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Racism man wearing white
No stop pushing me becos
of the colour of my cloth
if nothing is done my cloth
will torn
i cann't put on white to please
you
my cloth is n't white
so leave me with my
own colour
if you do n't leave me alone
i will be force to shout
for help and if nobody help
i will be force to fight
and if i fight i will fight
to the last
so stop this racism of white
and black cloth.
poem by Senator alufalism
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cloth of Time
The concept of time is
Like a cloth
Waving in the wind.
The wind collides
And bounces,
Causing the cloth to sway.
We are the specks
Of dust
Nestled within
The fibers of time.
This cloth is where
We sleep and wake.
This wind is the result
Of our existence.
When the wind is still
The cloth of time
Hangs
Like a man
Whose time has run out.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dying
I'm Dying, Dying to wake up without you, without you in my head again
I'm Dying, Dying to forget about you, that you ever lived
There's a shade come over this heart that's coping with laying down to rest
I'm Dying to live without you again
I'm Dying, Dying to find a distraction, get you away from me
I'm Dying, Dying to reach a conclusion, so that the world can see
It's the same old story of love and glory that broke before it bent
I'm Dying to live without you again
The first time you left I said goodbye
Now there's not a prayer that can survive
Dying, Dying to die just to come back so we can meet again
Dying, Dying to say what I always should have said
It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this
As long as there's a breath...
I'm Dying and I can't live without you again
It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this
As long as there's a breath...
I'm Dying and I can't live without you
I'm Dying and I can't live without you again
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Feel Like....
I feel like dying dying
Dying without you,
To leave this body,
To take a new.
It's not that I
Hate this night;
It's not that I
Have lost my right..
But I'm dying dying
Dying without you
To leave this present
To embrace a new.
None will mourn here
No heart-break;
No swan-song,
Not one inch's shake..
But, I feel like dying
Dying without you
To yield this robe,
To wear a new.
The secs of hour
Gapes me now....
Time pulls I know,
Inevitably how;
Still I feel like,
Dying, dying without you,
To take another life,
To get the new! !
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty Chairs
A large willow tree
Still budding
With small leaves
Taking in warmth
and the suns rays
Set back from the
Well traveled street
Narrow lane
leading to
A enchanted white house
Generously shaded
By that starting
Willow tree
Away from it all
Noise and fury
A table mostly white
Its age is shown
By the bleeding rust
Its companions
Too similar chairs
The severity of winter
has left its punishing touch
Their forms
rugged and sound
Years of resting
On that paved brick ground
On the top
A cloth
Of colors
Filled with streaking
Lavander, Crimson and white
On that cloth
For my thirst
A glass dew dripped,
Filled with ice and lemonade
In this beauty
there I sit
With an empty seat
Enjoying the gentleness
Of this place.
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drawing A River
when you draw a river
the river begins
to draw also a fish
the fish shall
sketch a moss
the moss
paints the missing
green
then you have what
your river wants
a place where you
want to
ponder about a sky
come to think again
now draw
a very white sky
take a pen and a very
wide paper....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dying
Dying
Youve seen the crippled dance
Give me your money baby, nows your chance
Your lies like cyanide
I am so dumb
Just beam me up
Ive had it all forever
Ive had enough
Remember, you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to, I need to be...
Under your skin
Our love is quicksand, so easy to drown
They steal the gravity out from moving ground
Remember, you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to I need to be...
Under your skin
And now I understand
You leave with everything
You leave with everything I am
In the rain
And I now I know that love is dead
You come to bury me
Theres nothing left here to pretend..
Remember you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to, I need to be...
Under your skin
Im dying Im dying please
Im dying Im dying please
Im dying Im dying please
Under your skin
Under your skin
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Is Dying
for every tree you cut down,
a child is dying.
for every barrel of oil that
you drill and spill,
a child is dying.
for every coal mine you
rape the earth with,
a child is dying.
for all the nuclear waste
you cannot dispose of,
a child is dying.
for every country you bomb,
a child is dying.
for every chemical you spray
on your vegetables,
a child is dying.
for every river you dam & drain,
a child is dying.
for every oil field you own,
a child is dying.
for every animal you drive
to the brink of extinction,
a child is dying.
for every smokestack, every sweatshop,
and every synthetic thought,
a child is dying.
for every tree you cut down....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Boys Cant Control It
When youre a white boy
Life gets you high
You hold out thinking
That you know why
You hold out
With the law of men
And when you die
Youre born again
Put down your gun
And find your heart
Were dying soldiers
We dont dance for the devil
When youre a white boy
Your life is lust
You kiss and run
And you mistrust
You hold out
With the nowhere men
You dance your dance
And try again
Put down your gun
And find your heart
Were dying soldiers
In the dark (we are no rebels)
You know white boys (cant control it)
You know white boys (never hold it)
You know white boys (hard to swallow)
You know white boys always follow
(follow who)
Put down your gun
And find your heart
Were dying soldiers
We dont dance for the devil
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art of Cloth
From fiber, to spinning wheel
From thread, to weaving mill
From textile, to sewing machine
Cloth is continuous ceremony
Whether knitting, whether embroider
Whether patchwork, whether bead work
The beautiful batik, the intricate songket
Cloth is concentration lesson
The strata symbol, the politeness norm
The body art, the cover part
Wedding dress, black tie suit
Cloth is human civilization
From skin, to fabric
From corset, to mini skirt
From blue jeans, to legging
Cloth is history record
Classic style, replied fashion
Color play, motif trend
Mismatch mode, big bang accessories
Cloth is social adaptation
Conservative nerd, ethnic vintage
Religion veil, punk rebel
Costume play, Gothic Lolita
Cloth is identity crisis
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A May Wedding
A May Wedding
As a bride who has the long veil around her head
The dogwood has white petals and they hide branches on the tree.
When it is time for her to kiss the groom
And the petals fall gently.
They become a white cloth spread neatly.
This looks like a wedding dress with a long train behind her
As she is walking down the aisle in the room
The wedding bells are ringing until she is out of sight
The wind appears and I see white doves in flight.
poem by Meg Harrison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Design
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shiver
Shiver,
that's what it did to her
sitting naked
in that river,
wanting to get back
to nature, as her mother
has told her:
get back to as it was girl,
rid yourself
of all that filth,
all that vanity,
all that god darn
modern take on beauty.
Shiver,
that's what it did her
lying nude
on Bret's bed,
the soft white pillow
beneath her head,
just as her man
has told her:
be close to nature,
rid yourself
of modesty,
rid yourself
of the thin cloth
of morality,
make love to me
until the dawn shows,
he said, lying butt naked
with her on the broad bed.
Shiver,
that's what death's kiss
did to her
as she lay undressed,
dying, unloved, unblessed.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Royal place
Painted fresh
Red and white
With even little squares
To Give a rich look
The look of royality
A table cloth
Laid out for a Queen.
Evenly placed on the ground..
A royal place
A splended place
For my knee to rest
Am I worthy
Comming before the Queen.
There on the cloth
Its settings
The plate
The cup
The numbers were in two
Off to the side a deep green
Bottle of wine
My Invitation
But my knee is resting on the ground
Her hand extended toward me
Beckoning my kiss
My lips caress her wrist.
Her invitation
Is to dine with royality.
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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L’Art
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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L'Art
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Draw Me A Map Of This World
lady draw me a map of
this world
and tell me where the
mountains and
rivers are
draw me an island
of soft grass
where a man and
woman can rest
and make love
draw me a pond
a larger one where
the orange goldfish
are fat where the
swans can swim
draw me some
clouds where the
birds can fly
make them real
please
i need all of them
for me
to be real today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome to Your Long Dying
Welcome, to your long dying-
Unsaid words, empty gestures
The substance you always searched for
Was never real, and you discover
We will all be dying alone
Of grief, of the faux, negligible existence
Everything taken away at the end
Dark holocaust swallow us whole
And strangle the last sound we make
Welcome, to nights of tremulous tears
Inside the winding cloth you've made:
The teeming brain's multiforme emotions
The day you were born, an empty place was created also
You were never too rare or special to die
The train whistle announces you've been left behind
To contemplate your impersonal end
We are clothed of the same dust
All arrows point in the same direction
Both the high and low road are a mobius strip
Eternal life, but a dream of dimensional matter
Held for a short time in bondage-
Time on any scale is nearly invisible to us
Welcome, to your long dying
Which is but the first breath of non-existence.
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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