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Lots Of Writing Talents
let us discuss the pupil-writer
worst pupil in the class
with lots of writing talents
worst pupil in the class
with lots of writing talents
worst behaviour most
potential makes perfect sense
lazy uninterested bodes
well for a bad future pending
bodes well as a bad storm omen
storm in a tea cup or personal trials?
wisdom pretends to make an effort
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A fall bodes a lucky journey from the house but not toward it.
I think that shows a level of maturity and understanding that I think bodes well for getting to the bottom of this. But it is really up to you and your staff, on behalf of the American people, to take on that challenge.
A year of snow, bodes a good year for olives.
When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous thing for himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes no good to other people.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meeting
Hidden by old age awhile
In masker's cloak and hood,
Each hating what the other loved,
Face to face we stood:
'That I have met with such,' said he,
'Bodes me little good.'
'Let others boast their fill,' said I,
'But never dare to boast
That such as I had such a man
For lover in the past;
Say that of living men I hate
Such a man the most.'
'A loony'd boast of such a love,'
He in his rage declared:
But such as he for such as me --
Could we both discard
This beggarly habiliment --
Had found a sweeter word.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Sequel..chainsaw..my Despair.
MY SOUL VIEWS MY DESICCATED FRAME
NEVER TO BLOSSOM, SPROUT AND BEAR AGAIN
SUCH A WOUND FROM WHICH I CAN NEVER RECOVER
SOON THE UNDERTAKING AGENTS, MY BODY WILL BE ALL OVER
BREAKING ME DOWN AND RETURNING ME TO THE EARTH
I CAN ONLY HOPE OTHERS WILL GET THE CHANCE TO EXPERIENCE BIRTH
MY LIFE IS ENDED
MY WOUND CAN'T BE MENDED
I'M A DEAD TREE
STILL STANDING FOR ALL TO SEE
I STRUGGLED FOR LIFE IN SPITE OF WHAT THEY DID TO ME
THE FUTURE BODES NO GOOD
WE'LL BE CUT DOWN FOR THE VALUE OF OUR WOOD.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choice
Some wake up sharp by the daybreak
Take a bath; wear ashes or tilak
Liberally on their foreheads and bodes;
Burn incense and light oil wick;
Before their deities and join the world
To swindle, squeeze and abuse the weak
Some rise late by eight or nine
After a seesawed night of spilled over wine
And go out to help the maimed
Unfed, oppressed and distressed
If one asks me to make a wise choice
I don’t mind siding with the sinful looking latter
In spite of the God-factor with the sinister former
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Sonnet7
The sky is wide, but not so wide, my dear
a bird can't find my head to void upon
The earth is broad, but not so broad I fear
my foot can't find a load to happen in.
Carefully selected from its peers
the rose I've chosen always hides a bee.
Umbrellas guarantee the weather clears
forgetting one, a shower bodes for me.
After standing hours in the cold
the ticket window closes in my face
All that I considered to be gold
actually, they tell me now, was dross.
Things are, you can plainly, bad, see-
it may be time to play the lottery.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Escape
Tree
Frog
eggs
leaf
glossy, gelatinous
Black
wasp
bodes
grief
Jelly viscosity
tight
Larvae in quivering
plight
Clinginess cedes to the
bite
Supper for babies in
flight........flight
flight
Days
pass;
not
yet
spinning and fidgeting
Wasp
back;
get
set
Jiggle is signal of
rip
Tadpoles instinctively
flip
Wriggle to liquify
grip
Perilous pondwater
slip.........slip
slip
poem by Diane Hine
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Green Park Snowmen Gone
Green Park is green again; the snow has thawed,
Except for scattered stumps of snowmen now
As dolour drips from every branch and bough
And foggy drizzle usurps flakes that poured
This fortnight past to garnish grass with white,
A rare event for Central London, since
This milder climate, here to stay, gives hints
That snow will be a much-elusive sight
So though we grouse that traffic was delayed
By slush as cars slipped on un-gritted roads
And made us take a “Snow-day” off, we know
These lonesome snowmen proudly on parade
Might be the last if global warming bodes
A warning of the end for winter's snow.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gloom that Breathes Upon Me
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which stike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once, -- the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thisteldown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which stike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once, -- the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thisteldown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet LXVIII: A Dark Day
The gloom that breathes upon me with these airs
Is like the drops which strike the traveller's brow
Who knows not, darkling, if they bring him now
Fresh storm, or be old rain the covert bears.
Ah! bodes this hour some harvest of new tares,
Or hath but memory of the day whose plough
Sowed hunger once,—the night at length when thou,
O prayer found vain, didst fall from out my prayers?
How prickly were the growths which yet how smooth,
Along the hedgerows of this journey shed,
Lie by Time's grace till night and sleep may soothe!
Even as the thistledown from pathsides dead
Gleaned by a girl in autumns of her youth,
Which one new year makes soft her marriage-bed.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Roller Coaster Ride
Walk down to the streets of hell
A man so insane, and a story to tell
Call him bipolar or mentally insane
Why is it me to suffer the pain?
I've climbed the walls of insanity
And ridden the waves of despair
There is none to comfort and none to care...
I've locked up inside me how badly that bodes
Now I am just scared that one day I'll explode...
He's made my life so miserable, a rollar coaster ride
I feel scared of my existence and emotions that I hide...
Home seems like a prison, miles far away
Seven seas across I kneel and pray
Oh God! Please help me and ease my pain
And wash away the ills with rain
Help me raise my little boy with strength that I can adhere
Make my wishes and dreams come true and take away my fear
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Gullible
The Black Bird portents the gloom
As he drives home the night...
Muted tones of grey accent his shadow
Conjuring up visions of panic and fright;
As a drought of a hundred years
Where the Earth wrinkles and cracks
The Raven bodes poorly for this day
As the muted grey tones now turn to black;
Fashionably correct or understated...
The less is more philosophy-
Sophistication is borderline-ice cold-dry
As the Raven has gotten the better of me;
Lacking-oh so lacking in any warmth...
Driven to a dark chill of regret and woe
The Black Bird has shown its true colours
Ironically, telling me, what i needed to know;
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reflections Of A Stroke Survivor
I look in the mirror,
And what I see
Is a stranger looking back at me
He does look like me
But something's not right
He looks like he's had a bit of a fright
He walks with a stick and he looks like hell
He doesn't seem happy from what I can tell
One of his arms hangs limp by his side
A condition that's meant
He often has cried
But at least he survived, should be thankful for that
'Cause he ain't got nine lives like the proverbial cat
Part of his brain has died so they say
So they did what they could then they sent him away
He used to play football and golf did this chap
But now he's got a real handicap
So he's hung up his boots
And his clubs gather dust
They're no use to him now his body is bust
Each day is a struggle
It's not much of a life
Good job he's got a wonderful wife
And 2 beautiful sons so
All is not bad
He may be a burden but he's still a Dad
And a husband as well 'til death do us part
Though life as it stands just breaks his heart
He constantly dreams of a time now long gone
When arms and legs worked and he could be fun
He's been to a dark place inside of his head
Where his demons would tell him
You're better off dead
The demons have gone now and all that remains
Is a broken down body that can no longer play games
I pray for the day when the guy that I see
Stands tall and strong and smiles back at me
So what will the future bring? I cannot tell
But with his family beside him
I'm sure it bodes well.
I look in the mirror,
And what I see
Is a stranger looking back at me
He does look like me
But something's not right
He looks like he's had a bit of a fright
He walks with a stick and he looks like hell
He doesn't seem happy from what I can tell
One of his arms hangs limp by his side
A condition that's meant
He often has cried
But at least he survived, should be thankful for that
'Cause he ain't got nine lives like the proverbial cat
Part of his brain has died so they say
So they did what they could then they sent him away
He used to play football and golf did this chap
But now he's got a real handicap
So he's hung up his boots
And his clubs gather dust
They're no use to him now his body is bust
Each day is a struggle
It's not much of a life
Good job he's got a wonderful wife
And 2 beautiful sons so
All is not bad
He may be a burden but he's still a Dad
And a husband as well 'til death do us part
. Though life as it stands just breaks his heart.
He constantly dreams of a time now long gone
When arms and legs worked and he could be fun
He's been to a dark place inside of his head
Where his demons would tell him
You're better off dead
The demons have gone now and all that remains
Is a broken down body that can no longer play games
I pray for the day when the guy that I see
Stands tall and strong and smiles back at me.
So what will the future bring? I cannot tell
But with his family beside him
I'm sure it bodes well.
poem by David Francis Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Country
ONE country! Treason's writhing asp
Struck madly at her girdle's clasp,
And Hatred wrenched with might and main
To rend its welded links in twain,
While Mammon hugged his golden calf
Content to take one broken half,
While thankless churls stood idly by
And heard unmoved a nation's cry!
One country! 'Nay,'--the tyrant crew
Shrieked from their dens,--'it shall be two!
Ill bodes to us this monstrous birth,
That scowls on all the thrones of earth,
Too broad yon starry cluster shines,
Too proudly tower the New-World pines,
Tear down the 'banner of the free,'
And cleave their land from sea to sea!'
One country still, though foe and 'friend'
Our seamless empire strove to rend;
Safe! safe' though all the fiends of hell
Join the red murderers' battle-yell!
What though the lifted sabres gleam,
The cannons frown by shore and stream,--
The sabres clash, the cannons thrill,
In wild accord, One country still!
One country! in her stress and strain
We heard the breaking of a chain!
Look where the conquering Nation swings
Her iron flail,--its shivered rings!
Forged by the rebels' crimson hand,
That bolt of wrath shall scourge the land
Till Peace proclaims on sea and shore
One Country now and evermore!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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