even wanting to be told
repeatedly,
we are merry
we have decided to be happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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300
she had her storms the past few months
her husband
sired a baby with another woman
and she cried in all these blunders
events she cannot accept at first
the seas will be rough
and she will be in a boat where she will find it hard
to move and breathe
she sails and she is now back home
to her senses
it is her birthday today and my brother-in-law greets her
with a kiss and perhaps more promises
she will smile with the guests
us and the rest will cheer for her and sing her
a birthday song
all along we pretend that we do not know a thing
about the storm
whether there were those who sank and drowned
and counted as a number
a casualty
who wins who loses
we cannot count with our fingers the
minuses and the pluses
the party goes on with more food,
desserts and
hard liquor
we pretend all along that we do not know a thing
like life
my dear sister, life goes on
stick with it, let them those who hurt you
sink and be forgotten
the sea is calm you might as well decide to take your
happy swim
or just take a dip and wet
a part of your lip
see? nothing happened and those that happened
have become
stories merely not even wanting to be told
repeatedly,
we are merry
we have decided to be happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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