Disaffection stalks around us.
quote by Dolley Madison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Stalk
some get penalized
for stalks,
stalkers not
allowed here
and you are
warned.
what are stalks
anyway?
why should
we dislike
stalkers?
come to think
of it. Hold the stalk
and let your
fingers run
towards the
flower.
Feel the petals
and smell
the scent.
now you are
a stalker.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surrealism is a bourgeois disaffection; that its militants thought it universal is only one of the signs that it is typically bourgeois.
quote by Susan Sontag
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Affection cannot be manufactored or regulated by law. If one has no affection for a person or a system, one should be free to give the fullest expression to his disaffection, so long as he does not contemplate, promote, or incite to violence.
quote by Mahatma Gandhi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Sunflower Dies
It's sad to watch sunflowers die
That once were strong and bright
Their thick stalks drawing food from soil
To reach amazing height
Their faces once were giant stars
Their hearts an intense brown
Their sunny petals always smiled
And formed a golden crown
When stalks are cut and brought indoors
To parlors decked with grace
They bring its owners fleeting joy
With fresh and glowing face
Nobody cares when in a week
Life ebbs from each dry stem
Each petal shriveling and spent
To certain death condemned
It's sad to watch sunflowers die
That once were strong and bright
Their thick stalks drawing food from soil
To reach amazing height.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Stumbling
Disaffection
brings out, the black fever.
Stars will chart the inky path.
It was too close
the brazen attack
on sacred rites.
Prejudice
of contents was besides, heavy.
I am going to flee from spaces.
You become a fodder
of white ghost.
Your shadow cleaves in water.
Below the bridge
hangs a tale.
The river had received phosphorescent bodies.
poem by Satish Verma
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Blackberry Eating
I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry -- eating in late September.
poem by Galway Kinnell
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You May Never Die But That's A Lie Oct 30th,2012
Your big forthcoming problem will really be your death,
I know; I know, you haven't thought much about that yet,
And the preacher said you will go to heaven; if you are good,
But don't show your disaffection with politicians as you should.
Therefore maybe you don't need death with dignity any time soon,
Because you're a good guy - not some homeless criminal goon,
Not like poor Sue Rodriguez who was indeed very very sick,
There's no need to think about this - it might be some gimmick.
Do you think you might eventually get sick before you die?
Could it be a nice pleasant sickness before you say goodbye?
In Oregon they can have death with dignity before they go,
But not in Canada they say and this; you better get to know.
poem by James Bredin
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The Eye Of The Tiger
Risin up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now Im back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You change your passion for glory
Dont lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin tough, stayin hungry
They stack the odds til we take to the street
For we kill with the skill to survive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
Risin up, straight to the top
Have the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now Im not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
The eye of the tiger (repeats out)...
song performed by by Green Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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WE WAIT TO DIE Mar 29th,2011
Our politicians in Ottawa may soon tell us what to do,
Without binding referendums, as we wait in the long tax queue,
And without dying-with-dignity clause, we also wait to die,
It could be in deadly pain and sorrow and we don’t know why.
Add to that, we are now in the middle of an election,
Death-with-dignity questions might cause them disaffection,
Because the majority of our politicians don’t have a clue,
Add that, plus, binding referendums being completely taboo.
They’ll have a celebration when they are reelected,
Maybe you’re among the half who don’t vote and not connected,
We may not have to vote but we have to eventually die,
There is no connection, they say and don’t you dare ask why.
Mar 29th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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They who eat cherries with the great, are like to have the stones and stalks flung in their face.
Wheat stalks heavy with grain learn how to bow their heads.
The Red Toothbrush
Your red toothbrush sits still
In my bathroom window cill
Facing south in your direction
A metaphor for our disaffection
Each day the sun goes by
And casts a shadow like a sigh
I sigh for you my sweetest dear
I can’t release myself from fear
That your brush will dry remain
No more to caress a toothy stain
It’s colour lightens each new day
From red to pink it fades away
I’ve not touched it since you went
Spiders live there pay no rent
One two three I count the hairs
I want to kick it down the stairs
It’s all remains of what we shared
When this has gone I’ll be spared
Fantasy sometimes takes a cue
Science fiction does come true
On the brush I have in fact
A copy of your dna in tact
In future years I could renew
A copy of my love for you
poem by Gerard Heathcote
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Diary of a Survivor
Paint me red
Don’t color my dreams
Paint me red and burry me
We haunted the roads like animals
And danced as the windows shattered
We counted the weapons, the breaths, the days
In the invisible hours, we’d lie down and pray
Paint me red and burry me
Blind fold me, so I cannot see
Your disillusioned eyes and wrecked soul
When you surrendered beneath the purple skies
I cannot see it
The hollow human spirit
Paint me red and burry me
Block my nose, so I cannot smell
The smoke, the fog and the haze
The gunpowder you always inhale
It creeps through the nooks, the cracks
Eliminating us insects, stalks over stalks
Paint me red and burry me
Burn my hands, so I cannot fix
The springs in your mattress
And the water in your kitchen
The ceiling leaks blood, your walls cry out loud
And your windows wave silently to those dead clouds
Paint me red and burry me
I am a fool, I cannot help thee
I am a fool, someone help thee.
poem by Kanza Javed
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Empty stalks from the Sirocco and full spikes of wheat with the North Wind.
I hate war... for the dictatorships it puts in the place of democracies, and for the starvation that stalks after it.
quote by Harry Emerson Fosdick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ravenous Wolf
He stalks an unsuspecting prey
Devours men almost every day
Flock doesn’t have much to say
Content to be this wolf’s buffet
poem by Ray Lucero
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After The Storms....
after all these storms
i shall walk again on those peaceful paths
into the rice fields of my
ancestors
where the stalks despite the wind
still know how
to rise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Flower
you are a red flower
on red leaves
on red stalks
on red branches
on a red soil
fronting the
red mountains
and the red wind
you doubt
whether you have red eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hungry heron stalks
among the reeds and shoreline
searching for a fish
haiku by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
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