I should be proud to have my memory graced, but only if the monument be placed... here, where I endured three hundred hours in line before the implacable iron bars.
quote by Anna Akhmatova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Iron Bars Of Mine
I stand behind these old iron bars,
To see the things, that I can see
I see a world that is changing everyday,
A world, that will not wait for me.
Behind these iron bars where I must lay,
Behind these bars where I must stay.
In this world where I am alone
Its a world that I helped build,
I make not the laws for how I live,
Time for me, she is held still.
As tomorrow is the same as it is today,
And today is the same, as yesterday.
Behind these bars, its where I am
It is the place where I sit and lie,
My destiny for me has already been chose,
For this is the place where I will die.
When the youth of mine turns into old,
When the dewdrops of dreams turn into snow.
The world that I made out of iron and stone
Where freedom and life is locked away
Where life is a waste, and living a haste,
It is where myself alone will forever stay.
Days and years for me, I have no care.
My only solitude, is sleep and prayer.
My day for me; she will someday come
When from my bars I am allowed to leave,
I will welcome that day with open arms and hope,
As those iron bars, will close behind me..
And for that day I will constantly pray,
As I leave those bars, for the bars of my a grave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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You Grew A Memory
Somewhere along the road on which we were walking,
The little path we used to follow religiously every morning,
The street with the fancy iron bars and birch trees and neatly kept houses,
Someone had planted a memory.
The memory lay concealed within a tiny cardboard box,
Lying there contentedly, wrapped in several layers of tissue paper,
The words written lovingly in shiny blue ink,
Inscripted onto the parchment until the rain destroyed the box
And washed the memory away.
poem by Twilight Whispers
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Weightless
Press the panic -
button,
for beautiful inside.
There was a hundred
moons dialogue
in the cage.
Fear was walking
in dark corners.
There was no iron gate.
Only golden bars,
pushing you back
from touch, feel and unstitching.
Let the world find a
neck broken falcon,
convoluted.
I am taking a fight
to be born again
as a white bird.
poem by Satish Verma
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Rags & Old Iron
Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Enduring M's.
Mosquitoes have endured long
Biting people
The same old story of
Insects causing plasmodium
Marriage has endured long
Bonding people
The same old story of
Interested adults wed
Money has endured long
Buying people
The same old story of
Inflated goods sold
Misery has endured long
Bullying people
The same old story of
Injured hearts bled
Motherhood has endured long
Bearing people
The same old story of
Incarcerated fetuses freed.
poem by Samuel Nze
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A World Cagged
our world is like a prison
but without iron bars
we are cagged in here
killing all the stars
no walls to obstruct our view
no concrete floors to walk on
no chains to hide you
only a box that cant be seen
we must live in this cage
till we die of old age
when we join the stars
and leave the world of bars
poem by Brandon Brooks
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Nothing Like A Hundred Miles
I have tried to forget about you
And all the plans that we had planned
Yes, and Im bound to leave this town
I dont care where I may land
If what theyre telling me is true
And you have found somebody new
To love you
There aint but one thing I can do, baby
To save my heart from being broken in two by you
Baby, Im moving through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Between me and trouble in my mind
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Show me the yellow line
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
When Im only passing through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
To make me forget about you
Forget about you, baby
Dont we like our found farewells
And dont we like to keep our good-byes
Nice and clean
You may wish Id go to hell
While you tell me what a pleasure its been
So long, baby, Im moving on
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Between me and trouble in mind
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
Somebody show me the yellow line
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
When Im only passing through
Theres nothing like a hundred miles
To make me forget about you
Forget about you
I have tried to forget about you
Baby, I have failed
Just as long as I stay in houston
I will
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Ye bars of iron, yield!
And let the King of glory pass;
The Cross is in the field!
A holy war his servants wage,
Mysteriously at strife;
The powers of heaven and hell engage
For more than death or life.
Ye armies of the living God,
His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footstep never trod,
Take your appointed post.
Follow the Cross; the ark of Peace
Accompany your path:
To souls imprisoned bring release
From bondage and from wrath.
Uplifted are the gates of brass;
The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of glory pass!
The Cross has won the field!
poem by James Montgomery
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There is no monument dedicated to the memory of a committee.
quote by Lester J. Pourciau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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Im So Proud
Youre prettier than all the world
And Im so proud, Im so proud, Im so proud of you
cause youre only one fellows girl
Im so proud, Im so proud, Im so proud of you
Im so proud of being loved by you
And it would hurt, hurt to know,
If you ever were untrue, yeah
Sweeter than the taste of a cherry so sweet
Yeah, and Im so proud, Im so proud,
Im so proud of you
Compliments to you from all the people we meet
Yes babe and Im so proud, Im so proud,
Im so proud of you
Im so proud of being loved by you
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you've seeded before a heavy rain, one out of one hundred of your plants will be out of line, but if you wait and seed later, one out of one hundred will take.
Last Request
I want no marble monument
erected in my memory
I’m sure that I would lie content
beneath the branches of a tree.
Ignore established precedent
when it is time to bury me.
Remember all the hours we spent
living and loving happily.
Pay me the supreme compliment.
Let my body nourish a tree.
Creating something permanent
a thing of natural beauty.
I can trust you above the rest
to carry out my last request.
Monday,26 July 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Letter from the Sand 'Be Proud
Today I received a letter from the sand. It read Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that your brother Sgt. Andre Smith was killed two days ago in Iraq, but be proud he died a hero. Now I must read that letters a hundred times but pride never came over me but anger did. Anger that got me asking questions like is proud of what, that my big brother is no longer here? Or should I be proud that they turned my caring brother into murder all under the false flag of freedom? Be proud, I am proud and I was always proud not because Andre died as hero but I am proud because he was my brother.
Note:
This poem is not a true story. Now although my brother Andre did past away he did not die that way, but I wanted to honor him so I used his name in a poem the relates to current affairs
A Fence
Now the stone house on the lake front is finished and the
workmen are beginning the fence.
The palings are made of iron bars with steel points that
can stab the life out of any man who falls on them.
As a fence, it is a masterpiece, and will shut off the rabble
and all vagabonds and hungry men and all wandering
children looking for a place to play.
Passing through the bars and over the steel points will go
nothing except Death and the Rain and To-morrow.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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My Memory's Care
Sing not to me a song of beauty bright,
Nor festive scenes of dazzling light;
Nor of gorgeous pageant in palace hall
Begemmed with many a coronal;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the battlefield,
Nor splintered lance nor of broken shield,
Not of gory plumes once freshly fair,
Not of banners rent nor pennon bare;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the sea-fight won,
By daring hearts and by flashing gun,
Not how o'er the deep in exultant glee
The victor's ship speeds galliantly;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of summer, sing not of spring,
For these no joy to my heart can bring;
Sing not of autumn yellow and sere
Sing not of pallid winter frosty and drear;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of Love's deep tenderness
Nor its whispered words, share its sweet caress;
Sing not to me of Beauty's power,
Nor the bridal morn - Love's dearest hour!
But sing to me my memory's care
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing - sing to me with a mocking song,
Of the guilty past and its deeds of wrong;
Sing - till around me the phantoms come,
Or the broken hearts in a distant home;
These, these are my memory's care,
And shriek them forth to my soul's despair!
poem by Owen Suffolk
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William Wallace
(For the Ballarat statue of him)
THIS is Scotch William Wallace. It was He
Who in dark hours first raised his face to see:
Who watched the English tyrant Nobles spurn,
Steel-clad, with iron hoofs the Scottish Free:
Who armed and drilled the simple footman Kern,
Yea, bade in blood and rout the proud Knight learn
His Feudalism was dead, and Scotland stand
Dauntless to wait the day of Bannockburn!
O Wallace, peerless lover of thy land,
We need thee still, thy moulding brain and hand!
For us, thy poor, again proud tyrants spurn,
The robber Rich, a yet more hateful band!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Midsummer Dream
I dreamed of Paradise Garden;
sunlight sliding down
from an infinite sky
through cedar trees to emerald lawns;
oriental poppies six feet high,
Indian butterflies gliding by
through multilayered shades of blue.
Olympian Apollo’s statue
holds a fountain in his hands,
which swirls and mists, sparkles and cools,
cascading down to deep green pools,
where red carp flash on silver sands.
Gazing round I find,
beyond the mirror of my mind,
past flowering trees and shrubberies,
how all around
this fertile ground
the garden is confined
within a fence of iron bars,
which stretches high
to arch across and make a canopy
between me and the sky.
The falcons, hawks and eagles
which circle round are kept at bay
and cannot swoop to seize as prey
the song birds that sing here all day.
Beyond the bars, a crawling multitude
swarms to and fro insatiably
but cannot find its way
into my garden solitude.
Heavens! I thought, the truth is clear to me!
That restless swarming world
is a prison shut in by iron bars.
Only I, in my garden, am completely free!
poem by Brian Taylor
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Layin It On The Line
You see it every day in every way
We all hear the same routines
They all say that its okay
Just let us take care of everything
So we lay it on the line
Layin it on the line (layin it on the line)
Layin it all, right on the line
Just layin it on the line (layin it on the line)
Layin it all, were livin on the front line
I can see it in the faces
We got trouble in the streets tonight
And power keeps us in our places
And it doesnt matter if youre left or right
You lay it on the line
Layin it on the line (layin it on the line)
Just layin it all, right on the line
Layin it on the line, (layin it on the line)
Layin it all, right on the line
Take it to the wilderness
Into the jungle sun
Lookin for the voice of reason
Inside this babylon
Got u.s. boys on foreign soil
Spillin their blood to keep the peace
Cities will vanish in turmoil
While the sheiks lay sleepin on the beach
We lay it on the line
Layin it on the line (layin it on the line)
Layin it all, right on the line
Just layin it on the line (layin it on the line)
Layin it all, right on the line
Layin it on the line
Just layin it all
Layin it on the line
Just layin it all
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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