There are chapters in every life which are seldom read and certainly not aloud.
quote by Carol Shields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet V: If I should learn
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again--
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man--who happened to be you--
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud--I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place--
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Story Of My Life
I finished the story of my life
About three a m last night
Its the best thing Ive ever read
And though the start seemed to drag
You know the middle really wasnt bad
And the end turned out okay
If I had to edit anything
I might reign those chapters in
I spent miserable and afraid
But you know I love the book as a whole
I wouldnt mess around with its soul
Pull a thread and it might come undone
song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Story Of My Life
I finished the story of my life
About three a m last night
Its the best thing Ive ever read
And though the start seemed to drag
You know the middle really wasnt bad
And the end turned out okay
If I had to edit anything
I might reign those chapters in
I spent miserable and afraid
But you know I love the book as a whole
I wouldnt mess around with its soul
Pull a thread and it might come undone
song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not a Friend, Left Behind
A tale seldom told
Of a life seemingly forgotten
Not a friend, left behind
In the hurried pace of life
Time to precious a commodity
To spare a moment, a thought
The terms of friendship
A glossary of semantics
Aquatinted by interpretation
Of what is felt and what is said
The colleague of indifference
A reality or emotional impulse
Allied to some promises
And so some stories read
Into an unhappy end
That seldom they are told
Have you heard the one about
Not a friend, left behind
poem by Matthew Holloway
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If I Should Learn, In Some Quite Casual Way
IF I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet 05: If I Should Learn, In Some Quite Casual Way
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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ps: I Love You
After we have
Cried with Sadness
Grieved with Death
Forgiven Remorse
Smiled at Sweetness
Laughed with Humor
When the Story has been told
When memories were played back
New chapters written
Painful chapters erased
The bold and essential part still remains
At the far end corner of this letter
PS: I LOVE YOU
poem by Wanelisa Albert
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Life Is Like A Book
Life is like a book
Written by Selvin ‘Ewan’ McRae
Life is like an open book
Can, t predict the future
Got to read between the lines
Absorbing the culture
Get ready for tomorrow
Life is love
Love can becomes hate
Hate can becomes sorrow
Review your past
Get ready for tomorrow
Flip the pages, turn the chapters
Grasp the contents, form your character
Decipher life’s journey and rule your destiny
Get ready for tomorrow
Slowly turn the pages
Don, t read too fast
Acknowledge the acknowledgements
Good friendship will last
Get ready for tomorrow
What you reap is what you sow
Don, t assume make sure to know
Erase dark memories,
Cherish those that glows
Get ready for tomorrow
poem by Selvin Mcrae
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Not Just You
i, too, had it, not just once,
but many times, when i
wake up at the wrong hour
and think of you
and then i take my old
favorite pen and
yellow pad paper
and begin to write
a letter for you
you are a ghost now
far away
and i expect you
not to read this
letter that i am
not sending anyway
i will not even
read it
i will just keep it
so when another being
comes whose interest
is poetry and by chance
he digs upon my
poetry books that no one
bothers to read
anymore
at anytime
he may find it there
inserted in one of the
pages between
two chapters
concerning the themes
of love and
death
and perhaps he too
will understand how is to
truly love and be
so unloved because
death has come
to early because
the timing was wrong
because the world
has not understood
because one
sometimes in pain
has no cure
but just the silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Shadow
I said unto myself, if I were dead,
What would befall these children? What would be
Their fate, who now are looking up to me
For help and furtherance? Their lives, I said,
Would be a volume wherein I have read
But the first chapters, and no longer see
To read the rest of their dear history,
So full of beauty and so full of dread.
Be comforted; the world is very old,
And generations pass, as they have passed,
A troop of shadows moving with the sun;
Thousands of times has the old tale been told;
The world belongs to those who come the last,
They will find hope and strength as we have done.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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I Will Live as Long as The Sun
In the basement
back by the sliding door
there is a cabinet full of notebooks
don't waste time on a funeral
say a prayer if it helps you
and read my notebooks if you wish to honor me
you are all in there, believe me
when I am in the ground
don't stand and sob at my stone
read my words aloud
read them because I didn't have the courage to
don't speak of my sad fate
you will have me forever
I am in those books
I will live as long as the sun
If you so choose
poem by Stephen Martin II
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Mama's Legacy
MAMA'S LEGACY
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Mama's Legacy
-- * MAMA'S LEGACY * --
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
10-27-05
dedicated to my mother
Wilma Ford
4-16-1912-4-19-2009
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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When The Book Of Life Is Read
Recorded by hank williams, sr.
Words and music by hank williams, sr.
Capo: 4th fret/key: f#/play: d
[d] in lifes many battles that [g] you will have to [d] fight
Just stay close to jesus and [e7] journey in his [a7] light
Then [d] on that judgement morning [g] when all pain has [d] fled
Youll stand in gods kingdom, when the [a7] book of life is [d] read.
[g] when the seals are broken and [d] names are read aloud
Youll see many loved ones [e7] standin in the [a7] crowd
So [d] brother keep on prayin and [g] follow where youre [d] lead
Youll stand in gods kingdom, when the [a7] book of life is [d] read.
All your dreams of heaven will come true on that day
When the sky shall open and this earth melt away
Then all gods faithful children will raise up from the dead
United in gods kingdom, when the book of life is read.
What a happy feelin to know hell always care
And when our work is over heaven with him well share
Theres be no pain or sorrow, no tears will eer be shed
When we stand there in gods kingdom and the book of life is read.
Note. chords for 3rd and 4th verses same as 1st and 2nd
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen in Emma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Auschwitz
Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.
Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.
Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
I say those things aloud.
I beg the Lord not to hear.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Read Me Like a Book
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You will find each piece to fit.
Very little of it will be misunderstood.
I am not a one dimensional quick read at all.
I lay it on the line.
You will find I wont allow anyone,
To sit and pick my mind.
I don't waste that kind of time.
Unless,
Of course...
You are divorced from that as well?
Hmmm...
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You have no idea how much I wish,
To get you hooked.
Craving to salivate.
Drooling!
Each chapter has been crafted,
With some sentiment and pain.
You will find some sorrow and regret.
And some expression of heartache left.
You will discover blemishes and flaws,
With attempts to have them corrected.
Notice I admit imperfection...
With self reflection I don't neglect.
Or regret it is you I wish to impress.
No games of tit for tat I play.
I say what I mean.
Not what you wish to hear me say.
And none of it is from mumbled lips.
I want each word read you 'read' conveyed!
I want what I say in your mind to stay.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
But you will never comprehend...
How long this process took.
Flip through each page,
As if you seek definition.
You will discover I am not perfect.
But freed by a peace...
To solict your complete and total admission.
Willing to show you mended scars.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
I knew you were coming!
That's why it is already open.
Take your time.
I want you to find me an easy read.
Hopefully to collaborate on new chapters.
Together,
You and me.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
Take me with your eyes.
Hold me in your hands.
And bring me close to your heart!
There we are.
Touching!
That's how I like it.
Do you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suicide Kid
As she read the note aloud
Her voice clear and loud
'This is what she wrote
Her suicide note'
There were gasps all through the air
For everyone seemed to care
They said she was so great
But their compliments were too late
Her note read like this
'Nothing in my life is bliss
And no one sees the tears I cry
You will only care once i die
Perfection was only a minor concern
Love is what I yearn
This pain you say you now feel
Is probably not even real
As you sit there and moap or gloat
What you just read was my suicide note'
No words were spoken
No silence broken
No child whined
And no one shined
They were all put down to dirt
To see how much she hurt
This was her master plan
To hurt the common man
To feel the way she did
Little baby suicide kid
poem by Laura Kelly
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Create New Chapters Made
You like to dropp those 'have nots' you've got.
But need to stop growing them like crops!
And take them away,
Today!
Pity party chatter that you gather like it matters.
Is not a page you should keep re-read or save.
If your life is lived in a way you say is craved.
Singing songs of what is wrong all day long,
Wont keep you strong.
Let them be!
Why desire that as company?
You like to dropp those 'have nots' you've got.
But need to stop growing them like crops!
And take them away,
Today!
Pity party chatter that you gather like it matters.
Is not a page you should keep re-read or save.
If your life is lived in a way you say is craved.
Then you've got to seek more meaning.
Turn that page and create new chapters made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I love to read aloud.
quote by Cornelia Funke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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