No one could ad lib like Peter. You would think that it was all scripted, he was so poetic, but it wasn't.
quote by Barbara Walters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Everybody gets to a stage when it's time to move on. I was bored, and the band wasn't going anywhere, so I left. I did a couple of shows on Broadway and some other things. I was busy. I just wasn't making records.
quote by Peter Noone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today?
There was a day.
It wasn`t this.
It seemed the be all of everything.
Today?
But it was yesterday.
Who was fooling who?
There was a moment,
It wasn`t this.
You had it all in your grasp.
The power was with you.
You seemed alive beyond
Dispute.
But that was then, this is now.
And who is fooling who?
Maybe it was
All just an illusion anyway.
There was a day,
They said it was today!
poem by Peter Vealey
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The trouble with the performance poets is that they don't seem to have read anything. So there is not a real sense of the poetic tradition in their work.
quote by Peter Davison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven Is A Secret
Shell sing a west-side song
You could be the boy in the film
Heaven is a secret.
Where are the west-side boys?
Fighting on the scaffold of love
Scripted pleasures made forever
Easier said then done together
Heaven is a secret
Its a passion
Its a long way over there
Far from her arms tonight.
Here is her model home
Listen to the call of the wild
Heaven is a secret
Facts are awful shame
The shadow of a doubtful affair
Scripted pleasures made forever
Easier said than done together
Act ones the same as you read in the book
Could this be the thing that they shout about?
No more in distress, now its rushed through the door
And you cant believe that the secrets out
Scripted pleasures made forever
Easier said than done together.
Heaven is a secret
Its a passion
Its a long way over there
Far from her arms tonight.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born to Work
I wasn’t born to work you know,
Not like a snail is born to slime,
Pecuniary incarceration.....
That should be a crime!
I don’t do any damage,
To your veggies or your flowers
Yet I’m bound to work, not free to roam
For years (and by the hour!)
I wasn’t born to work you know,
I’d rather be a snail or slug
Inflated monthly targets
Don’t mean much when you’re a bug.
I know a slug is not a bug
So pedants please stand down,
Poetic licence there I cite,
So loose that crazy frown!
I wasn’t born to work you know,
I’d rather be a flea
On second thoughts though
What I want
Is to be a work free me!
poem by Cathie Tufnail
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A Recitation
My love you are a poem with its own description:
The assonance of your whispers,
The rhyme in scripted in your voice,
The themes that outline your body,
The repetition that characterizes the blink of your eyes,
The tonation of your laughter,
The persona Created in your characteristic smile,
The onomatopoeic rush of your feet,
The alliteration of your speech,
The imagery buried within your face,
The metaphor in the brightness of your eyes that likens to the stars,
And the personification of your words that fills them with reality.
poem by Peter Gumbo
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She said, and I'm not kidding, 'Is this a speaking role?' I wasn't quite sure how to answer that one.
quote by Peter Bergman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Was How I Remember And That’s Not How It Was
It may have been Classic, yet not elegant
It may have been Love, yet not romantic
It may have been hidden, yet not unforeseen
Yet none came to you
It was my brother’s irreplaceable companion and his little sister
It was my brother’s incredulity and his greatest suspicion
It was my brother’s settlement and his authorization
Yet none came to you
It wasn’t my dream and it wasn’t my fantasy
It wasn’t my concern and it wasn’t my guarantee
It wasn’t my content and it wasn’t my sorrow
It may have been my mother’s hope, yet not her premonition
And now its my animosity
It Is Poetic And Prophetic
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Those shoes have not been used.
Since many are afraid of walking.
But talk about nonsense,
They choose to do.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
It could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Lips flap flip flop so much.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Flipping lips lick ears to touch,
With venom spiced and nothing nice to say...
Yet quick to pick from empty pockets.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
'Woe goes the mogul to spend from thieving.
Wishing to steal more.
To take and not to give.
Or...
Sympathize with those begging.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead
Peter pumpkinhead came to town
Spreading wisdom and cash around
Fed the starving and housed the poor
Showed the vatican what golds for
But he made too many enemies
Of the people who would keep us on our knees
Hooray for peter pumpkin
Wholl pray for peter pumpkinhead?
Oh my!
Peter pumpkinhead pulled them all
Emptied churches and shopping malls
Where he spoke, it would raise the roof
Peter pumpkinhead told the truth
But he made too many enemies...
Peter pumpkinhead put to shame
Governments who would slur his name
Plots and sex scandals failed outright
Peter merely said
Any kind of love is alright
But he made too many enemies...
Peter pumpkinhead was too good
Had him nailed to a chunk of wood
He died grinning on live tv
Hanging there he looked a lot like you
And an awful lot like me!
But he made too many enemies...
Hooray for peter pumpkin
Wholl pray for peter pumpkin
Hooray for peter pumpkinhead
Oh my oh my oh!
Doesnt it make you want to cry oh?
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scripted Gold
To hell with the girls of new who regurgitate my ideas that I've sold
It irritates me to think that they think I wouldn't know
and guess that they starved my mind of its soul
Yet again to hell with these dogs that bleed
not a tear of repercussion when their mouths utter another's words
They're plagiarists stealing scripted gold
that leaves their tongues as worthless coal
for they lack the passion and attachment to the meaning
May they be dragged down below our hearts with their sinful deeds and soul
and join the underworld of hate and cold
because no pity is felt, no sympathy is given and no empathy is tried
when a nobody becomes a somebody through scripted gold
Copyright Nicola Bowes 2007/8
poem by Nicola Bowes
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Many What If’s And More
What if Cinderella wasn’t a princess
But the advertiser of a new flavored jellybean
What if Snow White wasn’t pretty
But the ugliest hag ever seen
What if soccer wasn’t a game
But a new kind of disease
What if an oven isn’t used for warming food
But to make them freeze
What if tom wasn’t a cartoon
But a new mechanical device
That help cats in catching mice
Get very quick and wise
What if Jerry wasn’t a mouse
But another name for cherry
What if a mountain wasn’t mountain
But a new kind of berry
What if shoes weren’t used on feet
But to help us see
What if I wasn’t myself
I wonder who’d write this instead of me!
poem by Risha Ahmed
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I wasn't really aware that my father was working for quite a while. I thought it was my mother who had all the money!
quote by Peter Fonda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wasn't hanging around the movie theaters in New York where I grew up, a Manhattan brat.
quote by Peter Bart
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Well I'm not much of a singer. But it's been a really nice time to do film, television, theater and have it all happening at once. That wasn't planned but it just happens.
quote by Peter Krause
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I left because I decided it just really wasn't for me, and I got a better understanding of what the Catholic Church needed from its priests and ministers.
quote by Peter Jurasik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Do Not Feel Very Poetic Today
I do not feel very poetic today-
And now I make that feeling the ‘subject’ of a poem-
Once Poetry seemed to be confined
To certain more sublime subjects -
But in our time
When every Form seems to expand to take into itself its opposite
Poetry makes itself of the non- poetic also -
There is no subject apparently
Which is non- poetic
Once a poem is written about it-
I do not feel very poetic today
And these plain and unbeautiful lines
This awkward presentation
Is what I am capable of
Poem or not,
I have written it now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sentimental amnesty(a dream) .
I had a dream.
It seemed so real and believable.
As they do.
The Beatles had reformed.
George wasn`t dead.
John`s death was being re-enacted,
In absurd versions 1-3.
For your consumption and acceptance!
Ringo had pulled them together,
As always.
But after all it was a dream,
Wasn`t it?
A new poster was telling all.
Shining bright, a fresh beacon of hope.
Amid the grim horizon
The excitement of that tangible.
The peace movement
Wasn`t economically marginalised and sidelined.
A sentimental amnesty
The world seemed kinder and
More knowledgeable
Than now,
Of the planet`s chances
Of survival.
As dreams
Often will.
A sentimental amnesty.
My mother was laughing!
About a friend of hers i had met.
I was justifying
A night out.
Trying to cover up
My inner demons.
A sentimental amnesty
Was on the throne
For all to believe in.
poem by Peter Vealey
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