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Our Cupid
Beautiful faces
All around the place
Sweet voices
From lovely persons
But what are they to me
While deep in me
I need a face and voice
Some are in company
Some are lonely
Some hate the company
Some jealous of the lonely
Do you long for hawks? Yes, hawks!
Lonely in thought for hawks
Better be lonely
Than be ripped apart
Sucked like orange
And dumped as garbage
One day will be your strike from the cupid
poem by Izuoma Ibe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take This Empty Cup
take this empty paper cup
i have in my hand
it is empty
and you will fill it
i ask of you
you think of the hot water
and coffee
so i may not sleep for days
you change your mind
you take the cup
and fill it with coldness
like chunks of ice
no i will not crack
on this sudden change
like the empty cup
in your hand
i am simply made of paper
throw me crumple me
i am prepared and i really
do not mind at all
i have always felt
the same love for you
even in the midst
of a frosty day
on thick fogs
on cold tin roofs
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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359
take this empty paper cup
i have in my hand
it is empty
and you will fill it
i ask of you
you think of the hot water
and coffee
so i may not sleep for days
you change your mind
you take the cup
and fill it with coldness
like chunks of ice
no i will not crack
on this sudden change
like the empty cup
in your hand
i am simply made of paper
throw me crumple me
i am prepared and i really
do not mind at all
i have always felt
the same love for you
even in the midst
of a frosty day
on thick fogs
on cold tin roofs
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shadow of Extinction
Numerous hawks, hapless and helpless
Are sitting downcast on the ground
Amid the dry leafless forest,
Discarding the high zone of their flight.
Their eyes are impressionless,
Wings clipped and tails curtailed,
Their claws: the hunting instruments
Cramped and contracted inward.
They are drowsing and nodding,
In a state of oblivion,
As forgetfulness to the ancient history.
Around them is a conflagration
Engulfing the woods,
The agent of autumnal wind assists the blaze,
The circle is belittling at each moment;
But the hawks with the wings clipped
Tails curtailed, contracted claws
Drowsing eyes, nodding heads,
Are waiting for the encroaching doom,
Beneath the murkiness of smoke:
Stretching over the shadow of extinction,
And far above hover the bats and owls,
Challenging the hawks.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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I Am Yours
When all my hopes and dreams
Have been betrayed
I stand before you
My hands are empty
I am yours
If you are mine
When I fall and stumble
Flat on my face
When Im shamed and humbled
In disgrace
I am yours
If you are mine
When voices call me
To question my faith
When misperception
Taints my love with hate
I am yours
If you are mine
When time decides
It wont stop for me
When the hawks and vultures
Are circling
I am yours
If you are mine
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Sky
I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time And Its Daughter
Time and its Daughter
I love your face and your face loves itself
For its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure.
The way you walk pavements adore you
rain shies away as not to make your hair wet
I love your face and your face loves itself.
When you cross the street car horn blears
All by themselves and white cars turn pink
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure
Sun doesn´t burn your skin, makes it golden.
Till, one day, the mirror tells of a wrinkle, and
you know years are ganging up on you.
You only enemy is time it waits in the wings.
As furrows settle on your forehead.
I love you face, your face doesn´t love itself
Car horn doesn´t blare anymore, get off
The road you lazy old woman, they honker
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Us, In Our Own Visions Of Cowardice
what is in us that
makes them fear
our visibility?
though we have flown
like hawks in their
skies
they seem not to want to see
how we have taken the shape
of their conquerors
we now like to be seen
and be felt
and it will not be terrible as
they really expect
on the other hand
we have remained hopeless in our
longings
we struggle to be freed
from this invisibility
we know the key to that door
and it shall open if we will
but we are the coward beasts of the rain
we like to wade in water
but we never dare
and so here we are in this again
being heard but shall never be seen
possibly forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poppies
The gay day is ablaze… And in the languid grass
The poppies’ patches burn like impotent desire…
Like lips that can allure or deathly poison us,
Or wings of butterfly, wide spread and red like fire.
The gay day is ablaze… But old and empty stands
This garden, long ago lost of the feasts and pleasure,
And poppies,weathered, like old women’s heads,
Are warmly overspread by heaven chalice, azure.
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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A Love Song
'Do you see over my shoulders falling,
Snake-like ringlets waving free?
Have no fear, for they are twisted
To allure you unto me.'
Thus she spoke, the gentle dove,
Listen to your plighted love:
'Oh, how long I wait, till my sweetheart comes back,' she said,
'Laying his caressing hand underneath my burning head.'
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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Empty Old Houses
Empty Old Houses
Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it
Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it
Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them
Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them
Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them
Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life
Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
poem by David Whalen
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty time, empty place. Empty heart, empty space.
Empty time, empty place.
Empty heart, empty space.
Give a little, fight a war
Take a lot, there is more.
Left to die, all alone.
Blackened sins to atone.
In a place by a stream,
in a dark, empty dream.
In a room candles glow.
Truth prevails if you know.
Something sweet and something blue.
Something with a natural hue.