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The turtle lays thousands of eggs without anyone knowing, but when the hen lays an egg, the whole country is informed.
Where she lays
Where she lays
~
Where she lays to sleep
many a flower grows
her beauty water like
flowing without restraint
it reigns into the soul
a light which brightly shines
to love words are given
without request for reply
they seep and drip
from lip to lips
ode to the nectar a kiss
heavenly felt a touch
from hand to the heart
a pillow to her mind
where she lays to sleep
many a flower grows
beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Becomes The Poem!
there comes a time...
when the artist lays down the brush,
when the carpenter lays down the hammer,
when the lover walks out the door.
when the child turns away
from childish things.
when the mother steps back,
and opens the door.
when the old man stomps out
the fire with his boots.
when the sky falls,
and the earth rises.
when the poor just will not
take it any more.
when the sacred reveals
itself in a back alley.
when the truth steps up
and cuts the throat of the lie.
when the wind returns
from whence it came.
when the poet lays down his pen,
and becomes the poem!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Idle in June
She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.
Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June
She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.
They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.
One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today, A Phantom. (A Triolet)
Heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past,
what there is now, an end, -a start,
heavy it lays upon my heart,
tragic mask when does break apart,
bleak, oh! Gloomy shadows it cast.
Heavy it lays upon my heart,
that today is a morrows past.
R.N.Khan, © 2011
poem by Raja Nosherwan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My love lays sleeping
My love lays sleeping
~
Sleep eludes me
My thoughts play on
Into the quiet of the night
A whispered chatter of thoughts
Fill my restless mind
~
My love lays sleeping
Beside me, safe
While I sit writing
I write of her beauty
The gentle nature of her soul
I write as if to say
How much I love her
~
What I would give
To see into her dreams
And gift them all to her
That she may smile and laugh
And share in this love
As though to dream forevermore
~
Sleep eludes me
My love lays sleeping
Sleep on sweet beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty Of Our Love
The beauty of the sky lays within the
wings of the birds and the stars, sun,
and moon, the beauty of the ocean lays
within the fish and it's waves, the
beauty of our love lay within our
hearts and our tender touches during
our exciting moments....
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waking beauty
Waking beauty
~
She lays awake counting time
Thoughts soar like birds in the sky
She is free and she is beauty
The fallen rain saves her thirst
Brings to earth a rising bud
The flowers of something sewn
Begin to flower once more
A new beginning arises
She lays awake counting time
Her brown eyes flicker
Wide open to the world
The light breaks through window
Cast across her face
She lays awake counting time
As beautiful as the night
Those tender lips silent
She is as consigned to memory
A waking beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The last visit and conversion…
Here lays my grandmother
A week from: Death.
The gentle archetypal, type of grandmother
Who nursed my cries; made all things better.
Here lays, my grandmother…
In that; week before their heinous lies….
“Spoken in hellos but not goodbyes”
In that week before her untimely: Death.
Before; her cloak of life fell silently away bereft.
In isolating surrendered breaths…
In hopes and prayers…
In hopes; never-ending…
In words that were formed:
Like crusts of bread.
Floated in the mouths of the living…
Where once it was lovingly said.
That our own increments will rise conversely…
And speak from; our own deathbeds.
Shall we not all of us…
Then one day, converse, with the dead.
Here lays, my grandmother…
And to date—she is dead.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Believes (In Me)
While she lays sleeping
I stay out late at night and play my songs
And sometimes all the nights can be so long
And it's good when I finally make it home,
All alone
While she lays dreaming
I touch her face across the silver light
I see her dreams that drift up to the sky
And she wakes up to my kiss ,and i say it's alright
And i hold her tight
Chorus:
And she believes in me
I'll never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl
I could change the world...With my songs
I was wrong
But she has faith in me
And so I go on trying faithfully
Forever in my heart she will remain
And i hope and pray
I will find a way....find a way
While she lays waitin
I ask myself why do i hurt her so
Whats calls me on along this lonely road
Why don't i turn around and head back home
Where i belong
While she lays cryin
Cause she knows my heart is ripped in two
I'm torn between the things that i should do
She deserves it all , and i'd give it if i could
That a love is true
Chorus:
Cause she believes in me
I'll never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl
I could change the world
With my songs
But i was wrong
But she has faith in me
And so I go on trying faithfully
Forever in my heart she will remain
And i hope and pray
I will find a way....find a way
While she lays
while we waits for me
song performed by by Ronan Keating
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man In The Middle
Like an inventor
He is a symbol of a new age
He glides above the realms
Of you and me
He flows through your life
And makes you feel quite small
You may sit up in your chair
He doesnt care at all
Hes the man in the middle
You can tell which way he lays
Hes the man in the middle
And he realises
And he realises
And he realises
Beauty pays
His gowns come from paris
Occasionally from rome
He can go anywhere
Say back to his home
He flows through your life
And makes you feel quite small
Flashing to the white collars
Ha, he doesnt care at all
Hes the man in the middle
You can tell which way he lays
Hes the man in the middle
And he realises
And he realises
And he realises
Beauty pays
Please...
Hes the man in the middle
You can tell which way he lays
Hes the man in the middle
And he realises
And he realises
And he realises
Beauty pays
Hes the man in the middle
You can tell which way he lays
Hes the man in the middle
And he realises
And he realises
And he realises
Beauty pays
Please...
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: My June Bug
A June bug crawls quick
She talks so sweet
She flies all around
From my head to my feet
She lays on my shoulder
She falls asleep slow
She'll lays on my lap
She makes my face glow
She walks up my arm
And begs for affection
I love to show her a little
Just to see her reaction
My june bug's so funny, she rules all my world
Oh June bug, oh june bug, my beautiful girl
poem by Ramon Escamilla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Their Innocents
shay is so beautiful
shay is so awesome
shay is so funny
shay is this shay is that
that is how him going on and on bout her starts
all I do is sit back smile and know
as his eyes float into the starry sky
his mind is wondering forty miles away
where her pretty head lays down to rest
wishing she was with him
only if he knew she was wishing he was with her
she wonders if he knows he is the only thing she thinks about
when she lays her head down to only dream of him
he lays and wonders if she knows
she is the only thing he thinks about
as he lays his head down
only to end up dreaming of her once again
only if they both knew that the desire
to be with each other
is just as great as the others
the longest talk
the sweetest dream
will never satisfy the hunger for each other
when there together her eyes tell him secrets
secrets that no one else knows
her body looks like an angel’s but with horns underneath her hallow
one touch of his hand
the sun melts underneath her skin
one smile or laugh makes his day
as I sit and watch
their eyes and bodies lite on fire
and the lake they stand on
start to boil with the passion they share between them
all I can do is smile and laugh
knowing that their innocents will come and go
but their love always be there
to stay forever
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Believes In Me
She believes in me
(steve gibb)
While she lays sleeping, I stay out late at night and play my songs
And sometimes all the nights can be so long
And its good when I finally make it home, all alone
While she lays dreaming, I try to get undressed without the light
And quietly she says how was your night?
And I come to her and say, it was all right, and I hold her tight
And she believes in me, Ill never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl, I could change the world
With my little songs, I was wrong
But she has faith in me, and so I go on trying faithfully
And who knows maybe on some special night, if my song is right
I will find a way, find a way...
While she lays waiting, I stumble to the kitchen for a bite
Then I see my old guitar in the night
Just waiting for me like a secret friend, and theres no end
While she lays crying, I fumble with a melody or two
And Im torn between the things that I should do
And she says to wake her up when I am through,
God her love is true...
And she believes in me, Ill never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl, I could change the world
With my little songs, I was wrong
But she has faith in me, and so I go on trying faithfully
And who knows maybe on some special night, if my song is right
I will find a way, while she waits... while she waits for me!
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Love To Earth And Sky
the firm body
of forest night lays upon
a dream of wet leaves
softly sleep lays its weary hands
upon a labyrinth of
blue veins
blood pushing each corpuscular
mate
into the pinkish blushes
of an excited morning
the hands play their piano songs
dreams burning real
heat dissipating upon
the thighs
bursting as white cumulonimbi clouds
above the shadowy hills
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Think Of Me
So you're with her
and not with me
I hope she's sweet
and so pretty
I hear she cooks delightfully
a little angel beside you
So you're with her
and not with me
Oh how lucky one man can be
I hear your house
is small and clean
Oh how lovely with your homecoming queen
Oh how lovely it must be
When you see her sweet smile baby
Don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms
Don't think of me
So you're with her
and not with me
I know she spreads sweet honey
In fact your best friend
I heard he spent last night with her
Now how do you feel
When you see her sweet smile baby
Don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms
Don't think of me
And it's too late and it's too bad
Don't think of me
Oh it's too late and it's too bad
Don't think of me
Does it bother you now all the mess I made
Does it bother you now the clothes you told me not to wear
Does it bother you now all the angry games we played
Does it bother you now when I'm not there
When you see her sweet smile baby
Don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms
Don't think of me
And it's too late and it's too bad
Don't think of me
Oh it's too late and it's too bad
Don't think of me
song performed by by Dido from No Angel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hen's Nest
Among the orchard weeds, from every search,
Snugly and sure, the old hen’s nest is made,
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid;
Who lays her washing by, and far and near
Goes seeking all about from day to day,
And stung with nettles tramples everywhere;
But still the cackling pullet lays away.
The boy on Sundays goes the stack to pull
In hopes to find her there, but naught is seen,
And takes his hat and thinks to find it full,
She’s laid so long so many might have been.
But naught is found and all is given o’er
Till the young brood come chirping to the door.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where beauty lays
Where beauty lays
~
Where beauty lays
Peaceful in her sleep
Stealing a heart effortless
She was writ to a dream
Softly sensual to the touch
Sweetly woven in the heart
The night rain against windows
Like tears of plentiful joy
Answer the thirst of a soul
The world becomes clear
Becomes more beautiful
With each passing breath
A look upon all the hearts loves
And who gifts love to the heart
In the most innocent of ways
It is seen as it is known
Beauty shall be found
Sound in her sleep
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The put down......
The painting lays sprawled, arse up on the red carpet,
it's naughtiness displayed for all
Shameless it lays there, naked, no frame
and seems to poke fun at us all, I would say.
It begs to be thought of as art by the toffs
though some beg to differ, the painting just scoffs
for its strong self belief makes it hoity toity
as it shows off its je ne sais quois, la di da di.
Dare you to differ, consider its faults
it would tell you you're lacking in intelligence.
no culture, no delicacy and no style
then it will go to the wall and just smile.
I linger a little, look up and then down,
peruse the said image, so regal and proud
then move very slowly on to the next
while the poor dear looks hurt and a little perplexed
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring
The year has changed his mantle cold
Of wind, of rain, of bitter air;
And he goes clad in cloth of gold,
Of laughing suns and season fair;
No bird or beast of wood or wold
But doth with cry or song declare
The year lays down his mantle cold.
All founts, all rivers, seaward rolled,
The pleasant summer livery wear,
With silver studs on broidered vair;
The world puts off its raiment old,
The year lays down his mantle cold.
poem by Charles Duke of Orleans
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