Yellow Stone
Poor yellow stone.
Yet another victim of oils unending greed
Winding down a river so clean.
It is no longer so pristine.
Gas sky rocking upon our great travels
And again it harming our environment
Mother nature you will have your revenge
With a sweet and unending embrace.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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(Choices Poem) Circumstances Unending
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
To let the one you love go for the better
Or the happiness of poverty in suffering
Like a mother choosing for a child
you must make the decision out of true love.
Forever the greater good.
The eagle looks upon us all with his eyes.
Only if I could see it that way.
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
When you do such a thing their is no going back
Chasing after something you threw away.
All in a attempt to be the better man.
The homeless playing a game of kick the can.
Nobody ever wins.
It is to pass time as it will always do.
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
Regret and bitter
Feelings that will never sit well with you
Your determined to overcome, and it not be prolonged
She is gone.
Forever a bad choice.
That you wouldn't want to change.
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
The portrait of your face betrays the feeling inside.
The things you try to bury and hide.
At one time you were happy.
At one time you smiling and so full of spirit.
But now you fall into a very empty depression.
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
No one will come and pick you up.
If you fall it will be you last one.
Like a soldier you still march as if you were still on call.
Duty and service is all you've ever known.
And now a world sits before you.
And still your all alone.
If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Unending was the stream, unending the misery, unending the sorrow.
quote by Karl Amadeus Hartmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Need And The Greed
Need is a desire; greed is a desire.
Desires denied, sufferings surface.
Need is met at ease but not the greed
Which is boundless with sufferings profound.
Need and greed aren’t in water tight cells.
Need might restrict to physical wants.
Greed is for ego’s gratification.
Possessiveness is the sign of the greed.
To earn by wrongful means is from greed.
To exploit and hoard is an act of greed.
To garner and flaunt all you have is greed.
Greedless, though penny-less, you’re loveable.
To sedate the pride is to tame the greed.
To kindle the pride is to fuel the greed.
Having got money, power and possession,
As the result of greed, you will lose peace.
Remove the greed; jealousy is gone.
Remove the greed; no feeling of revenge.
Hail the poor and condemn the greedy.
Then the tendency to grow rich will wane.
Live simple; live humble; then need is less.
Be proud to own a bicycle, not a car.
Value one who owns a bicycle, not a car.
You will have saved energy and the nature.
Don’t embrace comforts, which will weaken you.
Don’t enthuse with ego, which will make loss big.
Unlike the cheat, being poor is not a shame.
Less wants; less sufferings, more happiness.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It’s all up with someone
The unsophisticated unsung song travels in the upper class street.
The crash helmet Motorcyclist very pleasingly gave her a lift.
Fuel is more than enough it seems for the unending journey via dreamy state
Stealthily they embrace each other and the bike goes as a unicorn towards
The Forlorn hope where in the stature of symposium.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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All Wet - The Song
On down the river of circumstance
Drowning in a sea of despair
I try to shelter my heart
Knowing that you are no longer there
Under an unwelcome wave of disagreements
Swallowed up by tides of disdain
I try to control my teardrops
As they fall like the pouring rain
Knowing that you're gone from my presence
Knowing that you're no longer near to my shore
Is breaking my heart and soul into pieces
Knowing that you don't love me any more
Can't seem to reconcile your absence
Can seem to deal with this pain
Under a cloud of overwhelming heartache
Consumed by unending torrents of rain
Oh where oh where is my Rainbow?
Oh where oh where can it be?
Soaked am i from sea to the sky
Wishing that you were here with me
No need to look for the sunshine
No need to look for blue sky
No need to get my hopes up
Just too many reasons to cry
Flooded by unending bodies of water
Rivers to seas of despair
Tears that fall as raindrops
They are simply everywhere...
An original song written by me
Dedicated to all who know the loss of love
Ocober 20,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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When Did Youth Go?
When did I stop being a teenager?
When did I stop listening to the radio
from midnight until 2 or 3 a.m. weeknights?
Why was teenage music so empowering?
Why were we so absorbed with the music?
Music which really rocked our wild souls?
Music we danced at local teenage disco too.
Music we drove our parents or first cars too.
Music we drank beer or spirits or partied too.
It seemed we could not live without music.
It seemed we could not meet without music.
It seemed our dreams lived within the beat of music.
Music was part of the fuel which drove our souls.
Music was part of the weekend ever speeding by.
Music was magic drumbeat of hot midnight parties.
Where is the large rocking crowd going?
Where are all the friendly teenagers going?
Where are all those old friends going?
Where where is large trendy rocking crowd going?
Where where are all the friendly teenagers going?
Where where are all those good old friends going?
Suddenly those wild unending party days are over.
Suddenly those exciting unending teenage years are over.
Suddenly those pubs full of our friends are empty.
Suddenly they all suddenly left town.
Suddenly they are all no longer around.
Suddenly they are all in places we don't go.
Suddenly they all suddenly left the old home town.
Suddenly they are all suddenly no longer around.
Suddenly they are all in places we don't know or go.
Where did those teenage years quietly go?
Those teenage friends I used to know?
Where did they all suddenly go?
Where did those teenage years quietly creeping go?
Those lost teenage friends I once upon a time did know?
Where did they all suddenly go exiting a vanishing show?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Why Is Despair So Deep And Unending
WHY IS DESPAIR SO DEEP AND UNENDING?
Why is despair so deep and unending?
Why do we always need some new dream
Merely to survive?
Why is life so difficult
Even in the small business
Of getting up in the morning?
Why do I need even these few lines
To tell me I am alive and can write?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I choose to no longer be a victim of people hate
i no longer play the victim,
that no longer who i am,
i'm the girl who finds my own way,
not afraid to ask for help,
cuz it will only help me go far,
i no longer play the victim,
i can do for myself,
even when i'm injured,
i will find my way,
don't feel sorry for me,
i'm no longer the victim,
i say what's on my mind,
and bite my tongue,
when i will only create more drama,
it who i am, and who i will continue to be,
no longer a victim,
to people hating who i want to be,
to me hating where i can't be,
action speak louder than words,
and right now they are saying,
'DON'T BE A VICTIM OF ANY KIND ANYMORE! '
poem by Mona Martinez
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Partial Amnesia
Kissing you last night...
All that i remember--
Is the yellow and red
Of our passionate embrace;
Your voracious mouth--
That could not be sated-
Your absolute unending hunger;
The strange tingling...
Down the side of my neck--;
The built up rush of--
Blood in my hips...
Sky-rocketing in delight...
A mid-summers night--
And your arms-
Yes-your arms--
Reaching for me...
Once again;
The Essence
September,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Crayola Marker
Small fat and short
Felt tip with purple unending
Purple poison fills the page
Small purple cap Crayola is its name
Always a helper
Beginning to bleed
Known well throughout
Smells terrible
Words unending
Falls away
To the black world
Feels death
Mrs. Crayola is now dead
poem by Crazy Vampire
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Poetry Today
POETRY TODAY
Billions and trillions and zillions of words
Infinite infinite infinite unending ongoing unending infinite
Words and words and words.
And one small reader
Alone in the night
With a half- asleep mind
And a longing
For a bit of beauty,
And inspiration.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Retooling of An Imbalance
A retooling of an imbalance comes.
To chase away the doldrums,
Forced to molest...
An unending quest for greed.
Opportunities now exist,
For the blinded ones to see...
Isolation that fed on seperateness,
And divisions of democracy...
Not only bred a disrespect,
But a loss of a dependency.
Inflicting the abilities...
And gifts of others.
No matter of one's looks or of color!
Without perceiving those basic needs,
All shared with one another!
Like desired dreams to live in peace and harmony.
Regardless of race, heritage or creed.
We are aboard this ship together!
And if it sinks...
Everyone suffers.
Everyone bleeds!
Drowning in aborted hopes...
We all observe as witnesses,
Slip from us to recede.
Repossessed from us and leave.
A retooling of an imbalance comes.
To chase away the doldrums,
Forced to molest...
An unending quest for greed.
And a dawning on the horizon...
Comes along with a Sunrise seen.
And the foolishness is swept away,
Of a kept unconsciousness...
Once darkening an enlightenment,
Now shining brightly it seems.
To rejuvenate truth and diminished realities.
This time with everyone praying...
Sensibilities accepted remains to stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I do believe...
...that You still hold Your hand over us
that you are looking with fatherly eyes at us
that sometimes Your tears flow
about a world in which things fall apart
...that even when we see no more light
You and every angel and being that serves You
fights in a fierce battle
to regard us as Your own.
...that every thing stands against the dark might
as You want embrace us like Your children
that Your words and all of Your laws
only express Your great unending love.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I have an unending desire to be better and make myself a better person, better mother.
quote by Tanya Tucker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Musical Instrument
What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.
He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.
'This is the way,' laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
'The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.'
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Wicked Witch from the West
(parody to tune of the Beatles “Lady Madonna”)
Nancy Pelosi, looking none too sweet
If we paid for your face lift, hope you kept the receipts.
Who pays out the money for your private jet?
Don’t think that is helping the environment.
Your face pulled tighter than a tambourine skin
Your botox treatment botched and overdone
You’ve got a face that terrifies small children
See how they run! !
Nancy Pelosi, the taxpayers oppressed
as you donate their savings to the “poor distressed”.
Nancy Pelosi, lying to the press
seems there’s a “for rent” sign hanging round your breasts
Your sense of self importance is unending
Too bad impeachment papers never come
your reign of error shortly will be ending.
Run, blue dogs, run!
Nancy Pelosi, the taxpayers oppressed
as you donate their savings to the “poor distressed”.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Nature Speaks...(God) Jan 2011
The wind blows restlessly across my silken hair,
I lift my eyes to the sky in shattered despair,
The recent weather sends shivers down my spine.
As natures gives up with less chances less trying.
The radiant truth in its deeds as it flawlessly speaks.
About the beauty and nature it shared in its peak.
The fragrant flowers that blossomed in spring.
The picture beauty, luxurious green it did bring.
The river that flows under the 'crowned green' tree
And the rich civilization flowers, as birds sing sweetly
The delicious fruits satisfying our tasty buds and needs.
An ocean with its murmur and variety of fish to our feed.
The bounties were never unending and oh so plentiful..
Each warn, storm, vision dimmed, you walked into deadly fate,
Paid no heed, heard not the danger, you awake now too late.
Tall towers, skyscrapers shattered to the bottom ground.
Mother nature overflows, writhing in pain and an angry sound
Save it all before the darkest hour, to unwind the angry storm
To restore and recover that beauty in the best of perfect form
Environment contaminated as the sweet fragrance dies…..
Resources scarce and ceases to be with every sunrise.
Careless hands.... careless minds...and oh the careless hearts
Sad results of the ‘blue marble collapse’ as its torn apart!
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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This River
Reflections in the water, flowing,
Directions for the way, its knowing,
Connections with the breeze that’s blowing,
As this river travels on.
Confusion as the birds do flutter,
Intrusion and some shrews do scutter,
Profusion of flies, fish do splutter,
As this river travels on.
Creation of wealth there to be seen,
Location perfect, beauty serene,
Elation, sparkling aquamarine,
As this river travels on.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Betty Marsden
She loves green Mother Nature with all her heart and soul
And in the fight to save Birdsland from the developers she played a leading role
And to the cause of Nature she remains ever true
The noble Betty Marsden her equals only few.
She fought for Mother Nature to save her trees and grass
And for the woman who saved Birdsland from development let us raise the toasting glass
For Mother Nature and her Planet suffer due to human greed
And those who protest against development more of their type we need.
The woman who saved Birdsland from development in her achievement can take pride
And in the Shire of Yarra Ranges she is known far and wide
So many places of great beauty have been needlessly destroyed
And hats off to everybody who stand on Nature's side.
The woman who saved Birdsland from development her name in the Yarra Ranges will live on
For without her a place of beauty would have been forever lost and gone
She led the fight for Birdsland against the men of greed
And she's a friend of Mother Nature's and Nature's case she plead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Cradle In Bethlehem
Sing sweet and low a lullaby, till angels say Amen.
A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem.
While wisemen follow through the dark, a star that beckons them.
A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem.
A little child shall lead them, the prophets said of old.
And storm and tempest heed them until the bell is tolled.
Sing sweet and low your lullaby, till angels say Amen.
A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem.
Sing sweet and low your lullaby till angels say Amen.
A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem.
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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