As the purse is emptied, the heart is filled.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One can be emptied out and be filled up.
quote by Isabelle Adjani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mistress
oh! sweet honey comb of sweat distress,
hold my great taste of thirst, lobby my lewd
accent, the flesh holds the poison of emptied
memory
come the little passion my heart knock your
doorstep the rugged pain I adore, make me the
vehicle of your strength and capture the lust
that your wickedness holds
all the while, satisfaction move to regret and
as the moment witness our joy, all need not to
say goodbye, and the love songs of refrain dare
not to say, “I do “
wait for me and wake me up the entire purse
down; the pocket is lonely for each heart breaks
the luck, contented to lost, and the mind loose
a looser all the time …..
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ladies First
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Pushing in front of the ice cream line.
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.
Climbing on the morning bus
She'd shove right by all of us
And there'd be a tiff or a fight or a fuss
When Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
Pamela Purse screamed, 'Ladies first,'
When we went off on our jungle trip.
Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse
And guzzled our water, every sip.
And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,
Who tied us together and made us all stand
In a long line in front of the King of the land-
A cannibal known as Fry-'Em-Up Dan,
Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand
With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,
As he tried to decide who'd be first in the pan-
From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Grabby Gabby
Grabby Gabby was a little boy who was talking all the time
One day as he was walking, he saw on the sidewalk a dime
This started him to be grabby
Whenever he saw something shining, he would be grabby
One3 dayas he was walking, he saw a black shining lady's purse
He grabbed it and looked inside and found a lot of money in the purse
Also, he found a driver's license so he knew who the person was who owned the purse
So, he hurried to the ladie's house to return the purse
She was so happy that Grabby Gabby returned to her the purse and money
She gave him a reward of a large amount of money
June 29,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
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Ashes
My heart is filled
With the ashes
Of our love burned away
I've emptied out my soul
Until there is nothing
Left to say
Glued the pieces back together
Every time I fell apart
You lit a fire
Inside of me
Then left only ashes
In my heart
I have searched your face
For even the slightest trace
Of the love I used to see
Reflecting back at me
But what is gone
Cannot be found
And every time
I turn around
You smear rejection
All over me
I'm the most broken
That I'll ever be
Your eyes so cold
Your words unkind
You've taken so much
There's nothing left
Of me that's mine
You leave only ashes
In my heart
While your love still burns
Throughout my mind
poem by Erika Wingo
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Terse Verse
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
In my soul thou so give
And on its worth my life I live
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Love is a morsel of thine treasure
In one ounce is my immense pleasure
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Sing like a muse
and in poetry fuse
my soul into verse from beauties purse
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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An empty purse can't stand alone and a full purse can't bend.
Hole Hearted
Lifes ambition occupies my time
Priorities confuse the mind
Happiness one step behind
This inner peace Ive yet to find
Rivers flow into the sea
Yet even the sea is not so full of me
If Im not blind why cant I see
That a circle cant fit
Where a square should be
Theres a hole in my heart
That can only be filled by you
And this hole in my heart
Cant be filled with the things I do
Hole hearted
Hole hearted
This heart of stone is where I hide
These feet of clay kept warm inside
Day by day less satisfied
Not fade away before I die
Rivers flow into the sea
Yet even the sea is not so full of me
If Im not blind why cant I see
That a circle cant fit
Where a square should be
Theres a hole in my heart
That can only be filled by you
And this hole in my heart
Cant be filled with the things I do
Theres a hole in my heart
That can only be filled by you
And this hole in my heart
Cant be filled with the things I do
Hole hearted
Hole hearted
Hole hearted
Hole hearted
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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My Heart Poverty.........................
My heart is filled wit poverty it's alone i am hungry to be accepted
But my heart is filled wit poverty it speaks words of volmue but know one hears it
it's rejected.
My heart desire love and affection but it been shot in it's chest it needs reurrections.
Some say it's just a symptom but this heart is broken and steps on left on the ground unwanted......
this heart bleeds internally
My heart is filled wit poverty it's been deprived i don't know if it wants to beat anymore will it last another day to survive?
the conditions is bad ememies fightin in my veins went to my brain it blow up everything else was left was my heart and the remains.
Christian Guice
poem by Christian Guice
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Thou must be emptied of that wherewith thou art full, that thou mayest be filled with that whereof thou art empty.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You wake up in the morning, and your purse is magically filled with twenty-four hours of unmanufactured tissue of the universe of your life It is yours. It is the most precious of possessions. No one can take it from you. And no one receives either more or less than you receive.
quote by Thomas Arnold Bennett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On recovering my senses, I hastened to quit a place where I hoped there was nothing further to detain me. I first filled my pockets with gold, then fastened the strings of the purse round my neck, and concealed it in my bosom.
quote by Adelbert von Chamisso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday morning
Through a
filth-laden
plate glass
window,
I saw
her standing.
Wearing her
Sunday best.
Her thick black
hands hung down
in front of her
meaty thighs,
each grasping
on to her purse strap.
Patiently waiting
for the bus.
Shining off
of her
ample face,
a sun which
suggested
faith's glowing
promise
in the afterlife.
A beautiful,
too perfect,
blue-skied
Sunday morning,
contrasted the
depressed ghetto
surroundings
and the stench
of the
laundromat
I was cleaning.
Suddenly,
a knife
plunged
in to the side
of her head,
just below her bonnet.
Her thick right hand
covered the wound,
as her left refused
to surrender her purse.
She screamed
and cursed at
her assailant
as he ran off,
empty handed.
Wailing uncontrollably,
her hysterics equaled
the brutal attack
she had endured
Blood continued
to run
down her face,
between her
fingers and
onto her dress.
Her purse was saved.
Her life spared from
the vicious attack.
To the assailant,
the contents of
her purse meant
more than her life.
The ambulance
came soon-after.
She lived.
I wasn't
the only
witness
that morning.
God was
watching too.
She lived.
And her after-life
didn't occur
on that
fate-filled
Sunday morning.
I finished my
bologna sandwich,
sipped my Pepsi...
and went back to
sweeping the floors.
by
Tim Labbe`
Empty pockets empty purse
Inside my pockets
the wind..
continues to play
an old game, hide and seek
But then too bored,
not pleased enough
starts searching for
a playmate or a friend
who does he find?
Just take a guess? ?
My purse, thats right!
The wind tries hard to
hook him up
and Mr Purse?
naahh...
Too lazy and too weak..
promises to play
actually starts but
then, just hide away and
sleep.
Sweet dreams, you clever
empty Mr Purse,
Sweet dreams! !
poem by Elena Sandu
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Cupid's Stupid
A poet is born from a loving man,
A poem is born for every woman,
published in paper are just mere,
off record on heart so many here,
written on with a mysterious ink,
a mixture of love and a missing link,
a painful smile and a joyful cry,
a silent shout or a truthful lie,
blooming hell and a heavenly agony,
wow! what an irony!
a blood emptied heart is filled with love,
a simple word becomes a beatific verse,
yearning for someone is a blissful curse,
darling, sweetheart, my sweet angel Cinderella,
so many names for someone's inamorata,
a lover's chaste is the poem's charity,
like a rain kissed window glass without a clarity,
life goes on beautiful without a warranty,
a newborn lover's heart is the dead poet's society.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
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A Pen Gone Dry
Barren fields…empty places
Mind devoid of idea and rhyme
Sterile imagination…featureless faces
Webs in memories, frozen in time
Fingers flaccid, mind unwilling
Heavy lies this heart of mine
Creative forces not fulfilling
Empty flask of poetic wine
Dried up source of poetic spring
Used up store of poetic phrases
Emptied purse with untied string
Like worn out shoes and old frayed laces
Time away… might grow the field
Time away… might fill the empty places
Perhaps time will let the emptiness yield
To imagination…and full featured faces
Now...inkwell empty
Tear in eye
Pristine paper
Pen... gone dry...
poem by David Whalen
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Peace to Turmoil
When I omitted a line to read
I felt I lost the cost to that extent in
A tamil weekly that I then bought
With four annas of my privy purse.
I now buy it for seven rupees
To see across and throw it.
Is it due to the purging of my purse
Or mind running ahead of events?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouncing Pony
Joey is an adventurous little boy
A bouncing pony is his birthday present
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Let me help you into the saddle to enjoy
Youthful squeals eagerly express intent
Joey is an adventurous little boy
Into the stirrups Joey’s feet are employed
Energy is engaged one hundred percent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Reins are grasped by a miniature cowboy…
The eager steed bolts and away they went
Joey is an adventurous little boy.
The spirits of two generations join as one…
Their smiles and laughter are frequent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Motion slows as Joey dismounts and runs
Bouncing onto Grandpa’s lap and giving a hug
Joey is an adventurous little boy
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
(9/10/07)
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Now Let Us Begin
man if he is true to be man, is more real if he is at first
less of himself, when he is empty, when he is emptied,
when he is emptying. It is like the stomach, you feel it more
when it is empty rather than when it is full
it speaks to you when it is hungry
it grunts
it growls
it even howls
and sometimes it whistles
than when it is bloated with so much food
and wine and desserts.Because in hunger, in the hopelessness
of our state, in the emptiness of our being
we know where we will place
everything.
we will know our dreams, we meet our hopes,
for the first time
we know precisely when to wish,
and where to put them
when we are emptying,
when we are emptied
and now we are sure when we are filling.
let us begin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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