At this late hour a wagon has been procured, and I have had it filled with plate and the most valuable portable articles, belonging to the house.
quote by Dolley Madison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Night with You
Within your arms
I find myself.
The hour late,
the house asleep.
Lips conjoined
In fair affection
No need for sleep,
We’ve reached perfection.
Within your eyes
I lose myself.
The hour late,
the house asleep.
Hips conjoined
In fair affection.
How fortunate I
brought protection..
Within your room
We find ourselves.
one hour later,
the house asleep.
My gorgeous Flautist
Hums a selection
In present hope
of the resurrection.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Someone Belonging to Someone
I know how I feel
Lonely in the black of night
There can be no love for me now
Nobody listens when the words ain't right
And you get into someone else
It's hard for me to know
Who's lovin' who
And where do I stand
What did I do it all for
There's no one I could love more
I did it for your heart alone
All that I try to be growin' inside to me
I can be strong if you're there
And there is someone belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
I live in a world where the face of an angel
is all that a fool can see
You got the power to find me whenever I'm lost
Where are you ? Who are we?
I believe in time
Can eat away a heart of stone
And baby if I leave you too late
It's just a feather and the bird has flown
It's colder when the fire dies
With all the trouble I'm in if I lose you too
Then what is my life
If I don't wanna go through
Anything without you
Couldn't be life at all
I could be lyin' on
You are the only one
We didn't make it by chance
And there is someone
belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
I'm caught in a world on
the edge of tomorrow
It's all that a fool can find
I don't belong in the arms
of a love that is lost
Nowhere to cry
There must be something we
can say my love
Something except goodbye
And there is someone belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
Repeat above
song performed by by Bee Gees from Staying Alive (soundtrack)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don’t hurt them
Don’t hurt them
A song sings by a mosquito bound me to awake in the mid night.
I found that some thieves were stealing my articles from my house.
One of them have stolen my television and other one stolen another article
And one of them taken the book
In which my poem
“Bound to work” was written.
He reads my poem
And said to his fellows that
This house is belongs to a poet
Who thinks always for poor and toiling people of our society?
Such people are few in this world.
So we must not hurt such people like him.
So please put all articles back in his house properly.
We will see another house for our bread.
I appreciate their feelings for poets like me.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Someone Belong To Someone
I know how I feel
Lonely in the black of night
There can be no love for me now
Nobody listens when the words aint right
And you get into someone else
Its hard for me to know
Whos lovin who
And where do I stand
What did I do it all for
Theres no one I could love more
I did it for your heart alone
All that I try to be growin inside to me
I can be strong if youre there
And there is someone belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
I live in a world where the face of an angel
Is all that a fool can see
You got the power to find me whenever Im lost
Where are you ? who are we?
I believe in time
Can eat away a heart of stone
And baby if I leave you too late
Its just a feather and the bird has flown
Its colder when the fire dies
With all the trouble Im in if I lose you too
Then what is my life
If I dont wanna go through
Anything without you
Couldnt be life at all
I could be lyin on
You are the only one
We didnt make it by chance
And there is someone
Belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
Im caught in a world on
The edge of tomorrow
Its all that a fool can find
I dont belong in the arms
Of a love that is lost
Nowhere to cry
There must be something we
Can say my love
Something except goodbye
And there is someone belonging to someone
And I got no one belonging to me
Repeat above
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows i'm miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then i found a job
And heaven knows i'm miserable now
In my life
Why do i give valuable time
To people who don't care if i live or die ?
Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows i'm miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then i found a job
And heaven knows i'm miserable now
In my life
Oh, why do i give valuable time
To people who don't care if i live or die ?
What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed
"oh, you've been in the house too long" she said
And i (naturally) fled
In my life
Why do i smile
At people who i'd much rather kick in the eye ?
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows i'm miserable now
"oh, you've been in the house too long" she said
And i (naturally) fled
In my life
Oh, why do i give valuable time
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wagon
I pushed a wagon through a muddy road
I pushed and I pulled all for naught
The wagon did not move nor did it stir
Its rear wheels stack in the murky mire
I withdraw thinking...
This wagon did not want to see the truth
This is why it will never change course or move
A wagon is a wagon
It trots the roads or be dragged on
It lives its life and endures its truth
It is only me
From whom the truth may hide
This plain truth engraved on a rock
Yet boggles taunts and tantalize in a mock
copy rights 2010
Riding To Town
WHEN labor is light and the morning is fair,
I find it a pleasure beyond all compare
To hitch up my nag and go hurrying down
And take Katie May for a ride into town;
For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la our lay.
There's joy in a song as we rattle along
In the light of the glorious day.
A coach would be fine, but a spring wagon's good;
My jeans are a match for Kate's gingham and hood;
The hills take us up and the vales take us down,
But what matters that? we are tiding to town,
And bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la sing we.
There's never a care may live in the air
That is filled with the breath of our glee.
And after we've started, there's naught can repress
The thrill of our hearts in their wild happiness;
The heavens may smile or the heavens may frown,
And it's all one to us when we're riding to town.
For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la we shout,
For our hearts they are clear and there's nothing to fear,
And we've never a pain nor a doubt.
The wagon is weak and the roadway is rough,
And tho' it is long it is not long enough,
For mid all my ecstasies this is the crown
To sit beside Katie and ride into town,
When bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la our song;
And if I had my way, I'd be willing to pay
If the road could be made twice as long.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Portable Poet
THE PORTABLE POET
The portable poet writes
wherever he goes
On backs of envelopes
Poems-perhaps prose.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dinner In The House....
a plate falls from the table
hits the tiled floor and breaks into pieces
a woman is caught in utter surprise
and breaks into a hysterical
line but soon
realizes that this is nothing but an
accident of its
kind
about an ordinary plate
on the dining table
she regains her poise
keeps her composure and
retains her
feminine reservation,
'it is just a plate',
(it is not
a relationship)
i assure the guests of the house
and then all begins again
upon a witty conversation,
an exchange of
state-of-affairs
some on a cheek to cheek basis
a tee-a-tee
a peek-a-boo
a little laughter here and
another one dashing
over there
the children are out of the house
playing
some men are smoking
to the moon
it is not just a plate,
there is more to this
breaking
it is a symbol of something greater than those
broken pieces
if they only know
someone is talking to oneself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Back To My Little Home
I come late to my home.
As I approach it,
I watch for my behavior
my feelings
if they are clean, talk and stand straight.
i make sure
i have no unfinished
business left:
everything is said,
told,
and done.
my room,
my my street,
my neighbors,
the house number
the five street lights bulbs
and my old car
-I do not use or care to fix, -
my 64 feet square garden,
And the silence of the night
make me feel home
and welcomed
to rest,
take off my clothes, and
all the good feelings with it.
my home
my love home
the woman i always see
waiting for me
late,
the child i like to kiss,
the stuck of white papers
needed to be filled,
and the few
articles: the subject does not really matter!
my home
my kitchen
my spared cans
and little milk
a loaf of bread that fills my eyes and hunger;
A jar of herbal tea i managed to make
my home and
my bed
stretching itself over my room
my home
my canvases
need to be recycled
recolored
and reborn
again,
again, and again.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Old Female Teachers With Poloroid Cameras Can Catch You Smilin' Surprised.
I once had a substitute teacher with hair of blue...
This fact that i tell to you remains factually true.
One time other i had a female home room teacher with a hairry mustached upper lip...
It gifted her with a five o'clock shadow just under her noses tip.
I once attended a classroom inside a make-shift circle of cabinets
and book shelves and a portable black board.
All this shelving like wagon trained formed inside a school's gymnasium basketball court...
This female teacher, when after we've misbehaved.
T'would fastly whip out her Poloroid Land Camera...
So that she could inform our parents when we were bad, with a
split second visual report.
She was a party pooper this female teacher of ours...
She was a poor sport and also was kind of fat and olden and even
real tiny like short.
So the next time you think that you always have a bad school day...
You could be enrolled in my old alma matter and that of your valuable freedom, you'd have to give up and with pay.
Now you do know what kind of matter this truly does be....
No more free days-only more to be shortly real crappy.
Is that a bad school day? ...
You bet your ass you might kind of say.
poem by Michael Gale
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From everything that man erects and builds in his urge for living nothing is in my eyes better and more valuable than bridges. They are more important than houses, more sacred than shrines. Belonging to everyone and being equal to everyone, useful, always built with a sense, on the spot where most human needs are crossing, they are more durable than other buildings and they do not serve for anything secret or bad.
quote by Ivo Andric
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Welcome Wagon
We are the welcome wagon girls
We're here to still your milk
If we drink it, we wont hurl
It goes down smooth as silk
We promise not to take too many
Just the right amount
I'll promise not to let Ms Jenny
Try and do the count
All we need to do right now
Is choose chocolate or white
I know there is a brown cow
But white, that don't seem right
Before we go out thru the doors
Make sure they're not the same
The chocolate's mine, the white is yours
Hey, this sounds like a game
Now the welcome wagon is filled
With milk for one and all
We'll try not to trip and spill
As we venture down the hall
poem by Kevin Seales
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Counting The Days
Counting the days on the calendar
Strange how they bleed into each other
All that I need
Is a day with you
Pencil me in on your Saturday
Taking my leave
Should I be waylaid please wait for me
On a day with you
Maybe for now an hour will do
Remember my dear this time last year
The sunsets were late and the days were long
And the nights were filled with song
The nights were filled with song
Strolling the street we're strangely complete
Let's stay awake till the morning comes
We don't need anyone
We don't need anyone
Wasting my life at the traffic lights
Getting nowhere
Trapped in the turnstiles
Stay within reach
Of a day with you
Maybe for now and hour will do
song performed by by Bic Runga from Beautiful Collision
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My House
(Paul Overstreet/Al Gore)
My house is no mansion
But it still holds my treasures
Things that will never be sold
Theres a few things in this world
That just can't be measured
By money, by silver and gold
My house is filled with the things that I love
From her smile in the mornin'
To her soft goodnight hugs
Her whisper, her laughter
Everything that she does
My house is filled with the things that I love
This old bed that we sleep on
Don't have satin covers
But it holds some great memories
No decorations can make better lovers
In her arms I feel like a king
My house is filled with the things that I love
From her smile in the mornin'
To her soft goodnight hugs
Her whisper, her laughter
Everything that she does
My house is filled with the things that l love
Yes, my house is filled with the things that I love
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Value Of Innocence
I ONCE HAD A MOST VALUABLE POSSESION,
MORE VALUABLE THAN GOLD AND SILVER,
MORE VALUABLE THAN DIAMONDS AND RUBBIES,
YEA, EVEN MORE VALUABLE THAN BRIMSTONE,
NOW I LIVE WITHOUT MY MOST CHERISHED POSSESION,
YEA, NOW I LIVE WITHOUT MY INNOCENCE!
YEA, I HAVE LOST MY IGNORANCE!
NOW, ALL I HAVE IS WISDOM, AND KNOWLEDGE,
CLOTHED WITH COAL AND LORBS,
YET, MY MOST VALUED POSSESION WAS MY INNOCENCE AND IGNORANCE,
YEA, IT WAS INDEED MORE VALUABLE THAN ALL THE WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE IN THE WORLD!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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It Is Much Too Late!
It is much too late,
To remove that which has taken place.
While you were asleep,
And not in your mind 'awake'.
You devoured such a taste for hatred.
Served as you digested it...
From the plate.
And licking it clean after you ate!
Oh it is much too late,
To erase affects of disrespect.
Or to think forgiveness sits,
Ready to be given.
From those broken hearts intended,
Now too painful to mend.
It is much too late,
To appreciate those you were taught to despise.
Much too late,
To replace false images deceived by your lies.
It is much too late to fake an empathy for others...
When it has been known,
None you've shown.
Or attempts you could have tried.
It is much too late,
To remove what has already taken place.
And much too late to wait,
For an understanding to come...
From anyone who has suffered,
By those things you've done!
It is much too late!
For those apologies spoken,
To be believed by anyone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dad and Me
Inside our house you'll find crannies and nooks.
Crevices and cracks and fissures and books!
Books under the bed and on the floor,
Books around the table and beside the door,
Books on the bookshelf and surrounding it,
Books all over the house, every single bit!
Not a one of these books are non-fiction,
Different worlds are their depiction.
Fictional, sci-fi, dark and fantasy,
Horror and happy, more books for me!
Books belonging to my father,
Or belonging to me as I rather.
My father and I in bookworm heaven,
Until mum cleans up around half past seven.
She throws the books in a huff,
Says it's a mess and to clean it up!
Well dad and I try to clean,
But on the work we quickly wean
And in one of the larger nooks
You'll find dad and me reading our books.
poem by Lenore Lee
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Here In My House
Here in my house.
My dreams are filled in the here and now.
Here in my house.
Things seem so estranged.
Life's closer to being changed.
Where I live there is a numbness.
There's an emptiness waiting to be undone.
Here in my house.
I need peace and solitude.
I want the happy interlude.
Where's the happiness?
Why the sappiness?
Here in my house.
I want a lover to feed me.
Come and take me to bed.
Save my room for my heart to be filled.
Here in my house.
Outside, life torments and plays with the wind.
You get caught up in the bum rush.
When love comes, it hurts too much.
You don't want to let go.
Here in my house.
Let's sweep away our cares.
Find a place to get our anger out.
Constructively, with every whimp of passion.
Love rules out your heart.
That what love does.
Here in my house.
You want it too much.
Here in my house.
poem by Raven Brent
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