I have inhaled, exhaled everything.
quote by Arnold Schwarzenegger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Green
Under constant barrage
of your texted
accusations
I stood my ground
as the Laotian waitress
with the big breasts
and the cute smile
inquired about your
whereabouts
“She still number one? ”
She enquired
and smiled
I Inhaled
and exhaled
“Still The One! ”
She smiled even wider
I didn’t
Back then
it just wasn’t
funny
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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Tao (Social Activism)
the Tao of social activism,
found in the newborn baby's cry.
in the hands that plow the earth,
that build, shape, and mold.
in the colors of the prism,
dividing light stream by stream.
in the raw and beating heart,
and the red blood pulsing.
in the day that follows darkness
without thought or plan.
in the breath inhaled and exhaled,
in the hand that fits in mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Moth And Eagle...
i follow the scent
of old dogs and stray cats,
for they already know.
i walk the fine thread
of the spider's web,
awed by awareness.
i hear the howl of the moon,
speak the language of the wind.
i understand that stars care not for names.
i sleep inside the sleepless palm
of darkness becoming light.
who am i? i shout, 'nobody'...
overcome with relief!
one moment cup, the next moment water,
formless taking forms....
filling the need, both inhaled and exhaled,
as much a moth as an eagle!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Why I Would Follow Her Like a Puppy Dog Through the Streets
Wearing an ankle bracelet
On the steamy July afternoon,
She walks in the sunlight
On a stone-paved road
Along an ancient avenue
Of insouciant flowers.
Her bracelet shimmers
In the rising waves of heat;
Youth is a glorious sweet breath
Inhaled with connoisseur-like relish
And exhaled in the magical perfume of excitement.
One has to gaze at beauty
And live in that charmed essence vicariously
And be transported to past, joyous
Experiences of exultation.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Personalized Garbage
What better day is it than today,
To trash and put out on the curb...
All disturbing nonsense.
Every single bit of it.
Without a need to start an argument.
Like a chore over time that has been ignored,
Sack all that crap stored...
To get rid of it.
And set it out to stay away permanently....
From your front door.
And if it should be passed as you leave,
To get some fresh air inhaled and exhaled to breathe...
Don't acknowledge you are familiar with it.
If you do recognize this as personalized garbage,
Again it will be yours to reluctantly admit.
What better day is it than today,
To trash and put out on the curb...
All disturbing nonsense.
Every single bit of it.
Without a need to start an argument.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One By One
One by one we bite the dust.
We leave the wanting.
We leave the lust.
Bigger than life we thought we were.
We just forgot
that we are not.
We breathed the air and drank it in,
inhaled the pure,
inhaled the sin.
One by one we say goodbye.
We leave the craving.
We leave the sigh.
Surely where we go from here
will take us home,
will stop the roam.
One by one we stop the breath.
We find the peace.
We welcome death.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Julie and You and Christ
Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you
one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding
a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke
and said
pushing smoke
into the world
do you think Christ
ever came?
of course
you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world
is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply
and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don't like that dress
it's too darn middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress
in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?
you asked
she'd wear it
but I wouldn't
be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on
squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick grope
and sex in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying
while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out
amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic
would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?
she asked
yes
you said
he split history in two
he made people
either love him
or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for
she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin
I don't think he came at all
she said
before inhaling
her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out
on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled
her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on
down the Street
it was no joke
being crucified
no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said
she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you
and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion
I've had enough
of the parents
ramming him
into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again
and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought
many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dear Drs. Fisher & Buigues
(St. Petersburg,2008 June 4)
Your fanged sterile gloves,
and snarling scrubs, tear into me
like the yellow teeth
of Novyy Port huskies.
(My leather epidermis might be
the only peace treaty
able to unite America and France,
miles from our homes.)
My sour flesh yearns for Yuribey,
for my mothers creamy milk,
for the Pleistocene days -
for the life you'll never see;
when mom inhaled&exhaled,
and blanketed me in her grey coat.
With every calculation and sketch,
you bludgeon with fluorescent light
whatever infinitesimal vestige of life,
still crawls through my molars.
10,000 years ago,
homo sapiens snuffed us out,
and wore my mother's fur.
But, today you've dissected mystery,
finding your numb heart inside me.
from, Lyuba
poem by Jacob Bearer
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A Soul Stirring Morning
Gingerly stepping out nicely wrapped, inhaled
Shivering watched the hot vapours as I exhaled,
Swallowed by the icy breeze that tingled my face,
Carrying with it the invigorating heady fragrance,
Of dainty whitish pink cherry blossoms
My gaze rests on daffodils and tulips—awesome:
One pale yellow and the other inviting attention,
With its vibrant colours, coming out of hibernation.
The Dal Lake is enveloped in fog and solitude.
Villagers, in Pherens are picking logs with fortitude.
The Sun is smiling taking in the whole scene,
Birds are having a sunbath perched atop the trees.
Hill tops some dark and some lit up with sunshine
Silent witness to the morning coming out alive.
It’s kind of slushy, as my feet sink in the melting snow
I raise a toast to spring, and watch winter make a graceful bow.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Love in sale
I just wanted to go in
Deep and to be inhaled
But you thought
I am the air full of poison
When I wanted to exchange
The feel of fragrance
And the taste of smell
You thought
I am the flower, stale
I inhaled deep the whole bottle
Full of that poison air
Tasted the flavour of rejection
Exchanged the smell with that of cliff stones
Suddenly I see princes and merchants
Surround your flower in the seller market
Though I need that to offer to the alter of goddess
But for her still I can not purchase it
As She made me the real poor of the street
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Poor Girl
Air that she inhaled
Stabbed her heart
Ice blood running through her veins
She closed her eyes
And exhale
But her souls was empty
When the clock announced noon...
She looked at the mirror
And saw an orange jacket
Sitting on a bed of an angel
Who is he?
The tears that she had in her eyes blinded its face
A lonely heart celebrated with pains
And her tears couldn't fulfill her dreams
And her words flew with the wind
And the air that she inhaled
Stabbed her heart
Ice blood running through her veins again.
poem by Sandy Germain
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In Pursuit
The cheetah checked the sudden sound,
His neck streamlined and sleek,
His eyes surveying all around,
His hunting skills unique...
His claws now arched, each step was soft,
He gently sniffed for scent,
If unsuccessful, others scoffed
At time unwisely spent...
The cheetah chose the likely path
To stalk the prey ahead,
With chances better than a half
That he would soon be fed.
His next meal moved not far away,
Oblivious, at ease...
Yet this would be its final day,
From then on, rest in peace...
The cheetah cheered when all went well,
A textbook hunt in truth...
Not bad, he thought, then slept a spell,
In hiding, quite aloof.
He simply, slowly, inhaled breath
And exhaled just the same...
Without a thought of life or death...
No conscience, guilt or shame...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Pursuit'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Morning Message From Love
woke up in a tired body
after an endless night it did precede
exhausted by all homework and books
all the subjects, all the materials I took
nothing was left, but me
laying and so much in weary
i tried to sit on bedside hardly
though it could be done effortlessly
dark was this room indeed
here there was none but me
alone, but there were two friends
the cellphone and the nightstand
still half conscious i sighed
a deep breath inhaled i
from the window a flicker of light
and was inhaled by my eyes
the cellphone alarmed noisily
that a message was sent to me
i opened the inbox and see
what this day would bring to me
i looked and smiled at the screen
the message was displayed in
i stood opening the window
letting the sunshine flowed
a new day came to see me
why wouldn't i greet it warmly?
sun was there, love was there
with all they had to share
with me..
poem by Kite Remedy
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But She Knew
But I know
she said
that you love me
and you were sitting
by the pond
you with that cheap fishing rod
which caught nothing
and she sitting there
her hands over her knees
gazing at the still surface
even if you don’t
say it often
she added
laying her chin
on her knees
her green skirt
just above her knees
and you caught
a glimpse of her thighs
where the skirt rose up
I do you love
you said
holding the rod
between hands
it’s just I don’t see the need
to keep on saying it
you added
stretching your eyes
to go as far
as they could
to get a better look
and she said
why do you come here
to fish when you catch
nothing except a cold
in the neck
and stiff joints
and do you want a smoke?
She pulled out
a pack of cigarettes
and you let a hand free
from the rod
and took one
and she put one
between her lips
and lit it with a pink
plastic lighter
then lit yours
and you both
inhaled and exhaled
the smoke rising
over the pond
seeming to sit there
in the still air
and she said
between drags
I do know you love me
I can feel it
in my bones
and in my tingling
flesh at night
as I lay abed
and you thought
of that image
knowing her mother
would be about
the house
with her stern features
and sharp tongue
and beady eyes
but the image was good
you thought
sitting there beside her
in silence
with the drifting smoke
over the pond
and her hand
touching you
and the sky
turning from
dull grey
to a soft blue.
poem by Terry Collett
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Smoke The Sky
Smoke my hoochie
You say that Im the devil
Reali-thc
Marco polo hailed it heaven
Socrates inhaled it too
Mr. president tell the truth
Youre the great exaggerators
Since 1932
Telling evils of the reefer
But all thru time weve
Smoked the sky, smoke the sky
Home grown version
Compliments the senses
Opens up the mind
Jfk sold us freedom
Or was it just a business toke
63 went up in smoke
He was the great seducer
Crawling from our tvs
Breathed into our future
And before he died he
Smoked the sky, smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
Bc hailed it heaven
I inhaled it too
Reali-thc
When its time well
Smoke the sky
Smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the
When its time well toke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Bricks Over A Hole
You were sitting on the grass
outside your tent
at the base camp
along the road from Tangiers
smoking a cigarette
when Mamie came along
and stood with her arms folded
and her red hair damp
and her face flushed
like a spanked behind
Have you seen the latrines?
She asked
No not yet
you replied
she took a deep intake
of breath and then said
I expected at least
a white bowl
but there are just two bricks
over a hole in the ground
and no paper
to wipe yourself afterwards
you exhaled smoke
and said
You're meant to
take your own with you
Your own latrine?
She said angrily
No your own bog roll
you said
she sighed
and looked down
towards the beach
reaching to
the Mediterranean Sea
I haven't unpacked
my bags yet
she said
and you gazed at her
standing there
in her pink shorts
and white open necked blouse
and tried not
to imagine her
crouched on two bricks
over a hole
in the ground
her legs bent
her panties by her ankles
and her backside
mooning over the hole
Well
she said moodily
At least now you know
what to expect
and went off
towards the beach
her hips swaying
side to side
her taut buttocks
captured in her pink shorts
and the midday sun
touching your head
in a kind of blessing
with its heat
and you inhaled
smoke again
remembering the rain
coming through
Franco's Spain.
poem by Terry Collett
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City draped in smog;
Some gasped for breath, prostrate lay
Some inhaled, made hay.
quote by by Mamta Agarwal
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csl Nicotine Hunger Ravishes
chain smoking lady
nicotine hunger ravishes
addiction inhaled deeply
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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csl Cigarette Break Longing
chain smoking lady
precious minutes longed for
seconds inhaled deeply
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Julie and You in Trafalgar Square
Julie sat on one
of the fountain walls
in Trafalgar Square
and lit a cigarette
she looked about her
as if she were onto
something harder
as if she had some one
looking at her
from some secret place
you gazed at her
unused to seeing her
not in her hospital
dressing gown
and slippered feet
her hair had been brushed neat
and makeup applied
and she said
I was picked up here
some months back
by some guy
who wanted sex
he thought
I was a pro
and the things
he asked for
god that was the worse
and with that
she paused
and stared at the Square
at the people
and the pigeons
and she inhaled deep
and then exhaled
blowing the smoke
out of the corner
of her mouth
like you'd seen done
in the movies
what did you say
to the guy
who picked you up
and what did he want
you to do?
she looked at you
her eyes scanning
your features
and then leaning closer
she said
I told him I wasn't
a whore and to go off
some place else
you watched her fingers
holding the cigarette
the way she held it
between her fingers
as if it was some
precious item she'd found
what did he want you to do?
you asked
he wanted sex
in all my orifices
she whispered
before inhaling again
the cigarette was clamped
between her lips
and she rubbed
her fingers
on her jeans
she screwed up her eyes
against the smoke
my grandfather said
if it wasn't for whores
more women
would be raped
and attacked
you said
that guy was a creep
he smelt of strong aftershave
and body odour
she said
what a combination
you said
she stumped
the cigarette butt
onto the wall
and flicked it
across the Square
let's go and view the art
in the Gallery behind us
she said
and you followed her
to the Portrait Gallery
her buttocks swaying
like some ship at sea
the jeans tight
and clinging
and across the Square
church bells were pulled
and were ringing.
poem by Terry Collett
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